IWJACM Chapter 1

1. The Princess and the Knight

The sacred empire of the morning, Argan—a nation of mages who had stood against the Great Dragon and defended the continent.

The most exalted princess of that great empire: Elizabetha.

Her renown was reduced to less than dust the day Argan was crushed beneath the hooves of Ughel, the barbaric kingdom that had driven south from the north.

The empire, whose light had gone out, was carved apart without mercy by the Northern Alliance that had long kept it in check.

Argan's people were seized one by one and sold into conditions little better than slavery in other lands. Most were delivered to Ughel's barbarians; the remainder were taken west and north to Van Yela, or east to Teyr.

The reason Elise had managed to survive was that her younger brother—Argan's last emperor—had disguised her as a commoner and smuggled her out of the imperial palace before the fall.

'You have to go, Sister. Better to survive as a slave than die for nothing here.'

He had been right. Elise was the only remaining member of Argan's imperial bloodline besides her younger brother the Emperor—and therefore first in the line of succession. Under any circumstances, she was the one who had to survive above all else.

'As long as you are alive, Argan has not truly fallen. Remember that.'

Those were the last words she exchanged with Andrei before they parted.

Her gentle brother had likely died the day Argan's imperial palace fell.

To send his sister off with words like those meant he had never intended to preserve his own life.

To die rather than be taken—that was the pride of Andrei, the emperor of this generation of Argan.

Might it have been better to remain behind in the imperial palace with him that day?

Elise crouched in pitch-black dark where she could not see an inch ahead, turning the question over in her mind. Her hands and feet were bound. A gag was shoved between her teeth. Her eyes were wrapped in dirty cloth.

She had no way to guess where she was or what would become of her.

She had managed to cross Argan's border with nothing in her hands. But Elise had been captured while galloping across the plains toward Regalo in the west—a nation allied with Argan.

Of all the misfortunes—taken by forces of the Van Yela Empire, which had done so much to bring Argan's allies to ruin.

The three guards who had disguised themselves as commoners and fled with her were executed on the spot. She alone had survived.

The reason was simple. She was a young woman.

A woman from a fallen nation. Young, and beautiful.

The women of Argan, famous for their beauty, went to the slave markets rather than to their deaths in eight cases out of ten. Her situation would be no different.

Elise lay helplessly on the ground and thought: wouldn't it be better to take her own life than to be violated by the enemy?

But Andrei's final words pierced her heart.

'You have to live, Sister. Live, and come build my grave.'

For her pitiful brother—whose grave she had never built, whose remains she had never recovered—Elise could not afford to die.

If she was going to die, she had to die on Argan's soil.

Elise opened her eyes. The cloth wound tight around them meant she could see nothing, but paradoxically it had sharpened every other sense to an edge.

Thud. Thud. Someone was approaching.

Her tense body locked involuntarily. Elise worked desperately at her bound hands.

Argan had a power passed down only through the direct bloodline—a power already faded to near-nothing on the continent, unreal and inexplicable.

Within the Argan bloodline, a mage was born once every several generations. That the emperor of this generation of Argan was a mage was already common knowledge across the continent.

Andrei, who had cherished his sister beyond measure, had inscribed several magical circles directly onto her body.

One deep inside her left forearm, one beneath her left shoulder blade, one along her spine, one on her left ankle, and one behind her left knee. Five magical circles were carved into her body. Andrei had told her only to press her hand against the circle and call his name.

But knowing the method was useless when her hands and feet were bound like this.

The approaching footsteps stopped abruptly. The presence of someone standing just outside the door was unmistakable.

Then the door groaned open with a sound that raised the hairs on her skin. Creak.

"They said it's a woman from Argan?"

"Yes. We caught her fleeing near the border—no doubt about it."

"Take off the blindfold at least. Have to see the face before I know what she's worth."

A crude exchange. Thud. In two steps, someone crossed to stand directly before Elise and seized her chin roughly, lifting her face upward. A coarse hand tore the blindfold down.

The moment Elise's face was uncovered, the room fell instantly silent.

Then an exclamation broke through.

"God… this is, truly…"

Elise fixed her bloodshot eyes on the soldiers standing before her. The gag was still shoved between her teeth, so she could not speak.

The man who had gripped her chin examined her face with open admiration.

"Top-grade goods."

His face was well-kept and he wore fine armor—clearly no common soldier. Elise twisted her head frantically, trying to wrench away from his hand.

"This one is mine."

The man curved a thin smile and cupped her cheek in his palm.

"Spirited, too. Hair like silver—you're like a silver fox. Clean enough. And the scent isn't bad. A woman like this is worth the satisfaction of breaking."

You degenerate bastard. Elise's eyes flared. But the more she resisted, the more she only fed his cruelty. The man straightened.

"Tonight—bring her to my quarters."

Those words seemed to decide her fate. Just one more Argan woman among the countless being sold into slavery in Van Yela.

Night fell with terrifying speed. Elise was shoved through a rough door and thrown into a tent.

'Even one second. Even a single moment where I can move my arms—'

One second to press the magic circle carved into her forearm. One second to call Andrei's name. Even one second of that—

But the Van Yela knight had removed neither her gag nor the restraints on her hands and feet. He had gone further still: the hands that had been bound behind her back were now raised above her head and fixed to something. The blindfold had been replaced over her eyes.

"A proper feast after a month of starving. I have good luck today."

"—Mmph! Mnngh—!"

"A beauty this fine—even Kyrstan, stone that he is, couldn't fail to be moved. In many ways, it's fortunate you caught my eye first."

Helplessness became terror and ground her thinking to nothing. The man's hands on her body made her skin crawl.

Andrei. Andrei. Stupid Elise could only repeat the name of her twin brother—already surely dead—as though bleeding the syllables out of herself.

Help me. Help me, anyone—please—

The moment the man had just seized her cloak and begun to tear it away—

Something erupted from somewhere deep inside her and poured outward.

"Ghk."

A sound like being strangled came from his throat.

The blindfold still covered her eyes, so Elise couldn't understand what had happened. Something viscous poured over her shoulder in a sudden rush.

"Gh… ghk…"

The metallic smell. Blood.

The knots binding her arms snapped free on their own.

Elise scrambled upright and tore the blindfold away first. And she saw it—the front of the man who had been about to assault her, split open in the shape of a crescent moon.

"——!"

The heavy body collapsed onto her. He had not even managed a final scream.

Elise clenched her jaw. She hadn't activated any of the circles inscribed on her body—she had no idea how this had happened.

But she couldn't stop to think about it.

Run.

Elise shoved the dead man sideways and rolled off the bed. The man had dismissed everyone from around the tent when he brought her in, so there were no sentries posted at the entrance.

"Hhk—"

A sob like something animal tore up from her throat. Elise wiped her tears with blood-soaked hands and ran.

'Keep your head together.'

She had to get out of here before the soldiers spotted her. This was Van Yela's encampment—enemy territory. The base of the fraternal nation to the barbaric kingdom that had come to tear out the last remaining roots of Argan.

But Elise's escape did not last long.

"Alert! Aleeert!"

Someone had found the dead knight's body.

'That fast—!'

The sound of soldiers moving in disciplined formation. In the distance, the light of torches scattered and swung wildly.

Elise dove into the nearest tent—the only one in the area with no soldiers standing guard around it.

She pushed through the tent flap and stepped inside—and her legs gave out beneath her.

"Hgh… ugh."

The smell of blood rising from her own body was enough to make her mind spin. Elise fumbled along the inside of her forearm.

The spells Andrei had inscribed on her body were simple—defensive magic and offensive magic. He had said it was too difficult to carve something complex, like a long-distance teleportation array.

I should have insisted he strain himself and inscribe a travel spell across the whole of my back.

Elise listened to soldiers pounding past outside the tent and rubbed the magic circle on the inside of her forearm. Tears kept coming.

"Your Grace!"

Someone shouted loudly just outside the tent. Her thoughts snapped in half.

There was the presence of a person inside the tent. Elise forgot to breathe and went completely rigid.

The space she had thought was empty—was not.

In the far corner of the tent, two bright blue eyes were staring directly at her.