IWJACM Chapter 2

He was a well-built, sturdy man in a white shirt.

He sat on the simple cot in the corner of the tent. The sheer force of presence that came off his thick frame was considerable.

His black hair, slightly tangled, was pushed carelessly back from his forehead. Thick brows and long, level eyes showed themselves without reserve.

He was loosening the cord at his collar. He looked, for all the world, like a beast who had been resting at ease and just now spotted quarry it never expected to find.

The man overwhelmed the room with his gaze alone, silent, and Elise stood as if nailed to the spot, unable to so much as twitch.

I know that man.

"Ah…."

A small whisper slipped out through her barely parted lips.

"Kyr… stan."

Grand Duke Kyrstan. Half-brother to the Emperor of Van Yela, and lord of Lothier, one of the north's few blessed lands.

Elise had, without question, seen this man before.

It had been about three years ago now, before Argan's power had truly begun to fail. He had come leading a goodwill delegation to Argan, and she had seen him then.

It had been only a glimpse from a distance, but his presence was the kind that was difficult to forget. Even then, rumor of the black-haired, blue-eyed Grand Duke had already spread across the entire continent.

He was said to be a half-brother who had turned up from somewhere, back when the current Emperor of Van Yela had still been a fifth prince, fifth in the line of succession.

A child born when the missing former Emperor's favored concubine had taken up with some drifter. Which meant, strictly speaking, not a drop of Van Yela imperial blood ran in him at all—and yet the fifth prince had gladly taken him as his own brother.

Six years later, the fifth prince had raised a rebellion and seized the imperial house by force.

And the man at the exact center of that storm of blood had been this very brother of uncertain origin.

Once crowned, the new Emperor had immediately granted him the rank of Grand Duke and handed him the territory of Lothier, famed for its richness.

Under an emperor who pursued an aggressive policy of territorial expansion, the Grand Duke made his infamy known across the entire continent.

People called him the war demon.

"……."

A breath-stopping silence stretched out. Elise could not force a single word past her lips.

'Does that man remember me, too?'

Elise had been a princess of Argan, but Andrei had kept her hidden away so thoroughly, barring her from every imperial function, that her face and name had never become widely known across the continent.

What the world knew of her, clearly and for certain, amounted to this: she was the twin sister of Argan's Emperor. And that she was extremely sickly.

That was all.

Everything else was speculation. That she couldn't stand for long under sunlight. That the Emperor doted on her so much she remained unmarried past the proper age. That she was, in truth, a cripple, unsound somewhere or other.

There had even been filthy, baseless rumors that she and her twin, the Emperor, shared that kind of relationship.

When Elise learned of the vile rumor staining Andrei's honor, she had begged her brother to let her attend his birthday celebration. She'd thought that if she appeared in public herself, such talk might finally die down.

That had been the first and only time Elizabetha ever showed herself to the world.

Envoys who had arrived from across the continent to celebrate the Emperor of Argan's birthday had also attended that day's banquet.

She had seen him then. That man. Van Yela's war demon.

If that man had seen her that day too. If he remembered her. If, at this very moment, he had already seen through to her identity….

Then her safe escape from this place became a distant hope indeed.

To that man, she was, without condition, an enemy nation's princess to be captured and killed. She had even killed and fled from a Van Yela knight who was, obviously, one of his own men.

Her vision swam.

'Of all times, why did she have to run into this man now?'

Grand Duke Kyrstan was surely the supreme commander overseeing this entire encampment.

Her life and death hung on a single word from that man's mouth.

Whether or not he knew of the black rot spreading through her insides, the Grand Duke said nothing, only watched her.

An urgent voice came again from behind the door.

"Lord Kyrstan! Are you within?"

This time, he reacted to the call. The man's voice came slowly.

"What is it?"

His voice was lower and carried more resonance than she'd expected. It seemed slightly rough, too.

"Lord Roderick has been assassinated! It seems an intruder infiltrated the camp. Your orders, quickly!"

The Grand Duke's blue eyes swept over her—over her body, to be precise. His gaze passed her two hands, drenched in blood, and her upper garment, torn to the point of barely functioning as clothing, before dropping to the skirt hem soaked through with bloodstains.

Elise's heart hammered violently. If he said even one word here, her life was over.

In despair, Elise scraped at the mark carved into the back of her ankle.

The magic circle on her ankle was the spell Andrei had told her to use only in the very worst circumstances. Even as he'd said it should never need to be used, he'd had no choice but to carve it into her in the end—a spell that would detonate the body of whoever bore its mark.

If she pressed this mark and called her brother's name, Elise could vanish from the world without leaving even a filthy trace behind.

The Grand Duke's gaze returned to her face. Watching her with an unreadable, expressionless face, he abruptly rose from where he sat. His footstep fell.

One step. Two steps.

When there was no more than three steps of distance left between them, Elise's face twisted with grief.

It's over. There's nothing more to be done now. Only death.

'At least let me die cleanly, as a princess should, as befits Argan's pride. Andrei must still be waiting for her, somewhere beyond death, not yet gone.'

'Not afraid.'

"Andre…."

It was the instant Elise pressed the magic circle at her ankle and began to speak Andrei's name.

"I pay my respects to Her Highness, the Princess of Argan."

'Wh—?'

Elise failed to finish her words at what the Grand Duke did in the next moment. Her lips parted without a sound.

The man had lowered one knee to the ground before her.

"This—what…" Elise was swept up in confusion. For a moment, she couldn't even tell where she was.

Isn't this—isn't this Van Yela's camp?

Isn't this man, who bows to her now, the very one called the Emperor of Van Yela's hunting hound?

"Commander, may I enter—"

"No. Do not enter."

There was still no rise or fall in his voice. Elise met, in a daze, the blue eyes that would not release her.

Her gaze was caught, unable to slip free.

"Would you permit me a moment? Your Highness."

He had clearly recognized in an instant who she was. Only then did she realize the gesture the man had taken was the courtesy owed to royalty.

There was no one on the whole continent who would dare look down upon the imperial house of the great empire of Argan. That had been the practice observed for over a thousand years, for as long as Argan had ruled this continent of Grendel.

But now, with Argan fallen, it was nothing more than a musty old custom. There was no reason at all to append the exalted title of "Your Highness" to the princess of a conquered nation.

Then was this man mocking her?

"It would not do to be seen dressed so."

But there was no trace of such intent in Grand Duke Kyrstan's expression or voice. He did not sneer at her, nor did he show her any particular pity, nor did he display hostility.

He was simply without emotion. As if he had merely rendered the courtesy that was proper, and nothing more than that.

Elise bit her lip. Outside the tent, the sound of restless feet shifting continued to reach her. In the end, Elise nodded.

"You may."

The moment her permission fell, the man rose to his feet. He lifted the clean linen cloth neatly folded on the small camp desk, dipped it into the water basin beside it, and withdrew it. He wrung the water out firmly, then brought it before her.

Lowering himself before her once more, he asked again.

"May I lay hands upon Your Highness's body?"

Once again, Elise had no choice but to nod, helplessly. The instant he had her permission, the man caught both her wrists in one large hand and lifted them.

He took the dampened cloth and wiped clean her blood-soaked hands. The diluted blood ran thin, staining her skirt hem and the fabric near the man's thigh a faint pink.

Elise had to stare blankly at his face the whole time as the man cleaned the blood from her hands, arms, and hair, and dressed her in someone's shirt—whose, she had no idea.

His black hair was still damp, as though he hadn't long finished bathing. Beneath it, faint double eyelids led into long, sweeping eyes, a straight-bridged nose, and a mouth pressed into a firm, level line. He was a handsome man with a cool, seamless impression about him.

"Whoever dared to lay hands upon Your Highness's body without permission shall pay a price fitting the offense."

She could not fathom his intent. Surely he had already guessed well enough that his own man had died, and that she was the cause.

'Why is he treating me like this?'

But Elise soon understood this to be simply his own nature.

He reminded her of Andrei. The type who prized principle and conviction above all else. But this man was not gentle the way Andrei was. There was no warmth of any kind in the eyes that watched her.

This was not an act rooted in good will. He was simply rendering the proper courtesy owed to the imperial house of a nation—nothing more.

Having finished perfectly arranging Elise's clothing, the Grand Duke withdrew his hand. Pulling back from her cleanly and plainly, he raised his voice toward outside the tent.

"Come in, Sir Ruben."

"Yes!"

The tent flap was thrown open.

Grand Duke Kyrstan gave his order in a voice without rise or fall.

"Escort Her Highness."

"Sir? What did you just…"

"The last royal remaining of the Argan Empire. See her to her final road with proper respect."

The pale blue eyes that pronounced Elise's death sentence remained cold, still.