A desolate and silent wasteland.
A group of horses and carriages crossed the wasteland, not due to fever but to the cold.
Aslan was at the forefront, holding the reins, gently swaying left and right in rhythm with the horse’s movement.
Behind Aslan’s back was Ereta.
Ereta sat diagonally on the saddle, her arms wrapped around his waist. She seemed a little uncomfortable due to the swaying motion but did not complain much.
Thus, silence reigned behind Aslan as well.
Amidst the sound of hooves striking the ground and the rolling of carriage wheels, Aslan glanced sideways to check on the group.
At the very back, there was a small carriage barely large enough for one person, where only Tiamat sat. Surprisingly, despite usually suffering from motion sickness, Tiamat showed no signs of dizziness while adjusting her bow.
In front of Tiamat was Lewena who rode alongside Richard. Thanks to an illusionary magic cast by Lewena, the carriage followed the leading horses without a driver.
Richard, trying hard not to notice Lewena sitting directly behind him, maintained a nearly blank expression tinged with discomfort—apparently weak against assertive women.
Unlike Richard, Lumel and Angie ahead of them occasionally exchanged words. Lumel steered the horse from behind Angie, who sat in front, pouting unhappily.
Though not visible at the moment since Phey had gone ahead, the entire traveling party was present.
They were heading towards the fortress of the traitors, the fallen territory of the Pervere Kingdom.
What would have been a long journey on foot was shortened when, upon Aslan announcing their intention to head toward the fallen kingdom, the Emperor immediately offered support through couriers and provided horses and carriages shortly after.
The horses and carriages they now rode were those provisions.
With backpacks filled with supplies, the group set off straight for the Pervere Kingdom.
By the time a week had passed since their departure, the group entered the fallen kingdom’s territory.
Though the fortress wasn’t yet in sight, it was clear they were nearing their destination.
There had been no problems during the journey itself, as the land was eerily quiet, devoid of life, presumably because specters had already taken away any monsters that might have been there. Attacks on the group were rare.
Despite this, Angie clearly looked dissatisfied.
“I wanted to ride behind Aslan.”
Fortunately, Angie voiced her complaint before Aslan even asked. The spot she desired was currently occupied by Ereta.
Before Aslan could react, Angie sighed deeply and rested her head on Lumel’s chest.
Lumel, looking flustered, said, “Angie, my chest is…”
“It’s not like it’s going to wear out or anything. Riding is uncomfortable, so just let me enjoy the softness.”
Lumel groaned softly as Angie closed her eyes, treating his chest as if it were hers alone.
Aslan observed this scene from the corner of his eye and internally sighed in relief.
Truthfully, Aslan had initially wondered if separating Lumel and Angie might be necessary. Considering what they had done together with Aslan, any conversation between them could potentially lead to disaster—words that would inevitably create awkward situations.
So, Aslan worried at first, even considering whether he should separate the two. However, unexpectedly, Lumel and Angie didn’t say anything that made things difficult for Aslan.
Still, Aslan couldn’t help but remain vigilant about what they might say, knowing that any comment could ruin the group’s already tense atmosphere.
This vigilance forced Aslan to glance sideways often, which caught Ereta’s attention as she tilted her head curiously.
“Aslan, why are you looking that way?”
“It’s nothing.”
Startled, Aslan quickly replied, prompting Ereta to tilt her head in the opposite direction.
“Is that so?”
Her hand, gripping his waist, lightly tickled him, causing Aslan to display a troubled expression.
Aslan’s concerns weren’t limited to Lumel and Angie; Ereta herself was also a source of worry.
Ereta lacked worldly knowledge entirely. While her innocence was part of her charm, her adult-like appearance contrasted sharply with her naivety, creating complications.
Some might find her high-maintenance beauty alluring, but Aslan felt it inappropriate.
Whenever such thoughts arose, Aslan struggled to find excuses, cleverly choosing silence while feeling uneasy.
Silently guiding the horse forward, a voice suddenly came from behind.
“Aslan, are you hiding something from me?”
Aslan felt a cold sweat break out at the question—a spine-chilling statement.
And it wasn’t just one line either.
“Is there something I shouldn’t know?”
Aslan genuinely broke into a sweat as Ereta, holding onto his waist, questioned him gently.
“So, you’re not going to tell me? Angie knows, Lumel knows, but not me?”
Ereta wasn’t dim-witted. A capable high priestess capable of leading her religious order, such cheap deflections wouldn’t work on her. She had a fair idea why she was being kept in the dark and was speculating who else knew.
Thus, Aslan had to carefully consider his response—how to answer without making her upset or landing himself in further trouble.
Inevitably, the silence grew longer, and as it stretched, Ereta paused to gauge Aslan’s reaction before speaking again.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me—it’s fine.”
She showed consideration for Aslan, guessing there must be a reason he hesitated to answer.
“I don’t know exactly what it is that you’re hiding, but I trust you.”
Her hand smoothly traced Aslan’s waist.
And then, clinging closely to Aslan’s abdomen, she leaned forward.
Aslan twitched again at her movement, and Ereta continued.
“You think whatever I’d learn wouldn’t be good for me, right? That’s why you’re hiding it.”
“That’s…”
It was close but slightly off. So Aslan chose his words carefully, and Ereta smiled knowingly.
“It’s alright—I won’t eat you.”
Though meant as a joke, Aslan struggled to take it as such.
Closing his eyes tightly, Aslan listened as Ereta concluded.
“If you feel it’s appropriate later, you can tell me then.”
On the surface, it seemed like a declaration of complete trust.
But upon closer inspection, it wasn’t quite that simple.
Rather, it was a highly provocative statement—if she ever deemed herself ready, she expected to be taught worldly knowledge.
Thus, Aslan, still troubled, glanced back.
Behind Lumel and Angie.
Richard, nervous and tight-lipped around strong women, guided his horse while Lewena idly hummed a tune, observing her surroundings.
Lewena scanned the area disinterestedly until catching Aslan’s gaze.
“Good. Fine. Go ahead.”
Through her lips, she silently communicated her approval to Aslan.
A kind of permission.
Only then did Aslan close his eyes and respond to Ereta.
“…Alright.”
Ereta appeared satisfied with the answer, smiling faintly before letting Aslan quietly guide the horse.
A heavy silence naturally enveloped them.
“Aslan, there’s a town up ahead.”
The silence was broken when Phey, who had scouted ahead, returned.
“A town?”
“Yes, a town. It’s small.”
Phey reported the presence of a town, leaving Aslan puzzled.
Surely, there couldn’t be a town in such a fallen kingdom.
The common belief was that the Pervere Kingdom had completely perished.
Even more, a knight who lost both arms mentioned how the traitors and ordinary refugees who fled the kingdom formed the fortress known as the Traitors’ Fortress.
Therefore, Aslan found it hard to accept the notion of a town.
Perhaps Phey had mistaken something.
After all, it was unimaginable for a refugee settlement to resemble a town in such a devastated land.
Only when the final fortress of the fallen kingdom came into view did Aslan realize Phey had been correct.
“Is that the Traitors’ Fortress?”
The landscape resembled a city more than a fortress.
Tall spires connected dynamically to form walls, and within the fortifications surrounded by palisades, scattered civilian homes were visible.
From the fortress extended a well-maintained road, likely dug and smoothed by manual labor if it existed before the kingdom’s fall or evidence of considerable resources if constructed afterward.
Neither scenario fit the image of a typical last refuge for ordinary refugees.
Moreover, the fortress appeared well-preserved, with soldiers patrolling visibly.
“There’s something suspicious here. Something smells off.”
From the nearby carriage, Tiamat voiced her suspicion, and Aslan nodded in agreement.
Indeed, something was amiss.
The Pervere Kingdom hadn’t simply fallen—it had been annihilated by the Veil of Mercy.
Its influence prevented crops from growing and consumed life.
Wild animals avoided areas under the Veil, and plants failed to thrive.
Surviving in such conditions would be challenging, let alone thriving enough to build a city.
Aslan suspected priestly involvement.
“Everyone, stay alert. We might end up fighting as soon as we enter.”
Fighting was undesirable.
The armless knight was a genuine knight and sage who cared for the weak, and this fortress was one he entrusted to Aslan with his dying breath.
However, if the fortress’s apparent peace was false and priests were involved, Aslan believed a fight would be unavoidable.
Because priests who truly care for humanity do not exist.
Thus, Aslan warned the group briefly while steering the horse, and the group tightened their guard as they approached the fortress, wary of any traps the priests might have prepared.
However, what greeted them was neither a trap nor battle.
Instead, it was the exact opposite.
“Huh?”
Angie voiced her confusion, and Tiamat subtly furrowed her brow at the intense divine power.
The entire fortress was enveloped in a thick aura of eternity and night divinity.
