Chapter 73: The Divine Tree

Though the imperial capital still lingered with faint traces of the fierce battle from days prior, an unsettled atmosphere hanging in the air, Emperor Beltar nodded readily at Rohan’s resolute decision.

His eyes, no longer those of a frail, ailing man, now shone with unyielding will.

“Yes, go forth.”

Beltar’s voice was low, yet within it was a steadfast strength.

“The Marquis’s existence is a constant ember, a threat that could plunge our Empire into peril at any time. We cannot simply let him roam free. Please, go, and see that you find him and return.”

Emperor Beltar was a picture of surprising recovery.

The heavy pallor of illness had noticeably faded, his once-drooped shoulders now straightened once more.

No longer was there any trace of the weak sovereign who had been bound to his sickbed.

He was steadily reclaiming his former authority, a burning resolve flaring within him to restore the crumbling foundations of the Empire.

Just before leaving the Emperor’s chambers, Rohan, overcome with a sudden worry, asked one last question.

“The state affairs… Will you truly be alright, Your Majesty?”

Beltar shook his head with a wry smile.

“I must seize them again, even now. While I let go, the Empire fell into far greater ruin than I had ever imagined.”

His voice was tinged with a deep sigh and bitterness.

“The nobles ran wild as they pleased, corrupt officials leeched the people dry, and the laws of the Empire remained nothing but hollow shells, in name only.”

The Emperor slowly raised his hand to point outside the window.

Far off in the distance, the grand roof of the assembly hall glimmered faintly beneath the winter sunlight.

“I will restore it all, from start to finish. The things I failed to do in the past—now is the time to accomplish them at all costs.”

A moment of silence passed.

Beltar, as if hesitating over something, parted his lips cautiously.

“Ah, and… Don’t worry too much about your mother. I will take good care of her by your side.”

Looking at his father’s face, tinged with an unusual shyness and turning slightly red, Rohan smiled.

He didn’t need to say anything; his father’s warmth was conveyed to him all the same.

“I will return, Father.”

Leaving behind his brief but earnest farewell, Rohan departed from the Emperor’s chambers.

His steps felt much lighter now.

The sight of his father restored gave him great strength.

Now, he could focus wholly on tracking down the vanished Marquis.

Emperor Beltar watched from the window for a long time as Rohan walked away from the palace.

His eyes were filled with love for his son, and deep contemplation for the Empire’s future.

Now, left alone in the imperial palace, he had to begin anew the arduous task of rebuilding a fallen Empire.

Heavy responsibility weighed upon his shoulders, yet his gaze no longer belonged to the weak monarch of the past, but to the guardian who had risen once more for the Empire.

Rohan passed through the sturdy gates of the imperial capital.

The cold winter wind brushed the hem of his cloak, but within his heart, a fervent flame blazed.

The vanished Marquis Fabian.

Rohan was determined to find him and quell the Empire’s uncertain future.

His gaze was already set far ahead, toward the unfathomed depths of a truth yet to be revealed.

---

Three days flowed by, like water.

Rohan had completed all his preparations and now stood in the gardens of Boronia Palace.

In the chilly air of dawn, a thin layer of white snow had settled in silence overnight upon the garden.

The snow beneath his feet crunched as it bore his footprints.

His horse and carriage, laden with luggage, were quietly waiting at his side, ready to depart.

There were only two companions on this journey.

Retina, wrapped in her crimson cloak and standing firm by his side, and Martin, silently checking the carriage.

Their presence would serve as a reliable pillar on this arduous journey.

“William, I’ll be counting on you to watch over Boronia Palace in my absence.”

At Rohan’s low voice, William bowed deeply in a show of respect.

In his blue eyes gleamed loyalty and steadfast resolve.

“Please don’t worry, Your Highness. I will use all my strength to tend the palace, so that you may return at any time with peace of mind.”

“I trust you.”

In truth, William would perform his duties well without any reminders.

He was calm and meticulous, and above all, held deep loyalty toward Rohan.

Rohan turned his gaze to the others.

The faces of those who always stood by his side, offering sharp advice and warm encouragement, seemed—just this once—especially dear to him.

If the Marquis could not be found, the journey could be long, with no promise of return.

Usually cheerful and bold, Lucretia today kept her lips tightly closed, delivering a short farewell.

“Return safely, Your Highness. I will keep my eyes wide open and not slacken in vigilance here.”

Rohan knew well that behind her blunt expression hid sincere concern for his safety.

He smiled warmly and nodded at her.

And lastly, Empress Amanda herself came to see him off in the garden.

Even in the biting morning air, her face carried a gentle smile.

She quietly approached and clasped his hand between both of hers.

Her hands were warm, yet a subtle tremor ran through her fingertips.

“Please, come back safely, Crown Prince.”

“Mother…”

Rohan softly called out as he took her trembling hands in his.

“This, I made it myself.”

Amanda produced a neatly folded handkerchief from her robes and pressed it into his hand.

On the well-ironed, soft cotton fabric, a delicate red rose was embroidered, and at the corner, his initial ‘R’ was stitched in silver thread.

“You haven’t forgotten what I always say, have you? Above all else, take care of yourself first.”

Her voice was calm, yet carried the full depth of a mother’s worry.

“…Thank you, Mother.”

With a solemn look, Rohan bowed his head and gently kissed the back of her warm hand.

“Then, I’ll be off.”

With a brief parting word, Rohan climbed into the carriage.

Soon after.

The heavy gates of Boronia Palace, tightly shut, slowly swung open, and elite knights with sharp gazes took the lead, clearing the snow-covered road ahead.

From within the carriage, Rohan looked back at the imperial capital, growing ever more distant.

Above the gray, imposing walls, the cold winter sun rose, tinged with red.

Before he knew it, white snowflakes had begun to drift down from the sky.

His eyes turned to the faint northern horizon, barely visible.

Pursuing the trail of Marquis Fabian, the long and treacherous journey toward Raolacis was beginning in quiet earnest.

---

Meanwhile.

The deepest reaches of Silvaren.

Beneath the majestic figure of the great sacred tree Yggdrasil, firmly rooted in the earth, a woman knelt quietly in prayer.

Her name was Arabelin.

She was a Silvarenean, with hair shining silver and deep, clear sky-blue eyes.

The clear dew gathering in her moist eyes slipped down her white cheeks like traces of earnest prayer.

For a long time, she had emptied her heart before Yggdrasil, attuning herself in silence to the whispers of nature.

As if sensing the faintest currents of the world.

A woman ever quietly following the flow of destiny.

Today, as on any other, as she prayed—

A sudden, intense force swept over her body.

“…Haa!”

Her breath caught, nearly suffocating her.

Her slender body shuddered, her eyes flew open wide.

And in the center of her vivid vision, a strange scene unfolded.

One man and two companions.

The three figures rode in a carriage along a road blanketed in white snow.

A biting wind whipped at their cloaks, and from afar, the cries of nameless beasts echoed faintly.

Among the three, the face of the woman in the red cloak was all too familiar to Arabelin.

“Retina? Then the man beside her is…”

Arabelin’s eyes sparkled.

“…At last, he comes.”

With a slightly tense expression, Arabelin gazed at the vision.

She had been waiting for Rohan’s arrival.

But there was a problem.

Their visit would not be a simple one.

In the vision, dark red blood seeped beneath Rohan’s party, staining the earth, and in the coldly shining sky above, pure white wings and chilling red eyes overlapped in a bizarre sight.

Light and darkness. Truth and falsehood.

Two opposing, powerful currents merged like a great river, surging toward the heart of Silvaren.

Only then did Arabelin regain her senses and rise, her body trembling.

She quickly donned the worn cloak behind the altar, and, as if possessed, hurried down the forest path.

The place she so urgently headed for was an ancient castle at the heart of the Prana Federation.

At the highest tower of that castle, the true ruler of Silvaren and King of the Prana Federation, Nas, was working.

His golden eyes resembled those of a human, yet emanated an otherworldly dignity and transcendent air.

Around him lingered a stillness as if time itself had stopped.

“…Arabelin.”

Sensing a delicate presence, Nas turned his head.

His voice was low and resonant, as if steeped in ages past.

“Lord Nas, I have something to report.”

“What did you see?”

“Yes.”

Arabelin kept her lips pressed tight for a moment, then, as if resolved, spoke slowly.

“There were three of them. One was… Retina. The other was… Crown Prince Rohan Schubert of the Schubert Empire.”

“Oh? Rohan, is it. Yes, the time for his arrival has come.”

Murmuring softly as if to himself, he looked out through the window at the distant, white forest.

He, too, knew that the Schubert Empire’s situation was dire.

That was why he had not acted or pressed for haste.

The flow of time for humans was altogether different from that of the Elpirians, whose time was like eternity.

“At last we shall meet, Rohan.”

The corners of Nas’s crimson lips curled faintly.

His golden eyes shone coldly, holding both a chilling air and strange curiosity.

“But there is something strange.”

“Strange?”

At Nas’s question, Arabelin replied carefully.

“In their footsteps heading for Silvaren… there is a terrible stench of blood.”