TOPWL 110

[To Prince Yudit Friedrich Adanauer,

The season in which the curtain of winter is lifted is upon us. Though the cold wind still blows, I have no doubt that soon the frozen earth will thaw, and new buds will sprout.

With the upcoming swordsmanship tournament drawing near, we request that all princes submit the names of their participants. Please write the full name of the entrant and send it to the Imperial Palace. If Your Highness intends to participate personally, simply write your own name. If you are appointing a proxy, write their full name instead. In the case of a proxy, once chosen, they may not be replaced, so we ask that you make this decision with careful thought.

We sincerely hope this tournament will be an honorable event that brings further glory to the name of Adanauer. We always pray for Your Highness’s peace and well-being.

— With respect,

Imperial Advisor, Gaspar Roche Kleinberg.]

It was a letter from the Imperial Palace. Only then did Yudit realize that the royal emblem had been stamped on the envelope. He wanted nothing more than to crumple it in his hand, but instead, he tucked the letter back inside and slumped into a chair.

“……”

With calloused hands, he roughly swept back his hair. Though he had no doubt that Khalid was alive, he hated himself for not being able to write down Khalid’s name and send it right away.

Unlike Shane, who was watching his condition with concern, Wadiram had already seated himself beside the desk and begun eating naturally. Though both Shane and Wadiram had large builds and filled the room, Yudit couldn’t shake the feeling that something—no, someone—was missing. He hadn’t known waiting for someone who gave no reply could be this painful. Yudit rose again and began to gather the scattered documents. He had a feeling it was going to be another long night.

***

In his dream, someone was crying. Curled up on the ground, their face was hidden. Yudit approached. The figure had long hair and was sobbing quietly. But just before he could reach out, the crying ceased. A chill crawled down his spine. Uneasy, Yudit stepped back. Slowly, the figure began to rise. Then, it turned—very slowly—to face him. Only then did he realize it had no face. Its entire head was a mass of long, black hair.

Suddenly, it lunged at him and began to strangle him.

“Bring Khalid back!”

“……!”

“This is your fault! All of it—it’s all your fault!”

It’s your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault.

The accusations rang in his ears as Yudit stumbled back. He threw off its hands and fled into the darkness, but it chased him, tackling him from behind. Its hands wrapped around his throat, its legs tangled around his waist, making it impossible to run. He didn’t get far before he collapsed. And then—he fell. Endlessly, endlessly, into a pit. Yudit woke up drenched in cold sweat.

“……”

Even awake, he could still feel its weight, still sense its hair brushing against the back of his neck. Disoriented, he looked around. There was some commotion outside the door. Lighting a candle, he stood. Shane turned toward him from his post by the entrance. Across from Shane stood another figure—he couldn’t see clearly, but it looked like they had just returned from battle. The wind carried the foul scent of blood. Shane, having received a letter from the figure, approached Judith.

“My apologies for the disturbance. The visit was sudden, and I didn’t have time to be more discreet.”

“It’s fine. What is it?”

Instead of answering, Shane held out the letter.

“A message from the subjugation force.”

***

The village had been buzzing since morning. Yudit had risen before dawn to oversee the preparations for the welcoming ceremony. The village square had never looked so lavish. Colorful paper flowers and streamers covered the walls, and the marketplace stalls were overflowing with new goods.

In front of the square, bakers had stacked piles of freshly baked bread and sweets to hand out freely, and children giggled as they ran through the square with pastries in hand. A bard played a merry tune while dancers and jesters spun and twirled to the rhythm. A rumor had spread that silver coins would be scattered during the ceremony, drawing even people from the capital. The small village was soon packed.

At the appointed time, hired workers began tossing paper flowers and silver coins into the air. The crowd erupted in cheers, hands reaching skyward. For a welcome ceremony in such a small village, it was remarkably extravagant. But Yudit had his reasons.

Two days earlier, he had received a message from the subjugation force:

[I’ll return the day after tomorrow. Prepare a grand welcome for me. I want to see you.]

There was no name, but Yudit instantly knew who had written it. The paper was torn and stained with blood, likely written in a moment of crisis, but the handwriting was clean and meticulous—like it had been written in a glass greenhouse.

Yudit had been carrying that message close to his heart, reading it whenever he had a spare moment.

Since he had asked for a grand welcome, Yudit was more than willing to prepare one. Because of that, most of the villagers—including Yudit—had worked for two sleepless nights. But Yudit wasn’t tired at all. On the contrary, he felt so happy just to be able to do something for the returning subjugation force. Since the day he’d heard the roars from beyond the mountains, the nightmares hadn’t stopped. It was astonishing how one person could so thoroughly transform his emotions—it was even a little frightening.

Though it wasn’t quite spring yet, the weather was unseasonably warm. Yudit stood by the entrance—where the subjugation force would pass through. Even if it had been raining or snowing, he would’ve stood there all the same. With a nervous expression, he adjusted the bouquet he’d made from crocheted flowers and kept his eyes on the path ahead. His red cloak fluttered in the wind, catching the sunlight. From afar, the faint sound of hoofbeats reached his ears.

“They’re coming.”

“How can you tell?”

“You can hear it, can’t you?”

Excitement and anticipation rippled through the crowd. Yudit was no different, but with his practiced composure, he stared ahead without changing expression.

“It’s opening!”

As the sound of hooves grew nearer, six guards rushed to the gate and began unlocking the heavy latches. With a loud, grating creak—evidently the hinges had gone too long without oil—the massive doors slowly parted.

“They’re here! It’s the knights!”

“Waaaah!”

Cheers erupted before anyone could even name the moment. All around, bursts of colorful paper decorations flew into the air, fluttering in celebration of their return. Yudit stared unblinking through the falling streamers at the gradually sharpening outline of the subjugation force.

At the very front rode Khalid. Even from afar, Yudit could tell. The moment he saw him, his heart reacted. Like the pattering footsteps of children across the square, his heart began to beat faster.

Khalid, clad in silver armor, sat atop his horse. As he neared the village, he removed his helmet and looked out over the crowd—as though he knew full well that the best spectacle was his own face. His black hair danced in the wind, and his deep blue eyes glinted in the sunlight. Above his head, the subjugation force’s banner fluttered dramatically. Yudit couldn’t tear his gaze away. Khalid’s features were even sharper than before—he must’ve suffered much. Yudit found it strange that he felt pity for a man who looked like he had nothing in the world to fear.

Behind Khalid, knights on horseback passed by in rows. Even covered in dust, they looked magnificent. They too waved to the crowd, following Khalid’s lead.

“What the—what is that?!”

“That’s not alive… is it?”

A shriek rose from the crowd, followed by a chaotic mix of cheers and cries of alarm. The cause of the uproar was the massive monster carcass loaded onto a wagon at the rear of the supply train.

It was dark brown in color, resembling a bear in shape, but it was nearly three times the size—and its tusks, like those of a boar, jutted forward menacingly. Its teeth and claws gleamed like forged steel, and just one of its talons was nearly the size of a grown man’s fist.

“T-that’s… that’s a Dire-bear!”

Someone shouted the name in a panic. Only then did Yudit realize what it was. A Dire-bear—a monster so infamous, it was said that anyone who saw it once never lived to see it again.

The reason for that grim saying was simple: most people died the moment they encountered it.

But every monster hunter dreamed of slaying a Dire-bear at least once. Its pelt, heart, gallbladder, claws—every part of it sold for astronomical sums. No wonder the crowd was in awe. And yet, that was not the end of it. One wagon after another passed by, each loaded with another Dire-bear. Two… three… four… there were seven in total. Thanks to proper preservation, there was hardly any stench. Behind them followed carts filled with dozens of other monsters—ogres, orcs, and more.

At that point, the poor horses dragging the entire load were worthy of both reverence and pity.

While Yudit stood, stunned by a sight he had never imagined, a voice he had longed for spoke from just in front of him.

“It’s the reaction I was hoping for… but I’m a little hurt they’re more excited about the monsters than me.”

Startled, Yudit turned toward the sound. There was Khalid, still mounted, smiling gently down at him.