Chapter 13 - Desiring Freedom (1/2)

Chapter 13 – Desiring Freedom

The Emperor of the West Empire had changed four times. The West Empire was a strong empire back when Emperor Iver, famous for his tuberosity, occupied its throne. But now it barely existed, like a piece of cake eaten around.

The minorities, who relegated to the corner of the West, did not miss the opportunity and attacked the Empire. All sides of the Empire became a battlefield, and in the middle of it, a young child with a sword suddenly appeared.

“On the battlefield, even a child like that…”

Ironically, those who felt pity towards the child died first. Yet the child survived tenaciously, even if his back was covered with wounds and his breathing was ragged, persistently enduring. The longer he was on the battlefield, the more injuries he suffered.

By the time the Emperor of Miltan was replaced for the fifth time, he turned his sword to the center of the Empire, the symbol of the Iver family carved in his gloves.

He sported black hair, which was golden before. The necklace around his neck was nothing but a tool for hiding his blonde hair.

It was about ten years after the child appeared.

His name was Nabel Iver.

***

The fork poked the apple in the middle, clutched by a hand that was tender and thin. The owner of the hand saw one side of the apple turning brown, and took a bite, avoiding it.

Ronée suddenly looked at her hand. Every time she looked at it, she would sometimes remember another hand, holding her own.

“Nabel.” A small frown appeared on her lips. It was a name she hadn’t forgotten even after ten years.

The child, who was no longer there, was a little taller than her then. By now, wouldn’t he be much bigger than her?

Ronée thought, how are you doing?

He was bought by her as a slave, but he was not a slave. Ronée did not treat him as a slave. Nabel was a free man, and he left. You said you’d come back.

She hadn’t been under much sunlight, so her skin was pale. She picked up the fork again. It was then,

“Lady!”

There was only one person who came rushing into her room: the maid Ryne.

“Ryne? Is something wrong?”

“Lady…” Ryne was panting, unable to speak.

Ronée immediately knew that the fear she had been dreading for ten years had finally come.

“From the temple, I got a call.”

Ronée dropped the fork. The fox, Bell, jumped into her arms and sat down. As if it was reassuring, as if it was there to protect.