Aris was lying under yet another boulder he had found in the lands of the West. It was night, and the rain was coming down hard.
The group that followed him had now grown to over two hundred, all wearing the same expression , a mix of excitement and fear, as they stared at the Mad Beast.
But since it was raining, they had scattered, hiding under other rocks farther away.
Having not eaten for a long time, and knowing the rain would not go anytime soon, the foxes tried to attack the fennecs ,who fought back just as viciously. And so, under the black, spike-covered rocks, their numbers thinned little by little.
For them, it was a blessing but it was also like living in a cemetery. They had an almost infinite supply of food, but they had to earn it, at the risk of their lives.
It had been the same before the Mad Beast appeared, except back then each one fought alone. Now, there were at least thirty beasts under each boulder.
The foxes often had the advantage over the fennecs, but some still managed to die under the sheer number of fennecs swarming them, dragged down beneath a storm of snapping teeth.
The battles around Aris's boulder continued one after another without the fallen king even noticing.
Truthfully, he knew very well that the beasts killed each other often. It was natural for them. But he didn't care — because for him, it was a pantry at arm's reach.
Even if the risk of becoming food himself was still quite real.
But Aris's mind wasn't on that.
No, he was thinking about something else.
Lying there, hands behind his head, he was thinking of Arkis. His beloved kingdom.
But he wasn't focused on the kingdom itself.
Instead, his mind wandered to a memory. A night so beautiful he could never forget it...
**
"Are you still sleeping, Your Majesty?"
Ana's face was so close to the king's that anyone passing by might have thought she was about to kiss him.
But that wasn't the case.
The king was simply asleep — standing, leaning against the wall of the council chamber.
His short, silvery-gray hair fell slightly over his face, hiding the fact that he was dozing.
But he had to open his eyes slowly as Ana's voice reached him and she did not sound pleased.
Her fragile-looking green eyes met his.
Then Ana raised her voice even more, loud enough to wake him fully.
"Your Majesty, you must be ready for the start of the ball!!"
Aris's eyes flew open in shock.
The entire room seemed to wake up at Ana's shout.
The servants hurried their pace, arms full of endless rolls of fabric, while others rushed to bring in tables and drinks.
Yes, today was a ball. But not just any ball. The Ball of Peace...
That was what they had called it.
The four nations had once sworn never to wage war again, and they had agreed to hold a ball where the high nobles of every country would gather in one of the nations.
Once every four years, one nation would host the event and that year, it was Arkis's turn.
But Aris was not at all a fan of the idea.
Not only did he dislike the duke and his strange behavior, but he feared Ventis might make a move — something far too troublesome for him to handle.
The Emperor of Light didn't even bother to show up for the Balls of Peace, which was a relief for many.
After all, the man , if he could even be called a man, was far too powerful.
So, it calmed everyone's nerves that the great Emperor would not be present.
But there was still much to prepare. The ballroom would not set itself.
The female servants hung dark blue fabrics on the walls — a magnificent deep blue upon which the symbol of Arkis hung proudly.
The nation had been built, and inherited its name, after defeating the dragons — or so the legends claimed, though it had happened so long ago that no one alive remembered.
No one had seen a dragon since. Only terrifying beasts remained to serve as danger.
Still, the archives confirmed it. The symbol of the Empire had never changed since its founding.
It showed a golden dragon, neck bent forward, its head crowned with four backward-curving horns forming a graceful arc. It was a beautiful creature, but the most striking part of the circular emblem was the man driving a sword through the dragon's neck. Golden blood gushed from the wound, and the man holding the blade wore a faint, proud smile, his face turned toward the dragon. He almost looked larger than the beast , as though the image had been drawn to glorify the warrior over the dragon.
And that warrior was Arkis Ronegard himself.
The proud king held the sword in his left hand, piercing the vile dragon's neck, that confident smile on his face. His golden silhouette was imposing, inspiring chills in anyone who dared imagine such a man had truly existed.
But like all legends, the witnesses were gone anid hstory had forgotten who he truly was or if he had ever been real at all.
But Aris knew.
The archives overflowing in his library spoke of him constantly, in black ink on parchment and books, leaving little room for doubt.
So Aris, unable to truly believe it was all false, always felt compelled to live up to that proud symbol.
And yet, he hated the Ball of Peace.
He looked at Ana with tired, annoyed eyes.
"Ana, my dear advisor, you know very well I hate this ball. These people are hypocrites who think only of themselves. They put on fake smiles, lie to your face while staring you in the eye. They covet your wealth and..."
But Ana silenced him with a finger on his lips.
"Since when did you become a philosopher? You've done this before, so do it again the way I taught you. It isn't difficult.
You enter in a spectacular fashion.
You greet the guests from the balcony with big gestures and a charming smile.
You speak to the guests — to everyone. Don't forget — invite a lady to dance. Finish the dance, eat, and after that you may withdraw quietly if you wish..."
Aris grimaced.
He had heard this speech far too many times before.
"I know, Ana. I know. But last time I had to dance with the duke's daughter, who wouldn't let me go. I had to fake an excuse to leave, but Ren and the royal guard decided to bring her to my quarters. What a nightmare. Can you imagine having the duke's blood running in my son's veins ?..."
Ana smiled mischievously at the memory.
"Yes, and I was the one who had to explain to her that she was nothing but a shameless courtesan, scratching at men's trust like a rat..."
This time it was Aris who silenced her with his hand.
"That's enough. I don't need to hear that again. I had enough trouble because of you. You're supposed to be my advisor, in case you forgot. What advisor says such things?"
Ana tilted her head.
"That wasn't advice. That was a threat. I had to scold Ren afterward too."
Aris sighed.
"In the end, I had to meet with the duke about it. He was furious, but he quickly realized it was more your idea than mine. I eventually had to accept a dinner with his daughter to apologize — but thankfully, she refused to continue pursuing it."
"Your Majesty, you're young, handsome, strong — perhaps the strongest — and yet you're still not engaged. It's pitiful..."
Aris frowned.
"And who exactly do you want me to marry? Women are vipers. I have to be careful around them. You were the one who told me that."
Ana smiled and turned on her heel.
She wore a breathtaking black dress, as though woven from shadows themselves, a living work of art that hugged her figure with almost unreal grace.
The bodice, perfectly fitted, plunged into a deep V neckline, framed by long, sheer sleeves embroidered with lace and night-blooming flowers that seemed to come alive under the enchanted chandeliers.
The skirt, wide and majestic, opened like the wings of a resting butterfly, covered with glittering floral patterns that evoked the forbidden gardens of the fae.
With every step, the train drifted behind her like a starry mist, blending seamlessly into the dreamlike atmosphere of the ball.
Magical butterflies swirled around her, drawn to the mysterious aura she exuded, while servants and maids held their breath, mesmerized.
Of course, Aris too was mesmerized — though not as much as the others.
He knew very well Ana was beautiful, and that this dress made her radiant enough to bring any man to his knees.
But beneath it was still his cold, cunning advisor — the same woman who had refused every marriage proposal sent to her.
In total, Aris had received over five hundred and sixty-two letters of confession, from nobles and commoners alike.
Ana had personally torn up every single one of them.
So, watching her walk away after telling him he was pitiful for not being engaged... that was true irony.
Still, she could afford to speak with such arrogance — after all, she was the woman closest to the king.
Aris sighed and focused on the clothes he had prepared for his servants.