In the land of Anatol, shortly after Barron had concluded his discussion with Viscount Anatol—who faithfully served the Northern Kingdom—Lady Rowena, Max's aunt, remained occupied with tending those they had rescued along the journey. Meanwhile, Max had been entrusted with watching over Rehena within her chamber, where she still lay resting peacefully, her strength not yet fully returned after the exhaustion she had suffered.
"Hmmm…"
A faint murmur escaped Rehena's lips as her lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. Her vision cleared little by little, and the first figure she recognized beside her bed was Max, seated quietly nearby as though he had not moved for some time.
"Oh… my lord…"
She forced herself upright, though the effort clearly strained her weakened body. Instantly, Max rose from his chair and stepped forward, steadying her with careful hands as she leaned against the headboard.
"How are you feeling, my lady?" he asked gently, concern unmistakable in his voice.
"I am better… but where are we?" she asked, glancing about the unfamiliar chamber with confusion.
"We have already arrived in Anatol," Max replied, offering her a cup of water with steady hands. "Sir Barron said that within a few days we should be able to reach the Northern Kingdom without delay."
Rehena accepted the cup and drank quietly, allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts. Yet almost at once, fragments of memory returned to her mind like sudden flashes of lightning—the violent dizziness, the loss of balance upon her horse… and then the unmistakable warmth of arms catching her before she could fall.
She remembered the scent.
She remembered the embrace.
She remembered him.
"Amm… my lord…" Rehena spoke again, her cheeks slowly colouring with a gentle blush.
Max lifted his brows slightly, puzzled by her hesitation.
"Thank you for saving me when I collapsed from my horse," she said with a shy smile. "I believe I was the reason our journey was delayed again…"
Her smile carried both apology and quiet embarrassment, yet there was warmth in it—soft and sincere in a way Max had never seen before. The expression struck him unexpectedly, and for a brief moment he found himself unable to look directly at her. Instead, he turned his gaze aside, subtly rubbing the back of his neck as though to steady himself from the unfamiliar feeling stirring within his chest.
"You do not need to thank me," he began quietly. "I should be the one—"
Thud!
"Rehena!"
The chamber door burst open without warning.
Both Max and Rehena turned sharply toward the sudden interruption as a familiar figure entered with urgency. He wore a white and crimson military uniform, his golden hair catching the light as he rushed forward, his pale complexion and striking violet eyes unmistakable.
Max's eyes widened the moment he realized who it was.
"My love…"
Carlo crossed the room in long strides and gathered Rehena into a tight embrace before she could even speak. His arms wrapped around her as though afraid she might vanish if he released her.
Rehena froze at first in surprise.
Then slowly—very slowly—she returned the embrace, gripping the back of his armour with trembling hands.
Carlo had travelled nearly two days without rest simply to reach her as quickly as possible. Dust from the road still clung to his armour; he had not even paused to change before coming straight to her chamber.
"I—I was frightened… sob… sob…"
Rehena's composure finally broke. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she buried her face against his shoulder.
Watching the moment unfold before him, Max quietly stepped back. Without drawing attention to himself, he slipped from the chamber to give them privacy. Though something within him tightened unexpectedly, he also felt a quiet sense of relief knowing Rehena had finally reunited with the person she had longed to see throughout their difficult journey toward the Eastern Empire.
Inside the chamber, Carlo continued holding her close.
"I know… I know," he murmured softly, stroking her hair with gentle reassurance. "I am here now."
"I was worried, Rehena," he said after a moment, drawing back just enough to look at her face. His expression was filled with concern as he cupped her cheeks and carefully wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "It has been nearly two months since I heard any word from you or Barron."
Then he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
Rehena closed her eyes as warmth spread through her chest. It was a comfort she had been longing for far longer than she wished to admit.
They remained together for some time after that. Carlo had ridden without rest simply to make certain she had arrived safely in Anatol, and once Rehena had calmed herself, she began recounting everything that had happened during their journey through the Eastern Empire.
As she spoke, Carlo's jaw tightened.
His hands slowly curled into fists at his sides.
He could hardly bear to imagine what she and Barron had endured.
He had wished to accompany her himself, yet both the King and Celistine had forbidden it. He knew he had to trust her strength—but seeing her now, fragile after everything she had faced, stirred an overwhelming urge to protect her and remove her entirely from danger.
It was the very reason he had never asked her to marry him.
War had already begun to stir across the kingdoms, and Carlo did not know what fate awaited him upon the battlefield. He could not bear the thought of leaving her behind as a widow.
Her safety had always come before his own happiness.
A short while later, a knock sounded at the door.
Barron entered the chamber.
Yet instead of greeting Rehena first, he suddenly dropped to both knees before Carlo without hesitation.
Both Carlo and Rehena stared at him in shock.
"Your Highness, forgive me!" Barron said firmly, lowering his head. "I failed to protect her properly."
Rehena exchanged a surprised glance with Carlo, uncertain why Barron would blame himself so harshly.
Carlo immediately rose from his seat and placed a steady hand upon Barron's shoulder.
"Raise yourself, Barron," he said calmly.
Barron looked up in disbelief as Carlo helped him stand.
"You have done more than I could have imagined," Carlo continued with a reassuring smile.
Relief visibly softened Barron's expression.
Still, another concern weighed heavily on his mind—something he had been waiting to ask since Carlo's arrival. Carlo had rushed directly to Rehena the moment he reached Anatol and had not yet spoken of Grace.
Barron finally gathered his courage.
"Thank you very much, Your Highness," he said respectfully, placing his hand over his chest before bowing his head slightly.
"I have heard of your journey to the Eastern Empire," Carlo replied. "Indeed, it was a harsh ordeal."
"But at least we succeeded in our purpose," Barron answered with a faint but sincere smile.
Then he turned toward Rehena.
"How are you feeling, my lady?"
"I am well, thanks to all of you," she replied gently.
Barron nodded, visibly reassured.
Yet there was still one question he could no longer hold back.
"Your Highness…" Barron said at last, his voice quieter now. "How is Grace?"
At once, Carlo's expression changed.
His hands tightened slightly.
Both Barron and Rehena noticed it immediately.
A sudden silence filled the chamber.
And in that silence, Rehena felt it clearly—
something had gone terribly wrong in the North while they had been away.
After Carlo had explained everything that had happened, Barron withdrew to his chamber, seeking a moment alone.
Standing before the tall window, he stared silently at the moon hanging in the night sky. Both of his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale. The silver light spilled across his features, yet it did little to ease the guilt that weighed heavily upon him.
Barron blamed no one but himself.
Grace had been alone when her father passed away.
And he had not been there.
The thought gnawed at him relentlessly, tightening around his chest like iron chains. He lowered his gaze briefly, his jaw tensing as regret consumed him. More than anything, he wished to return home at once—to see his beloved with his own eyes, to hold her close, and to assure himself that she was well.
Meanwhile, whilst the evening was still young, the great mead hall of Anatol was filled with warmth and life.
Many of the refugees rescued from Gaspare had gathered within the hall, enjoying a proper meal for the first time in what felt like an age. Long wooden tables were lined with food, and the atmosphere, once burdened by fear and uncertainty, had gradually become lighter.
Their survival was thanks to the generosity of the Duke and Duchess of Anatol, along with Carlo's assistance.
"It is a pleasure to have you here, my prince," the Duke of Anatol said.
Standing beside Carlo, the duke gazed across the hall at the people Barron had saved from Gaspare. Laughter and conversation echoed softly throughout the room as the refugees enjoyed their supper.
"I should be the one thanking you and the duchess," Carlo replied warmly.
His eyes drifted towards the duchess, who was personally helping to serve food to the refugees despite her noble status. There was not the slightest hint of reluctance in her actions, only genuine compassion.
"Carlo."
A familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
Both men turned towards the source of the voice and found Rehena approaching them.
Beside her stood a tall young man with black hair and striking red eyes, causing Carlo's curiosity to immediately stir.
"I beg your pardon, my lord and Carlo," Rehena greeted politely, placing a hand over her chest to those two men.
Her brown curls cascaded freely down her shoulders, and she wore a simple green dress that suited her graceful appearance. The man standing beside her was dressed plainly in a black long-sleeved shirt, dark trousers, and brown boots.
Carlo's attention lingered on him.
There was something unfamiliar about the young man.
"This is Maximirian Callistro Casanova, the second son of the King of the Eastern Kingdom," Rehena announced.
Both Carlo and the duke blinked in surprise.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
"It is an honor to have you here, Your Highness," Carlo said before bowing respectfully.
The duke followed suit.
"No, no, you don't need to do that," Max quickly protested, waving both hands frantically in front of him.
A faint blush crept onto his face.
"I am merely one of the king's sons. There is nothing particularly special about me."
His shoulders stiffened awkwardly.
"Please, there is no need to be so formal with me. I have nothing to offer. In truth, I am only here because I require assistance from the North."
As he spoke, Max rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away.
Embarrassment was written plainly across his face.
He knew very well that relations between the Eastern Kingdom and the North were far from friendly. The fact that he had come seeking aid despite that reality made him feel deeply ashamed of himself.
"Silly," Carlo said with a gentle smile.
Stepping closer, he placed a reassuring hand upon Max's shoulder.
"You are far more important than you realize."
Max froze.
His crimson eyes widened slightly.
Never had he expected such kindness.
Especially not from someone of Carlo's standing.
A strange warmth settled within his chest, and he found himself unable to meet Carlo's gaze for a moment, suddenly feeling rather shy.
As the evening continued, the mead hall remained filled with joy and relief.
The refugees who had once feared for their lives were finally able to rest without worry. Laughter rang through the hall, conversations flowed freely, and for the first time in a long while, peace had found its way into their hearts.
For tonight, at least, they were safe.