Footsteps echoed faintly along the wide corridor, the sound carrying from one end to the other.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, warmth bathing his face. Bright shafts of light cut across deep shadows in intervals as he walked calmly. To his right stretched a broad balcony, overlooking a vast training ground at the castle's center.
When he looked down, the wind caught his hair and lifted it gently. Some soldiers were training their bodies, their minds—and their skill with the bow.
The sounds of training were laced with pain. At the same time, blood condensed into the shape of an arrowhead.
Whoosh!
The soft snap of a bowstring rang out. An arrow pierced through the thick head of a stone dummy, then exploded within, blooming into a jagged thorn of crimson.
Lord Daniel stepped up beside him.
"By His Majesty's latest decree, you must remain here. The Emperor wishes to speak of these matters himself."
"And why is that?"
"I cannot fathom His intent. But for now, you are to be treated as an official envoy, recognized by our Empire. Until His Majesty returns from the eastern war, keep your eyes upon this great realm—witness what you cannot yet grasp."
"If that time comes, I hope you will remain honest with me."
Daniel Frether, his smile fading.
"Neither side gains by deceit. I am not so foolish."
Victor raised his chin, fixing Daniel with a steady gaze.
"Would it be possible for me to try… training?"
Daniel burst out laughing.
"What? Did you just say that? You wish to do what those brainless fools are doing?"
"Yes."
"Very well. It is not my duty to forbid you."
"Then who oversees it? Is there a court instructor, or a veteran of war?"
"No. The princess herself oversees their training. These are no common soldiers—they are the children of noble houses."
Victor eyed him, suspicion sharp.
"Why should the princess take charge of them?"
Daniel laughed again.
"If you ever face her in battle, you will not question it again."
Victor's gaze deepened.
"No. That is not the heart of my question."
"…In our Empire, any man who fails to meet the standard of strength is exiled to the wastelands. Out of mercy, His Majesty himself trains the nobles' heirs. But while he wages war in the east, the princess has taken his place."
Together they descended the stairs into the training yard, where dozens of soldiers still gasped for breath.
Daniel clapped his hands in praise.
"Excellent, excellent! To die before yielding—that is the Empire's highest pride. May I request that our envoy from the Republic of Ven taste the art of archery?"
A soldier stepped forward.
"As you wish. But I cannot promise his safety."
Daniel smirked, arrogant.
"Let him try once. That will be enough."
Victor slipped off his dry coat, loosening the collar of his shirt. He accepted the bow—so heavy it nearly dragged down his arms. Its outer frame looked like wood, yet the weight was unnatural, impossible for an ordinary man to hold for long.
Though Victor's body bore the muscle of discipline from before he came to this world, his arms still trembled as he lifted it to height.
The soldiers gathered around, watching as a young man taught him the basics. In a short time, Victor had absorbed all the fundamentals.
Archery itself was simple: raise the bow to eye level, fix on the target, draw, and release. He aimed at a red-centered mark. But his arms shook as the drawn string strained against his strength.
The young soldier leaned close, whispering by his ear.
"Do not think of whether the target will die. Think only of how to deliver certain death. Strike the leg, and someday the enemy will perish crippled. Strike the body, and death creeps unaware. Such is the bow."
It was both a lesson and a slight.
Victor pondered in silence. The meaning was clear: even if he missed the head, death remained within reach. Another meaning followed—sometimes, in the smallest moment, thought was wasted. Better to act, to wound, to break something now—for even the smallest crack could end in death.
He drew a heavy breath, bracing for a final effort. His gaze grew calm, mind sharpened upon the target.
He arched his back for balance, tightened his stance, rooted his legs. His left hand gripped the bow firm, while his right loosed the string.
Whip!
The arrow screamed through the air, hissing with heat and speed. All eyes fixed on it, astonished.
But just as it neared the target, its force waned, its tip sagging low—only to be caught in midair.
A silver-haired woman's armored hand clamped around it.
She wore heavy plate that hid her figure, her face beautiful beneath strands of shining hair. Snapping the arrow in her palm, she barked:
"What do you think you're doing!?"
The soldiers froze in terror, Daniel himself shrinking back against the wall.
Her eyes turned on Victor.
"Why was an outsider allowed into the training grounds?"
Silence crushed the yard. Even Daniel's lips quivered, unable to speak.
Victor exhaled deeply.
"I am a revolutionary, come as envoy to negotiate on behalf of the Republic of Ven. I wished to try the bow, under the guidance of Lord Daniel, son of Damien."
Her tone shifted. The harsh edge in her voice softened to grace.
"I see. A pleasure. I am the Empire's eldest princess—Retina Verndirith."
"Victor Weber, revolutionary seeking to uphold justice."
After their introductions, she bent in courtesy, then whirled upon Daniel with fury.
"You, Daniel Frether. A mere lower noble—did you think you may do as you please? Begone from this castle!"
The training ground quickly emptied as soldiers were dismissed. Victor alone remained, waiting.
He watched as Retina removed her upper armor within the armory, sweat dripping from her neck and arms, soaking her lighter garb beneath.
When she had set aside her heavy plate, Victor followed her along marble corridors deeper into the castle.
They passed many doors until at last they came to one grand chamber. Though narrow, it was richly furnished: a wide bed at its center, a wooden desk on the left, a wardrobe, a vanity on the right. Behind the bed rose tall windows, veiled with layered curtains bound by ornate ties of crimson floral weave.
The air smelled of age, filled with the soft ticking of a tall wooden clock.
"This will be your quarters," Retina said. "Servants will attend you only at mealtimes—dawn, noon, and dusk. There is one strict rule: you must not leave your room after nightfall. I trust you will obey."
Victor nodded.
"Yes. But tell me—what may I do while here?"
She considered.
"You may have to wait months. Is there anything you wish for, without leaving the castle?"
"I want to train—my body, with the bow, or otherwise."
"In that case, you may join the soldiers' regimen. I will arrange a program for you. If you wish a personal servant, speak to those who bring your meals."
"Thank you. It is an honor."
She left, closing the door gently.
He sank into the soft bed, hands stroking its surface.
This bed… in my old world, I'd have bought such a thing if I'd had the wealth.
But before he could lose himself to comfort, unease stirred. Even in this great Empire, why should servants come only for meals? Secrets lay hidden here. Perhaps the Empire was not safe.
Yet all he could do was wait for negotiations. Days, months—he might remain here long.
Victor smiled faintly, letting the beauty of the room soothe him as his eyes closed.
Time to rest.
From here, I must gather knowledge of miracles, train my body, learn every weapon. And quietly, I will absorb the Empire's secrets.
I only hope I can manage it. Even without Selith… even without anyone.
Breath steadied. Darkness took him. No visions, no haunting voices. Only silence, deep and dreamless.