———
The night air grew sharper. The horses' breath billowed like smoke, mingling with the wind that rustled the snow-capped tree branches.
Jilld was ready to slash at the young man, his sword gleaming silver in the moonlight. As the heir to the Grand Duke of Lombardy, he was not used to hesitation—once raised, his sword rarely returned without blood.
But before the blade could strike, Arthur's voice broke the silence.
"Stop, Jilld!" he called, steady and deep. "I want to know what he really wants from me."
The echo of his voice bounced off the tree trunks, stunning Jilld.
She turned, and through the darkness, she caught Arthur's gaze: calm, determined, not the gaze of a mere noble boy, but of a leader who had made his choice.
"Arthur…" Jilld murmured, her voice a mix of confusion and wonder.
Arthur slowly moved his horse forward. His body was upright, his blue coat flapping in the cold wind. Silence enveloped the forest, only the howling of the wind and the horse's snorting could be heard.
"I repeat my question," he said in a low but firm voice. "Who are you, and why are you following me?"
The wandering youth didn't answer immediately. Instead, he laughed softly—a laugh that sounded strange, contrasting with the cold night.
"Hah… you truly are different from other nobles. They only know how to hide behind their golden walls. But you… you want to hear my answer yourself."
The laughter slowly subsided, replaced by a faint, mysterious smile.
"But remember, Son of Andalus. The path you have chosen is stained with blood, strewn with betrayal.
Anyone who goes too far will be dragged into it."
Arthur stared straight ahead, unmoved.
"If that's true, then I must know. Because whatever happens on the northern route will be our business—Andalus, Lombardy, even the empire. And I will not allow my family name to be tarnished."
Jilld finally lowered her sword, though her eyes remained sharp. "If you know something, tell me now. Don't waste our time with empty warnings."
The young man was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath. He stuck his dagger into the ground—a gesture of peace.
"All right. Listen to this. That caravan attacked on the northern route wasn't just carrying merchandise.
There was something far more valuable inside. Something that, if it fell into the wrong hands, would change the landscape of power in Klux Klan."
Arthur stiffened. "What do you mean?"
The young man's gaze pierced, as if testing their courage.
"The golden seal casket," he finally said, quietly but clearly.
"A symbol of a secret pact between Emperor Centio and one of the oldest noble houses. If it were to disappear, war could break out… before you even set foot in Piece Academy."
The words chilled the air. Jilld cursed under her breath, her eyes now serious. Arthur gripped the reins of his horse tightly, his jaw clenched.
He felt the weight of Andalusian honor pressing down on his shoulders, combined with the determination of a nobleman who could not escape responsibility.
He stared at the traveler with steely eyes.
"Then you will show us the way."
A faint smile appeared on the young man's face again, as if he had guessed the answer all along.
"Hmph… it's dangerous to trust strangers. But all right, Son of Andalus. I will take you… to the place where the truth begins to unfold."
Under the light of the winter moon, three figures on horseback rode north. Their tracks left long lines in the snow, leading down a path that promised to be filled with blood, secrets, and betrayal.
Arthur knew—this was no mere nighttime journey. It was the beginning of a great game that could determine the fate of the nobility, the empire, and himself.
———