Chapter 1: The Merciless Season (1)

Count Casarius unexpectedly died of the plague.

His dying wish was to have the beautiful young widow Rieta, whom he had planned on taking as a mistress, be buried alive with him.

Just as she was about to be buried alive, the infamously violent Archduke of Axias appears at Cevitas Manor.

His purpose? To collect an enormous debt Count Casarius had delayed all the way to his death.

Rieta Tristi was a beautiful woman. Her blonde hair, tied back or left loose, shone brightly. The feminine and delicate lines of her nose and lips and her elegantly deep eyes drew everyone’s gaze. Her pale complexion that didn’t even darken under the sun was rare among the commoners.

But the most special of all were her eyes. In the light, they were sometimes brilliant light blue and at other times they shone like blue crystals. They only made her pure beauty more mysterious.

When she smiled gaily with those beautiful eyes, even the flowers and stars faded in comparison to her beauty.

When people learned she was already married and had a three-year-old daughter, they all sighed with regret and envied her husband, saying he must have been a hero in his past life. Her family was a happy one.

Until her husband died four months ago.

***

Rieta lost her laughter after her husband suddenly died from an unknown illness.

Beauty for a powerless commoner woman was not a blessing, but a curse.

Casarius, the lord of the land Rieta’s family lived on, started to force her into becoming his mistress, even before the flowers laid at her husband’s grave had wilted.

Rieta refused at first. The fact that Casarius was old enough to be her father was secondary to the fact that her husband had passed away not longer than a month ago.

Casarius grew impatient with Rieta, who continued to ignore his demands, so he kidnapped her daughter. She was only three years old. She was so young and didn’t know what death was, so she constantly asked Rieta where her father went.

Rumors started to spread about how Casarius sold off Rieta’s daughter to a slave trader.

Poor Rieta was pushed to the brink of insanity and told Casarius she would become his mistress if he brought back her daughter safely.

But whether by blessing or misfortune, Casarius was struck by the plague sweeping the empire and died without attaining Rieta or returning her daughter.

However, he did leave behind his dying wish: to bury Rieta alive with him.

***

It was a merciless season.

Only cries of sorrow and anguish were left in the empire tormented by plague and devil. Screams of pain and flames of burning corpses were never-ending and everywhere. The land withered, and the people fought among themselves for food. In some regions, people started to offer human sacrifices to appease the demon of the plague.

So, sacrificing the life of a lowly peasant woman was rather…acceptable.

The day of her death was set. She would die on the day of Casarius Cevitas’s funeral.

***

That day, the Archduke of Axias appeared at Cevitas Manor to collect the enormous debt Casarius Cevitas owed him.

***

“So young… That poor thing.”

“Tsk, tsk… Beauty is only a curse for peasants.”

“That’s true. How unfortunate. The heavens must not care.”

Rieta was dressed in the finest clothes she’d ever worn, but there wasn’t even a touch of joy on her face.

The soft black silk of the ceremonial dress and the black veil, hiding her sky-colored eyes from view, adorned her beautifully. And Rieta, with her braided hair done up with white flowers, was stunning enough to make people sigh.

She was soon moved to the funeral procession in front of Count Casarius’s manor. On the makeshift altar, she was kneeling on a carpet more expensive than her own body’s worth, waiting for her turn.

She drank a sedative made of alucino berries, which had analgesic effects, to feel no pain at the point of burial. It was hard for her to even control her own body, but to each side of her were servants, and surrounding them were guard soldiers to make sure she didn’t escape.

Everyone gathered there pitied the beautiful woman with the unfortunate fate. Of those, one middle-aged matron started to mutter.

“The heavens do care after all. Casarius plastered his body with blessings. But look! Even he was struck down by the plague. It was divine retribution!”

A man nearby snickered as he replied. “Rather, the demon took care of him, not the heavens, no?”

Everyone was unanimously cursing Casarius while pitying Rieta. But there was no one to stand up for her.

She was an orphan, and her husband, the only person who could protect her, was already dead.

“To lust after a woman younger than his own children… Dragging Rieta with him even in death… He is truly an evil man.”

“Shh. Lower your voice. People will hear.”

The cleric finished his memorial address and the Count’s servant women pulled up Rieta at each elbow. Faint and hazy from the alucino, Rieta was forced by the servants to stumble to her feet.

To the far side of the world. It was time to join her family.

Frigid snow started to flutter down from the gray sky. It was late snow in April.

As she was watching the flurries fall, she thought about her young daughter’s last tantrum. Her daughter had waited endlessly for her father, who had passed as soon as winter started. She begged for a snowman all season.

Adele. She called out her child’s name in her mind one last time as a teardrop fell, tracing her cheek. If this snow piled up… Making a snowman together would be possible.

Soon… The three of us…

The dead were silent, as were the soon-to-die. The people to be left behind also fell silent, tucking away their opinions. The hushed funeral procession staggered into motion.

The Casarius family also followed the beautiful sacrifice who was being made to follow the coffin by the maids holding her up.

***

Just as they were about to arrive at the grave, a small disturbance burrowed through the slow march. A servant was rushing, running toward their procession.

Frederik, Casarius’s eldest, wanted to deal with this affair quietly. His face was calm, masking the spike of irritation beneath.

He hoped the harebrained fool wouldn’t come up to him, but the servant plowed through the crowd and ended up in front of Frederik, panting and lowly bowing his head.

“My lord…! An urgent visitor, my lord!”

Frederik frowned and snapped, “This is a funeral. It’s not a time for levity. Are you not even aware of how to receive mourners?”

The flustered servant stammered, “Th-this guest is not a mourner. The Archduke of Axias has arrived!”

At the news of his arrival, the family’s faces turned pale. A quiet, uneasy shiver spread among the procession.

Frederik, momentarily stunned into silence, bit his lip. “Are you saying Killian Axias is here?”

The dead Casarius owed the archduke a great amount of debt. It was, in fact, overdue to be paid, as the period promised upon had long passed.

The Cevitas family spent an immense amount of money on the temple in order to invite the clerics to deal with the plague, and with Casarius’s unexpected death and funeral, the family’s financial situation was near bankruptcy. There was no way for them to settle the debt with the Archduke of Axias. The reason why even Casarius’s death was dealt with quietly was so they wouldn’t give him a reason to visit.

Frederik gnawed on his lip. “How did he find out Father passed away?”

The servant did not have a chance to answer. as a cold voice pierced through the crowd, accompanied by heavy hooves. “I was passing through. I thought I might press an old friend to settle an old debt.”

All eyes turned toward the speaker.

A man with an intimidating aura and shining red eyes sat astride on a great black horse, slowly moving toward them. Every time he moved, his pitch-black hair swayed with the horse’s mane.

Killian Axias tilted his head to one side and smirked. The people who had been watching all gasped. It was such a beautiful and vicious smile that it made their skin crawl.

“But I find myself facing his coffin,” he sneered coldly.

No one could blame Killian Axias for rudely intruding into the funeral procession on horseback.

The guards instinctively swallowed and tensed at the sight of him. In comparison, he appeared quite relaxed, almost lazily so, but was perfectly alert. They could feel he wouldn’t even blink if a swordfight broke out.

Killian Axias.

He was a brutal man, yet the most influential man in the empire. He was born as the crown prince, but around ten years ago, he severed his brothers’ heads and threw them at the feet of the emperor and empress. He was stripped of his title.

According to imperial law, the assassination of the imperial family and treason were crimes punishable by death, and this was to be his eventual fate, but the emperor, who valued his skills, couldn’t bear to kill him. He banished his son to the bloody, far wastelands in the north. All Killian had was his body, without authority or the title of prince.

However, the young former crown prince, who seemed to have lost everything, reclaimed the ancient Axias Castle from the demons who had infested it for hundreds of years. He started making the wastelands habitable for humans. And within a few years, Killian gained full control over the vast territory and reigned as the ruler of the north.

Another fortune fell upon him when the most valuable metal in the empire, adamantite, was found in a great, snowy mountain in his territory. Axias started to amass enormous wealth, with a great influx of workers and soldiers, artists and craftsmen, all with their eyes on the spoils of war from the demons and the adamantite.

Axias grew at an explosive speed. The territory that was once a wasteland became a great city at an astounding rate. The nobles changed their tune and vehemently claimed that he should be given an official title and duty to pay taxes.

In the end, the imperial family officially bestowed upon him the title of archduke and acknowledged his right to rule over his territory. He may not be an imperial prince, but the imperial family was acknowledging his title and power as an archduke, a noble. Killian accepted this indifferently.

That was as much as any citizen of Liefheim Dimfell knew. Thirteen years had passed since he lost his title and was banished to the far north.

Killian Axias had never appeared in society, but his name was on every noble’s lips. But among the commoners, more and more exaggerated rumors of his cruelty and tyranny came to be, to the point where he was considered a monster rather than a human. Everyone whispered about his insanity, how he was possessed by a devil, or how they heard he had been cursed.

He’ll kill you if you look at him. He’ll kill you if you touch him. He’ll kill you if he’s unhappy. He’ll kill you if he’s happy. He’ll kill you if he disapproves of you. He’ll kill you if he approves of you. He’ll kill a woman if he isn’t satisfied. He’ll kill you if he likes a certain part of your body, to own it by carving it out. All of these rumors flew around.

People even whispered about how he was a cannibal, drank human blood, or collected people’s ears, eyes, or fingers. There was no way to know which were true and which were not, but everyone was aware of all these horrific, bloody rumors trailing him.

The crowd in front of him parted unconsciously, their faces stark white. They bowed their heads in fear of meeting his eyes.

By the time the Archduke of Axias stopped in front of Frederik, the funeral procession had naturally come to a stop.

“It has been too long, Your Highness.”

“Indeed, Frederik. Or should I call you Count of Cevitas now? You should’ve sent word of your father’s passing. You could have spared me from the discourtesy of collecting debt at a funeral.” Killian coldly smiled. He had yet to dismount his horse.

Frederik returned the smile.

“Not at all, Your Highness. His sudden passing gave us little time to prepare for a proper funeral. The fault is entirely my own.”

“Is that so?” Killian smirked. “And here I was, wondering if you had deliberately kept it from me.”

The blunt words, from a man who had no connection or whatsoever to high society and had never concerned himself about others, made the family freeze.

Even Frederik, born and bred in society, had a hard time replying to these words that hit so close to home. He considered denying it, but he decided to concede was more appropriate and bowed his head.

“I apologize.”

It turned out his choice was not incorrect. Killian chuckled and casually turned his head to Lord Casarius’s coffin.

“They say it is nearly impossible to collect a debt. They must have been talking about you, no? You gave only excuses, all different every time. And now, there is no use in dragging you out of the coffin,” Killian muttered bitingly. He jumped down from his horse. “But I suppose one must pay respects at a funeral. My condolences on your father’s passing.”

The archduke removed and placed his hat on his horse’s head, then handed the reins over to the knight who had followed him. He joined the funeral procession naturally.

Contrary to the rumors of his insanity, his lucid speech surprised the people, whose eyes widened at his remarks. A few of them exchanged looks and whispers.

“Is it him? Is he really the Archduke of Axias?”

“He doesn’t seem like a cannibal.”

If not in shock at his lucidity, they were mindlessly staring at his terrifying beauty, speechless.

The Archduke of Axias, whom Casarius Cevitas called a friend, was closer in age to his son Frederik. Killian Axias was a chillingly handsome man, glacial and relaxed. An icy gaze from his crimson eyes created a cutting atmosphere, but it didn’t seem as though there was any lunacy in those eyes. At the very least, he didn’t seem to be murder-crazed, let alone insane.

Even the nobles, who knew enough truth to ignore the ridiculous rumors floating among the commoners, were surprised by their first glimpse of the Archduke of Axias. The gray robes he wore, dusty as if he had been on horseback for a long journey, stood out among the mourners who wore black, but no one thought he was being discourteous thanks to his handsome appearance.

The talk of how he severed his brothers’ heads, the idea that he tamed the wastelands by ruthlessly slaughtering the predators and the demons of the north, were all hard to grasp as truth because his elegant and refined face and wild locks of black hair were much more aloof and colder than any ceremonial dress. Pitch-black hair and a black horse suited him more than any other man.

He blended into the ranks of mourners, as if he had walked with them from the beginning with the purpose of mourning the dead man, and bowed toward Frederik’s wife and brothers. The Cevitas family tentatively and silently responded in kind and resumed the funeral.

Rieta stumbled and collapsed, due to the long, unforeseen delay in the procession. The servant woman, dressed in black, became flustered and helped her struggle to her feet.

The smallest furrow formed in Killian’s brow as he watched the dazed woman following right behind the coffin, ahead of everyone, including the family.

“Who is that woman?”