Ah... Poor Leon.
I must confess; it took me a while to take it all in. After Eulalia's account, I was hollowed out. The silence in the basement was no longer empty; it was a physical weight, filled with the echo of that song. "Vasilians Never die." I could almost hear his voice, that final, brave note he sang for his sister. He was just a boy who wanted to be a hero, and in the end, he was. He died with his people, his name on their lips. But what a price for a child to pay.
A part of me didn't want to go on. What right did I have to move past his sacrifice? Another part, the part that has my father's blood and my mother's charge, screamed that I had to. This is the cost of memory. This is the Keeper's duty. You don't get to stop just because it hurts.
So, my dear friends, the 0 chapters are done. I have done all i can to steadied my hands and my heart. I will do my best to go on.
The scroll I chose next felt different. The parchment was smoother, the binding tighter. The handwriting that greeted me was not the frantic scrawl of a boy nor the trembling script of a girl, but something sharper, more disciplined.
At the top, a single name was written, stark, and uncompromising:
NARA
****
The streets of Castling were a river of fire and song. Tonight was the Long Solstice, the highest holiday of the year, celebrating the day the sun itself was said to have stood still in the sky to witness our final victory, ending the Hundred Years' War.
Bonfires roared at every corner, their sparks flying up to the skies. People danced with wild, drunken abandon in the open squares, their faces flushed with wine and triumph. The air all around smelled of roasting meat and spilled ale, and the sound of a thousand voices singing old war anthems was a physical force, pounding against the cobblestones.
I moved through the chaos, doing my best to remain unseen in a hooded cloak. My golden hair was hidden, my green eyes downcast.
I had to be careful. One mistake, and not even the gods could stop what would happen next.
I watched a group of off-duty guardsmen, their uniforms unbuttoned, bellowing a crude marching song as they staggered arm-in-arm. A little further on, a merchant slammed the shutters of his shop, a futile attempt to keep the drinkers away. Across the street, three young women with flower crowns pulled a blushing young man toward a tavern, its door swinging open to release a wave of heat and laughter.
A drunkard stumbled from the crowd and bumped hard into my shoulder, sloshing his drink.
"Apologies, friend!" he slurred, too lost in the collective joy to even look at me before he was swept back into the throng.
I didn't reply. I just pulled my cloak tighter and pressed on.
I slipped from the main thoroughfare into a narrow, dark alley. The noise of the celebration became a dull roar, muffled by the high, close walls. The air here was cool and smelled of damp stone and rot.
"Herbert?" I whispered into the gloom. The darkness swallowed my voice.
"Herbert?"
I took another step, my senses straining. Then, a hand settled firmly on my waist from behind.
I spun around, my hand flying up to strike, my heart leaping into my throat.
But my wrist was caught in a strong, sure grip before the blow could land. I looked up, and the fear melted away, replaced by a flood of relief.
It was Herbert.
A breath I didn't know I was holding rushed out of me. "You scared me," I whispered, my heart still a frantic drum against my ribs.
He didn't let go of my wrist, but his grip softened from a block to a hold. In the faint light seeping from the street, I couldn't make him out properly, but I knew every line of him. His dark hair managed to show, the unruly mop that forever looked windswept, and his eyes were there; warm, steady brown, now crinkled with amusement.
"Your reflexes are good, I'll give you that," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But your form is terrible. You'd have left your entire side open."
"Next time, I'll let you give me a lesson before you ambush me in a dark alley," I shot back, but the tension had already bled from my shoulders.
He finally released my wrist, his smile fading into something more serious. "I thought you wouldn't come."
"I didn't want to," I admitted, the words tasting like a confession. "It's too dangerous tonight. The streets are packed with lords and guards. Someone might recognize me."
He considered this, his gaze drifting toward the roar of the celebration before returning to me, softer now. "Well, everyone is sharing tonight with family. With friends. With ones they love..." He paused, his voice dropping. "I just... I thought I could spend it with you... I just wanted to see you today."
He studied my face, his gaze searching mine in the dimness. That was what was special about him. Many saw me as a symbol, a goddess even. But he, he was the only one who ever looked for the girl beneath.
He reached out, not to shush me, but to gently tuck a stray strand of golden hair that had escaped my hood back into place. His thumb brushed my cheek, a fleeting, warm touch.
"Oh, Herbert," I sighed, the last of my resistance crumbling.
He leaned in, and I met him halfway. The kiss was not long, but it was a silent promise in the dark, a moment of warmth that shut out the reality waiting for me beyond the alley. It was a taste of the normal life I could never have. A love I could...
A sudden, roaring cheer from the main street, louder than all the others, broke us apart. I flinched back, my hand flying to adjust my hood, pulling it forward to shroud my face once more.
"Come on," Herbert said, his voice firm now. He took my hand, his grip sure. "It's not safe here."
He started out of the alley, pulling me gently behind him.
We slipped back onto the edge of the chaotic thoroughfare. He moved with purpose, weaving through the revelers, through rings of dancers, through singers. And through all this he pulled me with a kind of gentleness behind him. His hands warming mine, like the morning sun. He always had that way about him.
We soon stopped before a narrow, timber-framed inn, its sign—a chipped painting of a griffin—swaying in the night. A stout woman with a tired face and crossly folded arms stood by the door.
She nodded at Herbert and pressed a heavy iron key into his palm. Her eyes flicked to me, shrouded in my cloak, then back to him. "Don't damage anything," she said flatly, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
Without a word, Herbert guided me inside, through a cramped, empty common room, and up a narrow flight of stairs. He unlocked the first door on the landing, ushered me in, and I heard the definitive, heavy click of the lock sliding into place behind us.
The room was small, but Herbert had transformed it. A single lantern cast a soft, golden glow over a bed strewn with wildflowers, their delicate petals a stark contrast to the rough-hewn wool blanket. More flowers were scattered on the floor, leading a path to the bedside. It was a humble attempt at a fairytale.
"Herbert..." I breathed, my voice catching.
He took my hand. "A dance," he said softly. "Just one." There was no music, only the distant, fading roar of the celebration. He held me close, and we swayed in the silent room, a slow, turning statue in a world of our own making. But the fantasy was brittle.
A cold dread began to coil in my stomach, tightening with each turn. "Herbert," I whispered, pulling back slightly. "We promised. We promised we wouldn't... we can't do anything too deep."
"I know," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. "I just wanted tonight to be special. For us." He let me go and moved to a small table where a bottle and two clay cups waited. He poured the wine, his back to me.
My eyes traveled from the flowers on the bed to the damp, stained walls of the inn. This wasn't a fairytale; it was a hiding place. The gulf between this stolen moment and the marble halls of my life yawned wide before me, a chasm that could swallow us both. A profound sadness washed over me, and before I could stop them, tears welled in my eyes.
Herbert turned, the cups in his hands. He froze when he saw my face. "Nara? Is everything alright?"
I wiped hastily at my cheeks. "Herbert, we promised. We agreed this was all we could have. That it was enough."
"It doesn't have to be!" he said, his voice rising with a desperate passion. He set the cups down with a sharp click. "We can be together. I'm ready. I'll face anything—your father, the court, the whole damned kingdom!"
"You don't understand," I pleaded, the tears coming faster now. "My life was never my own. From the moment I was born, every choice I make is not for me. It's to secure an alliance, to end wars, to grow the kingdom or..." I swallowed, "...or destroy it."
"So choosing me won't achieve all that?" he said, his voice raw, stepping closer.
"Herbert, you know I can't! You know what I am!" The words tore from me. "What people expect from me. They want me to marry a prince... Prince Dale, to be exact. They won't let me marry a—"
He flinched as if struck. "Marry a what?"
I dared not say anymore. But he went on.
"Marry a what!" he shouted, his composure shattering. He swept the cups from the table; they shattered against the wall, wine bleeding like a wound across the floor. "Your father said the final choice was yours!" He strode forward, his eyes burning into mine. "So, Nara, look at me and answer me truly. Do you want to be with me?"
The question hung in the air, vast and terrifying. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I wanted to scream yes, to throw myself into his arms and let the world burn. But the weight of a thousand years of history, of duty, of a father's expectations, pressed down on my tongue, silencing me.
The shock and hurt that dawned on his face was more painful than any blade.
He turned his back to me and began picking up the pieces of the cup from the floor. He took one of the flowers from the bed and walked back to me. He carefully slid it into my hair and took a step back, as if to have a good look at me. Then—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The great city bells began to toll, their sound a cold, judicial hammer falling on the night. A stampede of footsteps erupted in the street below, and a voice, amplified by a speaking-trumpet, boomed: "CURFEW! BY ORDER OF THE KING, ALL CITIZENS RETURN TO YOUR HOMES! NOW!"
The spell was broken. Herbert's face went blank, all the fire extinguished. He walked to the door, pulling it open. "You should go," he said, his voice hollow and flat.
"Herbert, wait—"
But he was already gone, swallowed by the panicked crowd flowing past the door.
I rushed out after him, my hood falling back in my haste. "HERBERT!" I screamed, scanning the sea of fleeing faces, but he was nowhere. A man running past skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he stared at my uncovered hair and face. "By the gods... is that not the Princess?"
Terror lanced through me. I yanked the hood up, shrouding myself once more, and plunged into the current of the crowd, letting it carry me away from the inn, from Herbert, from the shattered pieces of the life I couldn't have. I ran as fast as I could. Not from guards or people, but from myself. For I badly wanted to go back; to scream Herbert's name; to make him come back; to kiss him and say to him, I am yours.
I ran into a quiet street, to a stern-faced woman holding the reins of two restless horses. My lovely maid, Hertha.
"Your Highness!" Hertha hissed, her eyes wide with alarm. "Are you alright?"
"Hertha," I gasped, grabbing the reins she thrust at me. "Let's go."
We mounted in one fluid motion and dug our heels in, thundering through the streets, the castle gates looming ahead like the bars of a gilded cage.
I looked back one more time, saw a moment when Herbert came running to me and I turning my horse around, to find him in the chaos and give him the answer he deserved.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Hertha said, a profound sadness in her voice as she rode beside me.
I looked at her, the wind whipping the tears from my eyes, and forced a smile that felt like it would crack my face.
"Oh, Hertha," I said, my voice barely a whisper against the gallop. "I think I just killed a man."