The sun had just begun to set, casting amber streaks across the stone walls of the imperial palace. At last, the clamor of the city surrounding the castle had faded into quiet, leaving only a dull, ghostly hum in the distance.
Darius wandered the vast main hall, aimlessly, as he had for what felt like hours. His footsteps were soft against the cold marble, echoing faintly beneath the towering ceilings.
He paused beside one of the tall windows—his usual one—and gazed out. The garden stretched before him, gilded in the evening light. It was the same garden he had looked upon since childhood. Back then, it brought him joy. Now, it was nothing but a reminder of everything he could not reach. A beautiful illusion, framed by stone and silence.
It was his prison.
They couldn't see him from out there, and he could never truly see them.
The fading sunlight washed over his form—the tall Twenty-two-year-old prince, his short, fiery crimson hair glowing like a dying flame. His striking scarlet eyes shimmered like rubies: mesmerizing, and damning.
His long black cape, trimmed in gold and red, dragged behind him like a shadow. At its center was the proud crest of the imperial family: a crimson lion, rearing on its hind legs. His tailored uniform, black with gold medallions and blood-red accents, spoke of royalty and military precision—styled for the freezing reaches of the Elician empire.
By all accounts, he was beautiful. Gracefully built. His skin pale and smooth, untouched by hardship. Long lashes framed his sharp gaze, a feature that earned him envy from many noblewomen. Yes, he was conventionally handsome.
But to him, his appearance was all he had.
Not strength like the First Prince. Not cunning like the Second. Just a face—and the weight of his father's expectations.
From the opposite end of the hall, footsteps echoed. A silver-haired man in his late forties approached briskly, cutting through the still air with the energy of a winter storm. His glare was sharp as a blade, his posture stiff with unrelenting discipline. His wolf-like eyes scanned the hall—and squinted as they locked onto the prince.
"…Your Highness! I've found you at last!"
He broke into a run, his face abruptly lighting with the most ridiculous grin imaginable. It didn't suit him at all.
The transformation was jarring—but not to Darius.
Sir Vincent Alagon was known across the empire for his icy temperament and vicious skill with a blade. The man was feared by servants, loathed by court gossip, and respected on the battlefield.
But around Darius, he became something else entirely.
To the world, Vincent was the Third Prince's lapdog—loyal to a fault, feared for his blind devotion. But to Darius, he had always been more than that. He was the only one who had ever made the palace feel less cold.
The moment he reached the prince, the words began to tumble out.
"Are you hurt? Did something happen? Was the council cruel to you again? Are you eating? You look pale. Do you want tea—?"
"Erm... I'm fine," Darius mumbled, flinching slightly as a bead of sweat rolled down his face.
Vincent had been his personal knight since he was five. And he still hadn't changed. Twenty-two years old, and Darius still found himself treated like a fragile boy who needed constant care.
"Remember, you won't grow strong without rest!" Vincent scolded warmly, as if he hadn't just terrified half the palace staff on his way in.
Darius sighed.
He could've told Vincent to stop—should've, long ago. But he never found the courage. Vincent's fussing, ridiculous as it was, came from love. And love was rare in the imperial court.
The only people who had ever truly cared for him… were his knights.
The Scarlet Knights of Elicia—a personal guard gifted to him at birth by the emperor himself. Once honored, now infamous. They had become legends, whispered about like monsters in bedtime tales.
They were feared. Hated.
Rumors claimed they tortured for fun, drank rebel blood, worshipped their prince like a god.
And Vincent? He was the worst of them. A hound with silver fangs. Loyal, lethal, and merciless.
But they knew the truth.
They knew Darius's heart. Knew the trembling beneath the fury. The guilt he carried for the reputation his name had stained onto theirs.
Darius hated it.
He hated that their lives were ruined just for standing beside him. Hated the stories. Hated the fear.
And yet…
"…My father gave me a mission," he said quietly. "I think it's meant to mark my coming of age."
Vincent's expression shifted.
"A mission? Do you mean… a meeting with a noble?"
Darius shook his head, the ghost of a smile curling his lips. "No. A war mission."
The air went still.
Vincent's voice dropped. "You don't truly mean—"
"I get to leave the palace," Darius said, his voice soft as silk, eyes still fixed on the window. "He's sending me to Valene."
Vincent looked as though he had seen a ghost.
"Your Highness… that's—out there. You—"
"I know."
It was expected, really. Vincent had never hidden his overprotectiveness. Letting Darius outside the palace walls was, to him, like releasing a lamb into a den of wolves.
Especially now. With the demonic mist creeping closer.
"You've been ordered to recover only the materials," Vincent said flatly, already anticipating the prince's next words.
"Yes…" Darius sighed. "But I must warn them. My father's making a mistake."
He straightened then, voice suddenly steadier. "I want to change his mind."
Vincent opened his mouth—but stopped. That conversation was too dangerous. The emperor wasn't someone you changed.
And yet, instead of objecting, he knelt on one knee, placing a hand to his chest.
"Then I will summon the others. We leave at once. Do what you believe is right, Your Highness. I remain ever at your side."
"Vincent…"
"Yes, my liege?"
"…Thank you."
The knight's stern expression broke, just a little. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
"My prince… you've always been too kind-hearted for a family like this," he murmured under his breath, too low to be caught.
"What was that?" Darius asked, turning his head slightly.
"It's nothing."
Vincent rose to his feet, his smile vanishing into steel once more.
But Darius caught the flicker in his eyes.