The sky above Crownford was clear and radiant, not a single cloud in sight. Morning sunlight spilled across the land like a quiet blessing, illuminating the road that stretched outward from the city gates.
Tall trees lined both sides of the road, their trunks evenly spaced as if planted by design rather than nature. Their leaves swayed gently in the morning breeze, casting shifting shadows across the ground below.
The road itself was not dirt nor stone bricks each block forged from magic essence. The surface was smooth and durable. The road was clean as snow, wagon wheels rolled across the road. Beneath the feet of travelers who passed over it thier footsteps erased as they walked in the road.
The essence snow road was forged entirely from condensed magic essence. In Britannia, it was a common sight, so common that most citizens are used to it's effect.
This style of road construction had become a signature of Britannia itself, much like its knights and noble houses. Yet Britannia was not the only state born from the lands of old Britain.
Beyond its borders lay Edinburgh, Scotland, and several other fractured nations, each has its own culture, and architectural. Where Britannia favored essence snow roads, Scotland embraced a vastly different design.
Scotland's roads were like freeze sea.
Known as Icelandic roads, they possessed effects similar to essence snow roads but carried a cold, crystalline beauty unique to the northern lands. Even under the weight of armies and carriages, the ice never cracked, sustained by ancient runes and deep magic.
Guards stood stationed on both sides of the road outside Crownford's gates. Their posture was rigid, their presence disciplined. Each wore standardized armor, polished and identical, weapons held close but never carelessly.
The gates of Crownford stood open.
People moved in and out in an unbroken flow—merchants guiding loaded carriages, travelers presenting documents, messengers riding with urgency, and civilians passing through under the watchful eyes of the guards. Every movement followed an unspoken order, as though the city itself breathed according to strict rules. Crownford felt like a cog in a larger machine—one that never stopped turning.
Lionel rode atop an essence snow road, the carriage gliding smoothly beneath him. It was white, trimmed with elegant green lines, and drawn by two horses whose hooves barely made a sound against the shimmering surface.
The scene was breathtaking—so serene it felt as though the carriage was drifting through the clouds.
Unfortunately, Lionel was in no mood to appreciate it.
Inside the carriage, every window was tightly sealed. Those within could not see the outside world, and those outside could not glimpse what lay within. Isolation was absolute.
There were three people inside.
A young woman sat quietly against the cushioned seat, her face pale and filled with despair. She wore a blue gown, its fabric neat yet rumpled, as though she had long since lost the strength to care for appearances.
She was Princess Emilia.
Beside her sat two teenage boys.
One wore a blue sweater and long trousers. His hair was a striking crimson-yellow, and his piercing blue eyes never wavered as they stared at the sleeping princess. There was no warmth in that gaze—only calculation and restraint.
This person was no other than the fugitive Leywin Loid.
The other sat closer to the carriage wall, silent and unreadable, his presence heavy despite his stillness.
The carriage continued forward, gliding soundlessly along the essence snow road, carrying its occupants toward the direction of Riverview.
Riverview was a trade zone—an open marketplace where anything of value could be bought or sold, so long as the price was right. Wealth flowed through the city like a living current, drawing merchants, smugglers, nobles, and criminals alike.
It was located in the eastern region of Britainna, standing as one of the few places where law bent easily under the weight of profit.
At this very moment, Lionel and his band of fugitives were heading straight toward Riverview.
Their purpose was clear.
They intended to sell the princess.
With the money earned from that transaction, they would purchase a ship—one capable of carrying them beyond Britainna's reach, across the sea to witness new lands..
Riverview was their gamble.
East of Britainna.
Lionel had just stepped down from the carriage when a blade struck his leg. Before he could even react, the weapon had already flew to the direction it came from.
From the forest's edge, Taiyor stepped onto the road, his gaze fixed on Lionel. His expression was one of relief, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he drew a slow, deliberate breath.
"Very good," he murmured to himself, eyes glinting. "Now let's see how long you can last."
Taiyor's stance was relaxed but alert, each muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap, while Lionel's leg was bleeding from Taiyor sneak attack.
Taiyor sneak attack the attack was too fast Lionel could not react on time. Lionel turned sharply and froze. Taiyor's expression was bold, unshakable, radiating overconfidence. It was as if the fight had already been decided… though it hadn't even begun.
Leywin and Reinhard sprang from the carriage, their movements fluid and precise. They landed on either side of Lionel, forming a defensive formation.
A slow, amused smile spread across Lionel's face. "Sneak attacks, huh?" he drawled. "Only a shameless person would resort to such tactics. Judging by your dress and your complexion, you're not from around here. I would have called it a fortune to meet you… but now?" He chuckled, a low, almost sinister sound. "I can't even tell if this is fortune or misfortune. So… tell me. What do you want?"
Taiyor laughed, the sound sharp, controlled, almost teasing. "Impressive," he said, eyes glinting. "I like your keen perspective. Too bad we're not on the same side. But don't waste my time with insignificant matters." His hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon."Hand the princess over. Do that, and I might spare your life."
Leywin's crimson-yellow hair caught the sunlight as he crouched low, eyes locked on Taiyor with unyielding determination. Reinhard, taller and broader, planted his feet firmly, aura flaring faintly as he braced for the first strike.
Leywin's eyes narrowed. "Stay behind us," he said quietly to Lionel, his tone sharp but steady. "We'll make sure nothing gets through."
Reinhard stepped slightly forward, forming a triangle with Leywin and himself. "You want the princess?" he said, voice low, almost a growl. "You'll have to go through us first."
Taiyor's laugh."So eager to die," he said, his aura flaring faintly, almost imperceptibly. "Let's see if you can back up those words."