The gravel beneath the horses' hooves turned from rough mountain scree to the damp, packed earth of the lower settlement. On either side of the narrow road, the uniform stone houses stood like silent, gray sentinels in the midnight mist. Smoke curled lazily from identical slate chimneys, smelling of peat and wet pine. The uniformity was absolute, a deliberate architecture of humility that pressed against Kairo's chest like a physical weight.
Kairo pulled on Wind's reins, bringing the black stallion close enough to his father's bay that their stirrups brushed with a metallic clink. "Father," Kairo said, his voice low, almost swallowed by the rhythmic thud of the horses' steps. "Where are we sleeping tonight? And... I wanted to ask you something. Why do the people here build a new house for every talented warrior who proves himself, yet they didn't make one for me? After everything in those two nations..." He trailed off, his fingers tightening on the leather reins until his knuckles turned a bloodless white. "It makes me feel like an outsider. I don't know what I have to do to win the hearts of these people."
King Ariston did not look back immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his massive shoulders squared against the mountain breeze. The flickering light of a roadside oil lamp caught the stern line of his jaw.
"We will be sleeping in the high castle from now on," Ariston replied, his baritone voice carrying a sudden, hard edge that cut through the steady hum of the wind. "I gave all my personal houses to the auction blocks this evening. Let the merchants buy them, or let the refugees from the lands you conquered stay there for free. We are done with those walls."
Kairo blinked, his analytical mind stalling for a fraction of a second. "But why did you do that, Father?"
Ariston pulled his horse to a halt at the crest of the hill, where the uniform rows of commoner homes gave way to a massive, rising shadow of black ironwork and carved bedrock. He turned his head, his dark eyes burning with a fierce, protective light.
"Because they treated you poorly," the King said flatly. "I care nothing for the arts of pathetic people who refuse to accept my son. And Kairo... listen to me. I know you do not bend your knee to any altar. You look at the sky and see nothing but stars, not a creator. I know you are an atheist. But if in the future you ever choose to accept a religion, do it to please God—not to please people. Trying to win the hearts of the ungrateful isn't worth a single breath."
The raw weight of his father's support filled the hollow ache in Kairo's chest, replacing it with something hot and enduring. He straightened in his saddle, looking up at the high stone battlements of the royal castle ahead, its grand windows gleaming with a rich, amber light. "Thank you for supporting me, Father. I will make sure they remember my name. Even if thousands of years pass, no matter what happens to this realm, they will remember."
Ariston's stern face finally softened, a proud, quiet smile touching his lips. "Yeah. You will. I will live to see that day, and I will cherish your name in front of every soul who doubted you." He turned his horse toward the massive iron gates of the castle yard. "Now, let us get inside before the frost catches your bones."
Kairo guided Wind alongside the bay, the sudden transition from dark mountain trails to the grand, torch-lit courtyard of the castle making his eyes adjust. "Uhh... it will be kind of embarrassing if you praise me like that in public," Kairo muttered, though his mind instantly flipped back to the unsettling events at the academy door. "But Father... I don't know why, but Daichi was acting incredibly weird tonight."
Ariston pulled his mount to a stop before the grand steps, his brow furrowing slightly. "Wait. What do you mean?"
The heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the grand castle swung inward, releasing a wave of dry heat that smelled of roasting rosemary, melted butter, and sweet applewood. The floors here were not rough slate, but polished white marble that reflected the brilliant light of silver candelabras. Kairo stepped down from his saddle, his stiff joints popping as his feet hit the stone.
"Yeah," Kairo continued, walking beside his father into the grand entrance hall. "He was acting as if he were my personal history teacher in the absolute middle of the night. He knew things he shouldn't..."
"Kairo! My daughter's future husband, how was your day?"
A vibrant, teasing voice echoed down the corridor. Queen Ayame stepped into the hall, her silk robes rustling softly against the marble. Behind her skirt hid little Aria, her small hands clutching the fine fabric, her bright eyes blinking sleepily at the two dust-covered riders.
Kairo's entire face flushed red, his analytical composure completely shattering. "Mother... please, stop doing that," he groaned, covering his face with a leather-gloved hand. "I know you adopted me, but talking about marrying my own sister... it feels totally weird. And besides, she is still way too young!"
Ariston let out a low rumble of amusement as he unbuckled his leather riding gauntlets, tossing them onto a side table. "But you aren't blood-related, son. Legally, you can marry her when the time comes, right?"
Kairo exhaled a long, defeated breath, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, fair enough. But let's please change the subject."
Queen Ayame laughed, a sound like silver bells, and reached out to gently brush a speck of mountain dust from Kairo's cheek. "Well, I have worked terribly hard to prepare a delightful meal for you both. Come inside, change your clothes, and let us eat before it spoils."
A short while later, washed clean of the mountain trail and dressed in softer linen tunics, Kairo and the King sat at the massive mahogany dining table. Silver platters piled high with thick cuts of roasted venison, steamed root vegetables, and fresh, crusty bread dominated the center of the room.
Kairo tore off a piece of bread, his mind drifting back to the view of the town from the hill. "Dad... the other people's houses down there are so cheerful. I noticed some families have like a hundred children, or even two hundred running around the courtyards. Why is it that in this world, the sheer number of children represents a divine blessing?"
Queen Ayame set down her goblet, her expression turning gentle but firm. "Because children are the ultimate blessing of the one true God, Kairo. Every soul brought into this mountain is a gift from Him. Am I right, sweetheart?"
Ariston nodded, taking a slow sip of his broth. "Yeah, she is right. Even though we don't have a massive house filled with hundreds of kids running through the halls, it is always good to thank God for the family we have."
Across the table, little Aria was completely ignoring her vegetables, using her small silver fork to aggressively push a piece of roasted potato around her plate like a toy ship. She looked up suddenly, her lower lip pouting. "Kairo, why did you come home so late? You promised you'd play with me."
Kairo's expression softened instantly. He leaned across the table, offering a small, apologetic smile. "Uhh, okay, okay, I'm sorry, Aria. I was having some fun with the others. I tell you what—when you get a little bit older, I'll take you to meet my friends, okay? You can hang out with us."
Aria's pout vanished into a bright, gap-toothed giggle. "Okay, fine!"
The dinner plates were eventually cleared away by quiet servants, leaving only the faint scent of cinnamon tea and the crackle of the great stone fireplace in the corner. Queen Ayame had taken a yawning Aria up to the bedchambers, leaving the dining hall draped in a heavy, contemplative silence.
Kairo leaned back in his carved wooden chair, his gaze fixing on his father. The flickering orange firelight cast long, shifting shadows across Ariston's weathered face.
"Father," Kairo said, his voice dropping to a sharp, clinical quietness. "Are you hiding something from me? About tonight. I think you are."
King Ariston closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet steam rising from his tea. He let out a long, slow exhale that seemed to carry the weight of the entire kingdom. "Okay, okay. I will explain everything." He opened his eyes, looking at Kairo with the cold, calculating gaze of a seasoned ruler. "Daichi is the son of my closest friend—a man who happens to be a genius military tactician. That boy has spent more time burying his nose in the royal archives than most of our senior scholars."
Kairo tilted his head. "So you told him to preach to me?"
"No," Ariston countered softly. "I didn't tell him what to say. Daichi simply noticed you were curious about our origins. And trust me, once that boy starts talking about history, it is incredibly difficult to make him stop. I knew you two were becoming close. In this life, Kairo, a prince does not simply choose companions by random chance. I considered arranging official companions for you—every royal prince receives a curated circle. But before I could even draft the decree, you had already found your own."
The King leaned forward, his massive forearms resting on the mahogany table.
"Funny enough... you chose the exact same children I would have chosen for you. Look at them closely, Kairo. Leonhart possesses an overwhelming, brutal physical strength. In the wars to come, he will become the unstoppable spear that breaks the enemy's front line. Renji... Renji values absolute discipline above emotion. He will be the anchor that keeps your entire circle grounded when chaos begins to tear everything apart."
Ariston paused, a faint flicker of amusement crossing his eyes. "Daichi is incredibly lazy, yes, but his mind never truly sleeps. One day, that boy will win entire campaigns for you without ever needing to draw his sword. And Akio..." The King paused, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh as he rubbed his temples. "...I still don't know why I like that boy."
Kairo couldn't help it; a sharp laugh escaped his throat. "Neither do I."
"Yet somehow," Ariston smiled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners, "every room becomes brighter the second he steps into it. Do not underestimate that, son. That isn't physical strength or raw intelligence. That is morale. Every great group needs someone who can keep the soul alive."
Ariston tapped his thick fingers against the table. "You didn't choose the friends I wanted to force upon you. You chose them yourself. But the other kids in the academy? They still look at you with fear. They still think you are a monster who conquered two nations at twelve years old. So... good luck in your classroom tomorrow."
"I understand, Father," Kairo said, taking a slow breath as he processed the political gravity of his friendships. He stood up from the table, preparing to head to his chambers, but a freezing thought suddenly snagged in his mind. He stopped, his hand resting on the back of the heavy wooden chair.
"But... Father? There's one thing that still doesn't make sense."
Ariston looked up, his cup halfway to his lips. "What is it?"
"When Daichi was talking about the Jinn," Kairo whispered, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the chilling grin on his friend's face in the dark corridor, "he used a word. A word from my old world. He called them Genies. How could he possibly know that word?"
King Ariston froze. The silver cup hovered in the air, a single drop of dark tea clinging to the rim. The warmth completely drained from the King's face, his eyes locking onto Kairo with a sharp, sudden intensity that made the surrounding room feel entirely breathless.
"...He told you that?" Ariston asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet register.
Kairo nodded slowly. "He did."
Ariston did not speak for a long time. He slowly lowered his cup back to the saucer, his gaze drifting toward the dark, shadowed corners of the grand dining hall as if searching for something hidden in the woodwork. His jaw tightened, a hard, unreadable thought passing over his features.
"Strange," the King murmured softly.
Without another word of explanation, Ariston stood up, turned his back to the hearth, and strode out of the hall into the darkness of the corridor, leaving Kairo alone with the dying embers of the fire.