Aiah sat beneath a tree, away from the fire, her arms crossed as she stared into the flames. Didi lay beside her, resting his head on her lap, his small hands clutching the fabric of her clothes.
Even though everything was quiet, Aiah's thoughts were restless. She glanced at Isaac, who sat alone a few steps away. His face showed no emotion.
She turned to Elder Peter and lowered her voice. "You're not worried about him at all, are you?"
Elder Peter looked at her, his face calm. "Worried? About what?"
"You know what I mean," she whispered. "He's too strong. Too fast. That ability, no normal person should have something like that. Especially not a so-called Class E farmer."
Elder Peter let out a small chuckle. "Ah, so you've been thinking about that."
"Of course, I have!" she hissed. "And you… you're acting like it's nothing."
Elder Peter sighed. "That's because I see more than what the eyeglass device shows."
Aiah frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You do remember that I have a Class B appraisal skill, don't you?"
She blinked, then pressed her lips.
Appraisal was a rare ability that allowed people to assess the strengths, weaknesses, and hidden traits of objects, skills, or even people. The higher the class, the more detailed and accurate the information they could uncover.
"The eyeglass device that we're using here was designed to measure combat strength like swordsmanship, spear techniques, archery, and magical abilities. It cannot judge skills outside of those categories." He paused for a moment, then added, "Like farming tools."
Aiah's brows furrowed. "Farming tools?"
Before Elder Peter could respond, Didi stirred on her lap and muttered sleepily, "I remember… when there were so many swords and spears lying on the ground… Isaac chose the axe."
Aiah glanced down at him in surprise, but Elder Peter only smiled. "Exactly."
Aiah thought back to that moment. She had seen Isaac walk past countless weapons like sharp swords, long spears and well-crafted bows. But he hadn't even considered them. Instead, he had stayed on that axe, his movements completely natural, as if it had always belonged in his hands.
"He's skilled with it," she murmured.
"More than skilled," Elder Peter said.
"I can see his strength increase when he uses farming tools, not traditional weapons. That's why the eyeglass misread him. It wasn't designed to recognize something so… unconventional."
Aiah swallowed, unsure how to feel about that. If Isaac truly grew stronger using farming tools, then what was he really capable of?
After a moment, she decided to shift the topic.
"Isaac knows I'm a princess."
Elder Peter's expression didn't change. "Really?"
"Yes… He must have heard General Broner called me princess before we fled."
Aiah's fingers absentmindedly brushing through Didi's hair.
Elder Peter nodded. "That would make sense. Isaac seems observant, he would have put the pieces together."
Aiah hesitated before speaking again. "Elder Peter… thank you."
The old man raised a brow. "For what?"
"For always being there. For staying with us," she said softly.
She looked down at Didi, who was already closing his eyes.
"I don't know what would have happened to us if you hadn't come with us that night."
Elder Peter's expression turned solemn.
"I couldn't have left you and Didi behind, not after what happened." His gaze softened. "Your father was meant to be the next king. His death changed everything."
Aiah's hands curled into fists. "They took everything from us."
Elder Peter sighed. "I served the Aretha family for many years. Your father was a good man, a true leader. When he was gone, I knew the palace was no longer safe for you. Staying would have meant your death."
Aiah bit her lip. She knew all of this, but hearing it again made the pain feel fresh.
"I won't forgive them."
Elder Peter placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Then you must be patient, Princess. Your time will come."
Aiah exhaled slowly, absorbing Elder Peter's words.
She glanced at Didi, who had already drifted back into sleep, then at Isaac, still sitting alone.
"I should get some rest," Aiah muttered.
Elder Peter nodded. "You'll need it. Tomorrow won't be any easier."
With a final look at Isaac, Aiah leaned against the tree and closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep.
—------
Meanwhile, in the palace of Carreon, Mikaela was seated at a long banquet table in the palace dining hall.
The room was lit by golden chandeliers, providing clear illumination over the meal set before her.
The smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread should have been comforting, but the heavy, eerie silence in the air made it feel wrong.
She looked around. The nobles and knights of Carreon sat around the table, their faces bright with laughter as they clinked their goblets together.
Across from her, King Belmont grinned, his thick fingers wrapped around his goblet.
But something was wrong.
The laughter was too loud. The smiles were too wide.
Mikaela's eyes moved to her father. His skin was too pale. A dark stain spread across his collar. His head tilted slightly to the side, as if…
Her breath hitched.
A thin red line stretched across his neck.
Blood dripped down onto his golden robes, but he didn't react. None of them did. The nobles kept eating, their hands moving with eerie smoothness. The knights kept drinking, their dead eyes locked onto their plates.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the hall.
The laughter stopped. The air grew heavy.
Mikaela turned, her stomach twisting.
At the head of the table, where her father should have been sitting, stood him.
Isaac.
Dressed in black, his presence was like a shadow swallowing the light. His expression was calm, too calm. A goblet of wine rested in his hand, but Mikaela had the sickening feeling it wasn't wine at all.
"You always enjoyed these feasts, didn't you, Mikaela?" His voice was soft, but it carried through the silence.
Her hands trembled. "What is this?"
Isaac tilted his head.
"A celebration."
He lifted his goblet as if in a toast. "For the end of a kingdom."
A choked gasp escaped her lips. "No… this isn't real."
Isaac stepped forward. The nobles and knights slumped over, their bodies lifeless.
Her father's head tilted further and further, until it rolled off his shoulders and hit the table with a sickening thud.
She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
Isaac reached for her. His fingers, stained red, brushed against her wrist.
"You shouldn't have betrayed me," he whispered.
The moment his grip tightened…
She woke up.
Mikaela sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Her hands felt cold.
The palace was quiet. The banquet was over.
But her heart was still pounding.
The way Isaac looked at her in the dream, it felt real.
Like a warning.
She gripped the sheets, trying to calm herself. That wasn't the Isaac she knew. The real Isaac was kind and gentle. He used to smile so easily and never held grudges. But the Isaac in her dream? His eyes were empty. His presence was heavy. He looked at her like she was a stranger.
Guilt tightened in her chest
She took a deep breath and reached for the cup beside her. Lifting her hand, water gathered in her palm and flowed into the cup. She drank slowly, letting the cool water ease her dry throat.
Her hands shook as she lowered the cup onto her lap.
"I'm sorry, Isaac…"
She held the cup close, her head lowered. Tears filled her eyes.
If she had made a different choice… would things have changed?