The sky had begun to darken, the colorful hues slowly fading as the stars and the moon shone through dimly amidst the fading remnants of the setting sunlight.

  The enchanting scenery of both the sun and the moon—one setting while the other rose on opposite sides—was reflected nowhere as vividly as on the calm, almost stoic surface of the River Stillwater, a tributary to one of the Great Rivers of Solmarch.

  The name of the river was self-explanatory—but the legends and hearsay could never match the astonishment of seeing the real thing with one’s own eyes. After all, mere words could not do justice to such a marvel of nature.

  The Stillwater River seemed unnaturally steady—so much so that its clear blue water appeared almost stagnant and frozen, making the entire river feel like a giant mirror upon the land, reflecting the moon and stars upon its surface like a beautiful canvas.

  Serin’s untied long hair fluttered in the wind as the river water before him rippled slightly. His chest bare, Serin took a deep breath and then dived into the river without hesitation, his two knight protectors—Symund and Hymund—glancing at each other before turning their attention toward the river in vigilance and concern.

  Right up until the moment Serin made contact with the resting waters of the river, he had been shivering. He had been shaken to his core after waking from such a horrifying nightmare.

  He needed to cool off. He needed to calm his nerves.

  And so he dived into the river, wanting to wash away the lingering terror and steady both his body and mind at the same time.

  The illusion of the mirror shattered where Serin had landed as the calm surface of the water stirred chaotically. Even so, this disturbance did little to affect the serenity of the river as a whole.

  Serin dipped beneath the water and allowed the cool, peaceful current to finally loosen his nerves and calm his racing, unsettled thoughts.

  He stayed underwater as long as he could, then swam to the surface, drawing in deep gulps of air before submerging himself again—and again.

  With each dip, a storm of questions raged in his mind.

  Serin broke the surface once more, sending up a splash as he gasped for air. Taking a moment to steady himself, he finally lay on his back, floating upon the surface, facing upward toward the vast ocean of twinkling stars.

  “Where have I seen that ring before?” he muttered in frustration, his forehead creased tightly as he replayed the nightmare in his mind.

  Serin racked his brain relentlessly but could not recall where he had seen that blood-soaked ring.

  Although Serin possessed the memory of a chess grandmaster, it only worked for things he consciously chose to remember. It was impossible—inhuman even—to remember everything one’s eyes happened to glimpse in passing.

  Yet he was certain he had seen that ring somewhere before. His conscious mind could not recall it—but his subconscious remembered.

  Serin shook his head, unable to find answers. At the very least, he had managed to distance himself from the terror of the harrowing dream.

  Seeing that darkness was settling fully upon the land, Serin climbed out of the river and changed into fresh clothes. By the time he finished, the sky had grown completely dark, hundreds of stars and the full moon reflected simultaneously upon the surface of the river as they shone above.

  “My Prince…” Symund called out with concern. The twins had never seen their new master so shaken before.

  Serin tore his gaze away from the rare and beautiful sight and offered a faint smile. “I’m fine. Let us head back to camp.”

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  The twin brothers nodded obediently and led the way toward the convoy’s campsite for the night. Only the sound of their footsteps, accompanied by the occasional distant cry of birds, echoed through the quiet.

  Stepping on the fallen dry leaves now and then—the sharp crunch and rustling sounds ringing in his ears midst the quiet, Serin felt unsettled, his mind restless. An inexplicable sense of impending doom weighed upon him, and he found himself replaying the nightmare again and again.

  “You two… How long did it take for you to become ascendant knights?” Serin asked abruptly.

  “Seven years, My Prince,” they replied in unison.

  Serin froze, his eyes widening in surprise. “That long? Truly?”

  The twins wore bitter smiles once again—they truly were twins in the most literal sense. It was as though they were spiritually connected, moving and reacting in perfect synchrony without effort. It was fascinating to witness—though Serin was hardly in the mood to appreciate it.

  “We had to take the concoction multiple times, My Prince…” Symund explained.

  “Yes, and only after we had prepared our bodies sufficiently for it,” Hymund added.

  Serin sighed and resumed walking.

  He had shed blood, sweat, and tears ever since finding himself in the body of the bastard prince, all in preparation for the ‘concoction’—the most vital step in awakening the dormant potential of the human body in Eidryth.

  It was the only feasible way he currently knew to gain true physical strength—to protect himself in emergencies. Especially after that nightmare, Serin felt more certain than ever that he needed to become stronger.

  “Tell me… is it really as torturous as they say?” Serin asked, deliberately slowing his pace—only to hear the footsteps behind him come to a halt.

  He had asked casually, yet Hymund and Symund froze in place. Their faces turned pale, expressions twisting as if they had swallowed something foul. Serin could even see a slight tremor in their stance—which was astonishing, considering how brave and formidable they were.

  “I suppose that answers my question,” Serin said softly, trying to mask the fear in his own voice. Sooner or later, he would have to endure it as well.

  Symund noticed the apprehension beneath Serin’s calm exterior but did not know how to comfort him. Saying it would be fine would only be a lie.

  Hymund caught his brother’s glance instantly and stepped forward.

  “Your Highness, Lord Gerard must have explained what the concoction truly is, am I correct?”

  Serin nodded.

  Hymund narrowed his eyes slightly. “The efficacy of the concoction depends on its purity—or rather, on how much wealth has gone into refining it.”

  “That’s right. Lord Gerard mentioned this.”

  “The purest, rarest, and most expensive concoction lessens the suffering considerably… so I’ve heard,” Hymund said, envy lacing his tone, almost as though he could taste the thought.

  A glimmer of hope appeared in Serin’s eyes. “How rare is it exactly?”

  Hymund chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah… that is… how should I put it…”

  “Uhm… it’s like a national treasure… something along those lines…” Symund chimed in quickly, rescuing his brother from the awkwardness.

  The twins had expected Serin to look disheartened. Instead, his eyes continued to shine with quiet determination.

  Suddenly, the twins exchanged a glance filled with unspoken meaning.

  Symund’s eyes seemed to say, Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

  Hymund gave the slightest nod in response.

  The Lord has Imperial blood in his veins… who knows? Perhaps it isn’t impossible for someone like him.

  Symund clicked his tongue faintly in envy.

  In reality, this entire ‘conversation’ occurred in mere seconds without either twin uttering a word. Serin, despite his sharp perception, noticed nothing.

  Lost in thought, Serin unknowingly began walking again, snapping the twins back to attention as they followed closely.

  “Oh right—do you two have family apart from each other?” Serin asked casually, his hands clasped behind his back.

  The twins instantly forgot their earlier thoughts. Brilliant, enthusiastic smiles bloomed upon their faces.

  “Yes! We have two sisters! Mara is the older one, and Mira is the younger one!”

  “Oh? Tell me about them, if you don’t mind,” Serin replied, simply wishing to keep the conversation flowing.

  He would soon regret that decision.

  The twins’ smiles widened further. One after another, they began praising their sisters endlessly—how beautiful they were, how clever, how sensible, how kind—and how they baked the most delectable cakes in the entire world.

  “Who would have thought…” Serin muttered in disbelief at this new side of the twin brothers. At the same time, he felt as though his ears might fall off from the relentless praise.

  His brows twitching, Serin finally raised a hand to stop the avalanche.

  “Enough, enough! I understand! Your sisters are the most beautiful, most virtuous, most sensible, most clever… anything else?”

  “Yes, yes! Your Highness, they’re also the best cooks—” Symund blurted eagerly.

  “Yes, yes! And don’t forget the cakes!” Hymund added urgently, as if failing to mention them would be a crime.

  Serin burst into hearty laughter that echoed through the woods.

  The twin knights lowered their heads in embarrassment, finally realizing they had once again overdone it.

  After nearly half a minute, Serin managed to steady himself.

  “Alright, alright! I must have these cakes when we reach Brinescar.”

  Hymund and Symund raised their heads, exchanged a glance, and smiled warmly.

  “It would be our honor, Your Highness!”

  Serin nodded, feeling lighter than before.

  And just then, the flickering flames of torches could be seen in the distance, lined neatly ahead—the convoy’s camp awaiting them not far from their position.