Dawn of Solitary Resolve
When Rowen opened his eyes, Arahan lay sleeping soundly right before him. He wasn't surprised. She'd watched over him like this a few times in the past when exhaustion had claimed him. How much time had passed? All he felt was gratitude toward Arahan, who had dragged her weary body to stay by his side.
“...You’re awake, sir?”
Rowen wiped the corner of his mouth. It was strangely damp. Probably drooled from being so damn tired. He'd shown her an unseemly side.
“How long was I out?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Got it. Let’s head out first.”
Rowen rose from the bed and stretched languidly. He felt his stiff body loosen refreshingly. He'd slept so deeply a groan nearly escaped his lips.
Arahan naturally fetched the fur and overcoat hanging by the hearth. Rowen took them just as naturally. She'd dried his damp clothes for him. He felt thankful. It was routine for her, but given their situation, he couldn't help but be even more grateful to her.
But he didn't voice it. She had this odd way of picking at him, whether to tease or play word games—he couldn't tell. She pulled inexplicable stunts sometimes, so he kept his thanks unspoken.
“Sleep well?”
“What’s all this?”
As they stepped into the wide living space, the walls of shadow crumbled away. The space crafted by Abel and his comrades. Cut off from reality—unlike Winterer—it was warm here. A bright yet simple design caught Rowen’s eye. Unfamiliar, yet stirring a nostalgic ache.
Rowen turned his gaze to Lucius standing before him.
“Their tracks cut off, so I did a little scouting.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to go out?”
“You knew I’d gone anyway.”
“...True, but.”
“Magitech-clad soldiers are no big deal. Not like that weakling Cain. Besides, our food’s running low, isn’t it? Hunted some and picked mountain berries too.”
“Good news, then.”
His boyish tone still grated—too old-soul for his age. Puberty had come and gone, but a youthful lilt lingered in his voice. It’d fade with time. Rowen decided to ignore it cleanly.
He spotted the wolf meat Lucius had prepped. Simple preservation magic, judging by the faint runes etched here and there.
“How much did you get?”
“Enough for at least a week.”
“Not planning to hole up that long.”
“Same here. But they’ve come this close. Rash moves could get us badly hurt.”
“Can’t hide forever. You know that. I’m going to kill them. All of them.”
Kill, kill, kill, and kill some more. Even if it meant never seeing his father’s face through the blood. He wouldn’t make a choice he’d regret like in his past life. Arkanthia had done the one thing Rowen hated most. Touched magitech. Touched his family. No forgiveness. No reason for it. He’d purge every bastard who gave those orders. Days, months, years—it didn’t matter. He’d hunt them down before he died. That was the cold truth hidden behind Rowen’s blank expression.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
“About what?”
“I’m leaving alone.”
“...You really think that’s the right call?”
“Yes. With you here, safety’s guaranteed. Long as we avoid golems, we won’t die at least.”
“This barrier is secure.”
“If they surround us, we’re trapped here for life.”
Rowen had come here for one reason from the start: a place for the group to evade Arkanthia’s eyes. Just a brief stop. For at least one of them—himself. Once he left, he’d sever their trail. They wouldn’t track the group anymore. At least not near Abel’s unique barrier.
“If you’re going, young master, I’m coming too.”
Rowen nodded at Arahan’s words. She’d said it before, countless times. No point objecting now. Her presence would even give him a bit of strength.
“That’s settled, then.”
“Not joining us?”
“No, Your Majesty. Return to your original plans and take shelter.”
“You’ve got something in mind?”
“Lying if I said yes.”
“Then!”
“But I can’t stay with you all.”
First.
“Splitting up is safer.”
Better than dying together like dogs. If he erased traces here and left first, their tails would follow him. They’d chase him, miss Lucius’s group. That’s what Rowen wanted.
“Father asked you for something, didn’t he?”
“...Yes.”
“Fulfill that duty, then. I’m just one missing.”
“You say that knowing the risks?”
“Knowing risks changes nothing. I’m killing them all anyway—might as well start early.”
Simple, brutish thinking. Sometimes you had to push reckless acts to achieve the impossible. That was Rowen. No elaborate strategies. Even if he planned, nothing grand. He trusted his own power and charged. Smart heads save the body strain? Then a strong body spares the head. Rowen was above average. Laughable compared to his past life’s heights, but enough for clean wins over mid-tier knights.
Born with Great Knight Rian’s memories. Blurry line between Rian and Rowen. He ignored it, honing sword and magic. What was there to agonize over? Base swordplay on Rian’s memories. Valenos bastard or not, vast mana let him master magic. Worries solvable that way.
And he wasn’t alone. Swordmaster Arahan. Six years’ bond—unbreakable. Half his life with her. She was family now.
“So don’t worry. Your Majesty, just protect Mother, Karin, and that blockhead.”
“I want vengeance for Kadan too.”
“Who said no? Go ahead.”
One hit? Repay tenfold. Rowen’s rule.
“Just don’t ditch Father’s request. Revenge can wait. While I’m gone, move the family somewhere safer. You can do it.”
Those with ability must maximize it. That’s what Rowen wanted to tell Lucius. If he’d known that, could he have saved Father? Rowen thought, then shook his head. Couldn’t blame him. He’d vented enough last night. Now, just hope he fulfilled Father’s wish.
Lucius nodded slowly. He hated agreeing. But he had to. Rowen echoed Kadan. Actions opposite, but his look and words felt like a scolding from Kadan.
“Understood...”
“Don’t look so glum. Wrinkles at your age?”
“One thing: I trust you.”
Lucius tilted his head. First time Rowen said he trusted him.
“Like when you went for Cain—my family’s in your hands too.”
“Got it. I’ll live up to it.”
“...Prove it with results, if you can.”
“Got it.”
Rowen chewed a mountain berry Lucius had brought. Tart-sweet, refreshing. A bit astringent.
“When do you leave?”
“Dawn today, ideally.”
“Too soon. Worries me.”
“Who’s worrying who? Don’t. Focus on safely guarding my family.”
“Alright, no need to get so prickly.”
“I’m not prickly. Just a bit worried about Karin—we’re parting soon.”
Lucius chuckled at Rowen’s reply. Unexpected. Rowen usually sharp-tongued, especially with Cain—like a goblin. Hard to believe.
“Sister-brother type, huh.”
“She’s still young. Too soon for blood. Hope she never sees it...”
“I’ll keep watch.”
Lucius and Rowen shared a brief handshake. Laden with unspoken meaning. Not close, but backs could be trusted. Rowen didn’t doubt Lucius’s skill. Lucius marveled at Rowen’s prodigious swordplay. Goodwill, concern. Trust amid uncertain futures.
“I’ll take some berries.”
*
“That’s the plan.”
Rowen sat straight before Miyabi, recounting part of his talk with Lucius. His future intentions.
“So... you and Arahan leave at dawn?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s your choice, I won’t stop you, but...”
“Don’t worry too much. I said it already—everyone worries excessively.”
“Of course we worry!”
Rowen smirked. Her outburst was the opposite of her old self. Hatred gone. Who could embrace a husband’s bastard with love? Busy hating, yet she’d enveloped him in affection. Accepted him truly. As Valenos kin, like Karin, Cain, Kael.
That’s why he smiled.
“Doesn’t suit a mere bastard like me.”
“You’re Valenos before bastard. North’s child. Your blood carries the North’s soul!”
“Yes. That much, I’m proud of.”
“And his son before that!”
“To others, just a filthy illegitimate.”
“Rowen!”
He knew. How much she worried. But he couldn’t stay with them like this.
“Take care of Karin.”
“I will, even without asking.”
“Yes. Of course. You’re the strongest, Mother. I won’t forget taking me in. I’ll repay that grace someday.”
“Want to repay? Reconsider.”
“Sorry. Mother, I’ll avenge Father. That’s the only way I repay.”
Miyabi grabbed Rowen. He offered a brief smile, bowed. No apology—he’d done enough. Just a short farewell.
“Don’t like Cain much, but look after him too.”
“...No help for that one.”
“Want me to beat sense into him before I go?”
“No. He’s still my son. Can’t watch him get hit.”
“Haha, I got plenty as a kid.”
“Not anymore.”
Brief silence. Then Rowen and Arahan met eyes. No blood tie. Strangers. But Valenos bound their souls indelibly. Strangers or not, Rowen was one of Miyabi’s children now. Undeniable. Family needn’t chain to blood. That’s its mystery. Fragile beauty, easily broken, easily born.
Rowen’s eyes flashed hatred for those who’d shattered this bond.
“Farewell, then. Stay well.”
“We’ll meet again.”
“Yes, Mother.”
*
Rowen left brief goodbyes behind. At dawn, he and Arahan emerged. Abel’s shadow faded softly. In an instant, they stepped beyond the unique barrier.
The cold bit harder now. Snow poured, fierce winds whipping Arahan’s wide skirts.
Rowen clenched his fist the moment they exited. No sadness. Just stifling pressure. Leaving them wasn’t easy, honestly. The path ahead was treacherous. Even with Arahan, he faced a nation alone.
So he yearned more.
“Arahan.”
“Yes, young master.”
“I’ll get stronger.”
“I know.”
Arahan chose to follow his will. Not as servant or combat maid. Her own resolve.
“Still coming?”
“How many times must I say it before you get it?”
“Ugh, here we go again.”
“Hate hearing it? Shut that trap. I don’t like that mouth asking.”
“Arahan, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Arahan’s blue eyes pierced Rowen. Viscous, probing his core. Rowen shivered, something wrapping him. Her intense gaze, probably.
“I go wherever you go. Forget—my place is by your side.”
“...Got it.”
“Don’t just say it—internalize it. How long you gonna repeat?”
Rowen whipped his head away. Arahan smiled faintly. He sensed mischief.
“Told you not to curse.”
“Servants take after masters.”
“My mouth’s not that filthy.”
“No. Yours is a rag. As servant, I must clean it.”
“Yours is filthy too. Always picking fights.”
“Only me? You pick too.”
“I don’t do pointless kid stuff.”
“So pitiful! Blind to your childish rag-mouth. Self-love that low?”
Arahan licked her lips. Not dryness. Watching flustered Rowen, instinct took over.
“For such a low-self-esteem young master, my affection’s ready.”
“Shut it. Enough.”
“Cleaning that filthy mouth is maid duty too. How long till you’re satisfied?”
“...What’re you on about?”
Rowen’s brow twitched. Nuance off. Something deeply wrong. Her blue eyes held forbidden glint. Manic red flicker—imagination? Obsessive emotion seeped. Rowen sensed her shifts keenly. She was utterly happy now.
“No clue. What the hell?”
“No need to know.”
“What’d you do to my mouth?”
“Nothing. Just saying it’s too foul.”
Short silence. Arahan broke it.
“Hehe. Fun talk.”
“Not for me. Stress piling in this freezing wind—who knows if my mouth freezes shut.”
“Poor thing.”
And so Arahan and Rowen set off on their long journey. A week passed. They left Albrin Forest, arriving at a small village in the icy lands.