The Tembar Kingdom and the Helgner Kingdom.
After Lovell and the others had left, Lavisel and the guards remained, sighing with heavy hearts.
Elen immediately saw through Amiel, the royal, betraying them, and proposed a method of gathering information—something truly befitting a spirit being, one might say.
Even spirit mages within the court couldn’t pull off such a trick. They’d already learned, the hard way, what horrors awaited if they crossed Elen. Now, seeing it firsthand, Lavisel and the others shivered inwardly.
If Amiel tried anything against the Vanklyft Family, she’d be certain to face retaliation.
In the worst case, the fallout might even reach the kingdom itself because of Amiel. That, Lavisel thought, absolutely must be avoided.
Whatever the reason, if Amiel sold the kingdom, she must be condemned as a royal.
Elen’s information will confirm that beyond doubt.
“…How terrifying…”
The guard who snapped at Elen turned pale and broke out in a sickly sweat.
He’d imagined the moment his own country turned against him—no weapon, no armor, nothing working, as if he were suddenly stripped bare.
The guards, who were supposed to protect the royals, finally understood just how small and powerless humans truly are before spirits.
“I know you’re supposed to protect us… but Elen is off-limits. The moment you make her an enemy, the kingdom will fall.”
“B-but… that’s…”
“You saw it, didn’t you? Elen stands in a position where even the Great Spirits bow to her.”
“T-the Great Spirits…?”
“Even if Lovell suddenly appears, don’t raise your sword. They’re not human anymore. They’re on par with gods.”
The guards said nothing, unable to respond to Lavisel’s quiet words.
They’d only ever seen Lovell as a child—seeing him now, unchanged, and his daughter grown, had clearly shaken them to the core.
A complicated mix of emotions spun in her mind, and Lavisel sighed, her gaze distant.
For a moment, her eyes flickered with the weight of betrayal by kin, and the painful truth that someone once close had become so far away. But she shook it off quickly, giving orders to the guards.
“Bring Ernest.”
“Understood.”
“Yeah, and that cloth. Let him rest until he arrives.”
With that, Lavisel lay back on the sofa.
She called over a waiting servant, wrung out a cloth soaked in warm water, and placed it over her eyes. Then she was asleep, instantly.
The guards nodded at one another and faded into silence. One went to fetch the chancellor; the others quietly returned to their posts.
＊＊＊
The Tembar Kingdom was said to have originally arisen from a cadet branch of the Helgnar royal family.
The Helgnar realm was deeply devoted to spirit worship, and only those in the royal line who had formed a covenant with a spirit through generations were recognized as heirs.
But that privilege was reserved exclusively for the main branch—cadet families, no matter how capable, were dismissed as unworthy, their blood deemed unfit to covenant with spirits.
Some cadets, furious at being ignored, declared their own worth and set out for a rumored untamed land where spirits were said to roam freely.
Enraged, the main branch condemned the cadets for abandoning ancestral teachings and trampling sacred grounds with bare feet.
Afraid of provoking the spirits’ wrath, the Helgnar clan began punishing those who had strayed from the path.
Yet a handful escaped—those who, in that wild land, had already made their covenant with the spirits.
The one who wielded that power split from Helgner and carved a nation out of that wild land. But Helgner’s kingdom could never allow such a thing.
The Helgner family had long regarded the Tembarl royal line as traitors.
And just as if to confirm their century-old doctrine, it was revealed that the Tembarl royal family had incurred the wrath of the spirits. Helgner, of course, raised his voice with utter certainty.
“If it’s our blood, then it’s our duty to purge them.”
King Helgner Lore Duran, the current ruler, was a man utterly loyal to his family’s creed.
The Helgner royal line had always borne black eyes and black hair. That shade of hair was said to be the color of the spirits bound to the family.
It was proclaimed that this hue marked the strength of one’s bond with the spirits. Yet I’ve heard, in whispers, that their ancestors had once been golden-haired and blue-eyed.
These days, no one in Helgner holds that color anymore, but every time I see the Temberl royal family, I get this itch—like something’s crawling under my skin.
Durran’s twenty-two now, black-eyed, black-haired, but he’s never made a pact with the spirit tied to the royal bloodline.
That spirit hasn’t stirred since twelve years ago, when Durran’s younger brother, Lyr, died in an accident—since then, it’s been mourning, asleep, vanished.
And yet, the Temberl royal family, said to be cursed by the spirit’s wrath, still enjoys the blessings of the Great Spirit’s contract right here in their own land—the very place they’re supposed to be punished.
The blessings should’ve gone to Helgner, not them.
Back over twenty years ago, the heir to the Vanklyft Family of Temberl—no connection to spirits at all—made a pact with the Great Spirit.
And two years ago, another Vanklyft Family guard made a pact with the Great Spirit.
Before that, rumors of blessings from spirits had never ceased throughout the Vanklyft lands.
What in the world is going on?
Ever since my brother came into existence, Helgner’s been plagued by nothing but disasters.
That’s why Duran set his sights on the Vanklyft Family.