1214-05-01
Liliko ? :
I admit, I've been more nervous about this dinner than I've been for anything else so far. This war, this horrendous war, hasn't been as bad as I expected, but I still have this fear, this part of me that wants to run, that wants to hide. This palace, this area, this fight—it all feels suffocating.
There's a cold. An unrelenting fear surrounding me.
That's not the full truth.
He carries something with him. An aura, a power—like an invisible armor that shields him. Shields him from the world. It's not just physical strength. It's something more. It's overwhelming. It makes my hands shake.
This shaking feeling, this numbness, it never stops. It keeps going on and on, and I can't escape it. I barely know this man, the one who attacked my home. So why do I feel this way? Why do I feel bad, even with the knowledge that he's my enemy? People die every day in this war, but somehow, I can't shake this guilt. This uncertainty. This pain.
I've been putting off this dinner for as long as possible, hoping he'd forget that it was me who attacked him. I've passed by him a few times now, and each time it's been awkward. What am I overthinking?
I've watched him from a distance, seen how he protects us from attacks, how he views us—just pawns, tools to deplete the resources of Ahk so they can retreat. And yet, every day I think about how gracious he's been, how tough he is, how despite everything, he keeps standing. He gives us what food he can, even when it's clear the supply is running low.
I overheard passing words, whispers about how Adrian wanted to bring more food, and nobody knew why. The proud prince, the lazy prince, seemed so different from the stories they told.
The day passed quickly. The sun hanging in the sky for only a short while before it was swallowed by a thick layer of fog. I couldn't even see the moon. Only a cold, eerie mist covering the tents.
It warns of something to come.
The first day of a new month should be special. I just laughed at the thought.
I walk quietly toward his tent. The cool night air pressing in around me. The dim light from inside flickers through the fabric. Casting faint shadows across the ground. I stop just outside for a moment, my breath catching in the silence. The flap brushes against me as I enter.
There he is—kneeling on a small mat. His back straight but his eyes half-closed. A small table sits in front of him. A single candle that casts a weak glow. I stand still for a moment. I watched him.
Something about this moment, this stillness, makes me hesitate.
He opens his eyes. His bright gold eyes shined against the candle.
"Apologies," Adrian says quietly, "I know there's not much to eat."
"I'm doing the best I can with what we have."
I nod.
"It's fine," I say. "I appreciate what you've done already."
The meal is simple. Roasted vegetables and meat. The smell filled the air. I take small bites. I focused on the food more than anything else. Adrian started a small conversation that went nowhere. The silence between us is thick. Not uncomfortable.
Adrian shifts slightly as he watches me. His eyes flickering to my hands. I can feel the nerves crawling under my skin. I keep my gaze steady. I eat slowly. I try to push aside the tension in my chest.
There's a long pause. Adrian leans back slightly. His eyes narrow. He weighed his words carefully. I almost finish my meal when he speaks again. His voice low and unhurried.
"I know it was you." He says. "The assassin."
I freeze. My fork is halfway to my mouth.
"What do you mean?"
He watches me carefully. "I first suspected it when we met. You were too calm, too collected, for someone in your position. And the attack… it confirmed it."
I don't deny it. I can't. There's no use now.
I lower my eyes, setting the fork down. "So, what happens now?"
"I won't hold it against you," he continued. "The promise of riches is nice."
"How did you know about the riches?"
A small smile curves his lips.
"A desperate man tends to make the same bets."
He pauses before continuing. "That's beside the point."
I stare at him. "So, what happens now?"
Adrian leans in. "I'll forgive you. I'll act like your attack never happened."
His voice grows quieter. "But I do have some requests."
I remain silent. I wasn't sure if I should respond.
"I want you to train me," he says. "I can't fight like you. Not hand-to-hand. And after that night, it's clear I need help."
I look at him.
"And if I don't train you?" I ask, my voice tight.
He doesn't flinch. "Because it's either that or death."
The words hang heavy in the air. I feel my fingers twitch. I could end this now, like before. But I don't.
I don't know how to respond. His voice had been serious. His lips curled into a wry smile.
"You'll be closer to me. You'll have another chance to kill me. If that's what you truly want."
I can't help but glance at him.
Is it what I want?
I lean back. I take in his words. The air between us feels less heavy now. The weight of his demands settled in.
"So, what else?" I ask, keeping my voice steady. "What else do you want from me?"
Adrian doesn't hesitate. His eyes meet mine. Calm but firm. "I want you to come back to Pallas with me. You'll work with one of my generals, maybe a soldier. But it's not mandatory. If you decide against it, you're free to leave at any time. You could go to Wara if you choose."
"After this war," I reply,"I want to stay where my Utsu is…"
Adrian nods. "Good. There's one more thing. I want to know about the dragon tamers. Tell me what you know."
I don't even have to think. The words come easily. "The people of Wara worship dragons. They believe all dragons are children of the Supreme Dragon. Only those who truly worship the dragons can command them. It's not just training; it's a bond. A belief."
Adrian absorbs my words quietly, and I can tell he's considering them carefully.
I keep my gaze steady.