Chapter 92

Chapter 92

Damia Lineu Porcana was suffering from a fever. Her body was cold from being plunged into the stormy ocean, but her head was burning hot. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids wouldn't lift. It felt as if a ghost was pressing down on her. Her consciousness drifted endlessly into the past.

Where did it all begin?

On the day the Porcana twins were born, the royal castle was abuzz with joy. It was a cause for celebration. There had been no heir for a long time, and many were worried. It was thought that Harmatti, the king's brother and a collateral relative, would succeed to the throne. Then, the twins were born.

The queen died of complications from a difficult childbirth and did not live to see the twins grow. However, the king felt more joy than sorrow. After all, a queen was merely a tool brought in to bear the king’s children. If the king wished, numerous lieges were willing to offer their daughters as his new queen.

"The bloodline of the royal family!"

The twins strongly inherited the Porcana royal blood. The king had light brown hair and brown eyes, but the twins prominently displayed the family's characteristics.

"Damia Lineu Porcana!"

The daughter of Porcana, Damia. She was a model of the lineage with bright blonde hair and blue eyes. She became the firstborn, having arrived moments earlier than her twin.

"Varca Aneu Porcana!"

The son of Porcana, Varca. He lacked golden hair but had deep blue eyes. He was the future heir to the throne.

The king was delighted and cherished the twins, granting their every wish. Although they lacked a mother, the twins grew up without any shortage.

"Varca."

Eight years old? Nine? It was around that age. Damia adored her little brother. Being twins, Varca was like her other half.

"Pretty."

Damia said, dressing Varca in her clothes.

"O-okay." Fôll0w current novÊls on n/o/(v)/3l/b((in).(co/m)

Varca looked awkwardly at the skirt he was wearing. He was unable to refuse his sister's persistent compliments, so he couldn't bring himself to take it off.

Varca did whatever Damia said. Damia wasn’t just an older sister by title. She truly seemed a few years older.

If Damia was the sun, Varca was her shadow and the moon. In reality, Damia was known to be active, assertive, and clever. In contrast, Varca appeared passive and dull.

"The teacher is coming today. Sister."

"It’s okay. I'll talk to him later. Let's just go to the garden and play today. Just the two of us, without the maids."

Damia clapped her hands and laughed. Her smile, especially the way her eyes crinkled, was radiant. Who could refuse such a smile? Varca was no exception.

"I'll put a flower in your hair."

After reaching the garden, Damia picked a flower and placed it in Varca's hair. To any onlooker, they would seem more like sisters than siblings. It wasn’t quite the level of Damia, but Varca also inherited the royal beauty. Once he grew up, he would certainly become a handsome royalty.

"You look good, Varca."

Damia clapped and stroked Varca's hair. Varca looked anxiously at the sun as it was setting. He had already missed so many classes.

"Sister, I have swordsmanship training this evening. That teacher is strict and scary. I heard he used to be an instructor in the Imperial army."

"Varca, you don’t need to learn any swordsmanship. I’m going to protect you."

Damia hugged Varca from behind. Her blonde hair tickled his nose.

"I will protect you, Sister. I-I am the man," Varca stammered.

"That doesn't matter. You're my little brother. Listen. Varca, you and I are one. I read in a book; that twins are one soul split in two. When we die and stand before Lou, we'll become one again. We're originally the same being."

For Varca, these were difficult words to comprehend. So, he simply nodded at his sister's words.

Varca hadn't yet read the Solar doctrine. He was still stumbling over letters. People said Varca was a playful dullard. It wasn’t that his learning progression was particularly slow, but being compared to the clever Damia and often skipping lessons for play certainly made it seem so.

"Father is here."

Varca looked up and spoke. The king, draped in a cloak embroidered with gold, strode across the garden. His tightly closed lips gave him a stubborn look.

"What is this, Varca? I heard you skipped your classes all day. And I also heard that this isn’t the first time you’ve done so."

It was a stern tone. As Varca hesitated, Damia stepped forward.

"I dressed him. And I asked him to play. Varca just followed my words."

The twins were the kin he was so desperate for. The king cherished his hard-won heirs, and he especially indulged in all of Damia’s wishes.

The king frowned. Varca was wearing women's clothes. What would other lieges think? The future ruler of this country in women's clothing? How much would the nobility and knights, who flaunt their masculinity, mock him?

Slap!

The king laid his hand on Damia to strike her. She fell from the force. Shocked, Varca's eyes widened.

"Varca, take off that dress immediately and go to where your swordsmanship teacher is waiting for you."

The servants grabbed Varca's hands and dragged him away.

'Sister has awakened safely.'

Stepping outside the tent, Pahell gazed at Harmatti Castle. The only thing left to end all of this was the fall of the castle.

* * *

As autumn was coming to a close, a military council was convened. Nobles and commanders gathered in one place. In the expansive command tent, more than ten men were present.

Step, step.

Pahell was the last to enter the command tent. Nobles parted to either side, bowing their heads. It marked the arrival of the young king, set to seize the power of Porcana.

'Rumors really are unreliable.'

In the command tent, there were nobles who had never seen Pahell before the civil war. They looked at the prince, who was clearly different from the rumors. His blue eyes were as cold as ice. There was no trace of a frivolous prince anywhere.

"Please, take your seats."

Pahell said, sitting at the head of the meeting table first. Only then did the other nobles, carefully observing, take their seats.

'He escaped as a fugitive and returned from the empire to claim his throne.'

It was a fascinating story. It quickly removed the tag of a powerless prince. Although there were criticisms about bringing foreign powers into domestic politics, Porcana had been a vassal state anyway. The criticisms didn't stick to the victorious prince.

"Death to Harmatti!"

"Death!"

The nobles exclaimed.

The young lords and nobles were especially favorable toward Pahell. The display of a young prince outsmarting his cunning uncle resonated with them. Such incidents were common in the noble world and could happen to these young nobles anytime.

'Who would have thought Varca could command the nobles like this? What in the world happened on his journey?'

Damia watched Pahell from the back of the meeting room. As she observed the proceeding of the meeting, she could feel the extent of Pahell's influence in the tent full of nobles.

"Well? What do you think? Proud, aren't you? He’s different from when you left the royal castle, right?"

Urich, who had been quietly observing the meeting, approached Damia and spoke. He, too, had participated in the meeting but hardly spoke. He mainly just observed.

'That barbarian!'

Some nobles' eyes quickly turned. They were competing against each other to show how loyal they were to the prince, and each of them wanted to impress Damia at the same time. The fact that Urich the barbarian approached her so easily did not sit well with them.

'He's getting ahead of himself just because he saved the princess.'

Jealousy was overflowing. Many of the nobles were already smitten by Damia's beauty.

"What do you mean by that, mercenary?" Damia sharply retorted.

"Well, when I first saw him, Pahell was an idiot. Couldn't tell shit from dirt, just blundering around."

"That is insolent," Damia snapped back.

"Insolent or not, it's true. But you know..."

Urich looked down at Damia with his yellow eyes, slowly moving his lips.

“You, our princess here, as I see it, seem to have a good sense of judgment. From what I’ve heard from Pahell, you've read a lot and are quite smart. And, surprisingly, you were the one who came up with the plan to borrow the Imperial army's power and get Pahell out of the royal castle."

His words were sharp, and his gaze was piercing through Damia.

"...So, what?"

"Just be careful."

Urich said to Damia and then turned his eyes back to the meeting. Damia's pupils repeatedly dilated and then contracted.

"We have a contact that came from inside the castle. Someone is willing to open the gates for us. It is my cousin, Sir Camilron," a noble said.

"That man is a knight of Harmatti! We cannot trust him," another noble countered.

"Loyalty is important for a knight, but Harmatti is a traitor and unworthy of loyalty. Moreover, the knight couldn't bear to see the starving citizens die. That's the news a deserter brought."

The deserter who brought the news was dragged to the tent. He swore in Lou’s name that the news that he brought wasn't a lie. The nobles argued back and forth.

"The citizens inside the Harmatti Castle are practically my own. If they are suffering, it's only right to seize the castle as soon as possible."

Pahell broke his silence. With his words, the nobles fell quiet.

"We will immediately reorganize the army, Prince."

An imperial commander spoke. With the leader's decision to attack, even the opposing nobles held their tongues. Instead, they clamored to lead the vanguard, wanting to impress Princess Damia with their bravery.

"...I will relay that to the inside contact."

The noble who proposed the plan nodded his head.

‘In a week, we will attack them.'

The nobles stood up and left the command tent. They each prepared their armies. This battle might very well be the last of the civil war. In other words, this was the last chance to earn glory. The camp's activity noticeably increased.