Fallen Queen (Mariposa Book 1)

by Y. R. Shin

  “Rovantis?”

  “No, sir. Uh, a man I have never seen…”

  What on earth was this about? The knights’ faces turned to frowns.

  Fort Olzore.

  Considering the renown of the impregnable fort that had finally fallen, and that Morgana was quite severely damaged with the fort disassembled, it wasn’t odd to hear they’d replaced their commander-in-chief. This must have been the reason Rovantis had stayed quiet when he was pushed down to the south.

  But a visit? This was something no one had expected.

  Paseid, who was looking at the light-brown eyes of the woman, asked, “How many men has he brought?”

  “Thirty-four knights in blue armor and one knight in black armor, sir.”

  “How was there no report on this until he arrived at our doorstep?”

  “I do not know, sir. He just appeared out of the blue…”

  The air in the headquarters became cold and tense.

  The blue dagger with the clear intaglio of a butterfly had been enough to put everyone on edge. Now an enemy commander was visiting their camp with only thirty knights in blue armor, volunteering as an ambassador. The Rarkian knights’ murderous intentions pointed at Reuyen instantly changed their target.

  “Prepare for battle,” commanded Paseid. “Sir Chesa, bring her out just in case. Sir Giotarre, send a scout to inspect the surrounding area of the camp, and Sir Haldroff, call the soldiers to form a defense line.”

  When Paseid left after giving the orders, Jacalrin hesitantly stepped toward Reuyen and stood beside her, his face dumbstruck. He would have made some silly joke had it been any other day, but he couldn’t even think of one right now.

  Her mouth slightly opened. Reuyen blankly stared at the dagger in her hands and muttered in despair.

  It can’t be.

  Clear letters were written on the blood-red cloth wrapped around the dagger.

  A gift to my great sister, the conqueror of Olzore.

  It can’t be.

  The southern border between Rarke and Morgana had been drawn anew.

  The rainy season was just coming to an end, and the whole world was filled with humid air. Raindrops fell on the armor and made a tap, tap, noise, filling the area with extreme tension where not even the silence could sneak in.

  The cold air flowed through the occasional drops of rain. Only the barely breathing torchfire and black smoke rising were seen under the dark-faced, scowling sky. At the far edge of the plain across the Rarkian camp, the enemy’s flag fluttered above the knights in blue armor. The rain wetting the flag made it hard to make out the sigil, but everyone could see the flag’s royal blue hue.

  Paseid stepped in front of the convoy, sitting on Rotsa with tightly fastened barding and saddle. Behind him stood archers, spearmen, and knights in horizontal lines.

  “Did they make any movement?” he asked.

  “They kept their places since the request to see the contributor to the fall of Olzore, sir.”

  Jacalrin tightened his fist at the knight’s report. “That bastard is…”

  Soon, the order in blue armor started to move.

  When Paseid raised his left hand, the archers who were lined up took aim. In the extreme tension where everyone felt as though they were walking on thin ice, the enemy formation moving in exact precision split in the middle. Soon, a man armed from head to toe in black armor walked out through the gap, riding a pitch-black horse.

  Exclamations broke out.

  Paseid was instantly certain of his identity.

  The shame of Rarke.

  A refined animosity flashed in his eyes as black as night. By appointing this man as the new commander-in-chief, the empire’s mockery had reached its peak. The man who appeared with the blue butterfly banner was the same man who had caused a sensation among the central nobles of Rarke by taking the middle name Peijak a couple years ago for whatever reason: Balroid Peijak Mariposa.

  Now that he was out on the battlefield, the war would not end anytime soon. This was an unavoidable matter of the country’s pride.

  The knight on the black horse approached without any guards and stopped about thirty paces away. A slick voice came out from under his helmet. It was a relaxed but excited voice.

  “I will forego the unnecessarily time-consuming greetings since you all seem to know very well who I am. Where is the person who devised the plan to take Fort Olzore?” The man sitting high atop his arrogant horse scanned the soldiers who stood ready for defense.

  “I am the commander-in-chief of Rarke,” said Paseid sternly.

  “I heard today’s son of the red wolf is quite virtuous and honorable, so I did not expect him to be a man who proudly claims another’s contribution as his. I am not here to see the enemy commander who bears a false fame rooted in another’s contribution. Bring me to the one who reported the location of the mine in Olzore Valley.”

  The mine in Olzore Valley. How did this man know about that? Despite the man’s insults, Paseid stiffened with surprise.

  “How dare you, you shameless kin of a traitor!” Jacalrin shouted, his face flushing. He drew his sword. Clang! The silver blade flashed in the light from the setting sun. Almost at the same time, the order standing across the plain all started to move in preparation for a battle.

  But in the intensifying tension, they snapped back to their former formation when the knight dressed in black raised a hand.

  Paseid glared at Jacalrin. “Sheathe your sword.”

  “Yes, do not complicate things, for I am not here to fight right now,” said Balroid. “Not being able to control your young, feisty self is understandable, but do watch your neck. I repeat. I am here to see the one who took the impregnable Fort Olzore that has never fallen in seven hundred and fifty years of history. I take it you have properly relayed my gift.”

  Was that truly the reason he’d come all the way here, right in front of the enemy’s camp? Denjak and a couple other knights looked back at Reuyen, standing at a diagonal angle from Jacalrin.

  She was looking up at the knight in black like it was all she could do, even with the fierce men’s eyes all locked on her. The eyes of the enemy commander naturally moved to her as well. Even the sound of meek rainfall faded away in the tension that could break into a great chaos any moment.

  A short silence. Then, an ecstatic voice came out from under the man’s helmet. “Finally.”

  As the woman’s frozen face cracked, the knight in black thrashed his reins. Jacalrin tried to block her from the front upon seeing the black horse charging and leaping like he was determined to trample the target. But the massive black horse sprang up surprisingly nimbly and landed between the woman and Jacalrin instead.

  Neigh! Jacalrin’s swift horse raised his front legs to dodge the horse jumping in.

  “What are you thinking?” Jacalrin cried. “You can’t possibly be stupid enough to forget that you have come right in front of the Rarkian camp all by yourself. Do you not even know that the border has changed since the Battle at Olzore?”

  The blue eyes shining in the black helmet looked straight at Reuyen. She was frozen, the back of her neck stiffly held up like she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes spotted the intaglio of the Morganaan lion on the horse’s saddle.

  It can’t be.

  The man’s sleek voice resounded faintly in her ears.

  “Move aside. I only intend to congratulate her for the taking of Olzore.”

  As if I’d believe that. Jacalrin waited for Paseid’s order, not hiding his blatant hatred. But Paseid’s tightly shut lips did not open. At last, Jacalrin, who was narrowing his eyes like a wildcat, stepped back. The knight in black gave a satisfied smile and tilted his face down to look at the woman.

  The blue dagger was in the hand of the woman who wore a tattered top and pants. He opened his mouth, free of even a single drop of doubt.

  “I have waited for a long time.” He spoke in a gravelly voice, full of emotion. “I believed…my dear sister would
return.”

  What did that bastard just say? Jacalrin, who had stepped aside, grew still like he’d seen a ghost.

  “I knew it was you as soon as I heard about Olzore. I truly admire your realizing that wish, even after all this time. Only…”

  The knight in black bent down on the horse and carefully caressed her cheek. Only then did the woman faintly raise her chin to look at his face. She gave a moan full of despair.

  This can’t be…

  The familiar clear blue eyes shattered her hope to bits.

  “It was a shame I could not be there with you. Let’s go. You do know this is not your rightful place, dear sister.”

  “Are you…are you right now…”

  She stumbled a couple steps in his direction as he pulled on her arm. A fierce voice that could be concealed even with affection spoke. “Yes, I knew there was no way my sister would not recognize me. Let’s talk more afterward. There is no need to mix with these revolting sorts anymore. For I have come here to take you, dear sister.”

  Paseid, who was standing at the front at a small distance from them, opened his mouth. “Sir Chesa.”

  Jacalrin sprang forward like lightning and grabbed the man’s arm holding the woman. The eyes in the black helmet overflowing with infinite affection flashed viciously and glared at him.

  “I have no clue what kind of dogshit you’re talking about, but what remorse does the head of the traitors have left in Rarke to do this?” Jacalrin shouted.

  “Chesa. Are you that Chesa? Kalajesh Ransen? Or his younger brother? Anyway, step aside, young knight.”

  “His younger brother. Don’t you see those archers over there? That’s a warning. Next, a sword just might spring out. Seems like Morgana realized its ass is on fire and decided to switch its head, and if you don’t want to be known as the commander-in-chief who lost his head as soon as he was appointed, move back.”

  In a dreamlike situation she could not comprehend, Reuyen called him in the haze of the bubbling feeling of betrayal. Though she didn’t know how it could be, she instinctually knew.

  “Peijak.”

  “Yes.” His white breath dissipated in the falling rain. “Swan.”

  That one word swept away the last doubt.

  Is this a dream? Is this, a dream?

  A moment passed when everyone held their breath at the tension, and then the woman’s shout drenched with fury rang out through the rain like thunder. “How…how…how can you wear their armor, sit on their saddle, and point your sword at Rarke…!”

  The eyes in the black helmet seemed flustered for a moment, then started to shine with murderous intent. A completely different atmosphere now surrounded him. He glared at her with widened eyes, then stepped back upon realizing the arrows were aimed at him.

  “No, what are you speaking of right now…?” he said.

  “You…!”

  “It’s a wish that has been waiting for hundreds of years. Have you forgotten their brutality? Or are you mistaking something? Surrounded by the kin of Hansen, who betrayed you, and Brionake, who repaid your generosity with betrayal. Dear sister.”

  Jacalrin could not follow their conversation for his life. He was dumbfounded. Had he already been hit in the head with an arrow? The words coming from the man who called himself the newly appointed commander-in-chief of Morgana all sounded completely bonkers.

  Reuyen, who was standing like she was just as bonkers as him, stumbled back, then suddenly drew the sword hung at the side of Jacalrin’s horse. The horse fumed, startled by the sharp, piercing noise of metal. The enemy looked down at the sword pointed at him at a couple steps’ distance, then suddenly took off his helmet.

  Weak raindrops fell on his face. The reddish-brown hair revealed under the almost set sun and the blue eyes were so familiar, like she had seen them in a distant memory. They flashed fiercely. Why do you point your sword at me? His eyes were asking so. Reuyen froze.

  “Go back to your land,” Paseid asserted. The voice she had heard over and over suddenly sounded strange. All the sounds in the world just faded away. Like a dead tree, Reuyen stood without moving, silent. The knight in black, who was pinning Reuyen down in her spot without a single word, realized Paseid’s intent to murder and clenched his teeth.

  The knight ferociously turned around his horse. The dark-gray mane of the horse swung right before Reuyen’s eyes and sent the smell of an old battlefield into her nostrils.

  “If you need more time, dear sister, I will wait a bit longer. This will be all for today. Treat my sister with the utmost respect until then.”

  He pulled his reins and glared at Paseid. “And…Paseid Calandok Brionake…a word to you. There is no need to be fair and just with me. I will not be as dumb as Rovantis, the idiotic former commander-in-chief.”

  The agile black horse started to gallop to the other side of the plain.

  The blue mantle swaying on the back of the man disappearing across the falling rain jumped out at Reuyen’s eyes. It was a recognizable sight, as hazy as a blue butterfly landing on earth. Within a short time, the enemy’s order disappeared into a dot across the plain.

  Only after they completely disappeared did Reuyen begin to come back to her senses. Is this possible? What absurdity is this? Jacalrin’s sword escaped her uncontrollably trembling hands and fell on the ground with a loud clang.

  As everyone glared at her warily, Paseid gave his order: “Follow.”

  It was an unexpected meeting on a day at the end of the rainy season.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The place Reuyen was almost forcibly taken to was not the headquarters tent, or a cell for an interrogation or questioning, but Paseid’s personal tent. Once he entered the tent, he excused all the other knights who followed them in and stood in silence for a long time, leaning on a corner of the table where paper, pens, books, and such were neatly organized.

  The sound of people bustling about nervously came in from outside the tent. Paseid turned his body and glared at the woman, whose face had turned pale. She still seemed like she was not her usual self.

  Balroid Peijak Mariposa. He was the madman of Mariposa, the shame passed down from Rarke’s bowing down to Morgana.

  The animosity Paseid felt toward Count Mariposa, who’d barged in like he thought himself an ambassador, was as strong as his deep loyalty for the Royal House Brionake. But he didn’t have the time to wallow in that animosity. For he could not understand a thing Balroid had babbled, nor the woman’s attitude toward him.

  The man who was said to have even changed his name with a deep, deep animosity toward Rarke, to the woman who led the collapse of Fort Olzore, the symbol of Morganaan legacy.

  If Mariposa’s true purpose was to throw the Rarkian camp into confusion, he’d succeeded.

  Paseid suppressed the strong urge to slay Reuyen right then and there. He swore he’d never, even for a single moment, trusted her, but he could not deny he’d subconsciously determined that she was not an enemy, either. He believed the affection she displayed for Rarke, so he let her be, taking many possibilities into consideration. Thus, he looked away from all suspicions. But what if that assurance was his mistake and her scheme?

  A rage surging in him like it intended to rip away his reason made him tightly clench his jaws.

  Blue veins bulged out on the back of Paseid’s hand as it gripped Rionac. Reuyen was still blankly staring down with moony eyes.

  “I will not forgive your silence anymore. Explain.” His voice was as edged as a blade.

  Reuyen raised her head at last. Her parched lips moved hesitantly, then closed again.

  It’s a wish that has been waiting for hundreds of years. Have you forgotten their brutality? Or are you mistaking something? Surrounded by the kin of Hansen, who betrayed you, and Brionake, who repaid your generosity with betrayal.

  His voice once again rang in her mind. Reuyen dropped her gaze to Paseid’s feet, unable to bear those familiar black eyes staring at her.

  “H
ow are you related?”

  “Not…at all…”

  Reuyen’s trembling voice dissipated in the fierce atmosphere in the tent. It can’t be, she repeated in her mind, but she was already listening to the whispers of her instinct.

  There was nothing different in his familiar way of speaking, the blue eyes she remembered well, or anything else. It was deluded to claim that it was impossible. That there could be another in this whole wide world who was given a new life with a strange birth, just like her. It was something she’d often imagined since she was a child. But…

  It can’t be.

  She started to feel nauseous, as if she were being dragged away in a strong current. Her fingers curled in, as if to grasp at straws. It was a desperate wish. It can’t be. Peijak was her only blood, with whom she’d roamed the battlefield in the past. She was not unaware of how much he detested and hated Morgana, and how he’d slain Rarke’s enemy with so powerful a loyalty.

  So, it was apparent.

  The enemy commander of Morgana could not possibly be Peijak. Even though he had a similar way of talking, those lips that called her name that had become an antiquity, and the familiar butterfly sigil.

  Something pierced through her brain. She froze like she was struck by lightning.

  What happened to Sir Peijak Dollehan? she had asked Jacalrin.

  Dollehan? he’d replied. I do not wish to dirty my tongue by speaking about him, so do not ask. I don’t want to lose my dignity with dishonorable words and actions.

  She had dismissed their conversation some time ago. Her face grew pale, like a field covered with the deadly snow. An insuppressible moan came out of her tightly shut lips. Why had he reacted so strongly at the mere mention of the name?

  It was a costly price she had to pay for living as a blind and deaf country girl.

  How dare you, you shameless kin of a traitor!

  Why had Jacalrin shouted to the Morganaan enemy that he was a shameless traitor?

  “What happened to Peijak…Peijak Dollehan…?” Her voice, precarious like the moans of a choked animal, slowly became clearer. “What—what happened to Sir Peijak Dollehan after Queen Rarkalia’s death?”