Chapter 2
With the fall of the Roemian Empire—conqueror of the western kingdoms, and whose rule once reached the Southern Continent—came the age of lords.
The empire was split into the Seven Kingdoms: Wedon, Balto, Dristan, Osiriya, Sykan, Arex, and Livadon.
Kings sought the loyalty of their vassals so that they could protect their territories, and vassal lords strove to bolster their armies with powerful knights and sorcerers in ever increasing numbers.
Duke Ezion Croyso, Maxi’s father, was one such lord.
His ancestor, the first Duke of Croyso, had been one of the lords of Wedon who successfully seized the vast eastern territories.
Over the generations, the Dukes of Croyso joined dozens of wars to secure fertile lands and tens of thousands of serfs, allowing them to garner immense wealth and power.
But thirty years ago, the Seven Kingdoms signed an armistice, for growing numbers of monsters had started to flood the land.
As part of the agreement, Duke Croyso was pressured to return his annexed eastern territories back to Dristan.
Unwilling to relinquish half his dukedom, Duke Croyso quickly devised a solution.
He would strengthen the legitimacy of his rule by marrying a princess of the old Roemian Empire. In this, he succeeded.
Duke Croyso found and married Arian Roem Girtha, a maiden descended from Roem’s fallen royalty—and Maxi’s mother.
Arian was a beautiful and virtuous woman, dutiful and docile.
But above all, she was a scion of the great House of Roem, which had once ruled all the land under the sun.
With Arian as his wife, the duke neatly extricated himself from all territorial disputes, much to his satisfaction.
However, it was not long before he encountered that age-old problem faced by all noblemen—the matter of succession.
Like all other lords, Duke Croyso longed for an heir who would inherit his titles, his vast lands, and his castle.
Yet even after six years of marriage, Arian had failed to bear him a child. Every pregnancy ended in miscarriage.
The duke devoted all his efforts to securing a healthy heir, and he tried everything.
From enlisting the help of high-ranking clerics to seeking out sorcerers—he did it all.
But his struggle yielded nothing but frustration until a decade later, when God finally answered his prayers and a healthy child was born.
Unfortunately, the child was a girl.
His hopes dashed, Duke Croyso became despondent. And by the time the girl was two or three years old, a violent rage had taken root within him. The girl was not only utterly useless, but she also had a stutter.
He abandoned what little expectations he had had for his daughter.
He had hoped to marry her off to a prince of Wedon to secure an heir from their union, but he would never allow a child with an impediment to succeed him.
It was his firm belief that only a perfect, healthy, male child could bear the honor of the Croyso name and legacy.
Arian died without giving birth to a male heir.
Repeated cycles of pregnancy and miscarriage had drained the life out of her.
Needing an heir who carried the royal blood of the Roemian imperial family, Duke Croyso wasted no time in marrying one of Arian’s cousins.
To his dismay, his second wife soon died of an illness—and she, too, left only a daughter behind.
As rumors spread that House Croyso was cursed, no other members of the Roemian imperial bloodline would agree to marry their daughters to the duke. He had no choice but to pin all his remaining hopes on his second daughter, Rosetta.
Unlike her older sister, Rosetta was beautiful, intelligent, and exceedingly talented. If he could secure an heir by marrying her off to the son of a prestigious family, he would be able to preserve the pedigree of his house and maintain his rule over his vast territory.
To that end, Duke Croyso spared no expense. The most distinguished tutors, hundreds of servants, dazzling clothes, sparkling jewels…Anything Rosetta wished for, he gave her. The duke did everything in his power to make her the most desirable bride in Wedon.
As for his useless daughter, Maximilian, he wasted no time on her. She was the least of his priorities. In fact, Maxi would have been better off if her father had forgotten that she existed at all.
After Rosetta was born, the duke began to see his eldest daughter as a thorn in his side.
Most nobles were averse to uniting with a family that had produced flawed offspring.
Some went so far as to avoid such families altogether, believing that their blood carried bad luck.
If it became widely known that Duke Croyso’s eldest daughter had a severe speech impediment, many suitors might shy away from taking Rosetta’s hand in marriage, no matter how perfect a bride she was.
Without an advantageous marriage for Rosetta, his plans for future political alliances would lie in ruins.
Such thoughts worried the duke to no end, as he did not want his eldest daughter’s condition to block his path to power.
He wished a plague or illness would claim his firstborn, who had given him his first taste of failure.
Not only had she brought shame upon him, but his useless excuse of a daughter could also destroy the family’s future.
The taller Maxi grew, the more intense her father’s anger became.
And she bore the brunt of his unmitigated rage.
In the name of teaching her manners, he lashed her day after day, until her flesh was covered in blisters.
Whips tore open the skin on her back whenever she made the terrible mistake of being noticed by outsiders.
The duke never forgave even the smallest of errors.
He saw her flaws as a threat to his house.
He felt assured that he could beat her imperfections out of her.
To him, everything was Maximilian’s fault.
It was her fault that she had emerged from her mother’s womb as an imbecile, and her fault the Croyso family’s reputation was threatened.
He merely treated her the way she deserved.
No amount of scolding or lashings could correct her imperfections, and for this, she was blamed. She was a mistake, a good-for-nothing miscreant who should never have been born. Such words were hammered into her ears like crooked nails as she grew.
The Croyso stumbling block!
A disgrace to our house!
Foolish, unsightly girl!
No better than a rodent!
Faced with her father’s unforgiving blows, and under his contemptuous gaze, she shriveled like a dried leaf. She resigned herself to living out the rest of her days as the unwanted daughter, the shameful fool, the despicable Maximilian.
—
“Maxi! Are you all right?!”
Firm hands shook her awake. A pair of black eyes gazed intently into hers.
Still in a daze, she blinked, not comprehending what had happened.
Riftan gently brushed back the strands of hair that were stuck to her forehead, and the quiet intimacy of the gesture brought her back to her senses. She sprang up.
“W-Where am I…?”
“An inn, in a village near Zeno. Do you not remember? An ogre attacked the carriage, and we left the woods while you were still unconscious.”
Riftan placed a large pillow behind her back. As she sank into its warm embrace, she looked at him, her mind bursting with questions. He took a bowl from the table, filled it with water, and handed it to her.
“Drink. You’ve been sweating. You need to rehydrate.”
Maxi did not take the bowl, but only stared blankly at the rippling water.
Riftan frowned. “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Drink.”
Hesitantly, she accepted the bowl and brought it to her lips. As the lukewarm water filled her stomach, her insides churned again. She lowered the bowl with a grimace.
Riftan raised an eyebrow. “Do you still feel unwell?”
“N-No…”
“Tell me if you’re still in pain. I’ll call for the cleric.”
“N-No, I f-feel b-better.”
After observing her with narrowed eyes, Riftan took the bowl and walked to the table to set it back down.
Only then did Maxi have an opportunity to study the room.
It was shabby, its floors and walls made of wood and its only furniture a bed, a table, and a few chairs.
When she examined the ceiling for spiders, she noticed a silken web in one corner that glinted in the dim light.
The clean bed was the room’s only saving grace. She had just finished sniffing the blanket for mold when she frowned in suspicion. Hoping that she was wrong, she slipped a hand under the blanket.
Bare skin. She was wearing nothing but a man’s tunic. Her undergarments were nowhere to be found.
“M-My c-clothes! W-Where…?”
Riftan glanced up from rearranging the towel and water bowl.
He answered her matter-of-factly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“I undressed you because your clothes were covered with vomit. That’s my tunic you’re wearing.
You didn’t bring a single piece of clothing with you, so we had to make do with something of mine. ”
Maxi opened and closed her mouth like a carp. Should she be astonished that he was blaming her for not bringing spare clothes, after he had given her no time to pack? Or should she be more shocked by the fact that he had undressed her while she was unconscious?
When she did not speak, Riftan did. “You’ve been unconscious all day. I’ll order something for you to eat.”
“Oh…W-Wait…”
But Riftan had already turned and left the room without a sign of guilt on his face.
Maxi quickly scanned the room for something to wear, but all she could find was Riftan’s armor, piled up haphazardly next to the bed.
Nothing in the room resembled a suitcase.
She resorted to pulling the blanket up over her nose.