The Border had become a fortress unlike any in the kingdom.
The once-barren walls now stood adorned with rows of Light Cannons, reinforced battlements, and newly erected watchtowers. Soldiers moved with practiced discipline, while engineers constantly repaired equipment damaged in the previous assaults.
Standing atop the highest tower was the young commander who had become the symbol of hope for every soldier stationed there.
Lucian.
His cloak fluttered in the cold wind as he looked toward the blackened lands beyond the Wall.
Months of war had changed him.
The youthful prince who had once dreamed only of slaying Demons now carried the weight of thousands of lives upon his shoulders.
His armor bore countless scratches.
A long scar ran across his left gauntlet, a reminder of his first battle against a true Demon.
Yet his eyes had grown calm.
Resolute.
The soldiers below often whispered among themselves.
"As long as Commander Lucian stands upon the Wall..."
"...the Demons will never break through."
The reputation was well deserved.
The Demonic Beasts had launched assault after assault.
Once every fifteen days, almost as though following a mysterious command, the hordes descended upon the Wall.
Sometimes they came alone.
Sometimes true Demons accompanied them.
Each battle was fiercer than the last.
Yet every assault ended the same way.
Lucian's Light Mana illuminated the battlefield.
The wounded recovered enough to continue fighting.
The soldiers' morale surged.
And the enemy was driven back beyond the cursed lands.
Yesterday had marked another victory.
Which meant...
Fourteen days of relative peace remained before the next inevitable assault.
For the first time in months, Lucian had received leave.
A royal summons had arrived from the Capital.
To celebrate the birth of the kingdom's newest prince, the major commanders, nobles, and members of the royal family were invited to attend a grand banquet.
Though reluctant to leave the Border, Lucian trusted the commanders remaining behind.
The Wall had become stronger than ever.
One battle could be fought without him.
A short ride from the Wall brought him to the nearest frontier fortress.
Waiting there with his usual broad grin was Prince Max.
The moment he saw Lucian, he burst into laughter.
"My nephew!"
Before Lucian could even greet him, Max wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"You've become far too serious."
"I blame the Demons."
Lucian smiled faintly.
"I blame you for making me command soldiers."
Max laughed loudly.
"Fair enough!"
That evening the fortress echoed with celebration.
Veteran officers gathered around long wooden tables.
Stories of past battles filled the halls.
Ale flowed endlessly.
Max insisted that Lucian join the festivities.
"You've earned at least one peaceful night."
For the first time in months...
Lucian laughed without thinking about tomorrow's battle.
The following morning, they departed for the floating railway station.
As the train approached, Lucian's attention drifted toward the waiting passengers.
Then...
He saw her.
Clara Sven.
She stood quietly beside her attendants, dressed in a simple yet elegant traveling gown of pale blue.
The morning sunlight reflected softly through her hair.
She looked nothing like the battlefield.
She looked...
Peaceful.
For a brief moment...
Lucian forgot everything around him.
Months of bloodshed.
The screams of soldiers.
The endless battles.
Everything faded.
Only Clara remained.
She noticed him.
A gentle smile appeared on her face.
"Sir Lucian."
Lucian walked toward her.
Without saying a word, he naturally took the travel bag she carried.
"You shouldn't carry something this heavy."
Clara blinked.
"It isn't heavy."
"It is now."
She lowered her head slightly.
A faint blush colored her cheeks.
Neither of them noticed Max watching from a distance with an amused smile.
"So that's how it is..."
he muttered.
The royal attendants escorted them into the same first-class compartment.
Four comfortable seats surrounded a polished wooden table.
Soft carpets covered the floor.
Large crystal windows overlooked the passing countryside.
After placing the luggage away, Max stretched lazily.
"I'm heading to the lounge."
"I heard several old comrades are already drinking."
Lucian wasn't surprised.
"It isn't even noon."
Max shrugged.
"It is somewhere."
Laughing loudly, he left.
Soon...
Only Lucian and Clara remained.
For a while...
Neither spoke.
The silence felt strangely comfortable.
Eventually Clara broke it.
"How is the Border?"
Lucian looked out the window.
"It changes every battle."
She listened quietly.
He spoke of the soldiers.
The Light Cannons.
The constant Demonic assaults.
He never exaggerated.
Nor did he glorify war.
He simply described reality.
Clara found herself listening intently.
"The papers never describe it like that."
"They can't."
Lucian answered quietly.
"Most of those writing them have never stood on the Wall."
The train began moving.
Rolling smoothly across the floating rails.
Several hours later, another passenger entered.
She wore an elegant dark crimson dress beneath a long traveling coat.
A broad hat partially hid her face.
Her movements were graceful.
She introduced herself with perfect etiquette.
"I am Baroness Eleanor of Teldar."
Lucian immediately recognized the name.
The Barony of Teldar had once been the wealthiest agricultural province in the kingdom.
Its fertile lands supplied grain to nearly every major city.
But after repeated Demonic invasions, much of its territory had been devastated.
Only Verna now surpassed it in prosperity.
The former Baron had died defending his people.
Though he had left behind both a son and a daughter, succession became complicated.
Tradition favored the eldest son.
Capability favored the daughter.
After years of political debate...
The daughter proved herself beyond question.
Thus Eleanor became the first Baroness of Teldar.
She greeted both nobles politely before taking the final seat.
The train stopped briefly at another station.
More nobles boarded.
Among them was a young man carrying several leather-bound journals beneath his arm.
He appeared completely absorbed in reading.
Then his eyes fell upon Clara.
Instantly they lit up.
"Lady Clara Sven?"
He hurried forward.
"I cannot believe it!"
Lucian instinctively straightened.
The young man bowed hastily.
"My apologies."
"My name is Edwin Ashford."
"I recently studied your paper regarding adaptive mana resonance."
"I have been attempting to reproduce your calculations."
He spoke so rapidly he almost forgot to breathe.
Clara's eyes brightened.
"You've read it?"
"Twice!"
He eagerly opened one of his notebooks.
"I disagreed with your third theorem..."
"...until I repeated the experiment."
"You were correct."
Their discussion immediately shifted into complicated magical theory.
Runic formulas.
Mana circulation.
Resonance patterns.
Within minutes they were completely immersed in research.
Lucian sat silently.
Listening.
Understanding almost none of it.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
An unfamiliar feeling settled inside him.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Something else.
He quietly excused himself.
"I'll take a walk."
Neither Clara nor Edwin noticed.
They were too absorbed in their discussion.
Lucian eventually found himself sitting alone in the observation lounge.
Outside, forests and rivers passed beneath the floating train.
He rested his chin upon one hand.
"What exactly is this feeling..."
he wondered.
"You look troubled."
A familiar voice interrupted him.
Baroness Eleanor gracefully sat beside him.
She ordered tea before speaking again.
"I saw the compartment."
Lucian remained silent.
She smiled knowingly.
"You've faced Demons without fear."
"But one scholar defeats you?"
Lucian frowned.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh?"
She stirred her tea.
"Then perhaps you simply dislike sharing conversations."
Lucian looked away.
"I've spent too much time at war."
"I suppose I don't understand these things."
The Baroness chuckled softly.
"No."
"I think you understand them very well."
"You simply haven't realized it yet."
Their conversation drifted toward lighter subjects.
The reconstruction of Teldar.
The hardships of governing during wartime.
The burden carried by every noble.
By the time they returned...
Lucian's thoughts had settled.
Back inside the compartment, Clara and Edwin were still enthusiastically discussing magical theory.
Sheets of paper now covered the table.
Lucian smiled faintly.
Then the compartment door slid open.
Max entered carrying two bottles of expensive wine.
Behind him walked Edwin's father—a reserved baron—and several nobles.
Max laughed loudly.
"So this is where everyone disappeared!"
He immediately recognized the young researcher.
"Edwin?"
The scholar looked up.
"Your Highness!"
Max laughed.
"I almost didn't recognize you."
Turning toward Lucian, he explained,
"His father and I have known each other for years."
"He and my eldest son spent half their childhood causing trouble together."
The Baron sighed.
"They still do."
Laughter filled the compartment.
The formal atmosphere disappeared completely.
Stories replaced political discussion.
Even Clara smiled more often than before.
Lucian found himself joining the conversation naturally.
Whatever unease had lingered within him quietly faded.
By sunset...
The floating train crossed the final bridge leading toward the Imperial Capital.
The city stretched to the horizon.
Its streets overflowed with visitors.
Human banners fluttered beside those of the Elves and Dwarves.
Merchants from every kingdom filled the marketplaces.
Music echoed through every avenue.
The birth of the young prince had united the continent in celebration.
As night fell...
The festivities truly began.
Magical fireworks soared into the heavens.
Brilliant streams of gold, emerald, sapphire, and silver illuminated the night sky.
The entire capital looked upward in wonder.
For one beautiful evening...
The people forgot the Demons.
They forgot the war.
They forgot fear.
Hope had returned to the Kingdom of Dan.
But beyond the distant Wall...
Far beyond the reach of the fireworks...
Something ancient had begun to stir.
And the fourteen days of peace were already slipping away.