After the battle ended, Xilaya, once a prosperous and beautiful kingdom, was now reduced to ruins, nothing more than remnants of a war that had shaken its very foundations. The generals and ministers of Xilaya had been captured and enslaved by Helmara.
The sun dipped behind the distant mountains, staining the sky with streaks of crimson, like spilled blood. The Helmara army marched in silence, their footsteps heavy after the long, grueling battle. Scattered corpses of enemy soldiers still lay on the desolate fields.
Julian rode at the front, gripping his wounded side tightly. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain still burned like a blade carving into his flesh. He didn't complain, didn't show weakness, but the thirst clawing at his throat was unbearable, his mouth dry as if scorched by fire.
Riding beside him, Prime Minister Alexandro cast a worried glance at the prince. Julian was strong everyone knew that, but even the strongest warriors were still human. And the battle they had just fought had been anything but easy.
Julian's voice cut through the heavy silence.
"Alexandro, lead the army ahead. I'll scout the area for a stream. The journey home is long, and without enough water, our soldiers won't last. Take the troops to the base of that mountain and set up camp. I'll return once I find water."
"Your Highness, there's still water in the supply wagons. You don't need to"
Julian interrupted coldly,
"Just do as I say."
General Alexandro hesitated. The sun was setting, and the idea of Julian wandering off alone in his condition was far from ideal.
"But, Your Highness, it's dangerous to go alone"
Julian was unmoved. He refused to let anyone see how exhausted he was. To the world, he was Prince Julian Valorian the undefeated warrior, the ruthless conqueror who knew no pain or fear. A mere injury would not bring him down.
In the distance, he spotted a small stream winding through moss-covered rocks at the edge of a forest. Tightening his grip on the reins, he pulled his horse to a halt.
"Move ahead. I'll catch up."
Alexandro's brows furrowed, his tone turning stern.
"I can't allow that, Your Highness. You're wounded. If there's an ambush"
Julian smirked, a trace of mockery in his voice.
"You think the remnants of Xilaya's army have the guts to ambush me?"
Still, Alexandro refused to back down.
"Regardless, I cannot let you go alone."
Julian's expression darkened, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge.
"I am ordering you to continue ahead. If you disobey me, I'll have you executed for defying a direct command."
Their eyes locked for a tense moment. Then, with gritted teeth, Alexandro finally lowered his head in submission.
"...As you command, Your Highness."
Reluctantly, he signaled the troops to move on toward the mountains, though his unease remained.
As the sky darkened, Julian dragged his weary body toward the stream. The pain in his side had intensified, no longer a dull ache but a searing agony that sent tremors through his muscles. Cold sweat trickled down his back, and his fingers trembled as he pressed against the wound. Blood still seeped between his fingers.
He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest tightened painfully, making his breaths ragged and uneven. His whole body felt as though it was burning from within both freezing and searing hot at the same time.
His vision blurred as he reached the water's edge. Kneeling down, his bloodstained gloves sank into the icy stream. He scooped up a handful of water, but before he could drink, a sharp wave of pain surged through him.
A low groan escaped his lips as his strength gave out, and he collapsed into the shallow water.
At first, he was still conscious, attempting to push himself up, but dizziness consumed him. His limbs refused to obey, and his body drifted further into the shallow stream, his face submerged in the cold water.
The sunset bathed the world in a deep, fiery red as the small stream trickled over mossy stones, its waters crystal clear and barely ankle-deep. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild grass.
Fiona stepped out from behind a bush, tugging down the hem of her dress while muttering to herself.
"Ugh, why does my stomach keep acting up? I've been eating nothing but wild greens and roots, for crying out loud… At least there's a stream nearby. Otherwise, I'd be doomed."
She reached down to scoop some water into her hands but froze mid-motion. Something dark was lying in the stream, half-submerged, unmoving like a discarded log.
Squinting, she leaned forward.
"Huh? What's that? Someone… drowned? But how? This stream is so shallow a toddler could walk across it."
Curious, she nudged the figure with the tip of her foot.
"Hey, are you dead or just pretending? Think lying there will make me feel sorry enough to save you?"
No response. Fiona clicked her tongue in annoyance.
Sighing, she bent down and struggled to flip the person over. And the moment the wet cloak slipped aside, revealing his face, she nearly cursed.
She froze.
Then she exhaled sharply.
"Damn… You're way too good-looking to be dying in a stream this pathetic. What a waste of a face."
But when she noticed the blood staining his clothes, a flicker of concern crossed her features.
"Wait… You're actually hurt?"
Without a second thought, she grabbed his arms and began dragging him out of the water. He was heavier than he looked, but somehow, she managed to pull him onto the riverbank. As soon as she saw the deep wound on his side, she quickly tore a strip from her dress and wrapped it around his injury.
The night air was growing colder, and she noticed him shivering slightly.
Clicking her tongue, Fiona stood up, muttering under her breath.
"Tch. Well, I already saved you. Might as well see it through."
With that, she hurried off to gather firewood, occasionally glancing back at the unconscious stranger sprawled before her.