"The royal capital of Orot is currently under martial law. The three neighboring territories have already begun to waver. While commercial ties with the capital haven't been completely severed yet, they remain strained thanks to the obstruction of the Sith Empire. Two Sith armies have sealed off the border regions of the Orot Kingdom entirely. According to intelligence reports, ever since the Summer of Blooming Stars and Moons, rumors about the Sith Empire have been spreading like wildfire within the capital…"
Blake tore his gaze away from the parchment in his hand. He stroked the smooth roll of paper, murmuring the last sentence under his breath before he smiled, resealed the letter, and tucked it away. When he looked up, he caught sight of the two girls beside him staring at him with wide, bright eyes, curiosity gleaming in their pupils.
"Brother? What are you doing?"
"Father? What are you up to?"
"Nothing important."
Blake shook his head, gathering his scattered thoughts, and the lazy, elegant smile he usually wore returned to his lips.
"Just some trivial nonsense, that's all."
With the end of the Midsummer Festival, summer gradually faded away, and the sweltering heat gave way to cool breezes. Normally, this would have been the busiest season on the Golden Trade Route—after all, the pleasant weather facilitated the transport of perishable goods, and it put the noble lords and merchants in the mood to travel and amuse themselves. But now, the Golden Trade Route was uncharacteristically quiet. Of course, as the kingdom's most vital and prosperous thoroughfare, it still bustled with people and caravans, but the number of travelers was nowhere near its usual volume. The large freight wagons that once crowded the road were now a rare sight, replaced by frequent patrols of fully armed soldiers galloping past. They scanned both sides of the road vigilantly as they raced onward. The travelers who noticed this unusual activity kept their heads down and said nothing, but in truth, they were all filled with anxiety and doubt about what the future held.
At present, Blake and his two companions were traveling along the Golden Trade Route. The girls were once again dressed in their luxurious dresses, though they had draped lace-edged cloaks over their shoulders to shield themselves from the wind and dust. Blake himself wore nothing more than a simple cape for protection. Their attire made them look like nothing more than aristocrats out on a leisurely excursion. Blake had chosen this disguise for a very simple reason—he did not want word of his presence, or that of his companions, near the Orot border to leak out at such a sensitive time. After all, Blake knew full well that he was a man under close scrutiny these days. The nobility, and even the royal family itself, might have maintained a veneer of civility on the surface, but behind the scenes, they had never relaxed their investigations or surveillance of him. Thus, while any misstep on his part wouldn't be catastrophic, it would certainly land him in a great deal of trouble—and that was the last thing Blake wanted.
Thinking this, Blake glanced again at the two girls beside him. Their voluminous cloaks covered their faces and hair perfectly. They sat quietly on the opposite seats, their hands folded in their laps, chins tilted slightly upward, legs demurely crossed. From neck to toe, they exuded the delicate, budding charm of young maidens—so fragile they looked as if a gust of wind could knock them over, yet bearing the unmistakable poise of well-bred nobility. They could have easily passed for the daughters of any great house.
That said, their combat prowess was far beyond the reach of any ordinary noble maiden.
"The soldiers are growing more numerous."
"The atmosphere is getting tense."
Another column of cavalry thundered past their carriage. The captain leading the patrol slowed his horse slightly, casting a curious, suspicious glance at their vehicle. He hesitated for a moment, then flicked his reins and galloped away. This was the tenth patrol they had encountered since setting out that morning. While the increased military presence had heightened the sense of unease along the Golden Trade Route, it was not without its benefits. With war looming on the horizon, the bandits who had once roamed these roads had vanished without a trace. After all, in times like these, no one in their right mind would dare stir up trouble and attract unwanted attention. In fact, anyone with half a brain across the entire Wester Kingdom had already gotten wind of the impending conflict. They all knew perfectly well that if the Orot Kingdom fell, their own nation might be next. Even the traveling merchants wore expressions of anxiety as they hurried along with their goods, desperate to cross the Golden Trade Route and reach safety before the war broke out to protect their profits. Thus, while the number of casual travelers had dwindled, the road was now teeming with large caravans traveling in groups. Many of these belonged to major merchant guilds, rushing to relocate their assets before the war began. After all, while the Sith Empire had a reputation for conducting warfare with a modicum of discipline, war was still war—and no merchant in their right mind expected to be compensated for any losses they might suffer. From a businessman's perspective, ensuring that their interests suffered the least possible damage was only common sense.
Blake understood their mindset perfectly. In fact, even among the trading houses affiliated with the Byrd family, several that had established roots in the region were already planning to sell off their local assets and relocate to the wilderness or even farther-flung foreign lands. Keith had seized this opportunity to snap up several batches of goods at rock-bottom prices from merchants eager to unload their inventory—and made a tidy profit in the process.
Of course, this atmosphere of impending doom had not yet fully permeated the heartlands of the Wester Kingdom. To prevent unrest from breaking out in their territories, the nobles had deliberately suppressed news of the coming war. While they couldn't completely muzzle the traveling merchants, people were more inclined to believe what they saw with their own eyes and experienced firsthand. As long as their daily lives remained unchanged, they would cling to the illusion of peace—even if they knew deep down that it was nothing more than a fantasy. After all, not everyone was willing to abandon their homes and flee the coming war. Thus, convincing themselves that the threat was not imminent was the easiest way to cope.
Nevertheless, Blake and his companions had attracted very little attention. The reason for this was simple: they were not traveling alone, but had joined forces with the merchant caravan of the Hand of Winter Guild. Ever since relocating the guild's headquarters to the City of Spirits, Keith had been brimming with enthusiasm—and it was not hard to see why. The City of Spirits was like a giant cake, and for the Hand of Winter Guild, they had the entire cake to themselves with no competitors to speak of. They could spread as much cream or place as many strawberries as they liked; they were free to make the cake as big or as small as they pleased. For a struggling merchant like Keith, who had never made a truly substantial profit in his life, this was nothing short of a windfall. As a result, the guild's foreign trade had flourished. Unlike Blake and Ophelia, Keith had a true merchant's instinct and had quickly recognized the advantages of Duskwood. The region was rich in natural resources, and Blake controlled several key checkpoints along the Golden Trade Route—checkpoints that granted the Hand of Winter Guild complete exemption from tariffs. This allowed the guild's goods to be priced far more competitively than those of their rivals. Furthermore, while other merchants had to transport their goods through multiple cities to reach the Golden Trade Route, Duskwood's proximity to the road eliminated a great deal of hassle and expense. With its advantages in time, price, and quality, Keith was confident that the Hand of Winter Guild's business would only continue to grow and expand in the days to come.
That said, when he watched the tall, gaunt merchant flush with excitement as he rambled on about his bright future plans to Blake and Ophelia—recalling how Keith had feigned reluctance and difficulty when Blake had first proposed acquiring his business—Blake couldn't help but mentally label the man a hypocrite: *His mouth says no, but his actions tell a different story.*
When Keith heard that Blake needed to travel incognito, he had immediately offered to let them join this particular caravan. The guild had originally been tasked with transporting medicinal herbs to the neighboring Kingdom of Shamar. While the route did not pass through the Red Citadel, this was of little concern to Blake. Moreover, traveling with a large merchant caravan would allow them to pass themselves off as young merchants and noble ladies, drawing no undue suspicion.
"Master, young ladies…"
Just as Blake was chatting idly with the two girls, an elderly voice called out from outside the carriage.
"It looks like rain is coming soon. Should we find a place to take shelter?"
The old man's name was Dov. He was Keith's steward and right-hand man, and often oversaw the guild's foreign trade operations. This journey was no exception. Unlike Keith, however, Dov was unaware of Blake's true identity. Keith had introduced him simply as a new supervisor hired by the guild. As a result, the old steward looked down on the young man somewhat, though he was careful not to show it openly, mindful of the hierarchy between them.
"Rain?"
Blake pulled back the curtain and looked outside. Dark, heavy clouds had already blotted out the sun completely, casting the land below into dim shadow. The distant wilderness was so shrouded in mist that even the horizon had become indistinct. It was as if a vast, suffocating darkness was bearing down on them, threatening to swallow everything in its path.
This was going to be a heavy downpour.
"Are there any towns nearby?"
"No, Master," Dov replied, shaking his head. For all its prosperity, the Golden Trade Route was not dotted with settlements at every turn.
"In that case, let's stop here and make preparations."
Blake said no more, and the old steward nodded in acknowledgment before quickly taking his leave. Moments later, at Dov's sharp commands, the caravan came to a halt. The men scrambled to cover the wagons with waterproof tarpaulins to protect the medicinal herbs from getting damp. The vehicles were quickly moved to a sheltered spot out of the wind, and heavy leather ropes were fastened to the iron hooks on the carriage sides, their other ends wrapped around thick wooden stakes that were driven firmly into the ground. Thunderstorms on the open plains could be extremely violent. If proper precautions were not taken, the strong winds could easily overturn even the most heavily loaded wagons—and that was no laughing matter.
It had to be said that the old steward had decades of travel experience under his belt, and his timing was impeccable. Barely had everyone finished securing the wagons and taken shelter under the tents and carriage awnings when the storm broke with full force.
At first, it was just a few scattered raindrops, but in the blink of an eye, they turned into a torrential downpour. Howling winds lashed against the carriage's narrow glass windows, accompanied by the dull, relentless drumming of rain. In the face of nature's awesome power, human strength seemed pitifully small. Inside the carriage, Blake even had the fleeting thought that the entire vehicle might be torn apart by the storm at any moment.
"It seems this rain is going to last a long time. We may have to wait a while before we can resume our journey."
Blake stared out at the swaying shadows and the sheets of rain outside, his voice low. When he turned to look at the two girls, he found them gazing at each other, smiling and whispering something to one another. From experience, Blake knew that whenever the two little devils had this particular look on their faces, they were undoubtedly plotting some kind of mischief. Yet the sight filled him with a profound sense of familiarity and warmth. In days gone by, the sisters had always encouraged and supported him in just this way. They had made great sacrifices for him, even going so far as to take a "vow" that would change the course of their entire lives.
"Is something the matter?"
"There is something we wish to ask you, Brother."
"I have a question for you, Father."
The two girls giggled in unison. They exchanged a glance, then it was Messiah who spoke up, her voice soft and curious.
"Brother—what do you think of Sister Ophelia?"
"Ophelia?"
Blake looked surprised at the mention of her name. He paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and answered:
"I think she's a very interesting person. And… at the very least, she's trustworthy—for now."
While Blake considered this a perfectly reasonable answer, the two sisters seemed to have a different opinion. They exchanged another look, then shook their heads in unison.
"I don't think that's the whole truth."
"Father is lying."
"If Brother really likes her,"
"Then why don't you embrace her?"
A mischievous glint appeared in the girls' eyes as they smiled. They clasped their hands together, pressing their cheeks against each other's, and their voices took on a teasing lilt:
"We can tell that Sister Ophelia is still a virgin."
"Father has no intention of embracing her at all."
"Do you really like her?"
"Or are you just using her?"
"Brother?"
"Father?"
As they spoke, each girl held out one hand toward Blake, their eyes sparkling with playful curiosity.
"Will you kill her?"
"Or will you manipulate her?"
"So—what exactly do you intend to do? Especially after what happened with Sister Sheila."
This time, Blake did not answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, and the faint smile that had been playing on his lips faded away without a trace. He knew exactly what the sisters were talking about—and he understood their motives perfectly. Nevertheless, Blake had his own plans for Ophelia, and he intended to keep them to himself. After a moment of silence, however, he finally opened his mouth and spoke his answer.
"..."
The sound of the rain seemed to grow louder in that instant, a roaring, chaotic din that drowned out everything else. Yet the two girls appeared to hear Blake's words perfectly clearly. They exchanged a glance, then broke into relieved smiles once more.
"Truly worthy of you, Brother."
"Truly worthy of you, Father."
"Alright, I see you've gotten your answer."
Blake clapped his hands together, letting out a wry laugh. He had not originally intended to be so candid, but the sisters' questions had given him pause. It was clear that Ophelia's hesitant attitude toward the impending war had aroused the vigilance of the others—especially Judy and the two girls. Thus, he had decided to set the record straight to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings.
"Now, be good and go to sleep. We'll continue our journey once the rain stops."
But at Blake's words, the two sisters shook their heads again. They exchanged a glance, then broke into giggles as if they had just thought of something far more entertaining.
"But we want to play a more interesting game."
With that, two petite, slender, soft bodies—lithe as cats—launched themselves into Blake's arms. The cold air inside the carriage seemed to warm up in an instant.
"What on earth do you two think you're doing?"
Blake looked down in surprise at the girls snuggling up to him, then seemed to realize what was about to happen. He frowned slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Don't tell me you two are already growing impatient?"
"Yes, Brother."
"That's right, Father."
The two girls lifted their heads, their fair, flawless cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. Their lavender eyes glinted with a hint of lustful desire.
"Ever since Messiah woke up, I've been waiting for Brother's reward."
"But Father never gave Semira any reward for being such a good girl and waiting patiently."
Slender, pale arms—so delicate they seemed as if they would snap with the slightest squeeze—wrapped themselves around Blake's neck. The air, which had been so cold a moment ago, suddenly turned warm and humid.
In the next instant, the white-haired girl's pale cherry lips pressed against Blake's own. Her soft, tiny, warm tongue slipped nimbly into his mouth, teasing his with playful abandon.
"Mmm… mmm…"
A sweet, vanilla-like fragrance filled Blake's senses, and a wave of pleasure began to course through his body. Unable to resist the sisters' seduction any longer, he wrapped his arms around the petite bodies in his embrace. His hands quickly slipped beneath Messiah's dress, exploring the soft, delicate curves of her not-yet-fully-matured body.
"Ahh… Brother…"
Messiah let out a soft gasp as she felt Blake's touch, her body trembling slightly. Her snow-white hair swayed gently with her movements, and her smooth, fair skin was as sweet and tender as candy. She spread her legs wide, straddling Blake's waist, the sight of her half-naked body and white garters making her look as exquisitely beautiful as a porcelain doll. On the other side, Semira watched the two of them with envy, then quickly knelt down between Blake's legs, moving with the agility of a kitten.
"Father, I want a kiss too…"
As she spoke, Semira giggled and reached out her hand. But just as she did, a dark shadow suddenly appeared, and a sharp "slap" echoed through the carriage as it struck her unsuspecting face.
"Wow… Father is already so… eager…"
Semira's eyes widened in surprise. She stuck out her tongue, licking her lips with a hint of longing, then opened her mouth and began to…
Inside the carriage, apart from the roaring of the wind and rain, only soft, low gasps could be heard—like a small boat bobbing up and down on the crest of a wave, appearing and disappearing with each passing moment. Blake, meanwhile, savored the warmth of the bodies pressed against him above and below. He reached out to stroke the naked girl in front of him, tilting his head to nibble gently at the white-haired maiden's earlobe. His right hand, however, was far from idle, continuing its fierce, rapid assault on the most sensitive parts of her body.
"I remember this is your weak spot, isn't it, Messiah?"
"Brother… don't… don't tease Messiah like this… ahh…"
Under Blake's relentless attentions, Messiah could no longer hold on. She bit her lower lip tightly, trying her best to resist, but Blake's movements only grew more bold and unrestrained. His left hand had already slipped completely between her slender thighs. At the same time, Semira, positioned beneath him, began to move her head back and forth with increasing urgency. As Blake felt the heat building up below, he could feel his own self-control slipping away. He squeezed Messiah's body tightly, struggling to hold on—but the black-haired girl was clearly determined not to let him off so easily. Her movements grew faster and faster, and her gasps became heavier and more labored with each passing second.
"Ugh!!"
Blake let out a low grunt, and Semira immediately froze. She closed her eyes tightly, her mouth wide open as she swallowed greedily. At that exact same moment, Messiah let out a sharp cry, her snow-white body arching backward like a drawn bow. Her delicate, small hands clung tightly to Blake's clothes. After a few moments, the girl went limp in his arms, her body slumping against his chest as she gasped for breath.
"Huff… huff… huff… It seems Sister has had her fill…"
Semira lifted her head, licking the traces of white fluid from the corner of her mouth. Messiah shot her a glare, her eyes filled with a hint of reproach.
"We agreed to split it evenly, Semira."
"But Father's milk was just so delicious…"
Semira paid no heed to her sister's accusation. She stood up, sitting down on the opposite seat, then lifted the hem of her dress high, revealing the tantalizing sight beneath—the smooth, white skin of her thighs contrasted sharply with her black garters, exuding a bewitching charm that made one's heart race.
"Now, Father—please pour your milk… into Semira's body. Fill Semira up completely…"
"This time, it's my turn, isn't it, Semira?"
Hearing her sister's words, the white-haired girl shot her a disgruntled look, then lifted her head to gaze at Blake with pleading, longing eyes.
"Brother—since I'm the older sister, I should have priority, shouldn't I?"
"No need to rush."
Blake looked down at the two girls before him, a wry smile spreading across his face. He patted Messiah's head gently, then turned his gaze to Semira.
"This rain is going to last a very long time."