The banquet wouldn't stop just because a few people were missing—it only grew more lively as time passed.
Nobles clinked glasses, their voices rising in noisy conversation.
Leah leaned back in her chair, irritated by the clamor. She downed the rest of her wine and prepared to leave.
Her husband, Jero, sat idly in his seat, playing with his knife and fork.
Leah forbade him from drinking. If he did, he wouldn't be allowed in bed that night.
"My lord, have a drink."
A male attendant approached with a wine jug, whispering persuasively.
Jero snapped impatiently, "Get lost! Stop bothering me."
Even just smelling the wine made his stomach churn with craving, his body itching for a taste.
Shaking his head, Jero stared at the table—then suddenly froze.
His gaze landed on the attendant's shoes.
More precisely, a pair of finely crafted deerskin boots.
That was not the kind of footwear a mere servant could afford.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed dark red stains on them.
Jero's brows furrowed deeply.
He recognized that shade of red. It was the color of dried blood.
Looking up, he locked eyes with the attendant.
The man had kept his head low, seemingly avoiding attention.
Sensing Jero's scrutiny, he slowly lifted his head, revealing a grin.
"Lord Jero, it's been a long time."
It was the face of a young man—one Jero knew all too well.
"Arnold!!"
Jero slammed his palm on the table, his expression a mix of shock and fury.
Arnold was a servant from Rune Stone City. Not long ago, he had traveled to Eagle's Nest City to challenge Jenny's claim to the duchy, only to be expelled. He had disappeared soon after.
Hearing his name, Arnold smirked darkly and turned to flee.
Jero immediately shouted, "Guards! There's a traitor in the castle! Seize him!"
But no one responded.
Thud—
Suddenly, a burly man who had been standing on the table, chugging wine straight from the jug, collapsed to the ground. His body went limp.
The person beside him nudged his head—
Only to see dark, inky blood seeping from his mouth, carrying a putrid stench.
"The wine is poisoned!!"
Someone shouted, flipping over the table in alarm.
Thud. Thud. Thud…
One after another, muffled thuds echoed through the hall.
More and more people began coughing up black blood, their faces contorted in agony as they clutched their throats before collapsing.
In the blink of an eye, dozens of corpses littered the banquet hall.
Jero's eyes widened in horror as he turned to his side—
There, Leah's upper body had slumped onto the table, her body convulsing violently. Hoarse, painful gasps escaped her lips.
She had been poisoned too.
"Leah!!"
Panic-stricken, Jero frantically pulled her into his arms, shaking her desperately.
Leah was his cousin. Since childhood, he had admired her fearless, heroic spirit.
But when she came of age, she had married Prince Damon of the royal family.
For over a decade, Jero had waited.
And finally, after all those years, she had become his wife.
Just yesterday, they had consummated their marriage. They hadn't even had time to truly enjoy their union.
"No! Leah, please—don't leave me…"
Jero trembled violently, on the verge of collapse.
But the old gods did not heed his prayers.
Leah's mouth gaped open, thick black blood spilling out. Her bloodshot eyes bulged grotesquely.
Then, her head tilted lifelessly to the side. Her legs, which had been kicking feebly, went still.
Her breath ceased.
"No! No, no!!"
Jero watched in utter despair as his beloved died in his arms.
He hadn't even gotten the chance to say a final goodbye.
Leah was dead.
And she had died in agony.
"Draw your weapons! Run!"
A handful of people who had not yet drunk the poisoned wine unsheathed their swords, scrambling to reach the castle gates.
But with each step, more victims succumbed to the poison, collapsing onto the tables in droves.
Crash!
From the shadows, a dozen burly men clad in animal pelts charged forward, brandishing clubs and axes, cutting down the remaining survivors.
Hidden behind a pillar, Arnold clutched a jug of wine, his face twisted with madness.
"That's what you get for not supporting me! I am the rightful heir of Eagle's Nest City! You all deserve to die!"
"You bastard! Filthy mongrel!!"
Jero's eyes burned red with rage. Clutching Leah's lifeless body, he glared hatefully at the murderer.
They had been married for just one day.
And now, this wretch had poisoned his newlywed wife.
**"Leia! Wait for me! I'll make him pay with his life for you!"**
Jero trembled as he struggled to stand up. His body, overwhelmed by grief, refused to move as usual. Shaking, he picked up a dead man's sword.
Arnold was startled and quickly called out to the Highland clan members, "Kill him! Somebody, kill him now!"
A dozen Highland clan members glanced at him but, without saying a word, chose to ignore him.
A mere guide—dead or alive, it didn't matter.
One of them grabbed a piece of lamb rib, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled, "Go open the gates and notify the others to attack."
"Shut up! If you want it done, do it yourself! Don't order me around!"
Another Highland clan member cursed and, gripping his weapon, strode toward the few survivors.
"Kill them!"
---
A canyon.
Rhaegar rode a white horse, leading his troops into the narrow entrance of the valley.
Suddenly, he shuddered, a chill running down his spine.
The unexpected sensation left him unsettled.
"What's going on?"
Rhaegar looked down, rolled up his sleeve, and noticed the fine hairs on his arm standing on end.
He had never felt this way before.
As the troops continued forward, he couldn't shake off the unease. He lifted his head to look at the sky.
Clear blue sky, white clouds—nothing unusual.
But no sign of the Devourer's dark silhouette.
They were traveling too slowly. The dragon's speed far outpaced the convoy.
The Devourer had likely flown far ahead, hunting near Crab Bay.
Still, he wasn't too worried.
With Rune Stone to the north and Seagull Town to the south, they had already covered half the distance.
At the Devourer's speed, it would only take ten minutes to return.
Clatter, clatter…
The convoy reached the middle of the canyon. Wagon wheels rolled over loose stones, creating a harsh, grating noise.
Rhaegar tightened his grip on the reins. The sound filled his ears, making his unease grow stronger.
A terrible premonition gripped him.
Acting on instinct, he pulled the reins, halting his white horse.
The wagons behind him slowly caught up.
A curtain lifted from one of the carriages, and Rhaenyra peeked out, smiling. "Why did we stop, Rhaegar?"
"Where's Syrax?"
Rhaegar wasted no time and asked directly.
"Syrax?"
Rhaenyra paused before replying, "I think it went hunting."
"Can you sense it? Call it back!"
Even as he spoke, Rhaegar reached out with his mind, trying to summon the Devourer himself.
He trusted his instincts.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
"I'll try."
Seeing the tension on Rhaegar's face, Rhaenyra dared not delay. She focused on sensing Syrax.
Rhaegar, meanwhile, spurred his horse to the rear of the convoy, seeking out a lean soldier.
"Send someone ahead to scout the area!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The soldier immediately obeyed, turning to summon others.
Whizz—
An arrow made of bone shot through the air, striking the ground at the soldier's feet.
Rhaegar's pupils contracted. He instantly drew his dragon-claw sword.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…
In the next second, a hail of bone arrows rained down like a torrential storm.
"Ahh!!…"
The soldiers in the convoy barely had time to react before they were pierced by arrows, their screams echoing through the canyon.
The lean soldier had just begun drawing his standard longsword when an arrow struck the back of his neck. The arrowhead emerged from his mouth.
**(End of Chapter)**