Aiden Lewis sat in the passenger seat of a horse-drawn carriage, gazing out the window. Rolling meadows stretched before him. For a fleeting moment, he saw the shadow of his past buried beneath the lingering snow. Twelve years ago, on this very land, his laughter had once rung out without care. Twelve years ago, still on this land, he first learned that love could sometimes arrive in an unexpected form—pain. The image of his mother lingered: her voice that warmed his soul, her gentle touch, her tender embrace. Yet Aiden had to accept that those days were gone, leaving behind only silence, no longer near, no longer familiar.

In the first six years of his life, Aiden had been the happiest child, for he had received so much love from his mother, even without a father. But the ten years that followed were his bitterest years. He had to endure a life of silence, of loneliness. His mother had sent him to Altiora, a noble school abroad that measured happiness by lineage and wealth. From that day on, his smile never bloomed as it once had. His face was shrouded in gloom, disappointment and longing simmering deep within him.

At least, the gloom faded now. After ten long years away, today, in the first week of spring in the 22nd Year of Queen Anna, Aiden was returning home: to the northern land of the continent of Westveil, the Winter Fortress, Nordavia... or as it was now more widely known, Eirabelle. The carriage rolled into a rural town cradled by hills. The snow had not fully melted when the carriage wheels clattered against the cobbled paving, parting the bustle that filled Fellbrook Town.

Aiden leaned back, taking in the sight of old stone houses and the townsfolk busy with their daily lives. The simple atmosphere reminded him of something—not his mother this time, but of someone no less important, someone he longed for. Merchants crowded the streets, displaying their wares. Smoke rose from the chimney of a bakery, carrying the warm scent of wheat flour. Hay carts and horses passed by in turn.

“Are you happy?”

The voice came from beside him.

Aiden didn’t turn. He had heard that low, weighty voice almost every day for the past ten years at Altiora—it buzzed in his ear like a mosquito.

“Do you even need to ask?” Aiden replied. “You’ve been with me for more than a decade.”

The man answered, “Yes, I’ve been by your side for a long time. And yet, even now, I still cannot make you open up. I worry you’ve lived a difficult life.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Duncan. I’m fine,” said Aiden.

“You’re right. I can see it. I’m grateful someone helped you through those years, even if that someone lives only in your memory.”

Aiden turned his gaze. There sat a man whose appearance seemed older than his years—streaks of gray in his hair, wrinkles etched along his cheeks and under his eyes. Curious, Aiden asked, for he had never spoken of that someone to Duncan, “How do you know?”

“I’ve simply watched you, my lord. Ten years, while we were in Altiora. You often drifted into daydreams, smiling to yourself. And ever since we left that school, your thoughts keep wandering. So I know there’s someone you always think of.”

“Know-it-all,” Aiden muttered, embarrassed to admit the truth.

“You can’t hide it from me,” Duncan said. “My years of service to the Royal Family have given me the eyes of an eagle and the ears of a fox. Unfortunately, I still don’t know who this person is. Will you tell me?”

“Don’t count on it. The moment I do, you’d strip her private life down to the bone.”

Duncan laughed. “Well, that is my duty—making sure you’re safe. Still... if you won’t tell me, that’s fine. I’ll find out myself.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“You have only two choices.”

Aiden sighed. He knew better than to let Duncan dig on his own. “Fine, fine. She’s just an ordinary girl. We were only friends, and we haven’t seen each other for years. So there’s nothing for you to worry about. Don’t ask her name or where she lives.”

“Just friends, huh.” Duncan squinted playfully, teasing. “But what about you? Do you harbor feelings for her?”

Aiden’s cheeks flushed. “Of course... not.”

“I see.”

“What do you mean, you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Old man,” Aiden grumbled, turning back to the road.

Children ran along the sidewalk, chasing the carriage. Their faces were lit with joy. The elegant design of the carriage, and the proud horses pulling it, stood out among the hay carts. They waved, and Aiden waved back with a smile.

The small joy ended when a cluster of adults crowded the sidewalk. Nothing seemed unusual—they were simply townsfolk walking together. Until Aiden noticed what they carried. Each of them held a round glass lantern.

“What are they doing?” Aiden asked.

Duncan did not answer at once. The sight meant more than it appeared—something larger lay behind it. It wasn’t something he could explain lightly.

“Praying,” Duncan said at last.

Aiden narrowed his eyes. “Strange. Usually you answer my questions quickly and in detail. Is your mind beginning to slow?”

Duncan laughed in relief, glad Aiden didn’t press further. “Still upset about my teasing earlier?”

“No. Go on.”

“Listen carefully, brat.” Duncan wet his lips and drew a deep breath. “Every first week of spring, the people of Eirabelle devote one day to prayer, as thanks for surviving the hardships—the misery of winter.”

“And the candles?”

“Just symbols. Light against darkness, like hope amid hardship. There is one unique rule: they must keep the flame burning. If it goes out, they must start again, from their home. That is why the glass shields are used.”

Aiden thought back. “I don’t remember this ever happening before.”

“Because the tradition only began about five years ago, while you were still away at Altiora.”

“I see.”

Aiden fixed his gaze back on the street. The people streamed toward a church. Before entering, they paused at a towering statue in the courtyard. Kneeling before it, they pressed their hands together, lips moving in hushed prayer. A handful even wore matching deep-blue robes, as if attending a sacred rite.

Aiden tried to glimpse the face of the statue they venerated, but the sight slipped away as the carriage rolled on. Soon the view opened to a wide square, where a spring festival was underway. Street foods were sold in abundance. People dressed in bright reds, greens, and yellows danced under the sun. The music of fiddles and tambourines carried their steps. A troubadour sang verses of devotion to their leader, Queen Eirabelle.

“What happiness?” Aiden scoffed at the lyrics.

“Are you angry with your mother, or with Queen Anna?” Duncan asked.

Aiden said nothing. When it came to his mother, clear thought always escaped him. Emotion outran logic.

“You need to separate your mother from Queen Anna,” Duncan said. “To them, Queen Anna is an inspiring figure—and rightly so. She reduced poverty, built free schools, raised modern infrastructure, preserved the natives. And most of all, she brought smiles back to this land.”

“They just don’t know. The woman they praise is really just a nagging mother. Without her title, she’s nothing.”

“Are you still angry she sent you to Altiora?”

Aiden was silent.

“Or is it that you only long for her attention?”

“Shut up!”

Duncan chuckled. “I know you don’t truly hate your mother. You must act maturely. When you stand before her, even if she annoys you, show respect.” Duncan pressed Aiden’s head down, forcing him to bow. “Like this.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Anna