*

During the day, Vasili mostly rested in the supply wagon pulled by the military servants, and the servants could only accept this extra luggage with Constanz's acquiescence. At night, while he was responsible for guarding, he could only take a brief rest until the sound of snoring echoed around.

He lay on a pile of dry hay, unfastened his collar pin, draped his cloak over himself, and slept sideways with a large sword wrapped in a linen strip in his arms. If it weren't for the possibility of a sudden theft, he wouldn't have to hold onto such a big and icy iron block on a cold winter night.

However, instead of enduring other people's foot odor and snoring in a cramped tent, he would rather endure the bone-chilling cold. This was probably a quirk left by the "nameless prince"; anyway, he didn't like being close to others.

Nevertheless, not everyone respected his reclusiveness. In the middle of the night, Vasili felt someone leave the tent and sneak out, so he gripped the sword tightly. The light footsteps behind him stopped, and then a gust of wind lightly tickled his ear, raised by the spreading of the blanket. Vasili felt the pressure on the pile of hay as the other person settled down, and then there was no more movement. Everything fell silent, leaving only the warmth of the boy's body.

"Capillata," he said.

"Hmm?" The blond boy responded sleepily, with a slightly nasal tone and drowsiness. Even in a drowsy state, his clear and transparent voice was completely devoid of the hoarseness that came from the throat, making it difficult to dislike; but at the same time, it also made Vasili unable to like him.

"Why don't you stay away from me like everyone else?" Perhaps because the sleepiness had taken away half of his soul, Vasili asked a foolish question that even made himself want to laugh. Even if he didn't know the answer to the question, it still didn't reduce the foolishness of it; that's how the questions in the world always are.

The other person was silent for a moment. Vasili could feel that his foolish question had dispelled the boy's drowsiness.

"You remind me of a friend," he replied.

"What kind of friend?" Even if it was just a vague memory, a dream, or even a phantom in someone else's heart, as a lonely creature, Vasili still wanted to hear news of distant kin.

"You are all trying to fight against things that are greater than yourselves," Capillata said thoughtfully, his voice even gentler than before. "But it is destined to be in vain."

"Perhaps there are things that cannot be overcome, and you can only forever fight against them."

"That's the problem, Anganas. If you don't believe in the possibility of victory, how can you win?" Capillata responded seriously to the cynical sarcasm. "I'm worried that you've fallen in love with the feeling of disillusionment."

"What feeling?" Vasili was annoyed, even though he knew he shouldn't be. He tightened his grip on his sword, and his teeth began to chatter.

"The feeling of risking your life, but giving up on the chance of victory," Capillata looked worriedly at Vasili's back. "People say you're a fool, Anganas."

"What about you?" came a brief question from the sturdy back.

"I think you might be." The hay bed shook slightly as Capillata turned over completely.

After hearing the blunt response, Vasili laughed bitterly and wrapped his cloak tighter. "Suit yourself. I'm not a gladiator, I don't fight for other people's eyes."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"If you're not a gladiator, why do you fight like a desperado?" Capillata's tone was filled with sadness. "Even mercenaries value their lives, but you always want to bury yourself in the most shocking way. Why, Anganas?"

Vasili wasn't used to caring without a price. This time, he fell silent. –"Is a world unified under divine fire not worth living in for you?" - Intermittent thoughts echoed in his mind, intertwined with Constanz's voice. - "Or is it that you can find a place to settle in today's world, but such a place wouldn't exist under the rule of the fire?" - Vasili pulled his cloak up over his head, revealing only a tuft of fern-like black hair. He had already done too much thinking tonight, but he couldn't sleep.

"I'll tell you my story. Figure it out for yourself, okay?"

From behind came a cheerful promise, "But if you spread it to others, perhaps soon you will encounter a beast attack in the forest, and have your tongue cut off. Do you understand?" Vasili added.

"I understand," the boy almost immediately answered after Vasili finished speaking. Perhaps he was also a fool, Vasili couldn't help but think. He sighed, half-closed his eyes, and opened the dusty box filled with painful memories he didn't want to look back on.

"First of all, what you need to know is that I come from a place called Devora. That was a circular mountain range, with the opening facing east towards the Mantikhor plain. The people there don't believe in fire, but in wolves."

He felt Capillata momentarily shift his gaze away, perhaps looking at the empty canopy above, murmuring the name of a foreign land repeatedly in a low voice.

"Unlike other places, the people of Devora have no king, they haven't had one for a long time, only separate ruling families. And Minte II is the head of the Acdepin, which has produced many stewards," he paused for a moment, holding the sword in his arms tightly, "as well as my father."

"What about your mother?" Capillata asked softly from behind.

Vasili futilely curled his body, but the winter night remained bitterly cold, "Some say she was a lowly palace maid, some say she was a noblewoman who committed adultery, and some say she was an unknown prostitute," he paused bitterly, but his words sounded even more bitter because of the pause, "my father hated her, and so do I, to some extent. Even though we share the same view of her, it does not help me in the succession of the family head."

Knowing that the story did not end there, Capillata did not interrupt. Vasili took a deep breath and continued to delve deeper into the memories that seemed like a feverish dream:

"My father sent me abroad as a hostage to gain trust. Before leaving, he gave me a farewell gift - 'Vasili', one way to say 'king'. But I never forgot that the fancy wrapping was only to cover up the worthless goods," the boy wove his inner bitterness word by word, "I am not Anganas, nor am I 'Vasili'. Eunuchs and maids call me nameless prince, I am not even a prince."

"Perhaps this is what he wanted," The blond boy tried to gently envelop his friend, who was curled up like a fetus, with his words, "He wants you to embark on the path to become a king, no matter how impossible it may seem."

Vasili showed his pale teeth and grinned fiercely. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. "Father launched the war regardless of the safety of his children. He sent out secret messengers to call back any surviving heirs to Akdepin, promising to crown the first one to arrive as his apparent." His stiff body resisted the tenderness like a stone. "All hostages were killed, and only I luckily survived."

"Then you refused." Capillata couldn't help but draw back, taking a cold breath.

"What he wanted was a king, not me." Vasili couldn't help but chuckle under his cloak. "So I completed my revenge: I killed the king he wanted."

Then came wandering, dueling, wandering, and finally encountering the Ninth Legion at Devil's Bridge. And the rest became history.

Under the gray sky, everything was silent. Only Vasili's shoulders trembled. After a long time, Capillata finally resisted, "But you are still alive."

At first, the resistance was weak, but it didn't diminish as it penetrated Vasili’s body. Finally, it reached the sealed heart. "And you are the biggest victim of your own revenge. You humbly yearn for love, breaking everything, even yourself, just to find fragments of love from it. But Vasili, some things cannot be obtained by destruction. Just like planting, they need creation, protection, and governance," Capillata seemed to receive a divine oracle, speaking hazily.

"Even if it goes against your heart's desire, you still became a king in your own territory. But your kingdom is barren and lonely because the young king fell in love with the feeling of disillusionment."

With a flip, the cloak fell to the ground. Vasili propped up Capillata's body and pulled out a small knife from his waist, holding it against the boy's delicate chin.

"Then what are you?" he asked.

"I also tried to fight things that were greater than myself, but I will be careful not to fall in love with the feeling of disillusionment," From the pale pink shell, a crystal-like name was born, "I am not Capillata, I am Vitulus."