We proceeded with minimal rest, pushing forward relentlessly.
We passed narrow cliff paths that made my stomach drop, then ran for what felt like hours through snow-covered fields that stretched endlessly white in every direction.
Even though I was simply riding along—doing nothing but holding still against Callius—I grew tired with alarming speed.
My head began to ache. A persistent nausea settled in my stomach.
I was struggling to catch my breath, but I couldn't fight the sudden, overwhelming drowsiness that washed over me. I leaned against Callius's chest and let my eyes drift closed.
Callius shook me gently awake.
"Chloe. Are you having trouble breathing?"
I looked up at him with difficulty, my eyelids heavy and uncooperative.
"Mm...? Why...?"
"You're breathing strangely."
"Am I...?"
My breathing was indeed ragged, and my words kept trailing off mid-sentence. Only then did I realize I was panting for air.
"I... suppose I am..."
"Do you have a headache? Any nausea?"
"A little...? I think I'm getting motion sick again..."
At those words, Callius's expression turned serious.
He brought the horse to an abrupt stop.
"We need to take a break. Immediately."
"Why? I'm fine—really—"
"You're showing symptoms of altitude sickness. It's common when climbing to high elevations, but it's not something to take lightly."
"I can endure it! It's just a headache and some shortness of breath. Nothing serious—"
But Callius insisted firmly that this was not a trivial problem and called for the entire group to halt.
"Besides... it seems there are people here to welcome us."
He pointed toward a nearby hill.
Someone was waving enthusiastically at our procession.
"Your Excellency! You've returned!"
A boy with dark, tousled hair, sparkling black eyes, and sun-bronzed skin the color of melted chocolate shouted brightly across the distance.
He came running down the hillside at breakneck speed, half-running and half-sliding through the snow.
In his hand, he clutched a rope tied to a black mountain goat. The young lamb—still quite small—hopped down the slope with surprising agility, determined not to lose sight of the boy. It seemed remarkably clever, carefully treading only on patches of melted snow, ghosting across the terrain like it could sense where safe footing lay.
"Bihar. Come slowly—you'll hurt yourself."
Callius waved at the boy with familiar warmth.
Then he leaned close to explain Bihar's identity to me.
"Bihar is a child of the Uttar tribe. They're nomadic. Many tribes in Ronheim live this way—following the seasons and the herds."
Bihar completely ignored the instruction to come slowly and arrived at full sprint, skidding to a stop directly in front of us.
"It always seems like you're there to greet me whenever I return to Ronheim, Bihar."
The boy's face lit up with pride.
"We unpacked our camp here this morning! Lhasa urged the chieftain that the King would return and stay here tonight!"
Callius whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
"The old man named Lhasa is a prophet of the Uttar tribe. He must have foreseen that we would rest here today."
Then he added, perhaps bothered by the title that had slipped from Bihar's mouth:
"Many nomads still struggle to accept that Ronheim has been subjugated to Arental. They call me King out of old habit. They find new customs difficult to embrace. Please... try to understand."
He turned back to Bihar with a more measured expression.
"Didn't Lhasa tell you who I'm traveling with?"
"The bride! He said you're coming with someone very beautiful!"
Bihar looked up at me—still bundled against Callius—with eyes that sparkled like polished stones.
"You're the one who will bring flowers and abundance to Ronheim!"
The words felt strange to hear applied to me. It was the kind of blessing people often bestowed on newlyweds.
Callius looked down at Bihar with a deliberately stern expression.
"This is the Princess of Arental."
"What...?"
Bihar's sparkling eyes suddenly lost all their light.
He seemed utterly unable to believe that the bride praised by the prophet Lhasa—the one who would bring flowers and abundance—was the Princess of Arental.
I could clearly see wariness replace the warmth that had been on the boy's face just moments before.
Just by looking at his expression, I understood how deeply the people here resented Arental.
It seemed Callius had revealed my identity deliberately—in front of me and my maids—hoping Bihar wouldn't accidentally cause himself trouble with a careless slip of the tongue.
"You call the governor of Arental 'King' right in front of Her Highness the Princess? How impertinent. Apologize immediately."
At Callius's cold tone, Bihar's face drained of color. He threw himself flat on the ground, prostrating himself in panic.
"I'm sorry! I was ignorant! I didn't realize it was wrong!"
I felt terrible seeing Bihar—who had been smiling so brightly, like a spring bud opening to the sun—now trembling with fear.
So instead of trying to stop Callius's performance, I gently changed the subject.
"Bihar, the black goat behind you is adorable. Is it yours?"
Bihar looked up hesitantly, his face still pressed to the ground, raising only his eyes.
Callius softened his tone.
"Her Highness the Princess asked you a question."
Only then did the boy begin to explain in a flustered rush.
"Oh! This goat is one I was looking after, and Lord Lhasa said—King—ah, no, um..."
Callius supplied the appropriate title for the confused, tearful child.
"Marquis Rodrian."
"Yes! Yes! So he told me to bring it to Marquis Rodrian, and he said you'd need a guide..."
As the boy began to ramble, Callius simplified the explanation for me.
"They're saying this is a gift—to be used as a guide."
"A guide?"
"If we continue forward, we'll soon reach ice paths riddled with crevasses. 'Crevasse' means 'gap of death.'"
"Gap... of death?"
"These are fissures formed when glaciers crack and split apart. Some are so deep you can't see the bottom. Once you fall in, there's no escape—ever."
"They're usually hidden beneath layers of snow. And because they're constantly forming and disappearing as the ice shifts, even people who know the paths well fear them deeply."
It was a chilling description.
The journey was already brutal—and now an even more dangerous trial awaited us.
Callius, noticing my darkening expression, gestured toward Bihar's black goat as if to reassure me.
"These mountain goats raised by the Uttar people are remarkably clever. They can easily detect crevasses hidden beneath the snow. So Lhasa seems to have sent this one as a gift to ensure our safe passage."
"Thank you, Bihar. Please tell Lhasa we're grateful."
Callius murmured to himself, his voice barely audible.
"He always gives me an experienced old goat as a guide... but this time he sent a young lamb. I wonder what that means..."
"Hm? What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing important."
He smiled faintly and turned back to Bihar.
"Take us to Lhasa, Bihar. We need a place to rest tonight."
Bihar glanced at me uncertainly, then nodded.
Callius guided his horse to follow the boy.
Bihar climbed the hill without hesitation, his thin legs surprisingly strong and sure-footed.
Callius leaned close and whispered to me.
"Nomads have a sacred custom of welcoming any traveler who seeks shelter."
He seemed genuinely proud to introduce me to his people—the Uttar tribe.
We soon crested the top of the hill.
And then—as if by magic—a breathtaking turquoise lake hidden on the other side appeared before us.
The color was so vivid, so impossibly beautiful, that it looked as though a giant gemstone had been placed in the valley—a massive turquoise filling the landscape with shimmering light.
"Ah..."
The natural scenery I had witnessed so far had been stunning beyond words.
But the sight before me now was truly, utterly indescribable.
"This lake was formed by melting glaciers. It's a mystical place—it changes color several times throughout the day."
"The color... changes?"
"Yes. Depending on the height of the sun, it transforms from turquoise to deep sapphire to jade green."
Overcome with emotion, I wrapped my arms tightly around Callius's neck, my heart brimming over with gratitude I couldn't contain.
"Thank you."
The words came out naturally, unbidden.
"For what?"
"Just... for everything. Everything."
My nose tingled. My eyes grew hot.
He would never know.
I had seen and heard more in the few days I'd spent following him north than in all the decades I'd lived—both in my past life and this one combined.
What I had learned and experienced through him exceeded everything I'd ever discovered within palace walls.
During the time spent at his side, I felt as though the terrible, aching emptiness in my heart—the hollow space that had never been filled no matter what I tried—was finally, slowly, being made whole.
It was the first time I had ever felt spiritually fulfilled.
A lake that changes with the sun.A heart that changes with each new wonder.
Some beauty is so overwhelmingit fills the hollow places you didn't know existed.
And for the first time,her heart felt truly, completely full.
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