Chapter 58
The temperature written in the Crown Prince’s report had been measured in the shade, and under the blistering sun where there was no shade at all, the heat was many times higher.
The Emperor was furious, and in the end, Mikhail was dispatched again to the demonic lair. True to his name as the Empire’s most valiant warrior, Mikhail destroyed the lair’s core and built channels so the water vein could flow back to the villages.
Thus, the first trial ended in the challenger’s victory.
During that long journey, Hyun read and reread the letters Misha had sent, savoring every word.
[Have you ever touched a camel before? Their fur is so densely packed but short and bristly. And their eyelashes are so long they cast a shadow more than a foot wide!]
Even from the hurried, excited handwriting, Hyun could feel Misha’s bubbling enthusiasm.
While the weather in Misha’s letters changed many times, the exile surrounded by the Ice Lake knew only endless snow. The scenery remained unchanging day after day. The snow was shoveled and shoveled, yet, like endless waiting, it always piled back up.
Each time the caretakers went to the mainland for supplies, they brought back Misha’s letters. And Hyun’s body, growing weaker and weaker, told him that his time was running short.
His coughing fits grew more frequent. Only a few months ago he had been able to lift a sack of soil with one hand, but now he could no longer manage it. Sleep consumed more and more of the day, and even the slightest movement left him exhausted.
While Mikhail was struggling to win the second trial, Hyun waited every single day for the caretakers to bring another letter, cutting back little by little on the time he spent tending the fields.
[They say Martilla herbs are good for fatigue and sleeplessness. I heard if you keep them by your pillow when you sleep, it helps.]
Inside the letter was a small envelope containing a little more than ten herb seeds. Hyun set the letter, steeped in the scent of dried herbs, beside his pillow and closed his eyes.
In truth, it was almost absurd to worry about insomnia when sleep claimed him so easily now, but there was no harm in keeping them close. Each deep breath seemed to carry with it the scent of the one who came to visit every month, the fresh, rain-drenched smell of earth that clung to Misha’s clothes.
Hyun pressed a brief kiss to the herb-scented letter, stored it deep in his drawer, and would take it out to read again and again.
[If all goes well, I think I’ll be able to visit the Ice Lake next week.]
But the promise in that letter, written while Mikhail was frantically moving about to complete the second trial, was one he could not keep. The Emperor’s second test was a task to restore an ancient rite said to have once implored the Goddess of Wisdom and plenty, and it ended in the Crown Prince’s victory.
Mikhail had traveled across the land, visiting every temple, seeking counsel from local devotees and priests. Meanwhile, the Crown Prince had bought the church. It helped that someone from the Crown Prince’s maternal family held a high position within the religious order.
The church’s High Priest knew full well that the ritual the Second Prince performed was truer to tradition, but he closed his eyes before power. The verdict was unjust, but what mattered to the people was the result: the church officially recognized the Crown Prince’s ritual.
Thus, the contest now stood at one victory each. The outcome of the third trial would become critical enough to decide everything.
There were to be five trials total, so if Mikhail lost the lead in the third and the judges were bribed again in the fourth, the hope of saving ‘that man’ would slip away forever. That could not happen.
With his heart being ground to the bone, Mikhail wrote and sent another letter.
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