TTQI 1

At the eastern edge of the continent, in a fertile region bordering the sea, there stood a prosperous kingdom.

This kingdom, called Yonaras, was situated in a geographically blessed location, with fertile plains filled with golden wheat fields to the north, a vast harbor bustling with countless ships and a sea abundant with food to the south, and dense forests rich with natural resources surrounding it to the west and east. Thanks to this advantageous geography, the kingdoms of previous generations had consistently demonstrated superior power compared to neighboring nations, and Yonaras naturally grew into a formidable kingdom, exerting significant influence over the region.

The five small nations surrounding Yonaras like a litter of cubs had historically been kept in check by Yonaras, though that was a tale of the distant past. Over a hundred years ago, following a war, these nations voluntarily assumed the status of vassals, offering tribute to Yonaras for decades to ensure their safety, and a period of peace lasting nearly a century had followed.

The current ruler of Yonaras was an old king, perhaps the tenth or eleventh in line, who, though aged and somewhat diminished in vigor, was fair and wise in all matters, earning the respect of his people. Every year, as autumn drew to a close and state affairs became relatively less demanding, this old king would personally lead his vassals to inspect the neighboring nations. His purpose was twofold: to scout whether they harbored any ill intentions and to remind them that his authority remained strong, warning them against entertaining foolish thoughts.

That year, too, the king set out on his inspection tour. Leading his royal guard and a cloud of attendants, he leisurely crossed the borders. When the old king stood before a drawbridge, the kings of the vassal states, anxious about whether he might reduce their tribute quotas or, harboring resentment, impose heavier burdens, would rush out barefoot to greet him. They would treat him lavishly according to their means until he departed. The king would stay for two or three days, feasting heartily on the food provided, leisurely enjoying the various entertainments offered, and then, patting his full belly, set out again with his entourage.

It was on the fifth stop of that year’s tour that the kingdom in question came into play. A small, unremarkable kingdom nestled at the foot of a mountain valley, it was called Komnena. Both its king and its farmers were a poor and humble lot, subsisting on roots dug from the mountains, and the old king of Yonaras inwardly despised them. Were it not for the renowned shamans produced by their kingdom, he would not have bothered staying in a place barely worthy of being called a nation.

But shamanism itself was utterly sinister. Could a nation sustained by such dubious sorcery even be considered legitimate? The king of Yonaras planned to hastily partake in their shabby hospitality and move on to the next kingdom. Unexpectedly, however, a remarkable event occurred that year. The old king of Yonaras, whose heart had long been distant from the passions of love, found his aged heart stolen in that tiny vassal state.

The one who ignited the heart of the king of Yonaras, long detached from the fervor of love, was Aion, the fifth prince of the Komnena royal family. His pale, almost translucent skin seemed to let sunlight pass through, his large, clear eyes resembled those of a deer, and his soft cheeks glowed with a rosy vitality. His pale blonde hair was braided and pinned up, and his slender wrists, elongated delicate fingers, and neatly trimmed nails completed his appearance. Prince Aion was dazzlingly beautiful, as if a fairy had crafted him from moonlight.

The prince’s beauty was already renowned among his kingdom’s people. Yes, he was a man. Yet, at first glance, one could scarcely tell he was a man, so delicate was he, surpassing the beauty of any woman the king of Yonaras had seen in his lifetime.

The king of Yonaras had no reservations. His wife had died of illness long ago, and the position of queen had remained vacant ever since. Though the age difference was significant, his superior status and power meant there was no reason not to propose if he was smitten. Considering marriage a political alliance beneficial to Komnena as well, the king wasted no time in summoning the king of Komnena to express his intentions. The king of Komnena was greatly surprised and, unexpectedly, hesitated to respond immediately.

“But Aion is a man.”

This was the first reason he gave for his refusal. The king of Yonaras patiently reasoned with him.

“What does that matter? As long as he can manage the inner palace well as queen, that is enough. Moreover, I already have an heir from my late wife, so he has no obligation to bear my successor. He can simply come and live comfortably in luxury.”

Despite these assurances, the king of Komnena remained unconvinced. However, his hesitation seemed less about concern for his son and more about some unspoken unease. After much deliberation, he requested the king of Yonaras to lend him an ear. When the king obliged, the king of Komnena whispered a secret.

“Your Majesty, in truth, my son Aion, though outwardly beautiful, is cunning and lacks virtue inwardly. I believe he is not suited to manage the inner palace peacefully as you suggest. Furthermore, in the year of his birth, all the seers of Komnena received ominous prophecies. Allowing my son into your palace could bring great calamity.”

Having spoken ill of his son, the king of Komnena appeared uneasy and guilt-ridden. In contrast, the king of Yonaras was unimpressed by his resolute confession. Clicking his tongue, he reprimanded the king of Komnena.

“You are remarkably harsh on your own son. Prince or not, he is still your child, is he not? Instead of embracing him with fatherly care, you let yourself be swayed by baseless superstitions. Even a child destined to grow upright can be led astray by such beliefs.”

The king of Yonaras’s words left little room for argument and were not entirely wrong, so the king of Komnena, unable to retort, flushed with embarrassment.

In any case, having silenced the opposing father-in-law, the debate was won by the king of Yonaras. The king of Komnena reluctantly consented to the marriage, and the king of Yonaras returned overjoyed. Meanwhile, that night, the king of Komnena summoned Prince Aion, and the two spoke privately and deeply until dawn before retiring to bed.

Four days later, thanks to the swift efforts of messenger pigeons, the joyous news reached both nations. The people of both kingdoms could not contain their astonishment at such extraordinary tidings. Within days, posters announcing the marriage of the old and wise king of Yonaras and the beautiful prince of Komnena were plastered across both Komnena and Yonaras.