The Kun’s Aran

Chapter 2

The next second, a blade tore through the air and slashed her coat. Aran was too stunned to make a sound.

“Your Highness!” Jeongwol screamed, but her voice seemed distant.

Aran felt only the pain in her arm where he had pulled her and the cold air through her torn coat. The assassin had appeared out of nowhere, and she could barely see him. She stood there, dazed, until the guard pulled her roughly, causing her to lose her footing and fall to the ground behind him.

“Your Highness!” Jeongwol cried again. She rushed over, her face as pale as a ghost.

Aran watched as the guard drew his sword, still holding the torch with his other hand. The clash of swords echoed into the night. The sharp noise snapped Aran back to her senses. She tried to stand, but immediately stumbled—she must have injured her ankle as she fell. Soldiers came running from their barracks, alerted by the noise.

“Your Highness, are you all right?” asked Jeongwol, her voice full of confusion and fear.

At that moment, Aran’s head jerked up as she heard something sharp and fast pierce the air.

An arrow?

It came flying through the dark and landed near the guard’s feet. Hearing its tip embed itself in the dirt, Aran limped forward, shouting.

“Look out!”

With the man still holding the torch, he was an obvious target. Aran ran to him, snatched it from his hand, and staggered toward the approaching soldiers. By taking the torch, the guard was no longer the vulnerable one.

She knew it was reckless and stupid. Even so, she could not simply stand there and watch the lonely man be killed. Unfortunately, she could not move quickly. She took a step, and a searing pain shot up her ankle.

I need to run, she thought, but it was not possible. She bit her lip, out of options.

“Your Highness!”

This time, Jeongwol’s shriek was a desperate warning, and Aran realized that there was an arrow flying toward her.

Should I throw this torch?

She stopped to turn, but before she could act, the guard swiftly slashed at the flying arrow, deflecting it.

He blocked an arrow with his sword in the dark.

The man was solidly built and managed to fight the assassin with only one hand. He was clearly a skilled warrior. Even so, Aran was impressed and amazed to see him so easily deflect the arrow. Of course, the assassin took advantage of this moment. He lunged at the guard, his sword ready.

“Oh!” Aran cried out.

Time seemed to slow as the blade moved toward the man’s stomach.

He will be hurt saving me!

Then soldiers shouted, “Kun!”

At the same time, a figure rushed past Aran, his cloak flowing behind him.

Kun?

He moved quickly and gracefully, like a sharpened blade. Still standing there with a torch in hand, she stared blankly as the newcomer’s cloak fluttered in the wind.

Is that him? The Kun?

She was so astonished that she did not see the assassin fall. He had been attacking the guard just moments ago, and it was hard to tell when he had fallen or who had killed him. It all happened too quickly.

“Your Highness.”

At Jeongwol’s voice, Aran snapped out of her daze and began to retreat, watching the back of the cloaked figure.

I cannot believe I am seeing Kun Chian Bayar.

Her goal was to avoid catching the eye of the cruel and lustful emperor. Meeting him on the very first day made her think that her luck was truly terrible. Even his back looked as menacing as they described, intensified by the cloak flapping in the wind.

“Your Highness, are you all right?” asked Jeongwol again.

Aran quickly placed a finger to her lips. As she pointed toward the barracks, signaling that they should leave, but sighed at the sight of the interpreter rushing toward her—a quiet departure was no longer possible.

“Your Highness, what has happened?” a male interpreter asked. He had left in such a hurry that he had not had time to dress properly.

Aran grimaced. She had been solely focused on avoiding the emperor, but seeing soldiers retrieve the arrows, she realized the situation was far more grave. They were still in Seo’s territory. In other words, the war could resume at any moment.

“Ask if I may examine the arrow,” she instructed the interpreter.

“Truly?” he asked, puzzled.

“I am familiar with bows. Tell them I can determine the type of bow used by examining the arrow.”

Aran stepped back and waited for the interpreter to return. When he brought the arrow, she studied the arrowhead first. She took in its weight, size, and shape, then sighed with relief.

“The tip is long and lozenge-shaped. This is a piercing arrow. Piercing arrows are known to penetrate armor, but it is unusual to use one for a surprise attack at night.” Aran handed the arrow back to the interpreter and added, “Inform the emperor that we do not use piercing arrows in Seo, so this attack is not related to our people.”

If her memory was correct, piercing arrows were mainly used by Mitan, the nation southeast of Gayan. Aran saw no reason to explain further, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

“Jeongwol, let us return to our barracks,” she said.

The interpreter, who had hurriedly returned, stopped her.

“Your Highness, the emperor wishes to know why he should believe Seo does not use piercing arrows.”

Aran’s gaze turned cold as she replied, “Go and tell him this. Seo has never been a warring nation. Its people use willow leaf arrows and long feather arrows for hunting. If we had used piercing arrows against Gayan, we would not have been defeated.”

Her ankle still pained her, but she made an effort not to show it and turned without limping.

The war had lasted six months. Seo was known for its love of hunting, singing, and dancing, and it had maintained good relations with Gayan. Even after Gayan began warring with its neighbors, Seo had tried to keep peace by sending tributes and maintaining communication.

Then the emperor suddenly turned against us and humiliated my father.

Aran could not forgive Kun Chian Bayar. She had heard that the emperor usually did not make special demands of the nations he conquered. Yet he had demanded that her father, the king, kneel and accept defeat. No matter the reason, Aran would never forgive what he had done to her father, especially now that she was to be forced to share his bed.

⁕⁕⁕

Chian observed the arrow in his hand for some time before asking with a tilt of his head, “Lakesh, do you know which nation uses this type of arrow?”

General Lakesh, the Kun’s right-hand man, looked troubled. Chian did not press him further. He knew that Gayan warriors were not well-versed in bows and arrows—they usually preferred to fight with swords.

Lakesh appeared every bit the general in his thick cloak as he took off the dead assassin’s mask.

“He is not from Seo,” he reported.

People of Seo had light skin, while the assassin’s skin was dark. Further examination revealed that he wore thick fur clothing underneath his armor, suggesting he was unused to Seo’s cold weather. As Lakesh focused on the corpse, Chian turned the arrow, noting its flat head.

“A piercing arrow, she said.”

He had seen arrows like that before, during his invasion of Mitan three years prior. Mitan was known to be a nation of warriors and had been difficult to conquer, though not as much as Seo.

Lakesh finished the examination and kicked the body aside, saying, “I do not know which nation uses it, but I have never seen it in this kingdom.”

“So the princess of Seo spoke the truth,” mused the emperor.

Just then, Jamuka arrived, pushing soldiers aside, his clothes in disarray. He must have been asleep when a soldier woke him with the news. He was appalled to see Chian wearing only a leather vest on his torso.

“Kun! What has happened? It is so late, and you are not even properly dressed—”

“I went out for fresh air and encountered an assassin,” explained the emperor.

Well, to be precise, he had encountered the princess of Seo. Chian often looked at the nation he had just conquered late into the night, lost in thought. He stood alone in the darkness, weighed down by the postwar emptiness that followed every conquest.

This time, he had found the princess facing south first. She stood under the stars, her small shoulders trembling and only the darkness to confide in. He thought she looked miserable.

“An assassin? But we have not yet left Seo.”

“Yes, but it was not them.” Jamuka took the arrow from Chian, his expression puzzled. “It is a piercing arrow,” said the emperor.

“Pardon?”

“The arrow is called a piercing arrow.”

Jamuka looked bewildered at the unexpected lesson. Traces of a smile flickered across Chian’s lips. His smile was cold, but his eyes were somewhat softened in the torch’s dancing light.

“The princess of Seo informed us of this,” he continued.

Chian had fought more wars than he cared to count and had conquered every nation on the continent, yet he had not known. Gayan relied on its exceptional cavalry and did not have many archers, preferring to focus on the offensive rather than the defensive.

“Did you see her? The princess?” Jamuka asked.

Chian paused, recalling how the girl had come limping to take the torch from him.

Was she trying to save me?

He could still see her sprinting away, his torch in her hand. Of course, he was more than capable of blocking arrows, yet she had snatched the torch from him to protect him. He found it amusing.

Why was she limping?

Chian resumed walking as Lakesh followed, his cloak fluttering.

“What should we do about the archer?” Lakesh asked.

“It is too late. Leave him,” said the emperor.

“The princess appeared to be injured,” remarked the general. He was concerned as well. It would be unfavorable for Gayan if the princess were to die.

“I am aware,” Chian replied curtly.

The general said no more. The matter had been discussed, and Lakesh understood that further discussion could cost him his head.