Daylight Saga

"You and me,

I see us together

Baby,

In the sunshine

Under cool weather

Baby"

Preto's cell was filled with the romantic tune of his song, it was like the surroundings were quietly listening to his soothing voice, Preto's chains clinked in rhythm, adding an accidental melody. As he sang even Mr. Shin poked his nose out of its nest to listen.

"It's you and me,

Snow falling from above

I'm singing all my songs

Of our love

Baby,

 Baby—"

Preto lay against the great gray wall, smiling, breathing hard after his singing lesson, suddenly an uncommon event occurred, something which hadn't happened in years, The iron door creaked open, flooding the cell with blinding sunlight. Dust motes danced in the sudden glow, and Preto blinked, his eyes stinging from years of shadows. His jaw dropped, as a man entered the room, chained, behind him a guard which he had seen a long long time ago. 

"This one's your new cellmate," the guard grunted. He shoved the man forward. "Been rottin' in 'ere seven years. Swine." He chained the man and slammed the door shut. 

Preto felt very awkward, he didn't know what to say, he was basically conversing with himself for the past seven years, he felt like an ashamed animal, he felt like his home, which he had become comfortable with, became uncomfortable. 

"Where do you answer nature's call?" the newcomer asked, matter-of-fact.

Preto was very shy like a little girl, he kept staring at the floor and pointed toward the left.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You're not much for conversation, are you?" He shook his head and offered a hand, though the chains clinked heavily. "Yogi Ashbourne of Southenheim."

Silence

He sighed and lowered his hand. "Ah, I see. Seven years alone, huh? Guess you've gotten real comfortable with your own company. Fine, if you don't want to ta—"

"Preto," came the low murmur.

Yogi stopped. "What?"

"Preto of Joltenheim."" 

"Joltenheim, eh?, well that place was beautiful, I was 10 when I visited there." Said Yogi. "So…" Yogi shifted. "Why'd they throw you in this hole?" 

Nothing

"Want me to go first?" He didn't wait for a response. "My brother was a duke. A fat, lazy tyrant, squeezing the people dry to pay for his whores and wine. I couldn't stand by, so I forced him out. Banished him. The emperor didn't take kindly to that. The bastard had me arrested."

Preto's head lifted slightly. For the first time, his eyes met Yogi's. His new companion was sharp-featured, with fiery red hair and eyes the color of deep amethyst. Preto stared hard into them.

Yogi shifted uncomfortably. "What? You don't believe me?"

Preto didn't blink.

Yogi looked away. "Fine, fine. I lied." He cleared his throat. "I was the duke. My brother forced me out because… well, let's just say he didn't like my management style."

Preto's expression darkened.

Yogi held up his hands. "What? Don't look at me like that. Those bloody peasants weren't paying their taxes. You know how expensive liquor is? It's not easy being a duke!"

Preto exhaled sharply, his lip curling in disgust. "I didn't expect to find heroes here."

"Hah! Don't be so quick to judge."

"Really? You're an oppressor, and you want me to think of you as anything else? You must be delusional."

Yogi smirked, leaning back against the wall. "At least you're talking now."

Preto paused. He realized, with a strange sense of surprise, that this man was different—easier to talk to than anyone he had ever known. "Fine," he said, a cautious smile playing at his lips. "Explain yourself. Why shouldn't I judge you?"

Yogi leaned back, his face softening. "Because I was a fool, not a monster. I didn't know how to rule. I lived far from my father's house. Money kept coming, and I spent it. I never stopped to wonder where it came from or what price others paid. My men took what they wanted because I didn't care enough to stop them."

Preto's gaze softened.

"I never wanted to rule," Yogi continued. "I wanted to explore the world. Climb mountains. Die somewhere beautiful and free. I was… lost."

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, to Yogi's surprise, Preto burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing," Preto wheezed, tears in his eyes. "You're just… you're just a spoiled dreamer. A spoiled brat of a duke."

Yogi crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "And you? What makes you so noble?"

Yogi blinked, caught off guard. "What? What's wrong with dying on a mountain?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," Preto said, shrugging, his smile widening. "It's just… childish. Especially for a man in his forties."

"Forties?" Yogi's jaw dropped, his voice rising indignantly. "Dude, I'm twenty-eight!"

Preto burst into another fit of laughter, clutching his sides. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"I am twenty-eight!"

"Right, and I'm the Duke of Southenheim," Preto said, still chuckling.

Yogi rolled his eyes. "You've been alone too long. Lost your sense of judgment. I'm clearly in my prime."

"More like past your expiration date," Preto muttered, unable to resist.

Yogi scowled playfully. "Keep it up, Joltenheim. You'll be begging for my wisdom soon enough."

"Wisdom? From a guy who squandered his fortune on booze and ended up rotting in the Darklands?"

"Hey, that's experience," Yogi shot back, pointing a finger. "There's a difference."

Preto smirked. "Maybe you need some real experience. I could teach you—sword fighting. What do you say?"

Yogi raised an eyebrow and snorted. "What do you know about sword fighting?"

Preto's smirk grew wider, a glint of pride flashing in his eyes. "I was the greatest swordsman of my time." He stood straighter, his voice deepening with authority. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Preto Snowfell, the Undead Knight. The rightful Duke of Joltenheim and the Governor of the North."

"Yogi's jaw fell open. "Y-you're kidding, right?"

"I'm not."

"But… the Duke of Joltenheim is Aeron Dolton," Yogi stammered, his eyes widening with disbelief.

Preto's expression darkened as he rose slowly to his feet, a storm brewing in his gaze. "This can't be…" His voice dropped to a whisper, more to himself than to Yogi. "Did that bastard die already? What happened to Alexander Asellus? Is he… gone?"

Yogi swallowed, his voice uneven. "H-he was the emperor when I became duke. That was… three years ago."

A chilling silence fell. Then, without warning, Preto's mouth twisted into a grin—cold and wild. His laughter erupted, echoing in the small cell, reverberating off the iron walls. It was a sound both haunting and mad.

Yogi flinched, instinctively pulling his knees to his chest. "What's so funny?"

"That bloody son of a bitch…" Preto whispered, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. "That man knew no limits. And I know for a fact—he won't stop here."

"W-what do you mean?"

Preto's gaze turned razor-sharp, his voice a quiet storm. "Do you know how he became king?"

Yogi shook his head. "I have no idea. I… I didn't care much for politics before I became duke."

"Before he became emperor, he wore many masks—changing titles like a snake sheds its skin. From the worthless second son of a baron, he clawed his way up to Count, then Marquess, and finally… Duke. A deceiver. A backstabbing bastard." Preto clenched his fists, his voice heavy with regret. "I was a fool to ignore the truth when it was staring me in the face."

"He was your friend?" Yogi hesitated.

"It's a hell of a tale."

Flashback——

Alexander lay naked beneath a white blanket, his eyes fixed on the window. Hindenburg glittered in the night a marvel of light and shadow. His skin, smooth and flawless, seemed carved from marble, a cruel gift of nature. An arm, darker than his own, slipped around his waist. A pair of warm lips brushed his cheek. It was Lady Margot Clove. "What are you thinking" Her fingers traced his chest.

"'bout today's trial," he said as he turned towards her, holding her hand.

"What about it" she asked looking in his eyes, admiring the pair of beautiful blue stones. "You won, my husband lost, and now you're the count" There was a silence as they dived into the eyes of each other. "I did as you said, 'tis not about me? Is it?" She leaned over his chest.

"No" Alex stared at the roof admiring the roof work done by the finest decorators of the world. "We leave for Joltenheim tomorrow, I'm now the Count, but I don't want to be a mere count"

"What do you want then?" She smiled expecting a particular answer.

"When I was young, every man in Old Field neglected me, I was the second son, I had no power in my fate they said" Alex smirked and shifted his gaze from the roof to Margot's face. "Now, I'm the Count, I have more authority than my brother. But I Won't stop here, I'll reach the very top."

"I thought you wanted to be My Count"

"I am your Count, aren't I" he smiled and rolled on top of her, held her arms over her head against the bed and kissed her.

Preto stood atop the King's Tower, the tallest structure in Hindenburg. The tower rose like a sentinel in the heart of the city, its shadow touching every corner of the vibrant streets below. From his lofty perch, he marvelled at the sea of flickering lights, each lantern and torch a star mirroring the vast heavens above. The voices of merchants and merrymakers echoed faintly in the night air, a melody of life that blended with the whisper of the breeze.

Leaning against the cold stone wall of the roof tower, Preto felt the wind tousle his dark hair, carrying with it the crisp scent of distant pine and blooming night flowers. The stars, scattered like shards of diamond across the endless horizon, seemed to call to him, their silent allure pulling at something deep within.

As if entranced by the moment, he began to sing, his voice soft yet rich, filling the air with a melancholy warmth:

"In the love of,

The night's embrace.

I hope to find,

Your face."

"If love was a breeze,

Could it carry me high?

I wonder if it could,

Ever make me fly."

"I wonder if I'd be,

The love you wish.

I wonder if I'd see,

Your heart in bliss."

The city seemed to pause, the pulse of Hindenburg's nightlife slowing as if held captive by the sorrowful beauty of his voice. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though even time itself had stilled, surrendering to the haunting melody that wove its way into the night.

As the final note lingered and faded into the quiet, a sound broke the spell, a slow, deliberate clap from the shadows behind him.

Preto turned to see a woman with a wide smile across her face. She was beautiful, with eyes of a warm, yellowish hue and short, brown hair that cascaded down to her neck. It was Princess Nemna Vulpine the sister of the emperor.

Preto turned to see the princess, in a beautiful blue attire, he was astonished by her hair. He bowed "Princess"

"O, come on, Preto." The princess laughed softly as she closed the distance between them, her movements graceful and swift. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him in an embrace.

Preto stiffened at first, unsure, his hands hovering awkwardly. Slowly, he brought his arms around her. "Your brother will have my head if he finds out," he murmured.

"We were childhood friends, Preto," she whispered, her voice tinged with a wistfulness that carried years of forgotten memories. "Me, You, Luke and Nate"

"Your brother seems to have forgotten," Preto replied, turning back to the city, leaning once more against the cold stone wall.

The Princess did the same next to him.

Nemna joined him, her shoulder brushing his, her eyes following his gaze into the glittering expanse of Hindenburg below. "He's not been the same since he became Emperor. It's the work of that bloody old Asfagus," she spat, her disdain curling the name of the imperial advisor like poison.

Preto raised a brow. "Lord Jeffard Asfagus is a very honourable man. I highly doubt—"

"I'd be pleased to hear that from your brother," she cut him off, her eyes flashing.

"What would Nate know about it?" Preto frowned.

Nemna turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing as if trying to pierce through the fog clouding his mind. "Yours is the strongest sword in the realm," she said, poking his nose playfully. "His is the strongest brain."

Preto said nothing, his silence a wall she could not breach.

She clenched her fists, frustration boiling within her. "You know what's happening around you," she growled. "Yet you choose to ignore it. We all see it. We all know that golden-haired is after your position! You're a fool not to admit it."

"You don't know him like I do, Nem," Preto said quietly, sadness clouding his eyes. "He's my friend. Just like you. Just like Luke. You forgot me, but he never did." His voice softened further, tinged with a deep weariness. "He saved my life more times than I can count. If he wanted me dead, he could have done it a million times already."

"That would not have done him any good, your seat would've passed to your brother and he would never have trusted him, he easily won your and your father's trust just by saving your lives, but your father still doesn't completely trust him, yet you are falling on your knees for him, you made him a bloody count, gave him the forces of the entire Old Barn, and his father sits in the Old Field, you've destroyed the balance of power in your duchy"

Preto remained still, his face an impassive mask.

"He will never stop," she whispered coldly, her words slicing through the air like a blade. "And you will not believe it, not until it's too late."

With a final, sharp glance at his unflinching face, she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the night as silence reclaimed the tower.