Exiled Prince: I'm the Unexpected Extra in the Novel-Chapter 134: The Call of the Cursed Blood

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Please make sure to read the author’s note at the end of the Chapter.

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The War for the North [22]

It had been three days since they left Frosthelm.

Advancing through the vast, snow-covered roads of the North, the unit looked like a drop of black ink floating in a white sea.

There was still a distance of four or five days to their destination.

At this rate, the Support Army should have arrived at that point a day before Cassian and his unit because traversing the snow turned out to be more difficult than expected.

During this time, there wasn’t a single trace of the Obsidian Dawn. No scout, no trap, not even a silhouette watching from afar. Everything was excessively normal, and the silence was unnervingly deep.

Swaying slightly in his horse’s saddle, Cassian thought that staring at the same white horizon all day had a dullness that reminded one of madness.

The only sounds heard besides the howling of the wind were the hooves of the horses crushing the snow and the clanking of the soldiers’ metal armor.

When the sun began to set palely behind the gray clouds, General Hareth raised his hand.

"We camp here tonight!" the old general bellowed. Before them lay a relatively sheltered plain surrounded by rocks that cut the wind.

With accustomed discipline, the soldiers immediately dismounted.

Tents were pitched, sentries were assigned, and large campfires were lit to withstand the freezing cold of the night.

After tying his horse, Cassian sat on a clean log a bit to the side of the camp.

His mind was blank as he watched the crackling of the fire and the flames gnawing at the wood. He was focused solely on the warmth of the fire.

Before long, a few soldiers settled on the logs next to him, hesitantly but driven by the need for warmth.

One of them took a leather flask from his pocket.

He uncorked it, took a large swig, and grimacing, said, "I never expected this wine to be so delicious."

Then he passed the flask to the friend beside him. The wine circulated from hand to hand, and it was Cassian’s turn.

The soldier extended the flask respectfully. "My lord? Good for the Northern cold."

Cassian refused by raising his hand. "I don’t partake."

"Come on, my lord," the soldier insisted with a tipsy grin. "It’s warrior’s milk. Take a sip, warm your insides."

"I’ve never drunk it in my life," Cassian said in a flat voice. "I hate things that cloud my mind."

The soldiers laughed. The soldier who offered the flask shrugged, said, "You’re boring, my lord," and downed the bottle.

Just then, General Hareth joined them, sitting by the fire. As the soldiers tried to stand up, Hareth waved his hand.

"At ease," he said. His eye caught the wine flask. "Is there any left for me, or did you rascals drain it all?"

Grinning, the soldier handed over the flask. The General took a big swig and smacked his lips.

"Like vinegar," he said but took another sip anyway. Then he sighed deeply and stared into the fire.

"Damn Obsidian Dawn bastards..." Hareth grumbled. "I hoped we’d at least take a few heads along the way, shake off the rust. But it’s like they all evaporated. They are nowhere to be found."

A seasoned soldier with a deep sword scar over one eye poked the fire with a stick.

"Don’t complain, General," he said with a raspy voice. "We’ve been fighting for years. Riding in silence for a few days and not dying isn’t bad. Enjoy it."

Then he stroked the hilt of his sword. "Besides, don’t worry, soon our swords will be painted red. Then we’ll be longing for this silence."

A young soldier sitting a bit further from the fire, with a longbow on his back, held a cleaned rabbit over the fire on a stick.

As the fat dripped onto the fire, a sizzling sound and a delicious smell spread.

Noticing the gazes of the other soldiers and even the General shifting to the rabbit, the archer pulled the rabbit toward himself.

"What?" he said defensively. "Don’t even look. I’m telling you in advance, I’m not sharing with anyone. I hunted it myself, I’ll eat it myself."

"Nobody asked for it anyway, stingy bastard," teased the soldier drinking wine.

"Is that so?" The archer smirked. "I can see your mouth watering from here. I guess you forgot how sharp my eyes are."

"Greedy bastard," the soldier grumbled and took a fierce bite from the dry, hard meat in his hand.

Time by the fire passed with such banter and the dance of the flames.

As the fatigue of the road weighed heavily, most of the soldiers retreated to their tents or wrapped themselves in their cloaks and fell asleep where they were. Only the sentries were awake.

Cassian was still by the fire. Sleep eluded him. General Hareth, the one-eyed soldier, and the archer accompanied him.

"General," said the one-eyed soldier. "You’d better rest too. It’s a long road tomorrow."

"I’m not sleepy," Hareth said stubbornly. "Old folks sleep little. We’ll sleep plenty when we’re dead anyway."

Silence fell again. Then, perhaps emboldened by the wine, one of the soldiers turned curiously to Cassian.

" lord Cassian... Your appearance and accent are quite different from around here. May I ask where you are from?"

Cassian thought for a while without taking his eyes off the flames. He answered honestly.

"I’m a Westerner," he said honestly.

Upon this answer, a silence fell around the fire. General Hareth raised his eyebrows.

"Hoh The West?" the General said in a thoughtful tone. "I’d never want to be born there. That’s the region with the harshest, most ruthless rules in the Empire."

The General threw another log onto the fire.

"In fact... It is even said that Edward, the Duke of the Western Duchy of Bladehaven, killed his own son as soon as he was born. Just because the child was born ’cursed’." Hareth shook his head. "Of course, these are just rumors, but considering the West’s strict military discipline and bad image, it sounds plausible."

Cassian’s jaw clenched. He was gritting his teeth so hard that his jawbones became prominent. He clenched his hands into fists but hid this under his cloak.

"In my youth," the General continued, not noticing Cassian’s tension. "I was in the South, the West, and the capital. The people in the West, contrary to rumors, are warm-blooded and brave. But the administration... The nobles... I can’t say the same for them. Their hearts are colder than ice."

The General turned curiously to Cassian. "Where in the West are you from, Cassian?"

Cassian took a deep breath. The air filling his lungs was like poison from the past.

"Bladehaven," he said. His voice was cold enough to extinguish the fire.

The General nodded, as if pieces had fallen into place. "Your harsh demeanor, your discipline... It’s a bit more understandable now. being so talented despite your young age... Are you a noble or something? Perhaps the son of a runaway count?"

Cassian sighed. This conversation had become unbearable. He quickly rose from the log he was sitting on.

"I am an orphan," he said sharply.

While the General and soldiers looked at him in surprise, Cassian turned his back.

"Where to?" asked the archer.

"I need to piss," Cassian said flatly.

He walked away from the light of the camp into the darkness.

He could hear the soldiers whispering behind him. "I think we ruined his mood... We touched somewhere we shouldn’t have asked."

Cassian moved quite far from the camp. He entered an area with dense trees, out of the sentries’ line of sight.

He stopped in front of a pine tree. Loosening his belt, he tried to focus on his business. He wanted to clear his mind, to suppress the anger brought by the name Edward.

But just then...

All the hairs on his body stood on end at the same time.

It wasn’t from the cold. A strange tremor climbed up his spine. The roots of his hair on the back of his neck tingled.

Cassian’s eyes widened. His heartbeat accelerated as if it would break his ribcage.

The blood flowing in his veins... was tingling. It was as if his blood was reacting to something outside, boiling.

This feeling... Was familiar. Very familiar. But at the same time, foreign and terrifying.

Abandoning his business, he quickly tidied up. He didn’t take his eyes off the tree bark in front of him, but his entire mind, all his senses, scanned the surroundings.

Werewolf senses... Searched for scent, sound, breath. But there was nothing.

No footsteps, no snapping twigs, no heartbeat. It was as if no one was there physically.

But Cassian knew. This pull in his blood said quite the opposite. The mana fluctuations around him had wrapped him like an invisible net.

Slowly, taking his guard, he turned around.

And his breath was cut short.

He was surrounded.

In the darkness, there were many silhouettes standing silently on the snow.

They were all women.

Maybe ten, maybe fifteen... They were all young, wearing strange dresses, and seemed indifferent to the cold. There was a weird smile on their faces, their eyes glowing in the dark.

And from all of them, a dark and intense "familiar" aura radiated.

As if they were all his relatives, they stared at Cassian in the darkness of the night.

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A/N

Hello everyone,

I’d like to inform you about something important.

I’m seriously considering rewriting the Exiled Prince novel from the very beginning, completely from scratch.

When I look back at the earlier Chapters, I realize that I’m almost not truly satisfied with any of them.

The story progression feels too amateurish, the character dialogues are poorly handled, and the characters’ personalities are not reflected properly.

So much so that if I asked about Fredrinn’s or Cassian’s personality, I’m sure everyone would give a different answer.

In a way, this is my fault.

To be honest, the character Cassian has turned into someone very different from what I originally envisioned when I first started writing the novel. In his current state, I find it difficult to empathize with him, and that really bothers me.

Similarly, the plot has drifted in a completely different direction than I had planned; unexpected characters have appeared, and I feel that I’ve moved away from the main theme I wanted to tell.

If you are satisfied with the story as it is now, I can continue like this for a while longer.

However, I can say this clearly: in the future, I will definitely revisit Exiled Prince as a remake, with a much stronger plot and more solid character development.

Thank you for your support and understanding.