Consciousness drifted between chaos and reality, like sinking into the deep sea, then being slowly pulled back to the surface.
Siv slowly opened her eyes, her blurry vision gradually becoming clear.
What greeted her sight was an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, the air permeated with a faint scent of smoke and fire.
Her body was wrapped in warm bedding, her skin clearly feeling that comfortable temperature.
Instinctive caution made her quickly scan her surroundings.
This was a wooden cabin, with walls and beams that were simple yet clean, a few basic wooden tables and chairs, and a fireplace burning with warm light.
Fortunately, there were no imprisonment chains, nor any obvious weapons.
Siv tried to turn over, but she felt her body wouldn't obey her commands, so weak that even the slightest movement was exceptionally difficult.
Terrible! This body simply wouldn't move!
This made her heart sink.
Then tragic memories flooded in like a tide.
The destruction of the Cold Moon Tribe.
Brothers, sisters, parents—all dead due to betrayal.
Her last brother sacrificing himself to cover her escape, dying together with the enemy.
She closed her eyes, grief overwhelming her heart, feeling as if a massive stone pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"At least I'm still alive, still have a chance for revenge!"
She gritted her teeth, strongly resisting the sourness in her eyes, trying to calm her emotions.
Just then, the wooden door creaked open.
Siv suddenly opened her eyes, cautiously looking toward the door.
She had expected to see unfamiliar soldiers, nobles, or those murderers who had slaughtered her people.
However, the person who entered was a thin middle-aged woman who looked to be in her forties, with wrinkles on her face.
She wore plain cotton clothes and carried a tray with a bowl of porridge and a cup of warm water, the rising steam carrying a faint aroma of food.
Seeing Siv awake, the woman's eyes flashed with delight: "Oh my, you're finally awake. You're one lucky child."
The middle-aged woman gently lifted Siv's upper body, letting her lean against a soft pillow.
Then she took a cup of warm water, slowly bringing it to her lips, speaking gently: "Drink some water first to moisten your throat. You've been unconscious for several days."
After a moment's hesitation, Siv finally slightly opened her mouth, allowing the woman to bring the cup to her lips.
The warm water slowly flowed into her mouth, finally providing some relief to the burning sensation in her throat.
Siv couldn't help but swallow gently, her consciousness gradually becoming clearer as the water moistened her throat.
"Slowly, don't rush," the woman's tone carried a hint of pity. "Poor child, you must have suffered a lot..."
Siv's eyelashes trembled slightly, a dark emotion flashing in her eyes, but she didn't respond to the woman's words.
"If not for the lord sending people to rescue you, you might have been carried off by wild beasts!" The woman lightly patted her back while beginning to ramble on her own.
Hearing this, Siv lowered her eyes slightly, her fingertips secretly tightening.
Lord?
A southern nobleman?!
Vigilance rose in her heart, but her face remained silent.
The woman didn't notice her psychological change and continued chattering: "Don't be afraid. Although our lord is young, he's a remarkable person, and kind-hearted too, unable to bear seeing pitiful people.
You don't know, do you? He would even save injured slaves, and we refugees have received a lot of care from him."
She spoke lightly, but Siv felt increasingly uneasy.
She had actually been picked up by a southern barbarian noble!
Since childhood, she had heard countless rumors about the Empire.
They were cunning invaders, all cold-blooded and ruthless, who liked to deceive the weak with lies, then mercilessly devour everything.
And now she had fallen into the hands of such people, making Siv increasingly anxious.
First of all, she absolutely couldn't let the other person know her true identity.
Although her family had been destroyed, her identity as the former Cold Moon Tribe princess still held tremendous value.
To those with power, she was a useful political bargaining chip.
She might even be sent to the Empire's court, becoming a plaything for some nobleman.
Siv could never accept such a fate.
So, what should she do now?
Her fingers curled slightly, her heart beating uneasily.
Run away directly?
Siv quickly rejected this idea.
Her body currently couldn't move at all, and moreover, she had no understanding of the local terrain.
Recklessly escaping would either result in death on the road or being caught and brought back, at which point her situation would only worsen.
Pretend to be compliant?
Perhaps this was a choice.
She could first pretend to be obedient, secretly observe everything here, then look for a suitable opportunity to escape.
But this meant proceeding cautiously, not letting the other person know her identity, nor letting them perceive her intention to escape.
Of course, most importantly, she needed to figure out exactly what kind of person this "lord" was.
If he truly was as the middle-aged woman described, a kind-hearted person, then perhaps she could have some breathing room.
But if he was merely superficially merciful, yet equally cold-hearted inside, then she had to prepare for the worst.
In any case, she couldn't sit and wait for her doom.
While she was lost in thought, footsteps suddenly came from outside the door, accompanied by a guard's announcement: "The lord has arrived."
Siv's body instinctively tensed, her fingertips gripping the bedding, holding her breath.
She had already mentally prepared herself to face an Empire noble with a fleshy face, leering eyes, and a body emitting strong spice scents.
She had even rehearsed the upcoming scene countless times in her mind.
If the other person humiliated her, she would pretend to comply, waiting for a chance to escape.
However, when the door opened, reality completely exceeded her expectations.
Walking in was a handsome young man with black hair.
He looked barely in his early twenties, with an upright stature, dressed neatly and appropriately, neither excessively luxurious nor shabby, everything just right.
He didn't have a strong, pungent spice smell, no exaggerated, ostentatious gold ornaments, and no brutal, bloodthirsty aura, even carrying a certain freshness and efficiency.
His gaze was scrutinizing, but not the kind of contemptuous looking down, and did his eyes even reveal a hint of gentleness?
Siv was stunned for a moment.
This was... a noble of the Iron Blood Empire?
This completely contradicted the education she had received since childhood!
In her understanding, the Empire's nobles were either fat, greedy wine bags, or cold-blooded butchers; they were bloodthirsty, arrogant, and viewed northern tribes as beasts.
But the young man before her didn't look like that kind of person at all.
But she quickly came to her senses, alarm bells ringing in her heart.
Don't be deceived by appearances!
This man might just be better at disguise than other southern barbarians.
His appearance was clean, his manner elegant, but that didn't mean he lacked ambition or calculation.
Therefore, she had to be even more careful!
Siv suppressed her doubts, lowering her eyelids, discreetly observing his every move.