SOTBW - 16

“What?”

At Najane’s words, Maximón grimaced.

She deliberately turned away from him and continued speaking.

“If I had made even the slightest proper judgment, I wouldn’t have accepted your ridiculous suggestion, Commander. I wouldn’t have been forced to become a knight of Romsoa, and I wouldn’t have gone through what happened last night.”

Last night.

It meant that due to the incompetence of the Amberon Knights, the Holy Beasts had entered the rear lines.

Maximón’s jaw tightened slowly. That alone had already been enough to anger him.

The useless Amberon knights had all gotten inside the Holy Beasts, making Najane use her sword aura more than ten times.

Thinking about how much energy she had wasted because of them made her more frustrated.

“You’re talking like I dragged you into this position unwillingly.”

“It’s the truth.”

“That was a formal agreement. In exchange for lifting that damn curse of yours.”

Maximón spat out each word like he was chewing them. He was holding back. Because it was Najane.

If anyone else had spoken out of turn or acted disrespectfully, Maximón would have knocked the wind out of them with a punch to the solar plexus. But with Najane, he endured, knowing her situation.

Najane, aware that Maximón was holding back his irritation, kept provoking him.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot because I’m so stupid and soft-hearted that I made a contract with you, Commander. I almost forgot why I became a knight. Thank you for reminding me.”

Najane was equally on edge. She had fought the Holy Beasts since the first day and had overused her sword aura. When surrounded by soldiers, she had felt dizzy to the point of fainting. Both of them were physically and mentally drained, their nerves fraying, unable to control their emotions.

“…You’re quite skilled at getting under people’s skin, Najane Schnicks.”

Maximón looked down at her and smiled coldly.

“Flattery doesn’t suit me.”

“Do you think I’ll just turn a blind eye to your insolent behavior?”

“Of course.”

“You’re quite certain of that.”

The distance between them had narrowed to the point where if Maximón tilted his head slightly, their lips would touch. Najane met his gaze with her crimson eyes. It was true that she was benefiting from Maximón in order to lift her curse, but to be honest, it was a deal where he didn’t lose anything at all.

By hiring Najane as a knight and using the excuse of the curse, Maximón had gotten her into his bed whenever he wanted. It was a good deal for him in many ways. Therefore, other than when they were fighting on the field, Najane thought she didn’t need to bow to Maximón’s overbearing attitude.

That was the last shred of her dignity. Plus, Najane already had some confidence.

“As long as you want my abilities, Commander, no one can touch me. Even if it’s Maximón Elgort.”

“…Ha!”

Maximón let out a bitter laugh at Najane’s audacity. Unfortunately, that was true. Maximón needed Najane. Edwin was frequently summoned to the king and had to explain how well the Noctis fortress was holding off the Seriths’ attacks, sometimes with exaggeration and new protagonists added to the story.

If Edwin found out that Maximón had discovered Najane, he would surely be pleased. She wasn’t one of the best fighters, but she had the potential to be a Sword Master. Even if, as Taylor had said, she wouldn’t last long, she was still a sufficient asset to elevate the honor and pride of the Elgort family.

Thinking about Edwin, who was constantly being harassed by the king and his followers, brought a sense of calm to Maximón’s mind. What Maximón truly wanted was Edwin’s full affection. Imperfection was intolerable.

The fact that he, an orphan whose origins were unknown, had become the adopted son of the Elgort Marquis just because his eyes were a shade of green was something that constantly made Maximón’s icy heart uneasy. It was an anxiety that the ground beneath him could collapse at any moment.

Everything in the world could betray Maximón. That’s why he longed for something eternal.

Mine.

For me.

For me alone.

It must be like unyielding iron, never bending, not burning even when engulfed in flames, and not decaying over thousands of years, eternally preserved in the songs of bards, something that only Maximón can possess.

Lucas, who was nothing but as greedy as a pig, that bastard who received Edwin’s love and trust without lifting a finger, would instinctively try to envy and steal it. Therefore, Edwin’s paternal love was valuable.

If Edwin’s love, which even embraced someone like Lucas, who only knew how to abuse and rape others...

“Najane, you know, if you keep using your sword aura like that, you won’t live long.”

Taylor’s warning reverberated in Maximón’s mind, which had been calm until then. Maximón looked at Najane with an unreadable expression before turning his head. In the end, there was nothing Najane could offer Maximón. She would probably exhaust her energy and die before she could share anything.

“At noon, the priests who’ve learned healing magic will visit the knights’ quarters. Go receive treatment from them then.”

Maximón seemed to have no intention of continuing the pointless argument with Najane and turned his body away.

“I’ll let today’s events slide. But there will be no next time. Remember that.”

Maximón quietly warned her before walking away, clearly not wanting to waste any more time. Left alone in the hallway, Najane stared at the corner where Maximón had disappeared.

The morning sunlight slowly poured into the long hallway. The light felt cold, likely because winter was approaching. Her ankle, bitten by the Seriths, began to throb slowly. So many things were just the worst.

________________________________________

After finishing the field’s aftermath, the commander of the Eschus Knights, Curis, headed somewhere. Curis’ destination was a luxurious mansion located in the bustling district of the Noctis Fortress.

The guards at the main gate immediately recognized Curis and opened the door for him. The Eschus Knights, composed solely of noble-born knights, wore weapons and armor that were exquisitely designed and beautiful. Of course, they were all just losers who had been pushed out of the line of succession.

Curis followed the butler through the mansion, stepping on lavishly patterned carpets toward the master’s bedroom. The hallway was filled with the sound of soft sobbing. It was the new slaves.

The slaves, whether they had met the master already or not, were naked, their bodies covered in whip marks. All of them were women. They were women who had fallen from the Seriths’ devastation of their country and ended up as slaves after coming to the Kingdom of Bastronia.

The master’s hobby was utterly disgusting. As if to prove that, the sound of something being relentlessly beaten came from beyond the bedroom door.

Curis knew exactly what that sound was. When he opened the door, he saw a woman on the bed, bent over like a dog, while a man was whipping her fragile back. The man was Lucas Elgort, the master of the mansion and the biggest sponsor of the Eschus Knights.

Lucas, hearing the door open and shut, paid no attention, continuing to rape the woman and lash her back with a whip. The woman, gagged, was sobbing. In the corner of the bedroom, there were other women, drugged to the point of unconsciousness, their eyes rolled back in their heads.

Lucas was garbage. Unlike Edwin Elgort, who had devoted part of his wealth to the king when the national treasury was running low after more than a decade of war, and his adopted son, Maximón, who was called the hero of the Noctis Fortress, Lucas was a hopeless bastard with no redeeming qualities.

Curis, sitting on a sofa, lit a cigarette. Curis didn’t like Lucas either. But as the sponsor of the Eschus Knights and someone who constantly exerted influence to secure Curis the position of fortress defense commander, he couldn’t afford to ignore him.

The position of fortress defense commander was extremely attractive to Curis, who had been forced to flee his own territory after being pushed out by his younger brother. Since the previous commander had been killed by the Seriths, the king had yet to appoint a successor.

This was deliberate. The king wanted to push all the commanders to compete and spend their own money to more diligently protect the fortress.

Lucas supported Curis for one reason: because Maximón Elgort was the most likely candidate to become the next defense commander. Curis, in exchange for Lucas’ support, had the duty to report everything that happened on the field, especially anything related to Maximón.

Hearing the continued sounds of the slaves’ suffering, Curis let out a long sigh.

“That’s enough. This is uncomfortable to watch and hear.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Curis spoke. Only then did Lucas stop whipping the woman.

“What’s the matter?” Lucas asked, getting off the bed.

“It’s about Maximón Elgort.”

“Oh? Has he finally died?”

There was deep hatred in Lucas’ voice.

It was a well-known fact among the nobles that Maximón and Lucas were desperately trying to kill each other.

Lucas believed that Maximón had taken what was rightfully his. Specifically, the honor, status, attention, and worship that Lucas, as a direct descendant of Rakhshu Elgort, one of the Astrun, should have naturally received.

However, Lucas’ thoughts were selfish and absurd. He had never once fought on the battlefield. He didn’t even know how to wield a sword and had never seen a living Serith.

Since arriving at the Noctis Fortress, he had indulged in luxury and pleasure every day, purchasing countless sex slaves to torment. Yet, despite all of this, Lucas believed that Maximón had stolen those things from him.

Had it not been for Maximón, he was certain he would have been the hero in the bards’ songs, and he firmly believed that he, as the true descendant of Rakhshu Elgort, was the person suited to be a hero.

“Unfortunately, it’s not the news you were hoping for.”

“Hm, I doubt you came all this way just to tell me that he’s accomplished something again.”

“A new knight has joined the Romsoa Knights.”

A new knight. At those words, Lucas, who had been about to take a drag from his cigarette, looked back at Curis.

Lucas’ drug- and pleasure-fueled eyes quickly dulled. He forcefully threw the cigarette to the ground, his thin body trembling as he brushed his damp hair back.

“He must have found another gem, right? Damn it, I can already see my father’s pleased face. When the hell is that bastard going to die, when!?”

Lucas shouted as he pulled at his hair.

Curis, startled by Lucas’ hysterical behavior, quickly shouted back.

“It’s a female knight!”

At Curis’ shout, Lucas, who had been banging his head against the bedpost, stopped hurting himself. He slowly turned to look at Curis, a long vein running across his pale forehead.

“…What?”

Lucas asked again with unfocused eyes.

“That bastard, who has no interest in women, recruited a female knight?”

Lucas tilted his head like a confused puppy, a smile creeping across his lips. With his body frail from constant illness, Lucas’ smile resembled that of a madman who had found a new form of amusement. Curis sucked in a short breath at the sight.

The eerie feeling that was worse than facing Seriths crawled up Curis’ back. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Lucas anymore and averted his gaze. He had to report that the new knight of Romsoa used a sword aura, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“You got her name, right?”

Lucas, now with a new cigarette in his mouth, asked. For some reason, he seemed in a better mood. Curis, eager to escape this mansion, quickly answered.

“Her name is Najane Schnicks. Her origin is still unclear, but…”

“It’s been a while since I visited my younger brother!”

Lucas, now dressed in a robe, smiled with an innocent face. Curis, terrified by Lucas’ deranged expression, couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“I’ll have to see for myself what that woman means to Maximón.”