SOTBW - 48

Brooks kept glancing over his shoulder as he ran through the barley field. A sudden wave of unease swept over him, as if Maximón might be riding after them at any moment.

Based on his experience, Brooks thought that by now, Maximón would probably be chatting with his knights in the barracks. After hearing the report from the soldiers, he would leisurely return to the knights’ quarters, and only around noon would he realize that Najane had disappeared.

But Maximón was a man like a ghost. With a keen sense of intuition, he might already know the secluded house was empty and could be chasing after them by now.

Brooks slapped the rear of the soldier carrying Najane.

“Hurry up, you bastards! If they come after us on horseback, we’re finished!”

Nathan had said he had prepared the carriage at the edge of the barley field. To avoid suspicion, he had arranged for a cargo carriage. If they loaded Najane onto it and fled, they would be able to receive the promised 3,000 lira and a new identity.

The deserters seemed like naive recruits, but in reality, they were seasoned soldiers who had been with the Romsoa Knights for a long time. They had been so sick of fighting Serith that they had thought about fleeing to their hometowns, but doing so would have meant slavery or public execution if they were caught.

The hometown friends who had come to the Noctis Fortress with them had already died. Brooks still remembered that day—on the first day of fighting in the field, his friend, who had promised to return together, had been eaten alive by a Serith’s body at the abdomen.

To survive, they had done anything, but they knew they would eventually become food for the monsters. As long as they fought monsters, there was no escaping that fate. Brooks and the soldiers couldn’t fight like Maximón and his knights, nor could they muster the courage.

The sense of duty to protect the fortress and guarantee their families’ safety had long since vanished. They were simply terrified. Even when smoking sedatives and drinking alcohol to soothe their nerves, the glowing eyes of the Serith monsters made their legs tremble uncontrollably.

They couldn’t live like this. Brooks felt bitter about wasting his youth fighting monsters. Then, by some luck, he had injured his back and been classified as a wounded soldier, given orders to guard the secluded house for the time being.

It was around that time that one of Nathan’s subordinates approached Brooks. He promised that if they helped Najane escape, they would be guaranteed enormous wealth and safety. To soldiers who lived in fear of dying at any moment, it was like a golden opportunity.

If they were going to die anyway, why not take a gamble?

Thus, after much deliberation, they had decided to kidnap Najane and run.

“Damn it, Brooks! Where’s Philon? Where the hell did that bastard go?”

A soldier running through the barley field shouted in a panicked voice. Brooks looked around. One soldier was missing.

“Damn it! That petty thief, Philon!”

Brooks cursed. Philon had been the one who had lingered by the door while they kidnapped Najane, casually peeking into the room. Philon had a criminal record for stealing and had spent time in prison before. He probably thought it would be more profitable to steal from the secluded house and desert than to stay loyal to Nathan. If that bastard was caught by Maximón, they would all be in serious trouble.

Brooks hadn’t wanted to involve Philon in this plan, but for success, he had no choice but to convince the soldiers guarding the house. He looked up at the knights’ quarters situated on the low hill before running again.

It was now impossible to return there. The area around the barley field was completely bright. They were criminals running away from an illicit act, and anyone could tell that.

“Brooks! Over there, there’s the carriage!”

One of the soldiers pointed to a deserted grain storehouse. Indeed, a cargo carriage was there. Brooks smiled widely, relieved that Nathan had kept his promise. They struggled to get past the thorny bushes that had been set up to prevent vagrants from harvesting the barley, and as they did, someone reached out to Brooks.

It was one of Nathan’s knights. With a face filled with the joy of success, Brooks grabbed the knight’s hand firmly. Once they got into the carriage and left Noctis Fortress, they could start a new life. Overcome with excitement, Brooks tripped on the thorns and cried out.

Turning to look, one of the soldiers who had deserted with him had been stabbed by a knight’s sword and fallen into the barley field. The elation on Brooks’ face slowly turned pale.

No way...

Brooks stared at the knight’s hand, which he had been gripping tightly, then looked up in disbelief. Their eyes met, and the knight quietly smiled.

“I didn’t think this would work, but thanks to you, I’ve had an easy time. Thank you.”

The knight’s longsword stabbed deeply into Brooks’ chest before swiftly being pulled out. As the strength left his hand, Brooks collapsed into the barley field, bleeding. The blood from his heart quickly soaked the frozen earth. The knight, having sheathed his sword, turned to his subordinates.

“Any witnesses?”

“None.”

“Put the body in the carriage. We need to hurry.”

Najane lay abandoned on the ground, staring blankly at the unfamiliar men loading the corpse into the cart. She couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It was clear that Nathan had bribed the soldiers to kidnap her. And from the way they had confidently come all the way here and extended their hands, it was obvious they were all part of the same group...

She scanned the people around her with confused eyes. Just then, the knight who had stabbed Brooks in the heart stood in front of Najane. His gaze as he looked down at her was cold. Sensing the danger, Najane tried to loosen the rope binding her wrists with all her might.

Something was wrong. The proposal Nathan had made through the soldiers had been a simple marriage arrangement. He had promised to pay off Amelia’s debt and offer her better treatment if she married his nephew.

The knight pressed the tip of his sword beneath Najane’s chin. Drops of blood fell onto her clothes, soaking her thighs.

“I’ve heard about you, but it’s a shame we’re meeting like this,” he said.

As the tip of the sword brushed her cheek, the gag that had been tightly in her mouth fell out.

Najane spat and looked up at the knight.

“…Why are you doing this to me? We don’t have any grudge between us.”

“That’s right. I don’t feel anything toward you. But it seems that some high-ranking person doesn’t like the fact that you’re going around boasting about being the Sword Master to succeed Dame Elderketh. I hate dirty work like this too, but what can I do? Life’s always filthy when it comes to survival.”

The knight openly admitted that he had been hired to kill Najane. This meant he had no intention of letting her live under any circumstances.

Najane’s blood-red eyes trembled quickly. If only she could get her hands on a sword, she would fight back, but with her limbs bound, she could do nothing.

Najane anxiously looked up at the knight’s sword, which was raised high above her.

The knight sighed.

“Hopefully, you’ll be born into an ordinary life next time. At least in a world without monsters like Serith.”

Muttering with a reluctant expression, the knight lowered his sword. Najane squeezed her eyes shut.

In that moment, an arrow flew from the barley field, striking the knight’s sword with a sharp clang. The piercing sound that shook the surroundings made everyone turn their gaze toward the field. But there was no one there. Only the golden barley, ripe and swaying in the north wind.

Startled, they hurriedly covered their faces with masks. The knight shouted to his subordinates.

“Could it be that they’ve come with pursuers? Check immediately!”

“No, no one is chasing us...”

Before he could finish speaking, an arrow pierced the chest of one of the subordinates. They quickly lowered their posture, watching the barley field, which now carried the cold scent of winter. They looked toward the source of the arrows, but there was no one in sight.

Something was wrong. The knight, whose instincts had been sharpened by years of battle, gritted his teeth. He threw Najane into the cart and ordered his subordinates.

“Let’s leave now. Someone, get on a horse immediately!”

The knight shouted urgently. One of the subordinates climbed up to the driver’s seat and whipped the reins. As the horse began to gallop, Najane, lying face down, used her legs to push someone’s face. The confused subordinates struggled to regain their balance, but the cart quickly became a mess.

Furious that things had gone wrong, the knight raised his sword above Najane’s head. She rolled her body, narrowly avoiding the blow. But several people quickly restrained her limbs, making sure she couldn’t move.

Unable to budge, Najane screamed. The knight, seemingly determined to finish her off, drew a dagger from his waist and pressed his palm against the back of her head.

But the knight couldn’t kill Najane. Arrows flew into the cart, which had a cloth covering it. The sudden attack, whose origin was unknown, caused the cart’s cover to be torn apart in an instant. The knight’s subordinates, trying to dodge the arrows that were coming from all directions, accidentally released their grip on Najane. The soldier sitting at the driver’s seat had already been struck by several arrows in the torso and died shortly after.

The horse, freed from its reins, galloped at full speed. Najane realized this was her chance. If she didn’t jump off, she would surely be killed. She covered her head to avoid the arrows and, avoiding the crouching subordinates, threw herself out of the cart.

However, just as she was about to fall headfirst, the knight grabbed her by the hair. As her neck was forcefully twisted backward, Najane swallowed her scream and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears welled up in her eyes.

At that moment, a sword flew from the barley field and struck the rear wheel of the cart. The wheel shattered, sending wooden splinters flying. The cart lost its balance and toppled into the barley field, which was filled with golden fruits.

The two horses tied to the cart let out long cries and fell over. The barley field was torn apart. Najane, who had been grabbed by the knight by the hair, was flung out of the cart and tumbled across the barley field.

The coarse barley leaves stuck to Najane’s entire body. When she crashed into the frozen earth, an intense pain struck her. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, as if every bone in her body had shattered from the impact.

Gasping for breath, Najane cautiously felt her side to check if her ribs were intact. But the ropes that had bound her hands and feet were nowhere to be found. With great effort, she propped herself up and glanced around. The ropes that had restrained her lay abandoned on the ground.

Even with her head spinning, Najane blinked, wondering if she was dreaming. She had been bound tightly enough to leave red marks on her wrists—there was no way she could have moved.

As the incomprehensible situation continued to unfold, Najane stared blankly at the overturned cart. Inside, the men who had threatened her were lying unconscious.

Staggering, Najane stared at the sword that was lodged in the back wheel. She recognized the owner of that sword.

As soon as she saw it, she recalled the black hair of the person...

Someone roughly turned Najane’s shoulder. She instinctively spun around, a small groan escaping her lips as the pain shot through her body, making it feel as though she had bruises all over. But when she looked up, she saw the dark green eyes gazing down at her. Slowly, she released her clenched lip.

Maximón, breathing heavily, gazed at Najane before slowly withdrawing his hand. His palm trembled slightly.

He cupped her face with both hands, rubbing her shoulders and then gently touching her forearm. After checking that her waist, side, fingers, and lower abdomen were all unharmed, he raised his head and met her gaze.

He removed his gloves and, despite his trembling hands, tried to caress her cheek but instead gently stroked it with the back of his hand. His dark green pupils, usually dry, were now full of moisture.

“...We’ll talk more when we get back.”

Maximón, speaking coldly despite his heated gaze, walked past Najane. He yanked the sword out of the wheel and kicked away the collapsed cart cover. As it flew off, the bodies of the people trapped under it were revealed.

They seemed to have hit their heads hard when the cart overturned, lying sprawled out like hunted animals. Maximón examined their faces, eventually spotting one of the knights from the Colnux Order.

A cold realization washed over him. Why was a knight from another order here? Maximón’s face twisted in anger as he raised his sword.

He had intended to kill them right there. There was no need for torture to uncover the mastermind behind this—slaying them on the spot would be the only way to quell Maximón’s fury. But he couldn’t swing his sword at the knight’s neck.

Najane, who had hugged him from behind, desperately grabbed his arm and held on. He released the tension in his arms and lowered his gaze. Najane’s heartbeat was audible against his back.

“Are you planning to forgive them too?”

“…No. I won’t.”

“Then remove your hands.”

“…No. We shouldn’t kill them here. We need to bring them to trial. To find out who’s behind this…”

At Najane’s words, Maximón slowly lowered the sword he had raised.

“…I thought you had run away because you hated me.”

Maximón spoke quietly, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

Najane slowly lifted her head. Her view of his face was blocked by his broad shoulders and back. Lowering her gaze, she quietly responded, imagining his expression.

“…I didn’t get on the cart by choice. I was dragged here.”

Maximón immediately noticed that Najane was lying. But he knew. He could tell that she was telling the truth now.

Maximón weakly dropped the sword. The blood that had clung to the blade scattered like flakes of snow.

Without saying a word, he tightly grabbed Najane’s hand. The leather gloves, worn smooth, creaked as they squeezed her fingers. Najane remained still.

She stood there, as if frozen, embracing the pillar of salt... just quietly standing still.

From behind, people from the Romsoa Order began to rush down the hill. Belshua stood behind an ancient tree at the edge of the barley field, watching the scene before turning away. The pain of rotting flesh in his right hand surged.

Hurriedly removing his armor and lifting his shirt, he saw that his entire right arm was blackened and decaying, reeking with an awful stench. Gritting his teeth, Belshua cautiously pulled his sleeve down. Every time his clothes brushed his skin, it felt like the pain of a burning knife cutting into him.

All because he used a little low-tier magic...

Sitting on the root of the ancient tree, Belshua took a deep breath. The searing pain spreading across his right arm showed no sign of easing. The barley field, where the cart accident had occurred, was soon filled with the noise of Romsoa Order members. Belshua, hearing the noise, lowered his gaze.

What would have happened if I had run directly to save Najane instead of using magic?

Would he have loved me, not Maximón?

Belshua, gazing at the horizon where the sun had risen, smirked and closed his eyes. It was something that could no longer be undone.

From the moment the two of them met, their fate had only moved forward, never to turn back.