SOTBW - 54

“…Are you talking about Boris, the healer?”

Gwyneth asked, looking at Taylor. Taylor took a long drag from the cigarette in his mouth and nodded. The sharp scent of sedatives filled the room briefly before dissipating.

Gwyneth stared at Taylor for a moment. His right eye remained bloodshot, seemingly resistant to healing despite the herbal compress. Since his return, he had also been spitting up blood occasionally, and the red cloth in the basin in the corner of the room was stained with it. Taylor Elderketh was quickly dying. At this rate, he wouldn’t last a year.

“Dame Elderketh, no matter how divine healing works…”

“It’s impossible to fix my condition. I know that.”

Sword energy, or sword ki, is the process of releasing internal energy through the sword. Even the greatest sword masters would meet a tragic end if they exhausted all their energy.

That’s why sword masters typically start training disciples or retreat to care for their bodies as they enter middle age. But Taylor, having spent his time fighting Serith, hadn’t been able to do so. He had used far too much energy fighting on the field at over seventy years old. Naturally, Taylor was well aware of his fate.

“I’m not asking for a healer because of my body.”

“Then…”

“You’ve probably noticed that the soldiers these days have reached their limits.”

Taylor, having extinguished his cigarette, sighed deeply.

“Across the kingdom, they’re gathering powerful priests to create holy water every day, but even priests are human. How can they keep making sacrifices like this?”

Holy water is not a cure-all. It merely helps stop the bleeding from severe wounds or speeds up the regeneration of torn skin.

If holy water were a cure for all ailments, many soldiers wouldn’t have died without timely treatment, their cold corpses being returned to their families. Yet, even now, having holy water was a fortunate situation. Without it, the soldiers’ suffering would only worsen.

“I hear the Serith are growing in number, and each knight order is requesting large amounts of holy water, causing the priests to panic. You know the state of the Holy Church better than anyone, don’t you? The priests are even cutting back on their sleep, trying to turn plain water into holy water. Still, the supply is tight, and the residents of the fort haven’t seen any for quite some time…”

Several times, commanders from the knight orders had requested for a healer to be sent to the Noctis Fortress.

But Taylor had rejected all those requests. He knew how crucial and desperate the presence of a healer was in such an urgent situation. The problem was that the healer, blessed with divine abilities, was far too young.

Boris Eloman, the divine healer. The child was only nine years old.

Since he became a divine healer at six, Boris had been learning how to control and wield the power of divinity under the Pope’s supervision. No matter how impressive his abilities were, he was far too young and innocent to be sent to the battlefield.

“Still, Dame Elderketh, Boris is just a child. He’s only just…”

Gwyneth was about to oppose, recalling how Boris had been raised under the strict protection of the cardinals, a child full of innocence. But upon seeing Taylor’s serious expression, she fell silent. Gwyneth knew the gravity of the situation.

The number of child soldiers was decreasing, so they were increasingly conscripting younger children—those as young as twelve or thirteen. The amount of supplies entering Noctis Fortress was dwindling, and in the small farming communities, the only people left were elderly individuals, women, and very young girls who were far too young to fend for themselves…

Boris’s age of nine could no longer be an excuse. Gwyneth lowered her gaze with a somber expression. The sound of sparks popping from the fire echoed softly in the quiet room. Taylor, fighting the trembling in her hands, lit another cigarette.

“Have you met Najane Schnicks from Romsoa?”

“Of course. I met her as soon as I arrived here, on the field. Dame Elderketh, you know her too?”

“I do. Mash asked me to look at her sword energy.”

“…Maximón?”

Gwyneth’s face showed surprise. Maximón typically had no interest in others. His focus had always been on his foster father, Edwin. Some even speculated that Maximón was after the title of Marquis Elgort.

They said that with Lukas being somewhat lacking, Maximón was using this opportunity to rise from being a mere orphan to a true noble. Many also interpreted his dramatic engagement to Rachel in a similar light.

However, Gwyneth had watched Maximón closely since he was nineteen and knew that all those rumors were nonsense.

Maximón had kept his distance from women all this time due to Edwin’s advice that it would be better for the sickly Rachel if he lived a virtuous life. He also fought on the field nearly every day, taking down the holy beasts, in order to ease Edwin’s worries about the Kingdom of Bastronia.

Had Edwin stayed in Noctis Fortress, Maximón would have acted like the perfect model student. He wouldn’t have executed soldiers carelessly or killed mercenaries. Instead, he would have pretended to be lenient, all to satisfy Edwin.

Therefore, for Maximón to act for someone other than Edwin was a significant act.

Gwyneth briefly thought about Najane’s curse. Could Maximón have unknowingly made Najane a knight? That couldn’t be the case.

Maximón was more perceptive than most people. He must have noticed something wrong with her condition. The Najane Gwyneth had seen was using medication to suppress the curse. Or perhaps he was secretly cooperating with her to remove it…

Taylor, exhaling a long stream of smoke, quietly spoke.

“Najane’s heart is weak.”

At that, Gwyneth looked up. She uses sword energy, despite that? Her expression darkened. Taylor shook the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray and let out a slight, bitter laugh.

“With her body, if she continues fighting on the field every day, she won’t last long. Many soldiers will ask for her help, and she’ll likely end up using sword energy beyond her limits.”

“…Does Najane know this?”

“If she knew, she wouldn’t fight so desperately.”

Maximón would never tell Najane this secret. He knew that if she found out using sword energy would shorten her life, she would never forgive him for sending her into battle. It would be unthinkable for him to lose her love, so he would rather keep her as a living corpse by his side, reasoning that it was the more rational choice.

Gwyneth asked seriously.

“Is Najane’s weak heart a congenital issue?”

“Most likely.”

Gwyneth sighed and rubbed her forehead at Taylor’s answer.

“…Then treating it will be difficult. Boris’s divine power cannot heal a condition she’s had since birth. The same goes for incurable diseases or serious injuries.”

“But at least if a healer is by her side, her life could be extended a little.”

Though Taylor spoke as if he cared for Najane, he knew well that if he truly thought about her, he should be advising her to quit her position as a knight and focus on recuperation.

This wasn’t about Najane—it was about Maximón. Maximón was more unstable than anyone else. If Maximón had truly chosen Najane over Edwin, he would do whatever it took to keep her body here, ensuring she could live as long as possible by his side.

No matter what happened, he would make her live only for him, so she could stay with him even for one more day…

Taylor knew how cruel and selfish his decision was, but at this moment, he believed sacrificing Najane was the only way to protect Noctis Fortress.

“Najane’s presence here will become more and more important. If I die, she’ll be even more in the spotlight. As much as I hate to say it, a young divine healer just isn’t something this place can afford to be lenient with.”

Gwyneth realized that Taylor had decided to keep Najane in her role as a knight. Of course, she couldn’t blame Taylor’s decision. If she were in his position, she would have made the same choice.

Fiddling with her hands as if in prayer, Gwyneth exhaled a long breath. Originally, she had planned to stay by the Pope’s side until his last breath. The Pope was so old and exhausted, barely holding onto life day by day.

Because of this, there had been several discussions within the Holy Church regarding the next Pope. The candidates were Venus and Gwyneth. Many people hoped Gwyneth would become the new Pope, believing that a divine healer was needed to lead the world in such troubled times.

However, Gwyneth didn’t want to get involved in political matters, factional disputes, or the power struggles between noble families. She had enough of the fight with the Serith. There had been several opportunities to become a cardinal, but she had rejected them all.

She didn’t want to get caught up in the endless political conflicts. So, when the order came for her to return to the Vatican, she thought that the Pope was finally considering her as his successor.

When Gwyneth arrived at the Vatican, she met with the Pope alone. The Pope gave her Rakhshu’ sword. Then, he told her to take it and return to Noctis.

The Pope, a divine healer with the ability to predict the future, had never revealed the futures he foresaw. He always gave his prophecies in vague terms, and Gwyneth had always followed them loyally.

But Rakhshu’ sword?

It was the great treasure of the Kingdom of Bastronia, a holy artifact engraved with a spell that could activate a barrier magic. No matter how much Gwyneth was trusted, it was not something that could be taken outside the Vatican without cause.

‘…Your Holiness, I understand your concern for the safety of Noctis, but this sword is a sacred relic that only Lord Rakhshu Elgort can wield. Please, grant me a little more guidance. Where and how should it be used?’

‘Indeed, as you say, only Lord Rakhshu Elgort can wield it… That is why you must take it with you. Before winter ends… countless holy beasts will gather, enough to slaughter all the inhabitants of the fortress. The Great Wall will crumble like a sandcastle, and the city walls will shatter…’

‘Your Holiness, what are you saying…?’

‘Do not worry, Gwyneth. If the night without a single light comes, He who once sacrificed Himself for the weak will return again. I see His flame in my faded eyes… The dawn that bursts forth from that pitiful heart will surely become a golden curtain protecting the fortress. Now, go. Go and watch as the humans leap forward once again against Serith…’

Gwyneth pondered the Pope’s words as she looked at Taylor. If anyone in Noctis Fortress could draw Rakhshu’s sword, it would be Taylor. Rakhshu’s sword had been stored in its scabbard for nearly a thousand years. No hero or sage had been able to draw it. But if, in a moment of dire crisis, someone could use Rakhshu’s sword to activate the barrier…

Taylor, she thought, would sacrifice his life to protect Noctis Fortress. Just like Rakhshu, who, in the end, used his own life to activate the barrier and protect humanity’s last stronghold.

“…As soon as I return to my quarters, I will write a letter to His Holiness the Pope.”

Gwyneth said calmly, and Taylor smiled gratefully. At that moment, there was a sudden noise outside the Commander’s residence. Both Taylor and Gwyneth turned toward the door. A knock was followed by Olkoni entering, out of breath and with a pale face.

“What’s happened, Olkoni?”

Taylor asked calmly. Olkoni glanced at Gwyneth for a moment before answering hesitantly.

“…Sir Elgort…”

“Why Mash?”

As soon as Olkoni mentioned Maximón, Taylor’s expression darkened with concern.

“Sir Elgort suddenly ambushed Sir Armunzen, and… his ear… his ear…”

“His ear?”

“He cut it off…”

“…What?”

Gwyneth, who had been listening, was stunned. Olkoni wiped his sweat-drenched face with his palm, then, with a devastated look, shouted.

“Maximón Elgort cut off both ears of Nathan Armunzen! Not just the Colnux Knights, but everywhere is in an uproar. They’ve called an emergency meeting to punish Sir Elgort, and… and what should we do…?”

Taylor’s face rapidly darkened. The news that the ears of Sir Nathan, the commander from the Armunzen family, had been cut off—along with the revelation that his beloved disciple, Maximón, was responsible—caused Taylor to tremble as if he were about to die.

Gwyneth quickly grasped Taylor’s hands. His hands were as cold as ice. She spoke urgently.

“Don’t worry, Dame Elderketh. I’ll go meet Maximón. There must be a reason… Olkoni, can you attend to Dame Elderketh? I must hurry to Romsoa.”

Olkoni rushed over to support the trembling Taylor. Gwyneth quickly left the residence, her steps hurried. All the knights were whispering that Maximón had finally lost his mind due to his reckless actions.

Gwyneth clenched her fist so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her face flushed with anger, a deep crimson from the foolish and thoughtless actions of Maximón.

“Such a fool… such an idiot…”