SOTBW - 66

Belshua held a small knife, no longer than the length of her finger, up to the torch. The smooth blade gleamed like sunlight in the otherwise lightless underground torture chamber. The prisoners, suspended upside down, gasped for breath. All of them had been involved in an attempt to kidnap Najane.

There had originally been six prisoners, but now only four remained. One had died when the carriage fell, his neck snapping, and another had bitten his tongue and committed suicide during transport to the torture chamber. To prevent any more from dying before their interrogation, the remaining prisoners had been gagged.

Torture was typically Maximón’s task, but this time, Belshua had actively participated as well.

The weather remained cold and dry without snow, but the torture chamber was humid, almost like midsummer, due to the steaming torture devices and the tubs filled with filthy water. The air was stagnant, and the musty odor was overpowering. In a place like this, only Maximón and Belshua could remain unaffected as though they were having a meal.

Belshua still had questions.

Who exactly tried to kidnap Najane?

While she couldn’t see everything happening in this place, she had a good understanding of what would happen to Najane. At least, that was what she thought—unless something went wrong with the holy artifacts Aron had made for her...

Aron had been the longest-living Astrun, and his skill in creating magical artifacts was unrivaled. Right up to his death, he had helped Belshua craft several holy relics (though their relationship had never been anything close to that of close friends).

The Sword of Rakhshu, the Shield of Villar, the Earrings of the twin siblings Leze and Renee, Mackanon’s Ring, Brighton’s Necklace, Sylin’s Bracelet, and the One-Eye of the Cursed.

The artifact Belshua kept in her left eye was the ‘One-Eye of the Cursed.’ With this eye, she could see the souls of living beings and glimpse the flow of the future. However, she couldn’t use the artifact freely whenever she wished.

Using the artifact required a significant amount of magical or divine power, and Aron had, knowing her cursed state, left behind several high-density magic stones before his death. Thanks to this, Belshua had been able to observe Najane’s soul—the very beginning and end of his life.

This had originally been an impossible feat. Humans had never been bound by the fixed structures of the universe since its creation. The universe had treated humans like playing pieces in a game of dice. Even ancient dragons couldn’t predict the fate or misfortune that would befall human lives.

However, ever since Sylin began to interfere with the flow of the universe, humans had come to possess fate.

Fate—something inevitable, no matter how much one struggles against it.

Belshua had glimpsed all the significant events that would befall Najane.

Not a single one was missing—even the moment of his death.

But in all those visions, she had never seen herself being kidnapped. According to what she had seen of the future, Najane was not kidnapped; instead, he would be confined to his private residence, gradually being dominated both physically and mentally by Maximón.

Belshua squinted her eyes as she heated the blade in the fire. Something was going wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint where it had started. She reflected on the sharp sensation that had gone through her arm when she had saved Najane, then glanced at the prisoners. They struggled to breathe through the gag, blood pouring from their noses.

“Are you ready to talk? If you confess who ordered the kidnapping, I’ll spare you from the executioner’s block.”

The prisoners only exhaled harshly, showing no response to Belshua’s words. As the expected silence stretched on, Belshua exhaled softly and, with the heated blade, lightly sliced through the chest of one of the prisoners.

Despite the gag, the scream echoed loudly. As the prisoner writhed in the air, the chains rattled with a clanging sound. Belshua, with an indifferent expression, slowly peeled away the flesh, cutting it into thin slices as though slaughtering a small cow.

Blood poured from the gaping wound, flowing like water. Belshua calmly cauterized the wound with a branding iron. The prisoner’s bloodshot eyes widened in agony. Belshua asked again.

“Is it yours?”

The prisoner let out a chilling laugh, sounding as though he was on the brink of madness. Belshua, showing a look of irritation, cauterized him again with the iron. His final cries reverberated through the room. His body, which had been thrashing like a fish caught on a hook, collapsed.

But Belshua didn’t allow the prisoner to faint. She released the tightly locked pulley, causing the prisoner’s upper body to plunge into the blood-red tub below.

Placing the knife on the table, Belshua glanced at the other prisoners. They, with expressions far more solemn than even knights fighting Serith, were suppressing their fear. As the thick chains were coiled upwards, one prisoner, who had had his face submerged in the water, came up with a choking sound. Blood poured incessantly from his nostrils. Belshua slowly steadied him, saying again:

“Are you ready to speak now?”

The prisoner weakly nodded.

Belshua removed the gag.

“Who gave you the orders?”

However, instead of answering, the prisoner spat at Belshua’s face. A mix of blood and phlegm slid down her cheek in a sticky stream. Belshua wiped it away and silently stared at the prisoner. For the first time, a hint of hostility appeared in her otherwise emotionless brown eyes.

They had never intended to speak.

If they died without confessing, Nathan would at least make sure their families were well cared for. They didn’t even know why Nathan had ordered Najane’s kidnapping.

But that didn’t matter to them. In a world so uncertain that no one knew what tomorrow would bring, it still took a lot of money for a family to live in the fortress of Noctis.

Even if they failed to complete their mission, Nathan had promised to care for their families for the rest of their lives, as long as they kept the secret. If they were caught and eaten by Serith on the field, their fate would end with a memorial written with the knight captain’s signature, but if they stubbornly resisted and died here, their families would live in peace for the rest of their lives.

They never doubted that Nathan would take care of their remaining families. Over the years, Nathan had given quite a bit to support the lives of common soldiers.

But Belshua couldn’t help but let out a small, ironic laugh at their misguided loyalty. No matter how long it had been, these people were utterly useless. They were beings who foolishly clung to useless, inferior beliefs, thinking they could maintain some sense of honor.

With a blank expression, Belshua lowered the pulley. The prisoner, struggling in the water, flailed his legs, but Belshua simply watched from above. The prisoner’s struggles gradually subsided. The splashing sounds ceased as Belshua turned her back.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As she opened the door to the torture chamber, the soldiers waiting at the top of the stairs immediately stood up. They seemed to have an inkling of what had happened inside.

“Clean up the body and throw the other three back in the cells.”

The soldiers obeyed Belshua’s command without a word. Belshua made her way up the stairs, her expression one of curiosity about how Maximón would report this killing. Nathan, who had been shocked by the cutting off of his ear, had been holed up in the knight commander’s residence for several days, refusing to come out.

He had tried several times to bribe people from the Colnux Knights, but all attempts had failed. The knights were doing everything they could to protect Nathan.

However, Maximón, who had severed Nathan’s ear, showed no intention of resolving the situation. It seemed as though he was deliberately letting it go. He probably calculated that the longer it took to uncover the mastermind, the longer Najane would stay in Romsoa.

Belshua frowned slightly. Unlike Maximón, she felt uncomfortable and anxious about this situation. Now that she realized something was wrong, she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. The problem was, she didn’t even know where things had gone wrong.

The magic stones left by Aron had been completely used up decades ago. The stones, which sealed away the magic of Serith, contained the last traces of magical power from the world. These were rare, man-made stones; most of the skilled craftsmen of the time had been sacrificed to Serith, so only Aron had been able to make them.

The Kingdom of Bastronia had only publicly released two magic stones. One was kept by the Holy See for symbolic purposes, and the other was embedded in Rakhshu’s sword.

If Belshua were to take that one from the sword, Gwyneth would surely notice. She slowly clenched and relaxed her numb hands. Every time she used magic, she suffered the agonizing pain of her limbs rotting, as she was forcing out sealed magic.

If she used enough magic to activate the holy artifact, her limbs would decay so badly that even magic couldn’t heal them. Just using a lower-level spell had already caused her entire arm to rot down to the bone.

In truth, there was more than enough magic left in her body, left by Sylin. Using it, the curse of the Dragon Lord wouldn’t cause her body to decay. But Belshua had never used that power in over a thousand years. It was as if she treasured it so much that she couldn’t afford to lose it.

“Use me, Mydis. I’ll be your new pair...”

Under the winter sunlight, Belshua’s hair gleamed like silver before slowly darkening back to brown. She brushed aside her tangled hair, falling into an unusual moment of melancholy.

“If I had known you would fall in love with Sainth, I would never have let you leave the mansion.”

“If I had known you would be unhappy, I would have made sure to save Sainth, no matter what.”

“If I had known you would abandon me and commit suicide, then... if only I hadn’t let it happen then...”

As Belshua walked toward the main building, she quickly composed herself, erasing the emotional distortion from her face. Amelia emerged from the building with a pale face. Belshua glanced briefly at the window near the dressing room, then slowly climbed the stairs.

Despite the cold wind, Amelia sat down on the steps, seemingly unaffected. Belshua wasn’t curious about what she and Maximón had discussed, but since Amelia was one of the few close to Najane, she decided to speak up.

“Why not quit being a maid? Leaving Romsoa might be better for your mental health.”

At Belshua’s words, Amelia flinched in surprise and lifted her head. She seemed so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed Belshua approaching. Amelia quickly brushed off her bottom and stood up. Then, with her usual expression and voice, she said with a hint of indifference:

“There’s no job that lets you earn money as safely and comfortably as this one. At least in Noctis, this job is the best.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming a priest?”

“…A priest? You mean a clergy member? Me?”

Amelia looked confused at the sudden suggestion. Belshua pushed open the main building door with one hand and calmly added her thoughts.

“It would suit you perfectly.”

“My goodness, what are you talking about? I’m going to marry a rich man and live happily. I don’t have the confidence to serve Sylin for the rest of my life. I’m not even particularly devout.”

After casting a quick glance at Belshua, who entered the main building, Amelia left with a rather indifferent expression, as though she had just received some unhelpful advice. Belshua watched her retreating figure for a moment before once again falling into old memories as she slowly entered the main building.