SOTBW - 77

Najane, lying on the bed, carefully observed the priest, who was sweating profusely. Although Maximón knew that Najane had pretended to be hurt, he still called for the priest. Honestly, to him, this situation was just amusing.

Of course, Najane was not enjoying it at all. She had only pretended to be ill to avoid trouble, but now it had escalated so much. She blinked in embarrassment, not realizing that Maximón had probably figured out her lie a long time ago.

As soon as the priest heard that the commander wanted to see him, he hurriedly grabbed his medical supplies and was the first to visit Romsoa’s residence. However, when he saw Najane lying on the bed, looking perfectly fine, and Maximón standing beside her with a cold gaze, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

The priest put down his medical bag and looked back and forth between Maximón and Najane. The sharp atmosphere emanating from Maximón made him shrink back. He hesitated before sitting down in a chair. Maximón stared at the priest intently, furrowing his brow.

“I requested a female healer, but why is a man here?”

“Ah, that... it’s just that most of the skilled healers are women, and they spend a lot of time at the treatment centers and relief stations... and since everyone was busy...”

“So, you’re telling me you sent a healer with ordinary skills because the commander called for help?”

There was a chill in Maximón’s voice.

Panicked, the priest quickly waved his hands.

“N-no! That’s not it at all! I, I have skills in healing too, but... it’s my day off today, so I came only because... well, since Commander Romsoa urgently called... so, I...”

Even though firewood had just been placed in the fireplace and the room was still a bit chilly, the priest was sweating as if it were midsummer. Najane felt guilty seeing the priest stammering and couldn’t help but feel bad. How had things gotten so complicated? She hated that someone was suffering because of her.

It would be easy to resolve by simply telling Maximón that it was all just a pretense, but now that it had gone this far, she wasn’t sure she could handle the aftermath of confessing. Of course, Maximón wouldn’t get angry or disappointed. He wasn’t a petty person, and he wouldn’t sulk...

Still, something about it made her uneasy. She felt that once she confessed it was a lie, something would happen in return.

As Maximón continued questioning the priest, he glanced down at Najane. When their eyes met, Najane subtly turned her gaze away. Maximón chuckled to himself. He was curious how long she would continue the act.

“Treat her.”

“Yes, of course...”

“If you touch her body, I’ll cut off your wrist.”

“...What?”

“Examine her with your eyes.”

“But...”

The absurd order made the priest choke on his words, but when he met Maximón’s gaze, he quickly lowered his eyes.

“Y-yes, I can examine her with my eyes... Where does it hurt?”

“It looks like she was hit in the side while fighting a saint.”

Maximón answered for Najane.

“Aah, the side... Was it the tail? Or the arm? Sometimes soldiers get hit in the abdomen or rear legs. The Sainths are very cunning, and they throw whatever they can grab. If it’s just bruising, a compress will work, but if the abdomen is injured... that could be a big problem...”

The priest awkwardly examined Najane. It was frustrating to have to examine her without touching, and he couldn’t imagine how chaotic the cathedral had been when a female healer was called to treat Najane in Romsoa.

Everyone knew how obsessed Maximón was with Najane after the confinement incident. The eldest priest had been the one who came since no one else wanted to go, and if they couldn’t treat her injury, it was hard to imagine what would happen.

Fortunately, Najane looked very healthy, even for someone who was supposed to be hurt. Of course, that was obvious to everyone. Najane had never been injured fighting a saint. The poor priest, tricked by Maximón’s prank, began his examination seriously, not realizing what was truly happening.

As the priest carefully and seriously examined Najane, he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a relieved expression. He was about to say that the pain might be due to muscle strain and would improve with rest when Maximón suddenly muttered in a grave tone, as if dealing with a terminally ill patient.

“Yes, it’s best not to move for the time being.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you a quack? Look at Najane’s complexion.”

Maximón’s pointed remark made the priest quickly turn to look at Najane. Najane blinked rapidly without saying a word. The priest was about to say, “You look healthy enough to chew on iron,” but he quickly shut his mouth when he saw Maximón’s dark expression.

“Your liver or spleen wouldn’t be damaged, would it?”

“...Pardon? Well, perhaps... yes, that could be the case...”

“Hmm. Looks like you’ll need to stay in bed for a few days. The sudden pain might make you thrash around, so I think I’ll have to tie your limbs to the bed. I’m sure you’ll agree with me on that, won’t you?”

“...Pardon?”

The confused priest looked up at Maximón, unable to understand what was being said. Then, Maximón’s cold green eyes locked onto the priest, his gaze carrying the threat of violence if the priest didn’t respond immediately.

The priest, feeling a chill down his spine, quickly nodded and lowered his eyes.

“Ah, yes, yes. You’re right. When the injury is severe, people often thrash from the pain, so binding them is common...”

“Fighting will be out of the question for a while.”

“Y-yes, of course. Trying to fight with an injury like that would be almost suicidal. Yes, that’s right.”

Tie her to the bed?

Najane’s face turned pale.

Finally, Maximón smiled in satisfaction and patted the priest on the shoulder.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept the treatment a secret.”

“Of course, if it’s the commander’s orders...”

“Good. I’ll make sure to send a thank-you letter to the Holy Church on your behalf.”

The priest, holding his medical bag, left the residence, looking like a mouse that had escaped from a snake’s grasp.

Najane, lying on the bed like a corpse, looked up at Maximón.

Maximón, sitting at the edge of the bed, spoke in a meaningful tone.

“Did you hear what the priest said?”

He gently stroked Najane’s side with the back of his hand and whispered softly.

“You’re in very serious condition. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to move like this. I think I’ll tell Didina to tie your hands and feet...”

“I’m sorry,” Najane said, suddenly sitting up and kneeling. She knew that Maximón was someone who would tie her limbs to the bed without hesitation. She had just regained her freedom, and now she was facing the threat of confinement again. She looked up at Maximón desperately. Maximón tilted his head, as if he didn’t understand her expression.

“What?”

“I lied because I thought you might hurt that woman. Actually, there’s nothing wrong with me, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine...”

“No, Najane.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear what the priest said? You’re really in a serious condition. Soon, you won’t even be able to walk because of the pain. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I’ll bathe you, feed you, and tuck you in.”

Maximón whispered with a concerned tone, but his eyes were filled with mischief. As Najane struggled to understand the situation, she finally grasped what was happening. Her expression slowly shifted, and Maximón grinned. Frustrated, Najane covered her eyes with both hands.

“...You said you’d pretend to believe my lies.”

“I did.”

“Your words are completely different now!”

Recalling the image of the trembling priest, Najane let out a loud cry as she dropped her hands from her face. But Maximón, without a hint of apology, chuckled at her.

“I said I’d believe your lies for me, but I never said I’d believe lies for others.”

“It was a lie for you, Commander.”

At those words, Maximón stared at Najane as if waiting for her to explain what she meant.

Najane, still kneeling, spoke up.

“Please don’t harm anyone. You possess great power, so you should respect life more than others.”

Nellis was displeased with Najane learning swordsmanship through Mikael’s guidance, but eventually, it seemed she gave up and left her be. However, Nellis never once helped or observed Najane’s sword training. Even when they happened to cross paths in the training hall, Nellis wouldn’t spare her a glance.

It was probably a complicated feeling for Nellis. How awkward it must have been for her to know that the daughter born of her affair with the king could wield a sword technique—specifically, the Powley style—that resembled her own.

Mikael supported Najane’s swordsmanship practice, but the other knights disagreed. They would catch her, awkwardly swinging a wooden sword, and try to persuade her in the same way.

“Emaydis, remember this. Never try to imitate that person’s technique, never. I’m saying this because I’m worried about you. Do you understand?”

Among them, only Mikael stood by Najane. Luna wasn’t enthusiastic either, so one could imagine how the others felt.

Still, Najane didn’t give up. She believed that if she didn’t quit, one day Nellis would praise her. She thought Nellis would pat her on the head and say, “Indeed, my daughter,” and that she would be recognized and trusted with the Powley family legacy.

When news arrived that the Serith were destroying neighboring countries and advancing toward Kalonosia, Nellis called for Najane. Never having had a private conversation with her mother, Najane went to the study, nervous and tense.

It was then that Nellis, perhaps foreseeing her own future or sensing her daughter’s harsh fate, spoke to Najane about the qualities a knight should possess for the first time.

“Remember this, Emaydis. If you swing your sword based on your feelings, you will inevitably become a murderer. Taking a life means stealing the time that person had to live, and causing pain to those who loved them. Anyone who wields a sword must understand the weight of it.”

After gently patting Najane’s shoulder, Nellis made a final request.

“Do not use your sword for yourself as a member of Powley. You must wield it only to protect others. If you remember my words, even if people reject you, in the end, they will have no choice but to follow your sword.”

Najane kept the promise she made with Nellis. She didn’t expect Maximón to follow it. She only hoped that Maximón, in a world swarming with Serith, would understand that every single person is precious.

She wasn’t particularly righteous, but she didn’t expect to gain anything through luck. She hoped that others wouldn’t suffer because of her actions.

If someone were to ask for help, she might hesitate a bit. But she would rush to help, just as she did with Amelia, or when she fought the Holy Relic that had invaded another knight’s territory.

Najane calmly explained to Maximón why she had lied to him, recalling the woman who had wept while clutching her woollen socks.

“That woman was the mother of a young soldier who died on the battlefield. She deserved to be respected more than any knight and should have been comforted.”

She didn’t regret lying. In fact, her red-tinted eyes glistened sharply. Maximón was weak to that gleam. Nowhere in Noctis Fortress was there anything that sparkled like that. It was beautiful. That gaze was so brilliant that Najane wanted to hide it, so no one could see it.

Maximón would never understand Najane’s heart. This was something he could never possess. The heart that, despite being afraid, shrinking back, and fearing the opinions of others, couldn’t turn away from an incomprehensible situation and rushed forward with all its might...

“A true knight.”

He said, admiring her purely.

Maximón’s gaze towards Najane was as innocent as a boy’s.

“Sometimes, you really seem like a knight. Not one of those ragtag knights hastily appointed because of the Serith, but a noble knight from the songs of the wandering minstrels.”

Maximón chuckled vaguely. Najane’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed, as it sounded oddly like a confession of love. Trying to escape the awkwardness, she averted her gaze, but he followed her.

Maximón kept meeting Najane’s eyes. She could hear her own throat swallowing nervously. Najane barely managed to look at him. He gazed at her, smiling, but the smile slowly faded into something darker.

“But knights like that always die young.”

His voice was hollow.