SOTBW - 165

A siege tower was erected far from the Elbision Fortress. The thieves hiding in the fortress prepared fire arrows as soon as they spotted the siege tower.

However, Daniel’s subordinates had positioned the siege tower as far away from the fortress as possible, intending to use it as a watchtower. Building a siege tower near the fortress, which was surrounded by rocky terrain, was practically impossible.

Daniel stood atop the siege tower, gazing intently at the distant fortress. The sun had already begun to set.

“We’ve been trying to proceed as quickly as possible…”

Winter days were short. Perhaps it would be better to guard only the area around the siege tower today and postpone the assault on the fortress until tomorrow. Daniel sighed softly as he surveyed the surroundings. The area was nothing but rocky terrain.

Whoever was leading the thieves had made a wise decision by holing up in that fortress. They must have judged that, with the supplies they had looted, they could hold out for several months by buying time.

As Daniel descended from the siege tower, he noticed a leisurely approaching carriage and a heavily laden wagon. He didn’t need to see who was inside the carriage to know.

Daniel motioned for the soldiers to step back. The soldiers glanced nervously at the vivid hues of the setting sun, trying to hide their unease.

The lord of Elbision had tried every means possible to lure the thieves out of the fortress, but all attempts had failed, each time at great cost. If they stayed here until sunset, they would inevitably be annihilated by the thieves’ attacks.

The soldiers from Noctis trusted their commander, but the young recruits gathered from other territories openly displayed their anxiety and distrust, fidgeting with their spears.

When the carriage stopped, Daniel opened the door. Rachel appeared to be wrapped in even more bandages than the last time they had met.

Daniel fell silent for a moment upon seeing Rachel’s unusual appearance. While it was true that they needed to resolve the situation in Elbision and return to Noctis Fortress as soon as possible, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was right to rely on Rachel’s power to break the deadlock.

It weighed on his conscience to seek help from someone who was unwell, especially when he felt his own abilities were lacking. Even though they had already decided to accept Rachel’s assistance, Daniel’s expression remained uneasy.

Noticing Daniel’s hesitation, Rachel chuckled softly and extended her hand first. It was a command to escort her.

Daniel, who had been silently observing Rachel, sighed and took her hand. He couldn’t tell how many layers of bandages were wrapped around it.

“I thought you’d call me earlier in the day,” Rachel remarked as she stepped out of the carriage.

Daniel smirked, as if he had expected her to say that.

“I was actually going to call you tomorrow, but I changed my mind.”

“That sounds dreadful. I don’t want to waste any more time in this backwater.”

“That’s why I invited you to this battlefield, even at this late hour.”

“Battlefield?”

Rachel snorted.

“This doesn’t even qualify as a battlefield. It’s just a trivial bandit hunt.”

“Considering the scale, it’s a war.”

“This is child’s play. Surely a knight who fights Serith isn’t intimidated by something like this?”

“Not exactly… But one must never let their guard down, no matter what. I surveyed the area, and it’s all rocky terrain and hills. The terrain definitely favors them. It’s obvious who’s at a disadvantage in a place like this.”

Daniel retorted sharply, glancing at Rachel, who had arrived at the battlefield dressed in a gown. He couldn’t fathom what she was thinking. He had assumed she would wield a sword when she offered her assistance, but here she was in a dress and heels.

As Daniel escorted Rachel, he glanced back. Poppy, Rachel’s maid, was busily preparing something from the wagon that had arrived with the carriage.

He was curious about what she was doing but couldn’t bring himself to ask. Rachel had subtly tightened her grip on his hand, as if telling him not to inquire.

With a resigned heart, Daniel guided Rachel to the vicinity of the siege tower. The soldiers gave Rachel puzzled looks, wondering why a noble lady was here. They didn’t know who she was.

Daniel didn’t bother to explain. They would soon find out who Rachel Rochelle was.

“Is it alright if I go up, Commander?”

Rachel pointed to the stairs inside the siege tower and asked Daniel casually. Daniel nodded, signaling for her to proceed as she wished.

Rachel lifted the hem of her skirt slightly and climbed onto the siege tower. Standing atop the tower, which was built high enough to give a clear view of the citadel, a cold wind swept over her head.

The bandits had hidden themselves inside the citadel, avoiding exposing themselves carelessly. Occasionally, torches flickered between the battlements, but that was all. They seemed well-accustomed to exercising patience and waiting without rushing.

The citadel was a natural fortress; by merely holding their position, victory would eventually be theirs. But humans inevitably succumb to forces akin to natural disasters or overwhelming power.

Rachel knew she was such a force.

Even though her body was diseased and inching closer to death with each passing day, Rachel never forgot that her existence was stronger and more powerful than others.

As she gazed silently at the citadel walls, Rachel felt a tremor and looked down. Popin and a burly servant were climbing up the siege tower.

Rachel, facing the freezing wind that made her skin shiver, turned her back to Daniel.

“Move the soldiers closer to the citadel. And remember, once the walls collapse, attack immediately,” she instructed.

Daniel stared at Rachel for a moment without responding. The distance between the siege tower and the citadel was too far to use sword energy. Even Najane’s unique sword techniques would be ineffective at such a range.

“Are you planning to use sword energy from this distance?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“The distance is too great.”

“That’s none of your concern, Sir Luamars. If explaining is too tedious, just watch how the citadel collapses with your own eyes. That should suffice, shouldn’t it?”

Rachel cast a sharp glance at Daniel, as if to urge him to leave. Her gaze, clearly saying, Don’t bother me further, silenced him.

There were countless questions he wanted to ask, but it was already too late. Delaying further would mean the sun would set, forcing them to postpone the battle until the next day. Daniel had no choice but to descend the siege tower.

Popin, who had climbed the tower, watched as the soldiers repositioned themselves according to Daniel’s orders. In his hands, he held a bow and arrows.

Rachel closed her eyes briefly, standing against the bitter winter wind that felt cold enough to freeze her face. She sensed the tension rising in the forest surrounding the citadel. It had been a long time since she had felt this way.

After she had fallen ill, Marquis Rochelle forbade Rachel from even touching a sword. He removed the ceremonial swords from above the fireplace and even the weapons attached to statues in the hallways.

The marquis’s goal was to keep his daughter alive for even a single day longer. As a swordswoman and the legitimate heir to House Rochelle, Rachel’s ambition to protect Bastronia from its enemies was, in his eyes, nothing but poison.

However, the absence of swords in her vicinity didn’t change Rachel Rochelle’s nature. At first, she followed her father’s wishes, prioritizing her survival. To live another day, to see the sun rise again, to cling to hope—she thought this was the right path.

She endured the daily agony as if her limbs were being flayed, soaking her rotting flesh in holy water and binding it with bandages. To keep her insides from decaying further, she hired skilled priests and hoarded the highest-grade holy water from Noctis Fortress, extending her fragile life day by day.

Rachel drank the holy water like it was ordinary water and bathed herself in it constantly, forcing herself to accept her grim reality. She knew peace was the only way to find even a shred of freedom from the disease that was eating away at her like a parasite.

But Rachel also knew the truth.

It was not her destiny to be locked in a room, reading boring books, hoping for a miracle.

Fighting desperately in Noctis Fortress, where death and ashes swirled in the northern winds, turning crises into victories. Becoming a guiding light for others like Rakhshu Elgort, illuminating their paths. Facing the end as a sword master like Taylor Elderkerth. That was Rachel’s true fate.

Everyone told her not to go to Noctis. Her family and many others begged her, saying she couldn’t do such a thing, that it would only bring grief and that she didn’t even have the right. And so, Rachel spent a long time confined to her mansion.

She thought, If I wait, my body will get better someday. An opportunity will surely come.

Years passed like that. Finally, Rachel had to admit it—she would never return to her former healthy self. Preserving this body no longer had any meaning.

She cursed the disease and cursed Sylin.

She threw the star-studded cross to the ground, blaming the heavens more than anyone.

“If I was destined to die so pathetically, why did you give me such exceptional talent? If you were going to take my life so meaninglessly, you should have made me a cripple from the start!”

Staring at the broken cross, Rachel screamed in anguish, only to fear moments later that her body would deteriorate further for having blasphemed Sylin.

With her blackened, decaying hands, Rachel tried to piece the broken cross back together, crying like a child.

“I don’t want to die like this… Please, give me a chance… I beg you, please… I can fight better than Maximón… Returning to Noctis with the pride of Rochelle and becoming its garrison commander was my everything. I’ve lived my whole life dreaming only of that… If I can’t do anything… if I can’t leave anything behind… why was I even born…?”

Rachel’s body and mind had already been pushed to the brink.

“Great Sylin… please answer me… Where are you trying to lead me by breaking me like this…?”

But the god never responded, and Rachel chose the path to Noctis.

She knew full well what would happen to her body if she used sword energy, but she feared nothing. With time slipping away, Rachel was moving forward, heedless of the consequences. If death awaited her on that path, she would stake her life and roll the dice.

The priests had given Rachel, afflicted with an incurable disease, a grim prognosis, but she survived.

Was it pure luck that her life was extended by several years? Or had Sylin spared her life because her mission remained unfinished?

Or perhaps all of this was nothing more than a small miracle wrought by Rachel Rochelle’s sheer determination.

“…There’s no reason to hesitate any longer.”

Reading the direction of the wind, Rachel extended her hand to Popin.

Popin, who had been fiddling with the bowstring of his nocked bow, hesitated, his eyes filled with doubt, before handing it to her.

“My lady… Are you really, truly going to do this…?”