TFR 18

chapter 18

“Ugh!”

At Rosellina’s whistle, the guards who rushed into the prison fell with dull thuds, letting out death cries. As smoke billowed thickly, Rosellina strained to pinpoint their positions. The intruders were small in stature and nimble. They were clearly no ordinary thugs—every move they used aimed straight for vital points.

“These are people who learned the sword only for killing.”

They weren’t petty bounty hunters. They were professional assassins, hired to kill. Had they come for her life? No—that wouldn’t bring anyone profit. More likely, it was abduction.

Abduction. To kidnap her and negotiate with Delion? These were people who had glimpsed the obsession Dantes carried toward her. They could have been lurking within the Aventurine family estate for days, waiting.

The bounty Dantes had placed was astronomical. With that leverage, they could tack on unfair demands and pressure the Imperial Court. Of course, Dantes was a rational man. But hadn’t she herself confirmed that the wounds of his heart were still unhealed?

A young emperor burdened with the scars of childhood. Rosellina thought of the filthy, black hands eager to exploit him. She gripped the small iron ball attached to her shackles.

She had to hold her ground here. If the enemy realized she was a woman, things would become even more dangerous. Worse, she wouldn’t be able to protect Dantes. She reminded herself of the two things she must guard.

Knights lived to protect something. For that, they endured any sacrifice, noble souls who would not falter.

Though she had never formally walked the knight’s path, within Rosellina burned an unyielding flame of knightly values.

Even as time passed, she had never forgotten the justice she felt when she first truly learned the sword. The honor a knight protected did not depend on wealth or poverty. When she was with her master, even her gender had never mattered.

It was there that she first felt true freedom. She had rejoiced in belonging—for the first time, wholly. Her family had never given her belonging, only suffocation.

Meeting Dantes and the others there had been a blessing. Sharing dreams with them, those two short years had been sweet, like the only romance in her life. Precious—so much so that she could say she was born for those years. The most cherished people in her life. She could no longer bear to see them suffer because of her.

The sound of the prison being violently broken reached her ears. The smoke grenade seemed to contain nothing but blinding fumes. Its sole purpose was to cut off vision.

Rosellina closed her eyes, sensing the enemy’s number. One, two, three, four. Two were moving closer. The other two were guarding outside.

Trusting wholly in her intuition, she swung the iron ball clutched in her fist. The weight pulled harshly against the flesh where the shackles bit in, tearing skin. She didn’t care.

Her master’s voice rang in her ears: “A knight does not weaken when there is something to protect.”

“We’re under attack!”

Fort, his arm badly injured, burst into Dantes’s office. Marco, who had been dozing on the sofa, immediately sprang up.

Cesario and Gunter had stepped out briefly to check supplies before departure. Dantes, still going over documents, looked up at Fort as if not comprehending.

“What on earth happened? Fort, your arm—”

Marco rushed toward him. The bleeding was severe—bad enough that he could lose the arm.

“The wound’s critical.”

Marco glanced at Dantes, face grim. Fort swallowed hard and spoke on.

“Someone’s infiltrated the underground prison! The guard I went to relieve was missing. When I went to check, I barely escaped alive. They’re incredibly skilled!”

At the words underground prison, Dantes leapt to his feet.

“Marco, see that Fort gets treatment.”

“Where do you think you’re going? With that hand? Wait—Gunter and Cesario will be back any moment. We can move then.”

“If they take Roberto, it’ll be a disaster!”

“Then we’ll bring him back afterward.”

“Marco!”

“Don’t you understand who’s most important right now? Roberto wouldn’t want you charging in like this!”

Marco raised his voice, trying to restrain Dantes, who looked ready to throw him aside if needed.

“Get a grip, Dantes!”

“What’s this ruckus in the middle of the night? Wait—Fort! What happened to you?!”

Gunter entered, half-grumbling about another fight, then froze when he saw Fort and grabbed him. Cesario followed, looking to Marco for an explanation.

“There’s been a raid on the prison. Skilled ones. Even Fort got hit.”

“Damn it, I’ll go right away!”

“I’m coming too.”

“Are you insane? Didn’t you hear me?”

Marco nearly shouted at Dantes. Cesario quickly stepped between the two, before they grabbed each other by the collar. Dantes ignored him, speaking firmly.

“I heard. I’m still going. We’ll talk later.”

His palms sweated. Roberto had no sword, no armor, heavy iron balls chained to his hands and feet. He would be defenseless, beaten to a pulp.

Malnourished, unarmed, suddenly ambushed—there was no way he could endure it. Not even Roberto Brida.

“Dantes, are you mad? This isn’t you at all.”

“Marco. Watch your mouth. You’ve crossed the line.”

“He’s acting in ways he never has before!”

Marco’s voice rose, Cesario shoved his chest to calm him, but Dantes ignored them both. He knew full well what decision was most fitting for a monarch—but he couldn’t. His heart refused, no matter how loudly reason shouted. He clapped Gunter’s shoulder.

“Gunter. Let’s go.”

“Gunter, don’t let him go first.”

“Relax, Marco. Calm down! We’ll smash them all and bring Roberto back!”

Gunter’s tone lightened the tense air, but Dantes was already moving. Gunter caught up quickly.

“Dantes! I’m coming too!”

Marco sighed heavily, watching the two disappear. Cesario placed a hand on his shoulder in quiet understanding.

“Let’s trust Gunter.”

“He’s going mad. No matter what I say, he won’t listen. It’s only getting worse.”

Marco tried to brush it off with sarcasm, but Dantes’s reckless impulses only grew stronger. He had thought things would settle once Roberto was found—he had been wrong. It was only worsening.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Marco turned away.

“Is Fort alright?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. Forgive me for showing such weakness.”

“It’s fine. Gunter will handle it.”

“Yes.”

Cesario moved to support Fort.

“Hrah!”

With a fierce shout, Gunter swung his hammer. Smoke bombs had been thrown in such numbers that the staircase was blackened. Relying on his animal-like instincts, he pummeled anyone who darted at him.

“Damn lunatics.”

He grabbed one by the neck, slammed his head down—crack, crack—the skull split, echoing through the stairs. Unlike their usual foes, these men bore no crest of the Kingdom of Terzes. Professional assassins. Dantes stepped back, scanning them.

Small builds, nimble movements, bodies bending like acrobats. Their race didn’t even seem Terzesian.

“Who are they working with? They wield Terzes weapons, but they’re not Terzes. Humans honed into weapons of murder. If that’s the case…”

Confirming why Fort had stood no chance, Dantes felt his heart pound harder. These men had likely been hired from roaming mercenary bands across the world. Top-class special mercenaries. Roberto himself had been top-class—but with a different purpose. These were assassins, killers for hire. Their patrons often shielded them from punishment and paid them lavishly.

In Delion, every major incident had their involvement. Since ascending the throne, Dantes had hunted them relentlessly, even during wartime. He had rooted them out so thoroughly they couldn’t operate within the empire.

And yet now, here they were again—this time allied with Terzes. Dantes bent low, checking their napes.

Elite mercenaries often scarred their necks as marks of surviving death. Sure enough, faint blade scars.

“Damn. It really is them. If they realize Roberto is their target, they’ll kill him without hesitation. To them, proving they’re stronger than others is a badge of honor. Killing Roberto would be the highest glory. They’ll likely ignore their employer’s orders altogether.”

Dantes flung the corpse aside. Gunter turned, hammer dripping, expression twisted in disgust.

“They’re the ones?”

Dantes nodded. Gunter grimaced as if it was the worst news possible, twirling his hammer furiously.

“Damn pests. Like mosquitoes! Roberto!”

With a roar, Gunter charged down the stairs, hammer raised. Dantes stayed close at his heels.