TUK 09

Chapter 9

“Ah—if only Rea hadn’t been there, we could’ve made a wonderful tombstone in Dominic’s honor!”

A playful voice cut through the darkness, otherwise filled only with the sound of hooves.

To Rian—who had volunteered to guide them while riding a brown messenger mare—it was only a faint noise. To Sion’s disciples following behind in pairs, however, Tairin’s voice sounded pleasantly loud.

Dominic, with his dull blond hair, already giving off an intense impression, scowled at once.

“Nonsense!! What do you know, you punk. I’d already put the next move into my calculation and was about to react when Rea interfered!”
“Kukuk…!”

Tairin, with brown short hair that curled like the winding paths of the Green Wave Forest, giggled until the faint freckles on her face twitched. It was a deliberately provocative display, as if she found Dominic’s predictable reaction extremely amusing.

“You little—…”

Dominic wanted to lash out at Tairin, but because Rea rode between them, he could only grit his teeth and glare.

Meanwhile, from behind came the heavy voice of the silver-haired giant, Berkir.

“If it were me, I’d have struck to make sure that man couldn’t draw his sword, and at the same time broken his ribs with my shoulder. If that were the case, Rea wouldn’t have had to step in.”
“Shut up! Don’t speak as if I lost when I didn’t even fight properly. You clumsy bear!”
“Hoho. This is all due to lack of training. When we finish the mission and return, I’ll make time to train with you!”

Berikir folded his large arms and flexed his muscles. Of course, no one paid him any real attention—just as he’d ignored Dominic’s words.

Phine—whose green locks flowed past her shoulders—found it somewhat pitiable and took an interest.

‘As expected. Sir Sion gave Berkir the best kind of praise. Even with that physique, he doesn’t so much as gasp.’

Her attention, however, was not really on Berkir but on the muscular white horse he rode. Then she turned her gaze toward Rian in front and joined the conversation that was already underway.

“It was a clean, unhesitating stab. If you’d calculated the next move, Rea essentially saved your life.”
“Tch….”

Dominic stopped reacting to the teasing, advisory tones. Even if he answered, his words would only be excuses—nothing more.

‘The next move…’ Dominic thought. If he had calculated another move, he realized, his heart would have been pierced during the transition of the action. That’s why he hadn’t been able to withdraw his sword—he’d clung to it in a desperate all-or-nothing grip. He couldn’t deny that thanks to Rea he’d kept his life.

……

Dominic’s gaze landed on Rea, whose hair was a deep blue bob. In that look there was less gratitude than the feeling of facing an insurmountable wall.

But Rea herself didn’t seem to care about Dominic’s stare—her attention was fixed on Rian, galloping at the front.

‘Rian Cade, was it?’

Jet-black hair and ink-dark eyes that held an abyss—those alone could be taken as signs that something wrong or ominous lay within. Add to that a handsome face, and one might easily imagine him as a practitioner of foul magics or a cultist.

So it wouldn’t be surprising that Dominic would flinch and want to attack on sight.

Yet there was no discomfort or sense of filth about him.

On the contrary, the darkness that clung to him felt strangely comforting, and Dominic felt curiosity and something like rivalry instead.

He’d intended to stand by and watch their standoff for a moment, but an odd sense in the murderous aura pushed him to act. It felt as if the man didn’t fear death at all—like someone who considered death useless and was daring anyone to try.

In fact, the man had ignored death entirely and focused only on killing—so much so that he’d even pointed the tip of his sword at Dominic’s heart. That level of boldness exceeded what one would expect from a mere squad leader. His physical ability matched it.

‘Is it talent? Would Sir Sion have seen this man as a gem?’ Dominic wondered.

No—that was too reckless. Someone like that would probably die before becoming a knight. He’d be another one lost to foolish recklessness.

‘So he’s only a bit interesting. That’s all.’

Clack clack! Clack clack!

Rea decided to stop focusing on Rian and rode on through the night.

Monclay spread his troops out in a net-like line as they moved beyond the Green Wave Forest.

A few of his escort, including himself, had to ride and so followed the twisting path behind the main formation.

‘Those imperial dogs… they’re running for their lives.’

Despite how exhausted they should be and how the chase ought to have closed the distance, the gap wouldn’t narrow. The vanguard had already reported that they had left the forest and entered the Dandelion Plain.

‘What can you do when that’s the way it is.’

It would have been ideal to capture them all at once, but recklessly pursuing them risked falling for whatever trick the enemy had prepared. Greed invites disaster.

‘The commander fled first; he might have sent support force somewhere else.’

It would be wiser to set up camp in the Dandelion Plain and, when Sion’s disciples arrived, have them scout the enemy’s movements.

Clack—. Clack—.

Monclay rode slowly with that thought.

Then—

Drdrdr… drdrdr…

He felt—more than heard—the vibration of hooves striking the ground somewhere ahead. Because the Empire had once used elite soldiers and mages and nearly cost them their lives, Monclay’s senses were sharpened. He picked up the slightest change.

“What’s that sound?!”

Monclay asked his adjutant about the odd noise he’d sensed. The adjutant riding beside him, hiding his irritation, looked puzzled. But shortly after, the adjutant also felt the tickling of hooves at his ear and turned with a shout.

“From the rear!”

By the time he shouted, the thudding of hooves and the tremor of the ground grew clearer.

“Everyone, assemble!! Get rear watch in order! Something’s coming!!”

Monclay shouted urgently.

“Rear watch! Rear watch!!”
“Form up! Protect the battalion commander!”

Rumble—.

The company captains echoed Monclay’s cry, and the soldiers arrayed in line quickly gathered around him.

As the men assembled, some escort soldiers, including the adjutant, turned their horses and drew swords. Dozens of archers who had been nearby formed a ring around Monclay, taking aim into the darkness.

Clack clack! Clack clack!

From among the mounds and the bent path, the sound of hooves grew distinct.

Soon black dots rounded the bend and came into view. Pale moonlight seeped onto the shapes, revealing them piece by piece, though it was still too dark to make out friend from foe.

Swoosh—.

Monclay watched the approaching silhouettes and raised his hand, calculating in his head the range at which arrows could reach.

Then he thought they might be allies. Surrounded as he was by soldiers ready to protect him, he felt a small measure of ease.

‘Could they be Sion’s disciples?’

Maybe. But even if they were, if this was a trap, they would be hit before the archers opened fire.

‘Shoot. If they’re allies—Sion’s disciples—they’ll manage to survive. Apologize later.’

Just as Monclay was about to order an attack—

“They’re allies!! They’re with Sir Sion’s disciples!!”

Rian shouted from beneath a blazing torch, calling that the newcomers were preparing to enter an attack formation.

Monclay didn’t immediately recognize Rian Cade, but the words “Sion’s disciples” registered.

“Stand down! Don’t shoot! They’re allies! Ha ha!!”

At last the reinforcements they’d been waiting for had arrived. Not a full army, but the disciples Sir Sion had trained. Since they had the makings of knights, Monclay judged there’d be no further danger. Relief bloomed on his face.

‘That figures! Those who ran away wouldn’t be stupid enough to set up an ambush to hit us from behind!’

Monclay welcomed Sion’s disciples with relief.

But before exchanging greetings with them, something caught his eye that needed resolving.

“Rian… Cade?”

Rian returned Monclay’s salute with a bewildered expression; Monclay waved the gesture off and continued speaking.

“Any injuries? You stood there like nothing was wrong—was it really not a serious wound?”

Monclay seemed to have taken the wound seriously. Even so, he’d left as if indifferent; that kind of irresponsibility pricked at Rian like a thorn.

But it wasn’t a reason to throw a punch. If anything, such careless behavior was the very reason Rian could come this far without arousing suspicion. He answered Monclay’s question.

“Yes. It’s fine.”

“Hmm… is that so.”

Their exchange was lukewarm, as if both agreed silently not to pry into each other’s concerns.

Monclay needed to give orders to Sion’s disciples, while Rian needed to conceal his immortality. Their different aims oddly aligned and wrapped the conversation up.

The disciples who overheard them were bewildered.

‘He kept his sword while wounded?’
‘If that guy’s body was intact, Dominic might have been in real trouble.’
‘He withstood the wound through steady training and opposed Dominic? I like that. Heh heh.’
‘Seriously. If he’d been fine, Dominic might’ve been dead already!’

Rea, Phine, Berkir, and Tairin all tried to maintain emotionless faces so their surprise wouldn’t show. Only Dominic couldn’t hide his feelings; he furrowed his brow clearly.

‘Damn it…! Are you trying to tell me I almost died because of some wounded soldier?!’

Meanwhile Monclay, as if his curiosity had been satisfied, wrapped up his conversation with Rian.

“Well, glad you’re alright. But your squad… as you know, there’s no squad here. If any unit wants to take you in, say the word.”

There was no squad to join. Monclay knew that well. Still, he tossed out a needless remark, and Rian felt as if a thorn had lodged in his heart.

The guilt of having survived alone weighed heavily, but there was no time to drown in emotion.

“Please detach some soldiers to guard the main force’s rear.”
“The rear? Why?”

Monclay cocked his head.

They had already passed this path in a net-like formation. Monclay himself had ridden with Sion’s disciples to get this far, after all.

Rian explained his reasoning to the puzzled Monclay.

“Given that the Empire sent elite soldiers and mages and intended to strike deliberately, I judge they won’t retreat empty-handed. They might ambush us later, so we should prepare for that possibility.”

“You dealt with the mages, so that won’t be an issue… Would those elites risk blocking our escape and launching an ambush? There wouldn’t be more than a hundred of them at most. Unless they’re knights, they can’t do much to us.”

“They could attempt assassination.”

Monclay felt a chill run down his spine and, hiding it, stroked his beard and nodded. He’d planned to set the main force to rest here and send Sion’s disciples to pursue; there was no reason to refuse giving Rian a rear-guard without assassination risk.

“Understood. I’ll assign a competent detachment to guard the rear and leave it to you.”

Rian saluted Monclay and departed.

Sion’s disciples watched him go with only their eyes. Their faces stayed expressionless, but their gazes trembled as if from an earthquake. Even Rea—usually so composed—couldn’t hide the shake in her eyes.

‘He killed the mages. We should probably verify his abilities once more…’

Rea wanted to chase after Rian right then and formally request a duel, but Monclay’s orders demanded they pursue the imperial troops.