7.

“Edgick! Edgick Otwell!”

“Vice-Commander!”

He had pushed his horse to its limit, racing until he could barely breathe. The order was safe, just as he’d hoped, but he couldn’t deny that a sliver of worry had gnawed at him during the ride.

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His first task was to find the general overseer, one of his most critical personnel.

The vice-commander, practically leaping off his horse in a way uncharacteristic of him, met the curious stares of the knights. Catching his breath, he issued a command.

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“Summon Edgick Otwell to the Commander’s tent.”

“…Uh, the overseer…”

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The knight hesitated, eyes darting nervously. Clearly, Edgick had once again slinked away from his assigned post, likely whispering some excuse to avoid his duties.

“Whatever that man said, I don’t care. This is the commander’s order, not mine. Bring him here, even if you have to bind him.”

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“Yes, sir!”

With an eager gleam in his eye, the knight sprinted off, apparently enthusiastic at the prospect of using restraints.

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One by one, members of the Black Wolf Knights gathered around him.

“Vice-Commander!”

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“Welcome back!”

“Uh, where’s the commander?”

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“…Everyone, assemble at the commander’s tent.”

Sensing the tension in the air, the knights exchanged glances and called the others to gather. In no time, the order assembled in front of Leo Fric’s tent.

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“What about Edgick?”

“They’re, uh, bringing him over… restrained, I mean.”

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Sir Fovenn glanced around before spotting a lean man in a robe being dragged by another knight in the distance.

“We’re pulling back and setting up camp inside the baron’s fortress.”

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“Wait, we’re not heading back?”

“…It’s going to take a while.”

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“…Ah, I see.”

The knights understood immediately—something had gone awry. They had endured countless campaigns together, so while such complications weren’t common, they weren’t unheard of either.

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“Are we moving out now?”

“Mm. Right away.”

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“Oh, but the sun’s setting.”

“Darkness might be to our advantage. Move quietly.”

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“…Are we expecting an ambush?”

Moving under the cover of night sparked concern in one of the knights, who asked with surprise. Jinpetsu hesitated, silent for a moment before speaking, having clearly made up his mind.

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“…There’s a possibility.”

There was no point in hiding it; awareness was more advantageous.

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Though the troops encircling them hadn’t yet moved, it didn’t hurt to remain vigilant. After all, these soldiers were sent by nobles who viewed the Black Wolves as a thorn in their side.

“So… what’s the scale of this ‘possibility’?”

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One of the knights, mouth slightly agape, inquired.

“…Significant.”

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“Whew!”

A soft whistle slipped out, and the once-relaxed looks of the knights grew sharper.

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“…Is the commander safe?”

“It’s the commander.”

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“Ah, of course.”

The seasoned knight, reassured, promptly issued swift orders to the younger knights and squires to prepare for movement.

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“Can’t we just walk at a normal pace?!”

Edgick Otwell, practically dragged over to Jinpetsu, managed to free himself from Fovenn’s grip.

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The knight, though expressionless, seemed subtly pleased as he reported Edgick’s capture. Jinpetsu didn’t bother hiding his disdainful look as he addressed Edgick.

“Edgick, prepare as quickly as possible. We’re heading to the baron’s estate first. Fovenn, gather six more men.”

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It was a carefully calculated choice, keeping the group just under ten men to maintain flexibility. In a worst-case scenario, they could effectively defend and counterattack in various formations. With Edgick and the commander present, they’d have no trouble handling the knights stationed at the baron’s estate.

The plan had been set in moments.

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The order moved with swift precision. Fovenn had gathered five senior knights, including himself.

“What’s got everyone so flustered?”

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Edgick, barely released from Fovenn’s grip, adjusted his skewed glasses and dusted off his robe as he asked, irritation in his voice.

“Hm. The commander isn’t here, and seeing the vice-commander acting like this… Was it a trap?”

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“Something like that.”

“…The commander wouldn’t simply not show up, and if he can’t, he’s likely been bound and thrown off a cliff. Although, that wouldn’t really be a trap.”

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Jinpetsu pressed his temples, exasperated by Edgick’s sarcastic remarks.

“Just go see for yourself, and don’t forget to bring Nepi along.”

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“Understood.”

Surprisingly compliant, Edgick raised an eyebrow but moved off without further comment, realizing that Jinpetsu was preparing the order as if for an emergency.

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The troops bound for the baron’s estate assembled and geared up quickly. They packed additional concealed weapons, well aware that this mission required more than honor alone.

Unlike other knights who disliked bringing additional arms for fear of appearing dishonorable, the Black Wolves scoffed at such an attitude. They often taunted, “If you want a fair fight with the goddess of death, by all means, be my guest.”

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To them, survival was paramount.

“Henan, you’ll oversee the order’s movements. Take charge at the rear. We’re setting out.”

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Jinpetsu’s urgency was palpable; a sense of dread lingered, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The whole situation didn’t add up.

Was it really possible that Commander Leo Fric had been overpowered by an untrained woman?

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Even without his armor, even if he’d been caught off guard or momentarily distracted?

A nagging feeling persisted, suggesting something more was at play.

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“Yes, sir!”

“Uh, so… the thing is…”

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Edgick returned, muttering something under his breath, looking slightly dazed.

“Nepi’s missing.”

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—

Ateira had asked for a moment of fresh air.

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The guards watched her warily but didn’t stop her. As bold as the princess had been today, leaping over the terrace unnoticed or running through the gardens without being caught was out of the question.

Still, they were instructed not to leave the terrace door open.

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Now standing on the terrace, Ateira clutched the smooth marble railing tightly, her pale, slender fingers turning a faint shade of pink with the force of her grip.

“Dermin…”

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Just the sound of his name, whispered like a sigh, nearly brought tears spilling over. Her body trembled as she clung to the railing, struggling to steady herself.

The weight of the name was entirely different when spoken in mourning than when voiced with hope that he might still be alive somewhere.

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Tears welled up against her will, and she pressed her fingers to her face, forcing them back.

She couldn’t let the knights standing guard at her door detect any hint of her turmoil.

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‘Now, do I finally have your attention on the prince’s well-being?’

Ateira felt herself nearly break.

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She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at Count Zellered’s feet, begging for assurance of her brother’s safety, pleading for even a brief meeting.

‘…Dermin is dead.’

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But she couldn’t.

If she were to gather more information, she couldn’t afford to show weakness so readily.

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Suppressing her desire to surrender, she forced herself to maintain composure, uttering a single, cold phrase to mask her emotions.

‘What a heartless sister. Poor prince.’

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Zellered had sneered as he continued.

‘Don’t attempt any more foolishness, princess. If you pull another stunt like today’s, or so much as feign a willingness to die…’

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“…”

‘I’ll make it happen, just as you wished.’

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“…It’s cruel to say that to someone who’s already dead.”

Ateira barely managed to dismiss his threat as mere bluster.

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Fine, since I don’t believe you, now show me proof that Dermin is alive.

But the count had departed without pushing her further. Once he was gone, Ateira calmly stepped out onto the terrace.

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If Dermin was truly alive…

If there was a chance to protect him, even from afar…

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She would need to play this dangerous game of strategy, carefully planning each move.

By making herself a difficult piece to maneuver, they’d have to handle Dermin cautiously.

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To control her actions, they’d need him.

With that resolve, she pressed her trembling fingers against the white stone railing, concealing any signs of her distress. No one could know her turmoil.

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She straightened her shoulders, tilting her chin just enough to prevent tears from falling, pretending to look up at the sky.

“Tweet?”

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Startled by the small, soft chirp beside her, Ateira turned to see a tiny, red, fluffy bird perched a little way down the railing. Its downy feathers and beady black eyes gave it an endearing appearance as it tilted its head, watching her curiously.

“Oh…”

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With her tear-filled eyes, she looked at the bird, hesitating before reaching out with her worn, fragile hand.

“Tweet.”

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The bird glanced back and forth between her hand and her face, then spread its small wings as if sighing softly, fluttering gently before landing in her outstretched palm.

 

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