Chapter 83

Chapter 83

***

The Emperor was dead. He hadn't died of old age, nor of illness, nor was he killed in battle. He had been assassinated.

The man who was the pinnacle of all people and the protector of the Empire had been assassinated. Of course, contrary to his grand titles, he had been a pathetic human being in reality.

While Rickart and Marie escaped from the storm of history, the Crown Prince and Bellator were, for some reason, racing through the alleys of a nearby city.

Not only them, but people throughout the city were running frantically to and fro. Fear had spread so wide that rational judgment seemed impossible.

In the midst of this chaos, some took the opportunity to seize women and commit atrocities, or engage in widespread looting. Even those who weren't from the Cult took advantage of the turmoil to commit murders out of long-held grudges.

The chaos showed no signs of being easily brought under control.

"I told you not to follow me!" someone shouted irritably, looking back. It was the 3rd Prince. The Crown Prince and Bellator had followed him blindly without knowing what was happening. In truth, the 3rd Prince himself didn't even know where he was running to.

Though the 3rd Prince was technically an adult, his mental age and judgment were far from it. He thought only of hiding, utterly terrified by the assassins who had attacked with fire in their eyes.

He thought staying close to a bodyguard would be safest, but who could be trusted?

When the final match of the swordsmanship tournament had ended, those who suddenly attacked the nobles were people who had been close to their victims for years, and in some cases, decades.

The nurses who had breastfed them, childhood friends, stewards who had served the family for generations, and mistresses who were thought to be mere playthings.

When such people suddenly turned and began stabbing with daggers, even those with bodyguards by their side were defenselessly cut down.

The 3rd Prince entered a dark alleyway and, desperate for a place to hide, burst open the door of a shed. Inside, several men were committing a shameful crime.

"What is this!?" a rough-looking man shouted, turning around fiercely. The 3rd Prince flinched in terror and slammed the door shut again.

He wandered around aimlessly until he stumbled into another barn, not even knowing how he had reached it. It was a place that reeked of animal waste.

The Crown Prince and Bellator followed him inside to hide.

"Ugh, the smell," the Crown Prince said, pinching his nose and scowling deeply.

"Be quiet!" the 3rd Prince hissed at the Crown Prince, his usual etiquette completely gone in the face of the urgency.

Seeing the Crown Prince complain about the smell even in this situation, one couldn't help but wonder how he could be so utterly clueless.

Outside, people continued to run. At some point, the assassins were no longer the main issue; the mobs trying to strike it rich amidst the confusion were the bigger problem. The city was nearly under their control.

Screams could be heard. Pleading voices too. Even laughter. In a word, things were going mad.

The 3rd Prince was busy peering through a gap in the dilapidated door to watch the outside, while the Crown Prince kept fanning the air with his hand to disperse the smell.

But Bellator was different. He reached into his tunic and drew a dagger. The sharp blade gleamed in the light filtering through the cracks of the barn. The reflection of the steel shone in Bellator's eyes.

He squinted briefly at the brightness, but he did not close his eyes or turn away.

Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he stared down at the sharp, lethal weapon. Rickart's words came back to him.

'When a desperate moment strikes, a side of yourself you never knew existed tends to emerge. In such moments, the most important thing is not to hesitate.'

'If not now, I'll never have another chance.' Bellator heard words that sounded like a devil whispering in his ear. It was the voice of his own heart, but in truth, the devil lived within the human heart.

In his mind's eye, Bellator saw the scene of Rickart's final duel.

'He told me to slash the stomach, so why did he pierce the heart? Did he use a desperate measure to kill his opponent first in that brief moment? Taking on the risk... I see.'

In reality, Rickart had simply used sheer strength to break through the ribs, but Bellator interpreted it differently. Yet, it wasn't an entirely incorrect interpretation. It was true that the heart was more fatal than the stomach.

Bellator decided that he, too, would take on the risk.

"Uncle?" the Crown Prince asked, still holding his nose, and looked at Bellator. Bellator took his eyes off the dagger he had been staring at and spoke to the Crown Prince.

"Let's do this, Your Highness. I will stab your heart. If it's blocked by the ribs and I fail, I'll kill myself immediately. But if I don't... I will become the Emperor."

"Pardon?"

The Crown Prince was flabbergasted by the sudden and absurd words. But Bellator did not hesitate, just as Rickart had taught him.

He grabbed the Crown Prince's shoulder, tilted the dagger at an angle, and thrust it toward the heart. A little from right to left, as if digging in.

And miraculously, it passed through the gap between the ribs and accurately pierced the Crown Prince's heart.

"Gah!"

The Crown Prince, his heart pierced, momentarily stiffened. His throat tightened, and he couldn't even manage a scream.

His eyes were wide with shock. Bellator stared into those eyes indifferently. Then, he slowly lowered the Crown Prince, letting him collapse onto a pile of rotting straw that reeked of dung.

He immediately pulled out the dagger and approached the 3rd Prince, who was still busy peering outside.

"Brother."

"Hey, I told you to be quiet! Don't talk to me!"

Ignoring him, Bellator wiped the blood from his hand onto his brother's clothes and then thrust the dagger into the 3rd Prince's hand.

"Huh? What's this?"

The 3rd Prince asked, but instead of answering, Bellator flung open the barn door and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"The 3rd Prince has killed the Crown Prince!"

"What!?"

"The 3rd Prince has killed the Crown Prince!"

He shouted with all his might. The Imperial Knights, who had been searching the area in confusion, heard the cry and rushed over immediately.

Bellator grabbed them and pointed at his brother, the 3rd Prince, who stood there dazed with the dagger in his hand.

"Inside... the Crown Prince's body is inside."

He was remarkably calm. And his audacity was beyond measure. Rickart had said that one's hands would shake the first time, but Bellator's hands didn't tremble at all.

The evidence was clear. No special technique had been necessary. Only resolve and the ability to act without hesitation were required.

With this, he had jumped from 5th in the line of succession to 2nd in a single bound.

Bellator had four elder brothers. The first had died young, leaving behind the Crown Prince; the second had left the Imperial Palace long ago to become a Count; the third was now under an inescapable false accusation; and the fourth had lost his life during the chaos.

Now, he only had to kill his second brother to become the Emperor. Since he had been away from the Imperial Palace for so long, Bellator held the advantage.

Or so he thought. Bellator was clever, but he did not yet possess the wisdom to know that things in the world don't always go according to one's plans.

Some revealed their base desires in the midst of chaos, some used it as an opportunity, and some sought to escape the center of the storm.

Marie and Rickart were among those seeking to escape. But there was one problem: Rickart was unconscious.

Not only had he been poisoned, but the stab wound in his abdomen was also a significant issue.

Fortunately, since they were near the arena, Marie was able to obtain a potion nearby. In her haste, she poured it over the wound, and after taking the rest into her mouth, she fed it to Rickart mouth-to-mouth.

Then, she hijacked a carriage, laid Rickart inside, and tied him down securely with leather straps. She then took the coachman's seat and cracked the whip.

"Hyah!"

Crack!

The two horses galloped forward with all their might, their wheels rolling rapidly along the paved road.

'It's finally over with this wretched family. Noble, illegitimate child, Imperial family... I'm done with this city. I am free. No matter what, I'll survive and live with Ricky. No one will stop me.'

Marie was nearly possessed by her determination. It seemed she needed to calm down, but it didn't look like anyone could stop her now.

Anyway, while taking a boat back to Ehrenberg would have been fastest, the docks were currently teeming with people, so it was better to avoid them. Besides, it would have been difficult to find a merchant ship heading specifically for Ehrenberg.

In the midst of people running everywhere, she nearly hit several of them, but she managed to leave the city without injuring anyone.

Fortunately, as it was the Emperor's city, paved roads stretched far beyond the city limits, allowing her to gallop without resistance.

She drew further and further away from the chaotic city. At the same time, the sounds of agony faded into the distance.

At some point, the sounds of nature began to outnumber the sounds of the wretched people. Only Marie's carriage raced along the road.

Feeling the wind blowing across the fields, the resentment that had built up to the top of Marie's head finally began to subside. The horses, too, were exhausted and frothing at the mouth.

Marie pulled the carriage to a stop in the middle of the road. She climbed down from the seat, opened the carriage door, and checked on Rickart. Because she had tied him so tightly, he looked uncomfortable even in his unconscious state.

"Ugh..."

Judging by the groands he let out, he might regain consciousness if things went well. So Marie shook him to wake him up.

"Ricky. Ricky. Wake up."

"Ugh..."

Rickart seemed to open his eyes for a moment, but then they slid shut again, and his head slumped forward.

Marie flinched and checked his condition. But she didn't know what to look for. It was a relief that he was breathing, but was the potion making him sleep? Fortunately, the wound on his abdomen had stopped bleeding.

Marie suddenly felt a sense of helplessness. Since she had come to Nibelungen by boat, she didn't really know the way back by land.

Moreover, if the paving ended, a carriage like this wouldn't be able to go any further. Most importantly, since she had left the city in such a hurry, she hadn't been able to pack any food.

When she lifted the cloth covering the roof of the carriage, she found, by great stroke of luck, a sack full of carrots. She would have to survive on these until they found a village.

Marie picked up several carrots and fed them to the horses, and she herself crunched on a raw carrot.

Then, she climbed back onto the seat and drove the horses slowly. The surroundings were all fields, and the only sounds were the wind, the steady beat of hooves, and the rolling of the wheels.

It felt as if only the two of them existed in the world, and Marie felt a strange sensation. She wished they could live alone in a place where no one else was, forever. But soon, the faces of her friends came to mind.

Marie drove the horses with all sorts of thoughts, worries, and anxieties. Then, at some point, the paved road ended, and the carriage began to jolt violently.

She tried to be as careful as possible for Rickart's sake, but with the road like this, there was nothing she could do. Besides, this carriage was the kind used in the capital or wealthy neighborhoods, and it wasn't suited for rough roads.

Nevertheless, she pressed on, and as time passed, the sun began to set.

Having gained some experience as an adventurer, Marie looked for a place to camp.

As the sun sank lower and night approached, she stopped the carriage next to a large tree. First, she went into the carriage and untied the straps that had bound Rickart so tightly.

She felt sorry, even though she had saved his life, thinking she had bound him too much.

Anyway, she laid Rickart down properly, removed the horses' harnesses, and tied their reins to a branch. She fed them plenty of carrots as well.

But the most important thing—water—was missing. Both she and the horses were thirsty. Moreover, she had no flint to start a fire and no cloak to cover herself. She really had nothing but her sword and some carrots.

It was already autumn, and the nights were cold. Marie's dress was severely inadequate to withstand the chill. Furthermore, as she had torn her skirt, her legs felt the biting cold, to the point where her undergarments were visible.

Marie went into the carriage and massaged Rickart's arms and legs to keep his circulation going.

As she did, something beyond Rickart's control began to stir even in his unconscious state.

It was a relief that he was healthy, but Marie felt awkward for some reason. She had to repeatedly resist the devil's temptation to touch him just a little bit.

She sat Rickart up and pulled him into her embrace. She stood her solitary watch, enduring the cold.

Marie's heart pounded with excitement, but that only lasted for an hour or two; as the night deepened, she felt exhausted and sleepy. She was physically and mentally drained from having been pushed to her limits before finally escaping.

No matter if she was a Sword Master, she couldn't help but feel sleepy, hungry, and thirsty.

The night continued to deepen. Marie eventually drifted off to sleep.

How much time had passed? Sensing something was wrong, she opened her eyes to see a man who looked like a beggar peering into the carriage through the open door. Goosebumps broke out across her arms and neck.

Despite the cramped and uncomfortable space, Marie instinctively and skillfully drew her sword, piercing the man's face like a flash of lightning. The tip of the blade instantly bored through his skull.

As he collapsed, another man's voice was heard from outside.

"W-what!"

"See! I told you there would be someone inside!"

"Damn it!"

Marie quickly took her sword and left the carriage. She saw men untying the reins and fleeing with the horses.

Even as they fled, the horse thieves' eyes widened at Marie's beauty, and they kept looking back. Whether it was to see if she was chasing them or just to catch another glimpse of her, who could say.

Marie hesitated to give chase. She had to protect Rickart.

Thinking those who fled might return with more companions, Marie quickly hoisted Rickart onto her back and walked in the opposite direction of where they had fled.

She must have slept quite a while, as the sky was already a deep blue. The autumn air was cold.

Furthermore, now she had lost the horses and the carrots, so she truly had nothing but her sword.

Away from villages or cities, it was no different from the wilderness. There was no place to find food, and without proper travel gear, there was nowhere comfortable to sleep.

Though her stamina and strength had reached superhuman levels as a Sword Master, a person could not live without eating and sleeping.

At this moment, Marie's only thoughts were that she must head north and find water.

She carried Rickart to the road and started walking north again. But there wasn't a single sign of human habitation—not a traveler, not a merchant.

'Did I take the wrong road? Is this road not in use? I need to find someone, even if it's to ask for help or threaten them at swordpoint.'

'Did I leave the city too hastily? Should I go back now? No, I've already come too far.' All sorts of thoughts filled Marie's mind.

She walked without rest. One hour, two hours, three hours—six long hours. The sun was now high in the sky.

It had been over a day since her last meal, and she had only had a few moments of fitful sleep.

Rickart was one thing, but Marie was on the verge of collapsing herself. However, what she encountered while walking with hope was a bitter despair.

The horse thieves had brought their companions and caught up with her. They watched from a distance, not daring to approach. They didn't even try to hide; they stared at her openly.

Some of them were crudely armed. Two were even on horseback. They also had bows and crossbows.

Killing them would be no trouble, but she didn't know if she could fight while protecting Rickart. So Marie made a choice: she ran.

She carried Rickart on her back and ran forward with all her might. The men on horseback immediately gave chase, and the other thieves began to run as well. Their intentions were clear.

'Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!'

The sound of hooves echoed behind her. Marie hoped for a hill or a pass. She hoped desperately. Or even a place to hide Ricky. O God! Please!

She ran until her breath came in ragged gasps.

But then, to her despair, a lone rider appeared in front of her. She was trapped. With no other choice, Marie lowered Rickart to the side of the road and drew her sword.

A purple light gleamed along the blade. But even for a Sword Master, being struck by a galloping horse would be fatal.

Yet, something was strange. The person galloping toward her was wearing chainmail, carrying a shield, and holding a spear; he looked more like a knight than a thief. His surcoat was red with a white cross.

And he didn't head for Marie; he galloped right past her.

'Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!'

He crashed into the thieves on horseback. The thieves frantically pulled their reins to turn their horses around.

But the knight closed the distance in an instant and skewered one thief with his spear in a single blow.

Thump!

He immediately drew his sword, leaned over, and struck another thief in the head. The way he switched weapons atop a galloping horse was as natural as a picture.

Thump!

The thief skewered by the spear was sent flying back by the impact, and the one whose head was struck fell from his horse.

The thieves on foot, seeing this, turned and fled in terror. The knight did not pursue them; instead, he grabbed the reins of the two riderless horses and approached Marie.

He was a man of dignified appearance, with a thick, well-trimmed beard.

"Stay back!" Marie shouted like a hissed wildcat.

But the knight approached leisurely, undeterred. The autumn wind blew coolly.

Under the midday sun, he didn't look at Marie but silently stared down at the boy lying by the side of the road, then spoke to her.

"I am the Lord of Stormhearts, Abelrich. Who are you, lady, to be running with my son on your back?"