The Hero Seems to Be Receiving Hatred
The carriage jolted.
Arthur stared blankly out the window. The scenery flowed slowly by. Fields. Forests. Occasionally, smoke rose from the chimneys of farmhouses. It was a peaceful landscape. He knew what had happened on those fields over the past 10 years, but his head remembered nothing.
A rustling sound came from the opposite side.
It was Isabel.
Her fingers resting on her knees trembled slightly. When Arthur turned his gaze to her, she quickly turned her head out the window. Her ears turned red. This was the third time. Every time their eyes met, she avoided it like this. Arthur sighed inwardly.
Ah, she completely dislikes me.
Of course. After all, even if he was a war hero or whatever, he was ultimately from a commoner background. A human who had lived for 10 years on the front lines smelling only of blood and sweat, riding in a carriage with a noble princess like her would be unpleasant. Arthur looked down at his own hands. Calloused palms. Faint scars on the backs of his hands. Anyone with hands like these in front of them would feel uncomfortable.
Still, should I say something?
If I were to release some useless information, my MBTI would start with extreme I. But the other party was royalty. Moreover, the grandfather had personally requested, “Please take care of my granddaughter.” Ignoring the other party’s reaction could lead to losing my head later. Arthur tucked his neck in a bit. Although the king seemed like a kind grandfather, in the end, he was a king. A kindness once shown could be taken back with one act of anger.
“Perhaps I should say something…”
Isabel opened her mouth.
Squeak—
The carriage stopped.
Arthur let out a sigh of relief inwardly. It was fortunate that it had stopped just before the conversation started. The carriage door opened, and the maid bowed her head.
“Princess, and General Arthur. Would it be all right to have a meal here and continue moving?”
The tone was polite, but the gaze was sharp. Arthur recognized that gaze. It was the eyes of someone who had experienced war. Even the soldiers who followed him inside the palace had that look in their eyes, separate from their kind actions. Although it wasn’t the front lines, there were those with such eyes in the rear as well. The maid scanned Arthur once and then turned her gaze back to Isabel.
“It seems it’s time to feed the horses, so please excuse me.”
Isabel nodded. Arthur nodded as well. When the maid stepped back, Arthur stood up from his seat. Suddenly, he remembered what Isabel had been about to say earlier.
“Princess.”
Isabel’s shoulders twitched.
“Perhaps what I wanted to say to you was…”
Isabel lowered her head. Her face turned red all the way to her ears. Then, without saying a word, she slipped out of the carriage. Arthur stared blankly at her retreating figure. I had gathered my courage to speak, but…
Ah, this completely failed.
His shoulders slumped. Well, what could he do. Nobles generally dislike mixing with commoners, but how much more so for royalty. Arthur got out of the carriage and comforted himself. Rather, it was good. After all, I have no sense of conversation, no topic for discussion, no sense of humor. If I opened my mouth, it would obviously fail.
***
The maid had already finished preparing the meal.
On the cloth, neatly arranged bread, cheese, dried fruits, and smoked meat. The food brought from the palace all glistened. Arthur looked at that scene once and then turned his footsteps toward the opposite side of the carriage.
Even if so, I couldn’t eat at a table with the princess.
That would be improper. After all, even if he was a war hero or whatever, he was a commoner. Arthur plopped down under a tree. From the small pouch hanging at his waist, he took out a piece of dried meat. It was tough, salty, and completely without seasoning—military dried meat. Yet, his hand moved naturally. When he bit into it, the tough meat fibers chewyly chewed between his teeth.
Strange.
The taste felt bland to his mouth, but his body was getting used to it. It had been the same before getting into the carriage, when he drank water. The angle of bringing the water bottle to his mouth, the amount swallowed at once, the action of putting the water bottle back on his side—all of it flowed smoothly without regard to his will. His body remembered. On the battlefield, eating was just caloric supplementation.
Arthur chewed the dried meat and looked up at the sky.
Clouds were drifting by.
No wind, a still weather. Only the leaves rustled. Arthur looked at the clouds and thought of his hometown. Before being conscripted, the time when he swung his sword and played in the back mountains. If he returned, could he live idly like those clouds? Buried in the blankets, doing nothing for a week, eating when hungry, sleeping when sleepy.
If he returned to his hometown, he wanted to live that kind of life for 2-3 years.
A chill ran down his spine.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up all at once. Arthur’s fingers stopped. The hand holding the dried meat. No sound had been heard yet. No smell either. But the body reacted first. His spine straightened. His shoulders were thrown back. Strength entered his thighs.
What is this?
Arthur looked around with eyes filled with confusion. Forest. A normal forest. Birdsong, leaves swaying, wind blowing. Nothing was strange. Yet, his hand automatically gripped the sword hilt. The palm naturally drew the sword as if remembering the touch.
Why am I…
Something appeared in front of him.
A small dot. His arm moved toward that dot approaching instantly. Arthur seemed to be watching the scene from afar. It was as if his arm was not his own. The sword slashed through the air. A sharp tearing sound. And then.
Thud.
Something fell to the ground.
It was a cut arrow. The part with the arrowhead was cleanly split in half. Arthur looked down at his own hand. The hand holding the sword didn’t tremble, nor did his breathing quicken. His heart was calm. What was going on here.
“Ambush failed!”
A shout came from within the forest.
“Capture the princess, and deal with the rest as you see fit!”
In an instant, dozens of men burst out from behind trees, from bushes, from behind rocks. Familiar patterns were engraved on their armor. Torn flags. The Basil Kingdom’s emblem. Arthur took a deep breath. The enemy. Remnants of the defeated kingdom in the war had come this far.
“General!”
The maid’s shout came. Arthur turned his body and ran toward the carriage. Isabel had already pulled out her staff from her bosom. The maid stood in front of Isabel, drawing her dagger. Sharp gaze. Arthur thought, seeing that gaze. This maid seems strong, could she protect me too?
“General, these are Basil soldiers.”
The maid’s voice was cold and composed. While speaking, she was judging the situation and finding the best choice, her eyes moving without pause.
“I will protect the princess. May I entrust the enemy to you?”
Entrust.
Arthur felt a chill down his spine. Me? Those dozens of them? Of course, the maid didn’t know who he was. Who he was. The war hero Arthur. A monster who had jumped into the enemy camp alone, beheading the commanders. But I… I was just a common village boy A who occasionally swung his sword in the back mountains.
“Die!!”
One soldier charged with a spear.
Arthur stared at the scene blankly. The spear tip approached his face. There was a distance he could dodge. His instinct was telling him that. But his head wasn’t following. Was this real combat? Life-threatening, real battle. A battle where he might die.
There were too many thoughts.
Before he knew it, the spear that had stabbed was right in front of him. Ah, this was too late. Now, he couldn’t dodge or block anymore. Looking at the spear approaching at a terrifying speed, he instinctively closed his eyes and anticipated the end.
At that moment, his body reacted.
Faster than thought. Muscles transmitted a force like tearing from shoulder to wrist. The sword slashed through the air. A sound like bursting air. Bang— The noise shook the entire forest.
Arthur opened his eyes.
The soldier had been split in two. The upper body and lower body had fallen separately to the ground and weren’t moving. And beyond that, five trees had been cut down at their thick stems, crashing down with a thud. The ground trembled. Dust rose.
Arthur looked around.
All the soldiers who had surrounded him were without exception, their upper bodies and lower bodies separated, lying on the ground. The ground was dyed red. A pungent smell of blood stung his nose. Arthur looked down at his own sword. Not a single drop of blood on it.
Did I do this?
Isabel dropped her staff. The dagger slipped from the maid’s hand and fell to the ground. Both of them couldn’t say a word. Isabel’s lips trembled. The maid stood with wide eyes, holding her breath.
Arthur lowered his head.
The hand holding the sword still didn’t tremble. His heart was still calm. His breathing didn’t even quicken.
It was nothing. Arthur found that fact frightening. Had he killed them? Had he done that?
The maid picked up the dagger with a trembling hand. Isabel couldn’t pick up the staff and just stared at Arthur. That gaze was well known. A gaze filled with fear. And following it, a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze the palace soldiers sent to him.
Arthur sheathed the sword. His body remembered. The angle of sheathing the sword, the timing to relax the wrist’s strength, the final action of tapping the scabbard to fix it.
Arthur looked up at the sky.
The clouds were drifting at the same speed as before.