And Yet, For You
Some time had passed since I first came to know the Saintess.
She still poked and prodded into every little thing the moment she laid eyes on me, which was a bit of a nuisance.
Not that I disliked it.
I couldn't even remember the last time anyone had worried over me like that.
At some point, I had begun to feel as though there was finally someone on the battlefield who looked out for me. Calling it friendship felt a little too vague, but it didn't seem like the simple relationship between a healing Saintess and her patient, either.
Still, there was no need to define what we were.
Whenever I came back wounded, the Saintess would seek me out as always, patch me up, and lecture me at length—and I, in turn, didn't mind her meddling.
That much was enough.
And I thought that day, too, would be no different from any other.
"Captain!"
At least, until a frantic voice called out from outside the tent.
"What is it."
A Vanguard soldier swept into the tent, breathing hard.
"The Hero's Party has been cut off."
My hand, busy wiping down the sword I'd been tending, stopped.
"Where."
"Beyond the 4th Frontline. The Demon King's Army deliberately left their defensive line open, and the moment the Hero's Party pushed inside, they shoved troops in from both flanks and cut off the retreat."
"Their condition."
"Unknown. Contact's been dead since a single messenger barely made it out."
I rose from my seat.
"When does the rescue force deploy."
"They're assembling now. The commanders are gathering men."
Before he'd even finished, I had the sword strapped to my waist.
"Captain."
"What."
"…You're going?"
I didn't answer. I walked out of the tent.
The Hero's Party was trapped.
And Arien was among them.
That single fact was all I needed.
There were fewer volunteers at the rescue force muster than I'd expected.
Obvious, if it was going to be obvious.
Listening to the commander unroll the map and explain the situation, it was almost a wonder this many had gathered at all.
"The Hero's Party is believed to be isolated here."
The commander's finger came down on the center of the map. Red markers denoting the Demon King's forces encircled it in layer upon layer.
"The Demon King's Army appears to have intended to lure the Hero's Party in from the start. They deliberately opened the line to draw them deep, then swung troops around to the rear and sealed the route of escape. According to the last messenger to make it out, at least three legions are closing in on their position."
A quiet curse rose from somewhere nearby.
Three legions.
However strong the Hero's Party was, they couldn't hold out in there forever.
"The army doesn't have time to move. If we mobilize troops from this point, we'll be too late. So a small force will break through the encirclement, link up with the Hero's Party, and from inside, we secure a route of escape together."
Simple enough on paper.
Punch through the encirclement from the outside, collect the Hero's Party, then punch back out through that same encirclement again—that was what he was asking.
Someone raised a hand.
"What are the odds of surviving?"
The commander didn't answer right away. That silence alone seemed answer enough.
"I'll be honest with you."
He looked around the room.
"Give up on the idea of coming back alive."
It went quiet.
The men who'd been murmuring among themselves just moments before shut their mouths.
"What we want is the survival of the Hero's Party. Not of the rescue force. More than half of you may die getting in, and even if you reach the Hero's Party, I can't promise you'll be able to break back out through the encirclement."
While he spoke, I stared at the map.
Arien was in there.
That was the only thought in my head.
"Those who still wish to volunteer, stay."
I stayed where I was. One by one, the men around me began slipping away.
No one cursed them for it.
Had I a reason of my own to live, I might have walked out with them. But for me, right now, there was no reason not to go.
This was why I'd joined the Vanguard in the first place.
Clearing the path so the Hero's Party could advance.
As long as Arien survived—even if I died in the process—that was enough.
It would be a lie to say I held no resentment toward Arien for forgetting me.
I wanted to ask why she'd thrown away the necklace. I wanted to ask why she hadn't recognized me. Part of me wanted to tell her everything—how I'd lived, in what misery, for ten years with nothing but the thought of seeing her again.
And yet not once had I ever wished her dead.
Even if she had forgotten me, I could not forget her.
So if I was going to die anyway, dying for her was better.
"…The Guide."
The commander spotted me and murmured under his breath.
The gazes of the few men still lingering turned toward me.
"Volunteering?"
"Yes."
"This one is different from the rest. However well you cut a path, I can't promise you'll come back alive."
"I've never fought planning to survive anyway."
The commander studied me for a long moment, then nodded.
"Good."
Just then, a sigh came from the back.
"Ah. For fuck's sake."
I turned to find one of the familiar Vanguard soldiers scratching his head roughly, hand in the air.
"I'm going too."
"Why are you going."
He gave me a look of pure disbelief.
"If the Guide is going, there'll be a path, won't there?"
"And if there isn't."
"The Guide will make one, won't he?"
Crazy bastard.
I almost said it out loud, but stopped myself.
It didn't seem like something I had any right to say to a man about to follow me into that place. And starting with him, a few more hands went up.
And so the rescue force was formed.
Even afterward, I couldn't properly remember what happened as we punched through the encirclement.
As always, I cut down the enemy in front of me, blocked what could be blocked, dodged what could be dodged, and when neither was possible, I took it with my body.
The man beside me vanished, and then another vanished. The path was blocked again and again, and each time we changed direction or simply killed every last one of the bastards in the way and pushed forward.
"It's blocked!"
"Then cut through it, you bastard!"
Someone shouted, and I drove my sword into the throat of the demon in front of me.
I had no idea how much time had passed.
The sword in my hand slipped again and again, slick with blood; my armor was torn in a dozen places; blood kept flowing from wounds I couldn't even remember taking.
Still, I didn't stop.
Because I still hadn't confirmed whether Arien was alive.
That one thing alone kept me moving forward.
And at last—
"There they are!"
At someone's cry, I lifted my head. In the distance, I could see figures holding out behind a collapsed section of fortress wall.
The first thing my eyes found was the Great Chieftain of the Tribal Union, swinging his massive battleaxe.
Beside him, the Elven Forest's Oldest Hunter was raining down arrow after arrow without pause, while the mage had all but drained her mana and stood leaning against her staff.
The Saintess, too, was treating the wounded in priestess vestments smeared everywhere with blood and dirt.
And there, at the very center of it all—
Was Arien.
She's alive.
The instant I confirmed it, some of the tension I'd been carrying in every muscle drained away.
Thank goodness.
Truly.
"It's the rescue force!"
Someone spotted us and shouted.
Disbelief spread across the faces of the soldiers around the Hero's Party, and moments later a small cheer erupted.
The Saintess lifted her head too, and her gaze swung toward us. At first she seemed to think her eyes were deceiving her, staring at me with them wide open.
"…Riven?"
The distance was considerable, but I thought I heard my name, so I shook the blood from my sword and walked forward.
"Riven!"
This time it was unmistakable. The Saintess handed the wounded man she'd been treating to another priest and rose to her feet.
And she ran toward me.
"Why…"
The Saintess reached me, gasping for breath.
Her face was a mess.
Her white hair, always so immaculately kept, was caked with dirt and blood, and her vestments were torn in several places.
And yet there didn't seem to be any serious injuries.
"Why did you come?"
Her voice trembled.
"Do you have any idea where this is—"
"I came to save you."
"As if I don't know that!"
The Saintess suddenly shouted, and grabbed me by the arm.
"How did you even get in here? How many layers deep is the encirclement? What on earth were you thinking—"
As she pressed on, the corners of her eyes went red.
Flustered, I looked at her.
"Saintess?"
"You're really…"
A single tear fell.
"You're really insane…"
Why was she crying?
It didn't even look like she was hurt.
Even as I racked my brain for something to say, my gaze drifted, almost on its own, past her shoulder.
Arien.
Up close, she really did look perfectly fine.
Her armor was stained with blood in places, but most of it looked like other people's, and there wasn't a visible wound on her.
Arien was staring at the rescue force that had appeared out of nowhere.
Then, for a moment, her eyes turned my way.
Our gazes met.
But this time, too, nothing changed in Arien's expression. Not a flicker of recognition—just the eyes of a woman looking at the rescue force that had come to save her.
Still, it was fine.
She was alive, at least.
The words slipped out of me before I knew it.
"Thank goodness."
"…Pardon?"
The Saintess looked up.
"Nothing."
"What exactly is a relief?"
"You seem to be in one piece too, Saintess."
It wasn't a lie.
She was alive as well.
It was just that the person I'd wanted to check on first hadn't been her. The Saintess heard my answer, stared at me blankly for a moment, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Of course I'm in one piece. Do you have any idea how much grief I've been through because of you?"
"What did I even do."
"You're talking back to me looking like that?"
"Let's argue after we're out."
"Who's arguing!"
"You are, right now."
"Riven!"
We were surrounded on every side and might die at any moment, and yet somehow it felt no different from any other day. I let the Saintess's scolding wash over me and looked past her, where I could see Arien regripping her sword.
Seeing that, I raised my own sword. We'd made it in—now it was time to make it out.
The rescue succeeded.
The rescue force lost more men coming out than going in, but the Hero's Party returned home alive to the last person.
By that measure alone, the operation was a success.
And I, too, came back alive yet again.
"…Captain."
As I sat in front of the field tent wrapping a bandage, one of the soldiers who'd made it back dropped down beside me with a thud.
"What."
"I genuinely thought I was dead this time, Captain."
"Same here."
"You think like that too, Captain?"
"Am I not human?"
The guy laughed in disbelief.
"But you know—"
"What."
"Did you see the Saintess crying earlier?"
My hands stopped mid-bandage.
"I did."
"She started bawling the second she saw you."
"So."
"No, it's just…"
The corner of his mouth curled up.
"It made me think—yeah, the Captain really is a damn fool."
"What kind of bullshit is that."
"You don't get it? Then never mind."
Too tired to make sense, apparently.
I ignored him and went back to wrapping the bandage.
But before long, a familiar voice rang out.
"Riven."
I looked up to find the Saintess standing there, arms full of medicine and potions.
"What is it this time."
"What is it this time, he asks?"
She stared down at me incredulously.
"Do you have any idea what condition you're in right now?"
"This much is fine."
"You're only fine when I say you're fine."
"What kind of rule is that."
"It's a rule I just made."
I heard the subordinate beside me failing to smother a laugh. I shot him a glare, then held my arm out to the Saintess.
"Then hurry up and do it."
"Honestly…"
Grumbling all the while, the Saintess sat down beside me.
And just as always, she checked my wounds, splashed on potion, applied the salve, and began winding the bandage.
The only difference from before was that this time, she kept glancing up at my face again and again while she worked.
"Why do you keep staring."
"When have I been staring?"
"You're doing it right now."
The Saintess hastily dropped her gaze.
"I was checking your wounds."
"There are no new wounds on my face."
"Be quiet."
At that, I didn't bother asking anything more.
After that day, the Saintess sought me out far more often than before.
At first it was because I needed treatment; once my wounds had healed, it was to make sure I was eating properly; and eventually there were days she showed up at my tent without any excuse at all, just to sit with me for a while before leaving.
I wasn't so dense that I had no idea what that meant.
But even knowing, I pretended not to.
It wasn't that I felt anything unpleasant toward the Saintess. Quite the opposite—I was grateful to her, she was easy to be around, and lately, if I went a few days without seeing her face, I'd even find myself wondering whether something had happened to her.
But that was where it ended.
Someone else still lived inside me.
Someone I believed I'd been forgotten by, yet could never bring myself to forget.
No matter how close the Saintess came, I couldn't hand that place over to her.
So when the Saintess took a step toward me, I accepted exactly that one step—and never moved closer myself.
And she never pressed me. The war went on, and as always, I entered enemy lines ahead of the Hero's Party and carved out a path.
The names still dogged my heels—Guide, Mad Dog, Fiend—and every time I came back wounded, the Saintess raged at me, while Arien, following the paths I cut, drew closer and closer to the Demon King.
And so the time passed.
Before I knew it, my eleventh year on the Frontline had begun.