Chapter 83
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 83
The Emperor was dead. He did not die of old age, nor of illness, nor was he slain in battle. He had been assassinated.
The man who stood at the absolute pinnacle, the sworn guardian of the Empire, was gone. Of course, stripping away those grandiose titles revealed the truth: he had been a pathetic excuse for a human being.
While Rickert and Marie managed to escape the tempestuous theater of history, the Crown Prince and Bellator were, for some reason, sprinting frantically through the alleyways of a nearby city.
They were not alone. The entire city was running in a blind panic. Fear had spread like a plague, robbing the masses of their capacity for rational thought. Amidst the chaos, opportunists seized women to commit unspeakable acts or engaged in rampant looting. Others, who weren't even members of the Order, used the anarchy to unleash long-harbored grudges, committing murder in broad daylight.
The madness would not be easily quelled.
"I told you to stop following me!" someone shouted irritably over his shoulder.
It was the Third Prince. The Crown Prince and Bellator had blindly followed him without even grasping the situation. In truth, the Third Prince himself had no idea where he was going. Though legally an adult, his mental age and judgment were far from mature. His only thought was to hide, utterly terrified by the bloodshot eyes of the assassins who had lunged at them.
Sticking close to his bodyguards should have been the safest option, but how could he trust them? When the final match of the swordsmanship tournament ended, the assassins who suddenly slaughtered the nobles were the very people who had been closest to them for years, if not decades. The wet nurses who had suckled them, childhood friends, butlers who had served their families for generations, and mistresses they had treated as mere playthings. When such people suddenly bared their fangs, having bodyguards nearby offered no protection against the helpless slaughter.
Turning into an even darker alleyway, the Third Prince flung open the door of a barn-like structure, desperate for a place to hide. Inside, however, a group of men was in the middle of committing a heinous crime.
"What the hell?!" a rough-looking man spun around, barking menacingly.
Terrified, the Third Prince slammed the door shut. He wandered aimlessly after that, eventually slipping into another barn without even realizing how he had gotten there. The place reeked of animal manure. The Crown Prince and Bellator hurried inside after him and hid.
"Ugh, the smell." The Crown Prince pinched his nose, his face contorting in disgust.
"Shut up!"
Perhaps driven to the edge by the dire situation, the Third Prince snapped at the Crown Prince, his usual courtly manners entirely forgotten. And seeing the Crown Prince still complaining about the stench even now, one couldn't help but marvel at his sheer childishness.
Outside, the stampede of boots continued. At some point, the assassins were no longer the main threat; the mobs looking to make a fortune in the chaos had practically occupied the city. Screams echoed through the streets, mingling with pleas for mercy and manic laughter. The world had gone completely mad.
The Third Prince was entirely occupied with peering outside through a crack in the dilapidated door, while the Crown Prince kept fanning his hand to disperse the stench.
But Bellator was different. He drew a dagger from his breast. The sharp blade gleamed in the faint light filtering through the cracks of the barn, its cold reflection shining in Bellator's eyes. He frowned slightly at the glare, but he did not close his eyes or look away.
Waiting for his vision to adjust, he stared down at the sharp edge. Rickert's words echoed in his mind.
‘When a desperate moment strikes, a side of you that you never knew existed will emerge. What matters most then is not to hesitate.’
If not now, you will never get another chance. A voice, like a devil whispering, echoed in Bellator's ears. It was the voice of his own ambition—but then, devils always dwelt within the human heart.
Bellator felt as if he could see Rickert's final duel playing out before his eyes.
He told him to slice his belly, so why did he stab his heart? Did he use a desperate measure to kill him first in that brief moment? Taking on such a massive risk... I see.
In truth, Rickert had simply shattered his opponent's ribs through sheer brute force, but Bellator interpreted it differently. Yet, it wasn't an entirely incorrect takeaway. After all, a strike to the heart was far more lethal than one to the belly. Bellator decided that he, too, would take the risk.
"Uncle?"
The Crown Prince, still holding his nose, glanced back. Bellator tore his gaze away from the dagger, looked at his nephew, and spoke.
"Let us do this, Your Highness. I shall stab your heart. If the blade is blocked by your ribs and I fail, I will kill myself immediately. If not, I shall become the Emperor."
"...What?"
The Crown Prince was utterly dumbfounded by the absurd statement. But Bellator, true to Rickert's teachings, did not hesitate. Grabbing the Crown Prince's shoulder, he angled the dagger and thrust it toward his heart. He drove it in from slightly right to left, carving inward.
Miraculously, the blade slipped right through the gap in the ribs and pierced the Crown Prince's heart with perfect precision.
"Gasp!"
The moment his heart was pierced, the Crown Prince's body went rigid. His throat seized up, preventing even a scream from escaping. His eyes bulged in sheer shock.
Bellator stared into those dying eyes with utter indifference. Then, as if gently laying him down to rest, he let the Crown Prince collapse onto the pile of rotting, manure-scented straw. He immediately pulled out the dagger and approached the Third Prince, who was still preoccupied with watching the streets.
"Brother."
"Hey, I told you to shut up! Don't talk to me!"
Ignoring his protests, Bellator wiped the blood from his hands onto the Third Prince's clothes and forced the dagger into his hand.
"Huh? What is this?" the Third Prince asked blankly.
Instead of answering, Bellator flung the barn door wide open. Then, he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"The Third Prince has murdered the Crown Prince!"
"What?"
"The Third Prince has murdered the Crown Prince!"
He cried out with all his might. Hearing the shouts, a squad of imperial knights who had been frantically searching the area rushed over immediately. Bellator grabbed them and pointed at his brother, who was standing dazed with the bloody dagger in his hand.
"Inside... lies the body of His Highness, the Crown Prince."
He was astonishingly calm. His audacity knew no bounds. Rickert had said one's hands would shake the first time, but Bellator's hands did not tremble in the slightest. The evidence was clear. No special skill was required. All it took was resolve and unhesitating action.
With this single act, he leaped from fifth in the line of succession to second in an instant.
Bellator had four older brothers. The eldest had died young, leaving behind the Crown Prince; the second had left the imperial palace long ago to become a count; the third had just been framed with an inescapable charge; and the fourth had already lost his life during the chaos. Now, if he could just eliminate his second brother, the Second Prince, the throne would be his. Since that brother had been away from the capital for so long, Bellator believed he held the absolute advantage.
Or so he thought. Bellator was clever, but he had yet to learn the harsh truth that the world does not always bend to one's desires.
*
While some unleashed their filthy ambitions under the cover of chaos, and others seized it as a golden opportunity, there were those who sought only to escape the eye of the storm.
Marie and Rickert belonged to the latter group. However, there was one glaring problem: Rickert was unconscious. Being poisoned was bad enough, but the stab wound to his abdomen was a critical issue.
Fortunately, since they were near the tournament grounds, Marie had managed to procure a potion. In her haste, she poured it generously over his wound, took the remainder into her own mouth, and fed it to Rickert mouth-to-mouth. Next, she hijacked a random carriage, laid Rickert inside, bound him tightly with leather straps to secure him, and took the driver's seat herself. She cracked the whip.
"Hiyah!"
Crack!
The two horses surged forward with all their might, the wheels spinning rapidly over the paved road.
I'm finally done with this wretched family. Farewell to the nobles, the bastards, the imperial family, and this city. I am free now. No matter what, I will survive and live with Ricky. No one will stop me.
Marie looked practically crazed. She clearly needed to calm down, but it didn't seem like anyone could stop her even if they tried.
Taking a ship back to Ehrenberg would have been the fastest route, but the docks were currently swarming with panicked crowds, making it a death trap. Besides, finding a merchant vessel heading specifically to Ehrenberg amidst the chaos would have been nearly impossible.
She nearly ran over several people as they scurried about in all directions, but she managed to escape the city limits without injuring a single soul. Fortunately, as this was the Emperor's city, the paved roads stretched far beyond the walls, allowing her to ride without hindrance.
They drew further and further away from the capital. The sounds of the living hell faded behind them. At some point, the agonizing screams of humanity were replaced by the quiet rustle of nature. Only the carriage driven by Marie continued to race down the road.
As the wind sweeping across the fields brushed against her, the resentment that had filled Marie to the brim finally began to subside. The horses, too, were exhausted, frothing white at the mouth.
Marie pulled the carriage over in the middle of the road. Climbing down from the driver's seat, she opened the door to check on Rickert. Because she had bound him so tightly, he looked uncomfortable even in his unconscious state.
"Ugh..."
Judging by his groans, he might actually wake up if she was lucky. Marie shook him gently.
"Ricky. Ricky. Wake up."
"Ugh..."
Rickert seemed to open his eyes for a brief second, but they fluttered shut again as his head slumped back down. Startled, Marie checked his condition. But what did she know about medicine? At least he was breathing, which was a relief. Perhaps the potion was making him drowsy. Fortunately, the bleeding from his abdominal wound had stopped.
Suddenly, a heavy sense of helplessness washed over her. Since she had traveled to Nibelungen by ship, she had no idea how to navigate the return journey by land. Moreover, once the paved road ended, a luxury carriage like this wouldn't be able to go any further. Worst of all, in her rush to escape, she hadn't packed any food.
Peering under the canvas covering the carriage roof, she found, by some stroke of luck, a sack filled with carrots. She would have to make do with these until they found a village. Marie fed several to the horses and crunched on a raw one herself, snapping it in half.
Climbing back onto the driver's seat, she drove the horses forward at a more leisurely pace. Surrounded by endless fields, the only sounds were the whistling wind, the steady clop-clop of hooves, and the rolling of the wheels.
Feeling as though they were the only two people left in the world, Marie felt a strange, fluttering sensation in her chest. She wished they could live like this forever, just the two of them in a place where no one else existed. But then, the faces of her friends flashed through her mind.
Marie drove on, her mind filled with a tangled web of thoughts and anxieties. Eventually, the paved road came to an end, and the carriage began to jolt violently. She tried her best to be careful for Rickert's sake, but there was nothing she could do about the rugged dirt path. This carriage was designed for the imperial capital's wealthy neighborhoods; it was entirely ill-suited for rough terrain.
Still, she pressed on. As time passed, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of twilight. Having gained a fair amount of experience as an adventurer, Marie began scouting for a campsite in advance.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, she parked the carriage beneath a large tree. First, she climbed inside and untied the straps binding Rickert. Even though she had done it to save his life, she felt a pang of guilt seeing the red marks on his skin.
After laying him down comfortably, she unharnessed the horses, tied their reins to a thick branch, and fed them a generous helping of carrots. However, they lacked the most crucial necessity: water. Both she and the horses were parched. Furthermore, she had no flint to start a fire, nor a cloak to cover themselves. She truly had nothing but her sword and the carrots.
It was autumn, and the nights were biting cold. Marie's dress was woefully inadequate to ward off the chill. To make matters worse, she had torn her skirt earlier to the point where her undergarments were nearly visible, leaving her legs freezing.
Marie climbed back into the carriage and began massaging Rickert's arms, legs, and torso to keep his circulation going. As she did, something entirely beyond Rickert's conscious control began to rise, despite his comatose state.
While she was relieved to see his body functioning so... healthily, Marie couldn't help but flush bright red all by herself. She had to repeatedly fight off a devilish temptation whispering, Should I just touch it a little?
Pulling Rickert upright, Marie held him tightly in her arms to share body heat. Thus, she kept watch alone, enduring the freezing dark. Her heart fluttered with excitement for the first hour or two, but as the night deepened, exhaustion set in. Having been pushed to her absolute mental limits during the escape, she was utterly drained in both mind and body.
Swordmaster or not, there was no escaping sleepiness, hunger, and thirst. Eventually, Marie drifted off to sleep.
How much time had passed? Sensing a shift in the air, she snapped her eyes open to find a wretched, beggar-like man staring intently at her through the open carriage door. Goosebumps erupted all over her arms and neck.
Despite the cramped space, Marie instinctively and skillfully drew her sword, thrusting it like lightning into the man's face. The tip of her blade pierced straight through his skull in an instant.
As his lifeless body collapsed, another man's panicked voice echoed from outside.
"W-What the?!"
"See! I told you someone was in there!"
"Damn it!"
Marie quickly grabbed her sword and leaped out of the carriage. There, she saw men untying the horses and fleeing into the dark. Even as they ran, the horse thieves kept glancing back, their eyes wide at Marie's stunning beauty. It was unclear whether they were checking to see if she was pursuing them, or if they just wanted to catch another glimpse of her.
Marie hesitated, forcing herself to stop. She couldn't give chase. She had to protect Rickert.
Realizing the thieves might return with reinforcements, Marie quickly hoisted Rickert onto her back and set off in the opposite direction. She must have slept longer than she thought, for the sky had already turned a deep, dark blue. The pre-dawn autumn air was freezing.
Now, having lost both the horses and the carrots, she truly had nothing left but a single sword.
Once away from villages, cities, and human civilization, the world was nothing short of a unforgiving wilderness. There was nowhere to find food, and without any travel gear, finding a safe place to sleep was nearly impossible. Even though she had reached the level of a Swordmaster, granting her superhuman strength and stamina, she was still human. She could not survive indefinitely without sustenance and rest.
At this moment, Marie had only two thoughts: she had to head north, and she had to find water.
Carrying Rickert on her back, she made her way back to the dirt road and continued walking north. Yet, there was absolutely no sign of human habitation. No travelers, no merchants.
Did I take the wrong path? Is this road abandoned? If only I could meet someone, whether to receive their kindness or to threaten them at swordpoint.
Did I leave the city too hastily? Should I turn back now? No, I've already come too far. A myriad of desperate thoughts swirled in Marie's head.
Marie walked without rest. One hour, two hours, three hours... for a grueling six hours. The sun was now high in the sky. It had been over a day since her last meal, and she had barely slept. Rickert's condition was one thing, but at this rate, Marie herself was going to collapse.
Yet, as she walked on with a faint glimmer of hope, what she encountered was grim despair.
The horse thieves had returned, bringing their armed comrades with them. They had been trailing her from who knows when. They kept their distance, observing her without making a hasty approach. However, they made no effort to hide, staring at her openly with leering eyes.
A few of them were crudely armed. Two were even mounted on horseback. They possessed bows and crossbows. Killing them would be child's play, but she couldn't be sure she could fight off projectiles while protecting Rickert.
Thus, Marie made a choice: she ran.
She bolted forward with Rickert secured on her back. Instantly, the mounted riders gave chase, and the bandits on foot began to sprint after her. Their vile intentions were glaringly obvious.
Clop, clop, clop, clop!
The sound of hooves thundered behind her. Marie desperately prayed for a hill or a pass to appear. She prayed with all her heart. Or even just a place to hide Ricky. Oh God, please!
She ran until her breath caught in her burning throat. But then, to her utter despair, a rider came charging from straight ahead. She was trapped. Left with no choice, Marie gently set Rickert down by the roadside and drew her sword.
A violet light flashed along the blade. Yet, even a Swordmaster would die if trampled by a charging warhorse.
But something was strange. The rider charging from the front looked more like a knight than a bandit. He was clad in heavy chainmail, carrying a shield and a spear. His surcoat was crimson, emblazoned with a stark white cross.
And instead of attacking Marie, he rode right past her.
Clop, clop, clop, clop!
He charged straight toward the pursuing bandits. The thugs frantically pulled their reins, trying to turn their horses around. But the knight closed the distance in an instant, skewering one of the mounted bandits with his spear in a single, devastating thrust.
Thud!
He immediately drew his sword, leaned over the saddle, and cleaved the head off another bandit. His fluid transition of weapons atop a galloping horse was as natural and flawless as a painting.
Thud!
The bandit pierced by the spear was thrown backward by the impact, while the decapitated one wobbled sickeningly before tumbling off his mount. Seeing this brutal display, the remaining bandits on foot fled in sheer terror.
The knight did not pursue them. Instead, he grabbed the reins of the two riderless horses and trotted back toward Marie. He was a knight of solemn countenance, sporting a well-groomed, bushy beard.
"Stay back!" Marie hissed like a cornered wildcat, raising her glowing blade.
Yet, the knight approached leisurely, entirely unbothered by her hostility. The autumn breeze blew cool across the plains. Under the midday sun, he silently looked down—not at Marie, but at the boy collapsed by the roadside.
Then, he spoke.
"I am Abelich, Lord of Stormherz. Who might you be, my lady, and why were you running with my son on your back?"