Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Lena Rubel's Temperament
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Rubid was gazing up at the rift from Do-um Palace.
“You’ve gone and done something truly demonic.”
“That’s harsh—calling it demonic to a servant of the gods.”
Rubid muttered under his breath, and Clavis, standing beside him, chuckled in response. Rubid snorted at the flippant remark. The day before, the dukes had taken turns guarding the path to the tomb. The north, being the best prepared, had drawn the first watch. Thus, the northern prince and his knights had set up camp at Do-um Palace to keep an eye on the rift. In truth, this had the northern knights deeply worried. They figured there was no way the impatient Rubid would enjoy sentry duty. Many expected him to throw a fit the entire time he was on watch. Unexpectedly, though, he neither griped nor grew bored. Instead, like a cat mesmerized by fish in a tank, he was utterly absorbed in observing the blazing rift’s shape.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
Clavis asked, but Rubid didn’t answer, just kept staring at the rift.
“Want me to tell you something interesting?”
Even when asked again, the response was the same. But Clavis was just as willful, so he pressed on undeterred.
“Time doesn’t flow in the tomb.”
“What?”
Rubid turned, narrowing his brows at the unexpected statement. Delighted to finally have his attention, Clavis beamed.
“No need to be shocked. Of course the realm of the dead works differently from ours.”
“What are you talking about? Is that for real?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
Clavis clapped Rubid on the shoulder and continued.
“The world in there is frozen. Or maybe it’s looping? Time spent inside doesn’t register here. Like how you can dream for ages, but when you wake, only a night has passed.”
Rubid scowled at Clavis, skeptical of the hard-to-believe claim. But oddly, Clavis’s gaze was sliding past him, not quite meeting his eyes. He was pretending to look at Rubid while truly locking eyes with Marquis Rubel, who stood behind him.
“Isn’t it just so fascinating?”
That remark, too, was directed not at Rubid but at the marquis. The marquis’s face stiffened at the unfamiliar information.
*Is it true?*
He couldn’t quite believe it, but Clavis had no reason to lie. With the path to the tomb already open, any falsehood would be exposed soon enough. The marquis’s gaze flickered with unease.
*Then Lena...*
Did that mean the past six years she’d spent weren’t just six years? The startling proposition led to a dizzying hypothesis. If Clavis was telling the truth, and if Lena had indeed returned from the tomb. How much time had she actually spent there? A week? A month? A year?
*Maybe even more.*
It could be ten years, or a hundred. The marquis grew anxious at the incalculable speculation. At the same time, irritation surged toward Clavis for casually dropping this crucial information instead of sharing it properly beforehand. Even now, Clavis grinned mischievously at the marquis. As the marquis swallowed his bewilderment, Rubid, mulling over Clavis’s words, muttered,
“But how the hell did you find that out?”
Clavis’s smile deepened at the annoyingly perceptive question. He couldn’t very well say it was because Lena Rubel had been there six years ago, along with countless others like her. Scrambling for a vague dodge, an unexpected voice cut in.
“You’re sharing that intel with the east too, right?”
Rubid’s face twisted at the intruding voice. Rig-nan Aiterner and a horde of easterners were swarming into Do-um Palace.
“The star of the show arrives.”
Unlike the scowling Rubid, Clavis greeted him warmly. But Lin ignored both welcome and snub, marching silently toward the rift.
“Stop.”
As the Eastern Duke approached, Rubid blocked him coldly.
“Who do you think you are, barging in here?”
“This isn’t northern territory.”
“Doesn’t matter—gotta chase off stray dogs.”
Lin sighed at Rubid’s crude taunt. Then, as if refusing to waste more words, he turned to Clavis. Only then did Clavis slowly intervene.
“Hey, Rubid. Ease up. The Eastern Duke scheduled this officially.”
“What?”
“He wants a peek inside first.”
Rubid alternated glances between Lin and Clavis, his face screaming *what bullshit is this?*
“He’s going in himself?”
“Our Eastern Duke is diligent and capable, after all.”
Rubid’s expression turned icy at Clavis’s praise.
*Diligent? Capable? That bastard?*
Rubid chewed his lip, mood soured for no reason. Then he suddenly shouted.
“I’m going too.”
Lin stared at him like he was the world’s biggest idiot at the abrupt declaration. But as always, Rubid was shamelessly confident. And Lin had no right to stop him. In the end, Lin sighed and mounted up. Then, heedless of whether Rubid followed, he entered the path to the tomb alone.
. . .
Crossing the rift felt more ordinary than expected. Just a slight temperature shift, like stepping outside on an overcast day—that was it. Beyond lay vast plains and hills. But there was no cheer there. The sky burned red, the ground black and barren of even a single blade of grass. Staring too long made one’s head spin, teetering on madness.
*Stings.*
Exposed skin prickled faintly.
*Poison?*
Lin glanced at the ring he’d worn just in case. The silver band was still clear, thankfully. The black earth squelched like a shallow bog, but it didn’t hinder the horse much. Finishing his check, Lin spurred across the plain. Fortunately, no wraiths lurked along the way. Rubid had culled any that charged the rift, leaving the area clean. Lin pressed on to the distant hills to scout ahead. Then, abruptly, a sharp *ping* echoed from behind. Lin twisted reflexively, recognizing the sound. An invisible strike whistled past his ear.
“Urk!”
Lin slipped from the saddle in his hasty dodge. Hanging upside down by the reins, he caught sight of Rubid in his inverted view—astride a white horse, rapier drawn. Lin ground his teeth; that had been a northern slash over his head. Seizing the opening as Lin fell, Rubid shot past him.
*Should I just kill him?*
Gritting his teeth, Lin remounted and gave chase, urging his horse competitively. Soon, the two crested the plain’s tallest hill. Rubid, arriving a step ahead, muttered lightly.
“Nothing much.”
“Don’t talk to me.”
“It’s a monologue, you mongrel bastard!”
Rubid snapped, but Lin ignored him, surveying the vista. Nothing much? Was this guy blind? Beyond the hill stretched vast lands, rugged mountains, dense forests, and castles sturdy as fortresses. The kings’ domains they’d yet to conquer. But...
*Why are the castles like that?*
Lin examined them in bewilderment. They were castles, yet lacked the basics.
*No roads.*
No gates or canals either. The structures melted like half-dissolved candles into bizarre shapes, though the walls remained thick.
*How do they even live in those?*
Lin pondered if they were truly castles—then realized. Wraiths don’t live. They don’t sleep, eat, or farm. They just swarm mindlessly, hunting the living. For such beings, roads and gates made no sense. If anything, the existence of kings and surviving castles was the oddity. The moment that clicked, another question arose.
*If not bases for survival, why do those castles exist?*
Then a roar erupted from beyond the castles. The massive sound echoed endlessly, and wraiths poured from the structures en masse.
*What the—!*
Lin wheeled his horse, teeth clenched. Even as he retreated, his eyes fixed on the grotesquely spewing castle and the crawling wraiths. Burning the sight into his mind, he thought. Wraiths don’t live in those castles. So what was their purpose?
*Are they making wraiths in there?*
Lin cursed his own deduction. Regrettably, it was very close to the truth.
***
Meanwhile, the south’s situation differed starkly from the east and north. While those regions scouted the tomb, the south’s commander and knights were only now having their first meeting—in a thoroughly frigid atmosphere.
“We cannot accept you as our commander.”
The knight who spoke represented more than himself. The eighty-odd knights beside him assented with heavy silence. Lena blinked blankly at the barrage of rejection.
*I haven’t even said anything yet?*
Lady Lena hadn’t even greeted them. Yet she was refused before opening her mouth. Stunned for a moment, she soon smiled. When she’d learned the Southern Knights hailed from noble houses, she’d pitied them. That was a mistake. Who pitied whom? She was the one shunned by these selected scapegoats. Not exactly pleasant, but Lena swallowed her self-mockery and beamed brightly. In an innocent tone, she asked,
“May I ask why?”
“We cannot trust you.”
“Well, we’re strangers. Trust builds over time.”
The knights’ faces hardened as Lena smiled sweetly. Her response felt too textbook, almost absurd. Frowning, the knight retorted.
“Trust requires at least some potential.”
“So you see none in me?”
The knight had phrased it tactfully, but Lena zeroed in bluntly. His mood soured. Was she clueless, or dodging reality? She clung to words like a naive seven-year-old. He couldn’t fathom why the Southern Duke had appointed such a woman as his proxy. Hiding no resentment, he said,
“That’s our judgment. Please step down.”
“This was decided by His Grace the Southern Duke.”
The knight faltered at the mention. Seeing it, Lena pressed.
“Surely you’re not defying His Grace?”
“Never.”
“Then?”
“We’re asking you to step down voluntarily.”
Lena nodded unwittingly at the knight’s cowardly reply. The puzzle solved. She’d wondered how they could defy the duke’s direct pick.
*They’ll frame me and boot me out.*
As if the duke wouldn’t notice? Muttering inwardly, Lena recalled their ages from the Baptismal Registry. Young men in their early twenties from prestigious houses. Realizing anew they were immature lords, she asked softly,
“But I still don’t get it. Why no potential in me?”
At the repeated question, the knight finally bared his teeth.
“Your origins are unclear, and you’re too young.”
“That’s all?”
“And you’re a woman.”
“Do you think black cats are bad luck?”
The knight’s brows rippled at the out-of-left-field question, his face screaming *what nonsense?* Lena explained kindly.
“I mean, do you buy into superstitions? Like how a young woman of vague origins can’t be commander.”
The knight barely followed. So Lena elaborated, smiling.
“Why not be honest? ‘My prejudice says you’re weak and incompetent. But the duke scares me, so I’ll bully you out.’”
Her voice dripped gentle softness. The knights realized the biting sarcasm a beat late. Outraged at her harsh leap, the knight shot back.
“If prejudice, then reality differs?”
“Otherwise, how’d I get commander?”
“Prove it.”
“I can’t.”
“Lack confidence?”
“Yes.”
The knights faltered again at her firm admission. After such arrogance, surrender came too quick. Thinking her cowed, they deflated. But Lena wasn’t done.
“The only way to prove it here is beating you all down—and that’d just shame the Southern Knights again, like yesterday.”
Her words brimmed with seeming innocence. Thus, the knights’ anger rose slowly. They gnashed teeth; some glared openly. Yesterday’s disgrace at Do-um Palace stung. They knew their own pathetic showing, felt shame and despair. Hoping for a new commander stemmed from that insecurity. Meanwhile, Lena sighed inwardly at the knights squirming to her provocations.
*What to do with these kids?*
Skillless, mannerless, brazenly committing insubordination. They’d just be whiny corpses in the tomb like this. Lena thought the Southern Duke had given her an impossible task. As she swallowed her sigh,
“You’ve got a slick tongue, sure.”
A gruff voice drawled. Following it, a thick-necked, broad-shouldered knight smirked at her. As Lena looked, he muttered.
“I like it. A commander who’s good with her tongue.”
Some knights panicked, some recoiled at the lewd remark. Others laughed. Emboldened, his words grew cruder.
“Heading to die? Gotta have some fun, right?”
It crossed the line. But Lena, unflustered, asked,
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Why, wanna get ahead of things?”
“What for?”
At his question, Lena smiled brightly. Then added,
“I’ve got hands and feet too.”