Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: The Reaper of the Silver Mirror Lake (1)
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The refugee procession had to reach their destination swiftly, without drawing any undue attention.
Yet over the past few days, the highborn families fleeing from Delutana to Untana had seemed utterly determined to shatter that common sense.
Even in the dead of night, the campsite buzzed like midday. Inside a massive tent ringed by golden lanterns, jesters capered with their quips and antics, musicians piped on bagpipes and plucked harps to weave melodies, while noble ladies and their children savored tea, sweet wines, and delicacies, their laughter tinkling like chimes.
"Oh my, madam? Isn't that the necklace they said was one-of-a-kind from the Nelldren workshop...?"
"Hee-hee, yes indeed. I told him it was fine, but my husband insisted—it was a parting gift since I'd be away from home for a while..."
Tonight, too, this nameless winter field had transformed into the heart of Delutana high society. No trace of biting midwinter cold or the stench of war—just a serene warmth, delectable feasts, and indulgent luxuries filling the air.
Not everyone was invited to that otherworldly revelry. Servants, slaves, and the consular guards' soldiers toiled in the shadows, sweating to serve the elites' pleasures or standing watch in the knife-like winds outside the tents.
Then there were those completely detached from it all: rough-faced warriors in leather garb, and a certain lady's entourage draped in patched cloaks. They huddled by a bonfire in a nearby clearing.
The Atalain warriors scowled at the raucous tent.
"Madam, shouldn't we dismantle that tent soon? If they keep carousing and boozing all night, they might not be ready to move tomorrow either."
"No, just leave them be... They're anxious about suddenly fleeing their homes; they need some distraction."
"In that case, madam, you should come inside the tent too. The wind is fierce."
"I'm fine. Last time I went in, it was so crowded and chaotic I felt overwhelmed..."
"Don't worry. We'll take our axes and clear everyone out. Then you and your household can rest in peace..."
"Ah, no, no, please don't. That tent isn't even mine to begin with..."
"......"
Though clearly displeased, the warriors held their tongues. Lady Wheeled—Yulia—lowered her gaze with a troubled sigh.
She didn't exactly approve of their antics either.
Fleeing war only to throw daily banquets? It wasted supplies and, once settled, they lingered endlessly, squandering time. It wasn't mere ignorance; it bordered on collective madness.
Yulia had the authority and means to shut it down. She was the focal point of this refugee train, and the Indomitable Legion warriors obeyed her commands without question.
But just because she could didn't mean she should.
Her authority wasn't hard-won; it stemmed solely from General Goltaran's backing and Advisor Enrico's support. She knew full well that bullying the highborn families could embarrass her patrons once they returned to Delutana.
Of course, the noble ladies weren't fools. Despite Yulia and Duncan's shabby appearance—perfect for ignoring—no one dared rude outright. They knew it would invite a hail of axes from the brutish barbarians.
Instead, they opted for a more "society-appropriate" approach.
"Oh my, Lady Wheeled? What are you doing out here?"
"Good heavens, it's so cold, and you've been outside all this time?"
Two nameless noblewomen approached the bonfire. Yulia mustered an ambiguous smile.
"Oh, it's not that cold. Sitting by the fire keeps me plenty warm..."
"Ah, I see! With all your outdoor experience compared to us, you must be well-adapted to this chill..."
"Exactly. I was secretly envious hearing your stories last time. Goodness, we get cold even inside the tent..."
"......"
Beaming faces, friendly tones. But beneath lurked sarcasm, mocking her lowly street origins.
They soon pressed her to join the tent. Yulia politely declined as best she could. She still cringed recalling the pleas two days ago, how she'd been swarmed like some exotic beast.
But she had no choice but to relent soon enough.
"Well, I don't know about you, madam, but that little gentleman beside you looks quite chilled."
"Poor thing. With so much road ahead, catching a cold would be disastrous..."
"Sniff, phew... N-no, I'm not cold at all..."
Duncan sniffled out his unconvincing denial. To an eight-year-old raised in the comparatively mild south of Maltana, the northern Alliance winds were brutally harsh.
Yulia finally accepted with reluctance. The noblewomen brightened and led the way. Thankfully, unlike before, few inside paid Yulia or Duncan much mind.
Truly, not a single soul.
"Lady Mondmed, Lady Shasser! Goodness, where have you been? Everyone's been waiting ages to see those Vesta pearls you promised..."
"Oh dear, oh dear, look at me! Sorry, I forgot!"
"Lady Wheeled? Could you wait here a moment? We'll be right back..."
"......"
The two whisked away, abandoning the Wheeled mother and son in the banquet's midst as if urgent business had arisen. Then came the complete reversal.
As if by magic, no one showed interest.
The elderly lady who'd chatted amiably before, the middle-aged one who'd offered cookies and tea, the young one curious about her ties to General Goltaran, the young misses fawning over cute Duncan—all suddenly acted oblivious.
"Yes, splendid. When we return to Delutana, I'll bring my husband to visit you too..."
"Lady Volgaruis is so wise and knowledgeable..."
"Indeed, Delutana may be the Alliance's greatest city, but compared to the vast Lucaonia Empire's holy capital..."
"......"
Not even condescending glances or whispers—just perfect, utter dismissal.
The noblewomen never returned, despite promises. Unable to bear the embarrassment, Yulia approached a few people first. She got saccharine replies at first, but once answered, they turned away to murmur among themselves.
The shabby intruders stood like unwanted sacks of barley in the banquet's center. Yulia maintained her composure and looked down at Duncan.
"Duncan, want something to eat? Shall I fetch some cookies?"
"Yeah... no. Mom, let's go. It's too noisy and hot here..."
Her quick-witted son fanned himself, signaling he wanted out. Yulia bit her lip and nodded.
The moment they stepped out, one of their guides appeared as if waiting.
"Oh, leaving already, madam?"
"Stay a bit longer? You haven't even warmed up properly..."
"No, no, we're fine. Thank you for the invitation, ladies. We'll be off now."
She firmly rejected the insincere overture. Clutching her son's hand, she trudged back to the bonfire. The two noblewomen flashed mocking smiles, chattering as if nothing happened, then giggled back inside.
The women's laughter and musicians' tunes echoed until dawn.
In truth, such petty schemes were nothing. Yulia's real concern lay elsewhere.
Lady Volgaruis, matriarch of House Volgaruis.
Her father was the current Assembly Chairman; her husband, Councilor Ramulek, had once been a top candidate for the post. Naturally, her standing in society was ironclad, and on this flight, she'd become the noblewomen's de facto leader.
Yet lately, her behavior was deeply suspicious. She'd gather the ladies to decry House Turis's defiance of the Empire, blame them for their hardships, and subtly sway opinion that the Empire and Elga Church weren't so bad after all.
It smacked of collusion with the Empire. And Yulia had damning evidence to back it up.
On the day they left Delutana, she'd seen Councilor Ramulek sneak from House Volgaruis's carriage.
And... the warrior sent to tail him hadn't returned.
No devout Atalain warrior would defy orders and flee. An ominous chill crept up her spine. Lacking a way to confirm, she'd kept wary eyes on Lady Volgaruis...
Then the decisive incident erupted.
"Lady Wheeled, let's head not to Untana, but to the Silver Mirror Lake first."
"Pardon...?"
"You know, that famous lake by Untana. They say its winter scenery is breathtaking. Once we're in Untana Castle, leaving again will be a hassle, so why not visit the lake first, enjoy the view, have some tea...?"
"......"
Speechless at the mad proposal, Yulia rejected it outright—delaying the journey was unacceptable.
But anticipating that, Lady Volgaruis had rallied the group's consensus. Grumbles and pressure rained from the noblewomen. When Yulia held firm, she added meaningfully,
"Hmm, madam. If you rush straight to Untana now... you might regret it deeply?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, nothing—just that you'll miss the beautiful scenery. Is there really need to hurry to Untana? Though, with all those strapping men at your side, I suppose rushing to some secluded spot is understandable... Hee-hee-hee..."
"......"
The blatant insult enraged the Atalain warriors, who seized their axes. The noblewomen's consular guards hesitated, then gripped spears and swords.
Unlike the Indomitable Legion loyal to General Goltaran, the consular troops prioritized the Chairman's own daughter's orders. Thirty-some Legion warriors versus fifty soldiers—tension crackled on the brink of clash.
Numerical disadvantage meant nothing. Each Atalain could handle ten soldiers alone. Their side would win handily, but...
Yulia didn't want needless blood spilled. Calming her warriors with a sigh, she said,
"......Do as you please. But wherever you go, my group will head straight to Untana."
"Oh, what a pity... Then our companionship ends here. Thank you for these days, Lady Wheeled. May the exalted light guide your remaining journey."
With a farewell reeking of imperial airs, Lady Volgaruis turned away. The remaining nobles and consular soldiers trailed after her.
It felt like a storm had swept through. Her foreboding grew. But they couldn't linger. Yulia soothed her shaken household and fuming warriors, preparing to hurry to Untana.
Just before departing, she spotted her son crouched on the ground.
"Duncan, what are you doing?"
"Yeah, burying gold coins along our path."
"...Gold coins?"
"Yep, a thousand luden in gold. Dad loves gold coins. In case he comes looking for us later, this way he won't get confused by diverging tracks and will follow ours."
"......"
Yulia gazed endlessly at her son carefully burying a single gold coin upright in the earth. Pure? Admirable? Heartbreaking? Emotions surged; lips trembling, she wordlessly stroked and hugged him tight.
Soon, Yulia's group hastened onward.
In the winter field bereft of visitors, only that one gold coin remained, gleaming pristine.
Several days later.
A goateed man reached that field.
"Wha—no... this is!!"
He flung off his black cloak like a shot. His beady eyes quivered. Ragged breaths clouded the air. Hands shaking with uncontained excitement, he dropped to dig the frozen ground bare-handed.
Moments later, he unearthed the dirt-caked gold coin. Wiping it frantically on his sleeve, he thrust it skyward and bellowed,
"Jackpot! Found a hidden stash!!"
A bright, innocent smile lit Duncan Wheeled's weary face for the first time in ages.