Selasier (04) 037: Betrayal at the Mountain's Foot
"Over there!"
At the foot of Hiatt Mountain, where temporary barracks had sprung up in droves before long. A knight, bleary-eyed from standing watch all night, pointed and shouted.
The fog was just beginning to lift, and several other knights were on hand, ready for any contingency. Their gazes followed the shouting knight's finger.
What they saw were two figures. The boy recently appointed as her bodyguard was carrying the young lady down the mountain on his back. His condition was so horrific it was almost impossible to look at directly. Especially the right half of his body—it looked like the flesh had been burned away entirely. Just seeing the blood caked thickly on him made it easy to guess that his state had been unavoidable.
What on earth had happened up in that mountain while they were trapped? And why was Selasier, who had never let anyone so much as touch her body no matter what, let alone get close, now riding so obediently on his back?
They arrived before the gathered knights. With Kalen's consideration, Selasier dismounted from his back. Then, in a voice so small the knights couldn't hear, she whispered,
"Are you really okay?"
"Yes. As I said earlier, I'm fine."
Kalen won't betray me. He won't abandon my faith in him. It might not hold true forever, but she just wanted to believe it. That was all she had left now.
Selasier gave a small nod and turned to the knights.
"Makbel."
Her voice was so stern it felt like it belonged to the one leading them all.
"Where is Makbel?"
"Thank goodness you're safe, my lady."
The elderly man with the sharp mustache made an impression. Makbel had just arrived at the cluster of makeshift barracks hastily erected at the mountain's base. The fog had lifted from the mountain, and word had come that Selasier and her bodyguard had returned unharmed.
For Makbel, who had rather hoped they'd die quietly in the mountains, it was deeply depressing news. But he couldn't show it, no matter what. Only a fool would, especially with Selasier, who had never trusted anyone to begin with. She wouldn't let this incident slide without holding someone accountable.
How much effort had he poured into earning her trust? Standing by the young master Torun's side, who enjoyed the Grand Duke's favor, he was so close to realizing his worn-out, shabby ambitions. He couldn't let it all crumble so futilely.
Makbel approached Selasier with a slightly awkward expression, feigning concern. But something was off. The aura she exuded was different from before. Sensing this, he halted his steps.
"My lady?"
The ruby eyes fixed on him held no trust left.
Makbel couldn't believe it. He had risen to his position through superior insight and social savvy. He knew well the twisted state of Selasier's heart. Hadn't he exploited that very weakness in his plans?
The more people around her vanished, the more she had to rely on him—yet now, she no longer looked at him with eyes of faith.
"...Was it you?"
As expected, Makbel's sharp instincts pinpointed the culprit who had straightened her rotten, twisted heart. The bodyguard attached to her. The outsider who had shown up recently—it had to be him.
Makbel glared at Kalen with utter certainty. At the same time, a question arose. How could she fall for an outsider—not even a northerner—who'd been with her for mere months, let alone years?
No matter how warped Selasier's heart was, it had taught her a colder gaze than anyone's. In situations where she had to trust someone, she could gauge who would cost her less. And naturally, it had to be him.
Makbel had no idea about the words Kalen had spoken to her, hammering at the walls of her heart, or how she now owed him her life and bore the weight of those words.
It was then that Selasier's command came down.
"Kalen."
The boy with a body that seemed impossible to have survived pointed at him and drew his finger across his throat.
Splat—
"Grahhh...!"
Searing pain erupted in both thighs. Even as a vassal of Hiatt, the rulers of the north, Makbel wasn't particularly skilled in personal combat. He was just a frail old man. Enduring magic with such a body was, in a way, impossible.
His aged knees were forced to the cold snowy ground. His head dropped from the recoil, revealing the sight of thin red lines burning through his thighs.
Confirming the source of pain with one's own eyes was undoubtedly horrific. It doubled the agony.
"M-My lady... what is the meaning of..."
"Don't you know what happened in the mountain?"
Makbel forced his trembling head up to meet Selasier's eyes. The gaze of the girl who had entrusted her body fully to the boy was colder than anything.
This was the moment his fears became reality. As expected from this embodiment of suspicion—she wouldn't let it go unpunished.
That's why he'd hoped she'd die quietly in there.
Makbel clicked his tongue inwardly and mustered the most pitiful expression he could.
"How can you suspect me...! After all these years by your side, there's no proof I orchestrated this!"
It was true. There was no evidence this was Makbel's doing. For her to doubt the bond built over years so easily...
He might have simply suggested the monster cleanup out of a pure desire to help her.
However.
"After all that time by my side, you still don't know me?"
That held for ordinary people. Not for Selasier. At least, not for someone like her.
"Intentions be damned—I was put in danger. That's justification enough to punish you."
And it wasn't just because she was Selasier as an individual. Even if the Grand Duke's favor had shifted to young master Torun, she was still the Grand Duke's eldest daughter. A mere vassal couldn't expect immunity.
The fact that her life had been threatened was real. The fact that Makbel had provided the pretext was also real. That was all that mattered. Nothing more.
"And..."
Selasier trailed off, following the sound of applause that had begun from somewhere.
"It seems your words aren't even true."
Clap—
Clap—
From Selasier to Kalen, the lined-up knights around them, and finally Makbel—all eyes turned backward.
"For once, you're speaking the truth, little sister."
At the end of those gazes, young master Torun, accompanied by numerous knights, was clapping exaggeratedly.
"Oh? Brother. What brings you here?"
"You don't even flash that creepy smile anymore. It was one of your few redeeming qualities."
Makbel's guilt. And young master Torun revealing himself at the same time.
Most couldn't grasp the situation easily, but recalling Selasier's claim that Makbel had betrayed her made it click.
"Young master... if you show yourself now...!"
"That's not it, Makbel. Even if I trust you utterly, how could I pass up such a golden opportunity?"
Tsk.
Torun clicked his tongue lightly and surveyed the surroundings leisurely. Knights tense and at a loss. Makbel kneeling with thighs pierced by magic. His sister, whose looks were decent enough but whose situation was utterly pathetic. And the mysterious bodyguard looking half-dead, like a corpse.
"What a perfect opportunity. My idiot sister walks into a death trap without realizing it, and even her guard looks like he'll drop dead with a tap."
Step, step.
His utterly casual footsteps headed toward the center, where Makbel knelt and Selasier glared.
"If we leave it like this, you won't get out unscathed either. Am I wrong, Makbel?"
"..."
He wasn't. Selasier would demand his punishment. The possibility wasn't low.
But certainty and suspicion were worlds apart. The moment Torun appeared, her hunch became conviction—and that was the straight path to unavoidable punishment.
With things as they were, the only answer was for Torun to seize total control here.
Makbel ground his teeth and replied.
"...As expected of you, young master. A supremely brilliant choice."
"Music to my ears."
Torun nodded and faced Selasier directly.
"So why'd you come to the front lines... No, why covet my position, little sister? You should've just found a decent man, gotten hitched, and been done with it."
"..."
"With that face and body, you'd have plenty of takers. Well, looks like that's ruined now."
Torun clicked his tongue, eyeing Selasier with contempt, then addressed the surrounding knights.
"What about you lot? Will you chase my sister's impossible pipe dream to the end? Or join me to conquer the north—and the Empire?"
The outcome was obvious to anyone. The knights, who had been gauging the mood, began slipping to his side.
In a way, it might have been decided from the start. Knights favored by the Grand Duke versus a mage woman practically abandoned by him.
At last, the sides had split.
Selasier watched the scene quietly. Utterly still and quiet.
All of the north had turned their backs on her. No—'turned their backs' was too hopeful. The knights facing her were no different from enemies about to lunge for her throat.
Then she turned her head and looked at one boy.
His usual utterly calm demeanor. Unchanged since Hiatt Mountain, it made her feel he would protect her forever, putting her at ease.
She must have feared this situation more than death. Even knowing Makbel's actions were suspicious, she dreaded ending up alone like this.
Yet just one person. Only that one person staying by her side made everything feel fine. It even reassured her.
So she smiled.
"...Smiling? Have you finally lost your mind?"
The smile Selasier had hidden tightly behind her mask. The pure, innocent grin of the girl she still was.
Hidden from all others. So only Kalen could see her true purity.
Torun could only catch the curving eyes and upturned lips. He knew only that Selasier had 'smiled'.
"I'm counting on you, Kalen."
"Yes."
What was with that unshaken poise? In this overwhelming difference in forces, was that worthless bodyguard truly that reliable?
It made more sense to say her head had snapped and she couldn't think straight.
In Torun's eyes, the boy with his gruesome injuries walked forward nonchalantly.
Feeling a twinge of unease, Torun still ordered the knights to dispose of them. The charge: treason.
-Gahhh!!!
What was this?
-Keurk!
How to even describe it?
-S-Spare me!
This situation unfolding before their eyes. How to explain it?
No one had even been killed yet, and they were already begging for their lives. These northern knights were shrinking back in terror on their own.
Was what they saw with their own eyes really reality? Were they supposed to believe that northern knights were cowering before a single boy?
Graceful. The simplicity in his gestures. The symphony of magic responding in kind.
"Young master Torun. Do you know why magic emerged and the age of swords waned?"
Covered head to toe in blood, unleashing magic—it couldn't have been more elegant.
Just one boy. A mere child who hadn't even undergone his coming-of-age ceremony.
Why did it look like they couldn't even compete?
Torun unwittingly perked up his ears at the boy's words.
"Even though swords are better for handling monsters, and magic is the domain of the chosen."
How could one ignore the words of the one dominating the battlefield?
"Magic's essence is for killing. Its meaning may have faded now, but it depends on the user."
He didn't know much about magic, but he vaguely remembered what his father had said. His father, who had the absurd idea of fusing magic with swords, knew a lot about it. He hadn't paid much attention, but the basics stuck.
"Even a single hierarchy makes a world of difference in magic."
The red threads that had pierced Makbel's thighs now sliced across the battlefield.
"Ancient battle magic could handle dozens of swordsmen alone."
A chilling wind sliced through swords and armor.
"Not quite at that level now, but..."
And that even greater thing... He couldn't put it into words.
Behind the boy, who spat blood yet remained eerily expressionless, a dark world loomed. A dark hell. The mental image he had unconsciously begun to unfold.
The icicle spears glittering at his fingertips were clearly his sister's, but their power was incomparably greater.
"This was one reason I came here originally."
As Blamia had taught him. He'd believed swords rarely beat magic under normal circumstances, and since he'd achieved one goal here, he judged it possible. But he didn't realize how grueling it should have been. It was only thanks to his real combat experience from brushing death so many times, combined with the mental image he'd manifested unknowingly.
Kalen just smiled.
He had finally succeeded. The moment he achieved one of his goals in coming north.