A Restful Stop and the Shadow of Imperial Soldiers
The carriage hummed steadily along the rough northern path, wheels uneven but forgiving. It carried the tempered air of the western region, a gentle shift from the icy bite behind them.
“…Hoo.”
Every jolt sent a subtle vibration up the spine, yet it felt tolerable.
Sunlight filtered through the window, softer and warmer than the north’s razor-sharp glare. The chill that had seeped to the bone melted away, leaving only a cozy warmth that wrapped around him like an old blanket.
Arteon closed his eyes and leaned lightly against the backrest.
“Too long without rest… I suppose?”
His mind had grown strangely loose. In this life, or even across every past one, had he ever felt so comfortably at ease?
He tilted his head, trying to recall.
The carriage suddenly jolted hard over a pothole.
Iglis, slung at his waist, twitched upward on instinct and struck his hip.
As if to remind him: do not let your guard down.
“…I know.”
Arteon murmured, fingers idly tracing the shaft of his spear.
He had trained constantly with the mana cultivation method whenever a gap appeared on the journey. But even that was no longer enough to push him further. A great wall loomed ahead, and the fatigue he felt now was nothing but a desperate flight from the weight pressing on his chest.
Complex thoughts crowded his mind, yet he shook them away, returning to the backrest.
He could not guarantee how long this respite would last.
‘Rest when you can. It is a process in itself.’
He arranged his thoughts around that simple truth.
Hours passed. The sunlight outside gradually turned the color of blood. The carriage’s shadow stretched long, and twilight began to fall.
“Lieutenant! This is the last village before the destination. It would be best to purchase whatever supplies we need here and depart immediately at dawn.”
The driver’s voice came from the front.
“Very well.”
“Then we shall enter the village.”
The pace slowed. The carriage rolled through a small settlement ringed by stone walls and wooden fences.
A few lanterns glowed early along the narrow streets, lending the western village an atmosphere of quiet comfort. Though small, it had everything required.
The carriage halted in the center. The driver jumped down, scanned the area, and headed straight for the most prominent inn.
With the vehicle secured and a room assigned, Arteon accepted the key from the driver.
“I’ll take a short walk. If anything else is needed, order it freely.”
“Yes, thank you.”
He stepped outside. The western air pressed in, entirely different from the north’s bite. People moved with the relaxed ease he rarely saw in the borderlands.
Few souls lingered in the night streets, yet the knowledge that he need not wear heavy furs felt almost luxurious.
Arteon wandered slowly, letting his thoughts clear while taking in the village’s quiet charm.
Only one more day until he reached Rionhart’s home.
‘…Master of Svein.’
Rionhart had trained not only Svein but many high-ranking warriors.
‘If I can meet him…’
Perhaps he could carve a path through this bleak situation.
Of course, he would first need the man’s approval.
Thump, thump. The wind whispered as he circled the village once more and returned to the inn.
When he entered, however, the atmosphere was no longer calm.
Residents stood outside, and a handful of soldiers in black armor guarded the doorway.
A commander stepped forward and shouted.
“Effective immediately, this inn is provided for soldiers performing imperial duties. Those who can answer the Empire’s call should consider it an honor and move on to your next assignment at once!”
“Bu-But… even if it’s the Empire’s duty, this sudden change…”
A few voices protested, yet the soldiers’ eyes left no room for argument. They turned and left in haste.
Who would dare resist an imperial soldier?
“Lieutenant… I mean, Arteon-nim?”
The driver rushed over, eyes wide.
“What is it?”
“Imperial soldiers. They’re en route for an important mission and claimed this entire inn, including the surrounding lodgings, for the night.”
“…I see.”
At least a hundred people would need beds. In an ordinary countryside village, no one could oppose the Empire’s forces.
They had no choice but to follow in bitter silence.
But then.
Arteon’s gaze locked onto the emblem on the soldiers’ armor.
He had seen it before.
‘Where…?’
The memory refused to surface.
Irritation flared, but he forced it down.
“Let’s head to another inn.”
The driver nodded and led the way.
Earlier, while strolling, they had spotted an empty inn on the outskirts.
“Facilities are a bit basic, but this will do. Rest here and depart tomorrow.”
“Aigoo, this is heaven itself. Thank you for your help.”
“No need. Rest well.”
Considering the northern environment, even this modest place felt like luxury.
Arteon lay on the bed and watched moonlight slip through the half-open window.
He could not fathom why imperial soldiers were here, yet a strange unease coiled in his chest.
‘Bad feeling…’
He could not shake it.
Night deepened. Just before dawn, a cold silence brushed the windowpane.
Arteon woke early, packed his things quietly, and finished his preparations.
“All ready to leave, sir.”
Dried meat and a few simple loaves.
The driver’s words confirmed everything.
“Then let’s hurry.”
Though he did not understand the cause, yesterday’s events had left his heart racing.
The driver, too, seemed to sense it. He drove the carriage out of the village without delay.
Just a little farther now.
‘Rionhart’s home.’
The carriage raced along the road where dawn light spread like spilled blood.
---
A quiet mountain valley lay wrapped in low mist. Rionhart’s manor stood at its heart, surrounded by scattered boulders that clicked and scraped with every step.
“Hah… hah… hah…”
Kairon, the disciple Rionhart had taken in three years ago, hung from the old man’s shoulder, thick sweat dripping from his chin.
Barely twenty years old, his body—sunburned to a deep bronze—looked more honed than any knight.
But…
“Still leading with the toes. The center is swaying.”
A golden-haired man watched, voice dry as autumn leaves. His eagle-sharp eyes seemed to read every secret of the boy before him.
Kairon answered breathlessly.
“Master, this is enough…”
“If you’re thinking of quitting and going home, then stop now.”
Rionhart.
He watched Kairon’s terrifying growth with dissatisfaction in his cold gaze.
“Again.”
Whoosh! Clang!
The movements looked like simple slashes or thrusts, yet they demanded countless hidden details: a faint tremor in the floor, precise weight transfer at the ankles, and flawless angle with every swing.
One degree off, and the concentrated power scattered.
Rionhart did not blink. He observed every motion of his disciple.
And then…
“Enough.”
“Ha!”
Kairon collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, chest heaving.
He had trained every day until it felt like dying.
Rionhart clicked his tongue.
“Tsk tsk. Still too soft.”
“Try it yourself then. You’ll see how it feels.”
“You keep messing up, so we repeat. You could have finished long ago.”
“…That’s easy to say.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just muttering to myself. Hehe.”
Kairon grumbled alone, then startled and forced a laugh.
The days had been merciless, yet the daily improvement left him no room to quit.
Rionhart chuckled softly and turned his gaze to the sky.
Today was different from usual…
“A guest feels like arriving.”
“Eh? What do you mean? No one contacted us.”
“Just a feeling.”
“That feeling always comes true, doesn’t it. Not some heavenly revelation.”
Kairon pushed himself up, knowing rest was essential before the next session.
Rionhart watched the weary youth enter the manor and turned away.
As the sun dipped lower…
“We have arrived, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The carriage finally stopped before Rionhart’s estate. Arteon stepped down.
The driver pointed to the mountain midway up the valley.
“He built his manor in the mountains because he dislikes complicated places.”
The site looked more rugged than a simple rear mountain.
To build a manor in such a spot…
Arteon recalled what Svein had said.
“So… he truly is not ordinary.”
The eccentric personality painted itself in his mind.
The driver glanced at Arteon.
“Now the sun has set. Shall we rest here tonight and continue tomorrow?”
“If we hurry, we could reach before dark.”
It was rude, yet the urgency pressed.
The driver nodded.
“As you wish.”
“If I do not return in three days, you may return at once. Thank you for your service.”
Arteon handed the driver a gold coin.
The man blinked in shock, yet insisted he had enjoyed the comfortable journey.
Arteon pressed the coin into his palm and turned.
‘Finally…’
To meet Rionhart.
What kind of man would he be?
He had thought of it countless times on the road, yet no conclusion had formed.
Arteon climbed the mountain toward the manor. Hours passed. The sun vanished, darkness swallowing the world.
And then.
“Move quickly.”
Below the mountain where Rionhart’s estate stood, nearly a hundred soldiers in black armor formed ranks in perfect silence.
“If you resist, we’ll cut off your limbs. Then… we’re coming for the prisoner.”
Heavy tension thickened the air as they began the ascent.