by Y. R. Shin
He was thinking that he sounded quite merciful, but on the contrary, her face started to stiffen. Feeling uneasy, he quietly waited for her answer. Something along the lines of an apology or a good old “yes, sir.” But her dry lips did not open.
He stayed squatted and rested his face on his hand.
Well, well, well.
Jacalrin was a confident man. Not just because he was the second son of the renowned House Chesa. He truly was a promising, talented young man.
He didn’t even consider achieving the same results with half the effort to have something to brag about. He often learned and digested difficult theories in his own, odd way and sometimes even applied those to achieve double the ordinary result.
The same thing had happened when he was learning how to swordfight. His masters had always forced the Chesa’s way and told him that he must always keep his sword in hand so he could get used to it, but Jacalrin had found his own way by forgetting everything and swinging the way his body would be most comfortable with. Of course, that had resulted in his rather ignominious style, very much unlike the elegance of House Chesa.
In short, he’d made it a habit to come up with little tricks to find maximum comfort. And he was quick enough to make it work. Some lamented that had Jacalrin not been a childish man who kept saying, “I’m just gonna do as much as everyone else,” and “Yeah, whatever,” House Chesa could have achieved a greatness unlike ever before.
Though Jacalrin was not quite fond of this, there was a saying about House Chesa: The world is so fair that Count Chesa fathered the handsomest, most considerate man in the capital, Kalajesh, but he also fathered the cleverest rascal in the capital, Jacalrin.
“You’re going to keep following us, aren’t you?” he asked the young woman.
Reuyen remained silent and kept her pale lips shut at Jacalrin’s ruthlessly firm question.
He turned to look at the horse she’d ridden here. At that moment, Seisen came and reported to the back of his head.
“Sir Chesa, we are ready for your order to depart.”
“Oh, already, huh?” Jacalrin straightened his body, rubbing a spaulder that kept jangling. His eyes were still fixed on the woman’s horse. “That horse you brought. Looks like a fine breed.”
“Yes, sir. Den is the best from the Detuas.”
“His name is Den? The best, huh? If you’re patriotic enough to volunteer for war, you should hand him over to the knights.”
His words sounded strangely suggestive. Sensing a bad hunch, Reuyen went silent for a moment, then replied, “He’s an impatient one, not trained for war yet.”
Of course, Jacalrin made a funny face. “That, we can take care of. Sir Verohan, you have some money on you?”
“Sir?”
“I’m taking that horse. Pay her right now so she doesn’t say anything later and tie her to that tree.”
Seisen looked at the tree he was pointing at. There were some low trees standing in the field. It was still more humane than beating a woman to the point she couldn’t follow them anymore, he supposed.
“What are you…?” began Reuyen, looking aghast.
“It’s better for the both of us.” Jacalrin smiled mischievously, showing his white teeth. “Or is it just better for me? Tie her tightly, sir! Tightly!”
Completely dumbfounded, Reuyen watched the young Chesa walk away as he gave that playful order.
After watching her with cold eyes for a moment, Seisen signaled three soldiers to surround her. “You heard his orders.”
“If you mean that preposterous order, yes, I did,” said Reuyen.
“Even so, I will comply. You should be grateful to still be alive after daring to block the way of an army.”
She glared at the middle-aged knight and gripped the weeds on the ground. Her vicious eyes made Seisen scowl.
“Tie her to the tree and make sure she can’t escape. I will send the money for the horse to the Detuas after determining the right price.”
But she did not intend to be an easy prey. When the soldier grabbed her wrist and tried to make her stand up, she nimbly shot up from the ground and twisted his arm behind his back. Though the soldier hadn’t expected it, her movements were surprisingly fast.
Seisen gazed at her for a moment, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. Then he lowered them and said, quite seriously, “If you don’t comply, I will obey the military rules of wartime and cut your legs off, even if the commander does not order so.”
He meant it.
She let go of the soldier’s arm. She could see Den’s black, watery eyes looking back at her as he was taken away by strange hands from afar.
Reuyen glared as she watched the army slowly marching to the other side of the ridge, resembling a long snake.
Before she could even react, she had lost Den and gotten tied to a tree. Every time she tried to move, the tight ropes dug into her waist and ankles. She was too flabbergasted to even think. Reuyen swallowed a sigh and started to carefully study the ropes around her.
Jacalrin had underestimated one thing. He probably had thought that an ordinary man’s daughter like herself wouldn’t be able to move for a while if he did this much, but she was a woman born with the knowledge of how prisoners of war were tied up, and how to loosen those knots.
Reuyen tried flexing her arms. Thankfully, the knots weren’t as tight as she had worried they might be. After a quick, deep breath, she twisted her wrists. The pressure, strong enough to cut the circulation in her hands, made her groan. Not giving up, she pressed the long end of the knot tightly against the tree with her thigh and freed her right thumb at the cost of the horrible pain in her wrists, like they were being sawed off. It was a piece of cake from there.
The ropes dropped to the ground, one after another. Her skin burned. She panted. As she caressed her raw wrists and backs of her hands, harsh words escaped her mouth for the first time in a long while. “Damn it, Hansen. You should have seen the babe from your house fooling around like that. No, no, he’s your blood, after all.”
In Reuyen’s eyes, Jacalrin was no knight of a renowned house, but merely a sly fraud.
Of course, it was her fault, loitering around the road to the border with no authorization, but if she were a “real” ordinary woman, she would have stayed tied here indefinitely and starved to death.
She stumbled and dropped to the ground. She couldn’t even begin to think of a solution. The ridge was fairly close now, but it would take at least three or four hours to get there, and that was if she were on a horse. She was unsure if she would even get there in a day if she dragged her tired body and forced herself to walk. But she could not walk back the distance she’d come on horseback for three full days.
She’d lost Sidan, and Den as well.
Den was one of the smartest and fastest horses Dekallia had given birth to, but above all, he was a horse she’d raised with Eivan. He’s only a horse, someone might tell her. But to Reuyen, Den was a remembrance of Eivan, not something to easily give up on.
Reuyen held on to the tree and slowly raised her thin body. She was certainly on the healthier side of the spectrum, and yet, perhaps because she was more tired than she had realized, her body didn’t move as well as she wanted.
“Oh, Chesa. That kind of a screw-up’s…”
That’s one of the commanders? She barely could contain her laughter. One of the commanders, he is, eh? Reuyen kept on cussing in her head.
The truth was that she was fine with not being trusted and questioned. She had not done anything illegal in her life, and she was a daughter of Detua for sure, so she’d thought she could clear her name once they took her into the camp. But she was naïve. The last thing she’d expected was that that bastard would just leave her here.
No, wasn’t the protocol to arrest suspicious individuals? What a slipshod commander. If all the commanders leading Rarke during this war were like him, the future of Rarke was most certainly bleak.
Looking after the cavalcade that was
now far, far away, Reuyen tightened her skinned hands into fists.
You think I’ll give up here? You young bastards…!
Instead of discouraging her, Jacalrin’s outrage set fire to her stubborn determination. Reuyen raised her exhausted body and took one step, then another.
She could almost feel Hansen hiding somewhere behind those slowly flowing clouds in the blue sky above the ridge, laughing at her like a sly fox.
Chapter Five
The next day, at sunrise, men who had been busy since early in the morning shouted at the other side of the ridge connected to the Boald Field. The Rarkian camp was set up inside thorn tree fences. The sun hadn’t even fully risen yet, but ten thousand reinforcements had arrived from the capital. The council meeting had started earlier than usual that day.
In the headquarters tent, five commanders whose immediate superior was the commander-in-chief of the Rarkian army sat together and conversed.
“Even the food we’d saved in case the war draws out will not feed all the men, including the reinforcements that have just arrived. What if we send a second messenger to Sir Carvein, since he’s patrolling the nearby area, and ask if there’s some place that could send supplies before the rainy season starts?”
“Haven’t we already inspected the nearby towns and lands to secure supply routes? More than that would be exploitation. The lords of Galabua will not agree to that happily, either.”
“I agree with you. I think it would be best to wait for Sir Keheif to come back from discussing the situation with the camp on the cliff and decide then…”
“I hear that we have more than ten thousand troops joining us here. There’s no downside to preparing for the worst since we don’t know how long this war will last, is there? If you have an idea in mind, sir…”
The old knights all turned their attention to the only young man at the table. The black-haired man sat at the finest seat at the table, his head slightly tilted. He had a pensive look on his face. Then, perhaps because he realized that everyone was looking at him, his dark, placid eyes suddenly seemed weary.
Paseid Calandok Brionake.
He was the direct heir to House Brionake, the closest family by blood to the current Brionake Dynasty.
He was young to be a commander-in-chief, but he unquestionably was the most suitable nobleman to lead the war that would rectify the shameful history between Rarke and Morgana. Of course, his blood was not the only reason he had been given the task of victory.
Unlike someone who was born a genius and spent his time lounging around in the capital, Paseid had spent most of his time for the last ten years or so patrolling the outskirts of Rarke and defeating their foes in and out of the country to gain experience on the battlefield.
His teacher was Castro Vander Winford, the knight who was once called the bravest in all of Rarke and still was widely admired by countless numbers of young knights ten years after he retired.
Paseid was also an impeccable knight, so much so that even the experienced old knights who had survived numerous battles acknowledged his expertise. Needless to say, he possessed all the qualities a commander-in-chief must have: patience, generosity, and self-control. Even the oldest and the most seasoned knight, Sir Evinbur, admitted that Paseid had a keen insight that surpassed the older ones’ rich experience.
Paseid was known to be quiet, but he was even more taciturn today. He even looked a bit pale, as if he hadn’t slept well last night. In truth, he was fatigued from not sleeping well. He had had a nightmare, like he occasionally did when he slept on an uncomfortable bed out at war. He wasn’t the type to complain about such a miniscule event, and he wasn’t superstitious, either, but he always felt a little off the day after a nightmare.
“Hmm…? Sir Calandok?”
Finally, at the highest-ranking man’s silence, the knights started to explain their ideas. Their murmuring complaints filled the tent.
“Those rats are going to start pestering us again soon. They’ve been quiet for a while, and they’ve probably learned that we have more men now. I hear their reinforcements number nearly 20,000. Even if it’s a bit of a stretch, shouldn’t we move before they arrive?”
“Don’t you think we’d know that? There’s simply no way to drag those shamelessly cowering bastards out. It seemed like they’d arrive right around rainy season. I can almost hear them plotting trickeries from here.”
“Stop talking like you’re not involved in this, Sir Giotarre. Once the rain starts pouring, we’re all going to be stuck right where we are, looking at each other like a bunch of idiots. Wouldn’t that be delightful? Like a staring contest.”
“You consider that delightful?”
“It’s a joke. Who here would enjoy standing face to face with those Morganaan hillbillies?”
The meeting soon became a forum for mocking Morgana, but no one pointed that out.
Then again, there had been only one big battle since the beginning of the war, quite unlike what one would expect after Morgana’s conceited declaration of war, when they could not find a solution to Rarke’s objections to the increased amount of tribute. The current commander-in-chief of Morgana, Marche Carl Rovantis, was so disappointingly cautious that he only sporadically attacked the Rarkian army with a small number of soldiers. Meanwhile, he was calling for reinforcements and increasing the scale of the war. So, of course the Rarkian knights were disgruntled after they came running to battle, hoping to not miss the chance to rectify their shameful history.
At that moment, light footsteps were suddenly heard from outside, and the drape opened wide without a warning. The unexpected and uninvited guest was a young man wearing comfortable plainclothes, unsuited for a battlefield.
“Hello, my old friend… I mean, Sir Calandok… No, I mean, Commander-in-Chief, sir!”
The knights sitting around the round table all widened their eyes at the young man casually barging into the headquarters. It was Jacalrin. Their contempt for him disappeared as soon as they realized who he was.
Of course. It’s that Jacalrin Endo from House Chesa.
Paseid finally broke his silent contemplation and opened his weary mouth. “Did you not receive the message that I will see you after the meeting?”
“I know, I just arrived, but can’t I join? The meeting? Oh, Sir Giotarre! Wow, long time, no see, Sir Deusak! And you’re looking well, Sir Haldroff! His Majesty gave a letter to give to all you sirs asking how everybody’s doing, but I’ll bring that later.” Jacalrin cheerfully chattered on.
Sir Evinbur Haldroff chuckled. “Did you not wish I were well? Little Sir Chesa.”
Jacalrin could not stop with the small talk. “Of course, I did. Oh, Sir Vinsen. Lady Vinsen has asked me to send her greetings to you…”
“How kind of you. Thank you, Sir Chesa,” said Sir Vinsen. “It must have been a long journey here. How is everyone back home?”
“My brother is doing well as usual, and Father is at a crossroads because of some ridiculous bet with His Majesty. Seems like our house is about to go bankrupt, but, well, it’s not like I’m the next one in line, so I just let Father deal with it and left.”
“How’s the capital?”
“If there was anything fun going on, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Of course, of course, hahaha. But there’s nothing particularly fun going on here, either.”
“You have no idea how many times Father slapped my back for just lying around in the capital.”
“Well, sounds like Count Chesa is still the same. Haha.”
The glum atmosphere in the tent quickly lightened up with sounds of chatter and laughter like nothing had happened. Paseid wiped off a smile that had snuck its way onto his face and settled everyone down.
“Enough, now. You too, Sir Vinsen. He will never stop if you let him.”
Jacalrin clamped his mouth shut for a moment, then grinned like mischievous boy.
Since the newly dispatched young man from “that Chesa” had wriggled his way in, tod
ay’s meeting was basically over. The knights chuckled and sided with Jacalrin.
“Wasn’t everyone expecting this at the news of Sir Chesa joining us?” said Sir Haldroff. “Haha. You came earlier than I expected.”
“I came at full speed,” said Jacalrin. “I’m glad to see everyone’s doing just fine. Well, not that I thought anything would happen against those morons.”
“Well, of course.”
The knights guffawed at Jacalrin calling the only empire on the continent a “moron,” like he truly could not care less. The guards, who had been nervously pacing outside because they couldn’t stop Jacalrin from barging in, appeared between the drapes.
Paseid ended the meeting. “I will most likely report the issue with supplies, but for now, we will discuss it again tomorrow at noon, after general organization of the new men is done. Sir Chesa, follow me.”
He grabbed Jacalrin by his collar and led him out. The rest of the knights chuckled and shook their heads at Jacalrin being dragged out by his neck, thrashing about like a fish out of water.
One would assume that he would’ve been tired after such a long trip, but Jacalrin could not contain his excitement. He finally calmed down after Paseid sternly scolded him.
They mounted their horses to check on the newly arrived soldiers building a new fence and setting up tents on the right side of the ridge. As they entered the new camp, Paseid summarized the current situation.
“Their commander, Rovantis, hasn’t made any big moves. The big battle will probably happen after the Morganaan reinforcements arrive, considering how Rovantis is buying time with a sporadic invasion of Rarke followed by retreat. This means we have a bit of time to let the soldiers rest. But we can’t lower our guards since there still are local wars and ambushes.”
“I heard we’re the ones on the defense. Wouldn’t it be worse for them to drag this out?” Jacalrin asked, rubbing his side. His lower back was hurting from sitting on the horse.