Volume 7, Chapter 2 – A Chance Encounter After Many Years

Within minutes, Fia’s group of three arrived at the vast plains on the border of Cold Night and the Silvar Kingdom. Although the season was the transition between spring and summer—a time of lush vegetation—this place was a wasteland. The expansive land held only a few withered, yellow shrubs, while most areas were covered in gray grit and gravel. Even if it wasn’t a desert, it was by no means land suitable for human survival; this was an ecological environment unique to areas where ley lines had been destroyed.

Approximately one kilometer away from Fia’s group, a party of over thirty people was fleeing in haste. It could be called fleeing because their line was stretched incredibly thin; those on horseback in the lead had left those on foot far behind. The entire group was split into two sections. Had the people in front not occasionally looked back, anyone would have assumed the two groups were strangers to one another.

“I can already see the group the scouts mentioned. They don’t look like bandits or undead scouts; they look more like refugees.”

Tightening her reins to slow down, Anastasia narrowed her azure eyes. Under the clear weather, she could use her superior elven vision to clearly see the expressions of the people a kilometer away—they were frantic, looking as if they feared someone was chasing them.

“But they’re heading toward the west of Cold Night. Why would elves flee toward Cold Night?”

Everyone knew the Silvar Kingdom was the premier empire on the continent of the World Tree. People couldn’t wait to get into Silvar, so it defied all logic that elves would flee toward Cold Night.

“We’ll find out when we get closer. No… they’re coming this way.”

Just as Fia said, the burly men on horseback immediately changed direction upon seeing people ahead and hurried toward Fia’s group. The ecstasy on their faces was like that of a dying man seeing a savior.

Out of a sense of kinship with her elven compatriots, Fia led Anastasia and Erin Slate forward to investigate. The distance between the two parties closed rapidly until they were within shouting distance. However, once the middle-aged man in the lead clearly saw the appearances of Fia’s group, his dark face first went blank, then contorted into a fear as though he had encountered a monstrous beast. He yanked his reins, forcing his horse to turn and flee, and the other elves on horseback followed suit.

“Go! Move, fast!”

“Damn it, why are there nobles here!”

What was this all about?

A large question mark appeared over Fia’s head. Setting aside the fact that the Eldest Princess’s black-haired, red-eyed appearance was the only one of its kind on the continent and thus easily identifiable, they were of the same race. Since they were refugees, seeing compatriots should have inspired a sense of closeness, not terror.

Could it be that Baron Yarua was as corrupt and incompetent as Earl Yuraidon, giving border residents the impression that all nobles were bullies? Was that why these refugees fled in panic when they saw her dressed in noble attire, thinking she would seize them for forced labor?

But she, Anastasia, and Erin Slate were all quite beautiful girls. According to the theory that the prettier someone is, the lower the vigilance of those facing them, these people should have at least asked about her origins.

It was baffling.

“Halt! How dare you not dismount and bow upon seeing a Princess of the Kingdom!”

Just as Fia intended to chase them and inquire, Erin Slate beside her shouted sharply. She spurred her horse forward, intercepting the several fleeing men from the side. The longsword in her hand reflected a cold silver light under the sun, and her gaze toward the men turned freezing.

“Eek!”

“Run, run quickly!”

Unfortunately, this did not make the men stop; instead, it intensified their panic. The men exchanged glances and attempted to scatter in different directions. However, they were facing Erin Slate, who bore the title of Sword Saint. With a single strike, Erin Slate severed the forelegs of the three leading horses. As for the horses fleeing to the sides, Erin Slate used the same method—black mana gathered at the tip of her longsword, forming dark-red thorns that entangled the horses’ hooves. With a sharp tug from Erin Slate, the two horses collapsed with a scream, and the riders fell heavily to the ground amidst cries of alarm.

Seeing the leaders violently intercepted, the twenty-odd people at the rear of the group accelerated, scattering in other directions. Erin Slate glanced at Anastasia. For a fleeting second, her icy gaze almost made Anastasia feel as if she, too, was being viewed as an enemy.

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“Anastasia, I’ll leave this to you. I’m going to capture those people.”

“Right…”

Was it really necessary to go to such lengths?

A question similar to Fia’s surfaced in Anastasia’s heart. While failing to kneel before royalty was indeed a crime of disrespect, it shouldn’t have escalated to the point of capturing people in the distance to force them to kneel. She couldn’t understand why Erin Slate’s reaction was so extreme.

That said, Anastasia followed Erin Slate’s instructions and brought the five men who had fallen from their horses before Fia. The five men wanted to resist, but upon seeing the rapier in Anastasia’s hand, they immediately slumped in dejection. Their weapons were on their horses, and Anastasia was clearly a noble’s guard; they couldn’t defeat a magic swordsman with their bare hands.

It was still that dark-skinned, burly man who, before Fia could speak, knelt before her with a sob. Along with the four soot-covered men beside him, he begged Fia for mercy. The foreheads of all five men were pressed tightly against the ground, the uniform angle of their bows quite startling.

“Spare… spare our lives, noble lords! We are innocent!”

“We were being hunted by werewolf bandits and are merely fleeing. We beg you to show mercy and allow us to pass!”

“That’s—That’s right! The noble lords should run quickly as well! Those werewolf bandits are exceptionally cunning and good at using words to deceive others. If they see you noble lords who are not to be trifled with, they will surely use sweet words to trick you into thinking they are just mercenaries, then suddenly pull their blades and ambush you as they pass!”

Their fearful words, laced with tremors, were quite persuasive, but Fia wasn’t that easily fooled. If they were truly just refugees, they wouldn’t have turned and fled the moment they saw her, nor would they have looked as terrified as if they had seen a monster.

There was definitely a secret they didn’t want others to know.

Fia scanned the five with [Airflow Control]. These five elves were all practitioners of the first or second rank. Judging by their coarse cloth short sleeves and lean, dark arms, they were either people who performed heavy manual labor or were of a profession like hired thugs.

Fia hopped off her horse, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Where are you from? Since you realized I am a noble, why did you flee the moment you saw me? I can compensate you for your horses, but I need a reasonable explanation. Otherwise, I will treat you as deserters fleeing labor duty and send you to the Barony of Yarua.”

“Uh…”

The four men all stole a glance at the middle-aged man in the lead. He remained in his kowtow and answered urgently.

“We are villagers living on the border of the Barony of Yarua. Because we encountered werewolf bandits who attacked us last night, we fled overnight. To silence us, they are chasing us from behind. Noble lords, we don’t have much time—”

As if to prove the man right, a group of about a dozen people appeared on the distant hillside. They were all werewolves with thick fur on their bodies. Even without horses, their pace was quite fast, kicking up a large cloud of yellow sand as they charged down the slope. Given the speed of werewolves, even if Erin Slate hadn’t stopped these refugees, no one except for the five men on horseback would have escaped. Coupled with the hideous weapons in the werewolves’ hands, being caught would surely mean a terrible end.

“Your Highness, should we intercept those werewolves?”

Anastasia’s suggestion caused the five men to show expressions of joy, but Fia simply shook her head.

“The werewolves can be dealt with at any time. Erin Slate’s behavior is a bit off; there might be more to this. Keep an eye on these people.”

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“Yes.”

“Erin… Erin Slate?”

As if hearing an inconceivable name, the dark-skinned middle-aged man suddenly raised his head. His eyes were wide with shock.

“Her Highness did not give you permission to look up!”

“Wait, Anastasia.”

Waving for Anastasia not to act rashly, Fia stared curiously at the man who had reacted so strongly. Fia had spent a long time with Erin Slate; from the moment Erin Slate had cut the horses’ legs without hesitation, Fia felt that she might know something. Otherwise, given Erin Slate’s usual refined and elegant demeanor, she wouldn’t have resorted to such extreme measures. The man’s reaction now confirmed this.

—Normally, Erin Slate would have warned them multiple times before acting to knock them off their horses; she would never have directly severed the horses’ legs.

“Do you know Erin Slate?”

“No… I don’t.”

“Is that so? Then stay here quietly and wait for those werewolves to arrive. Don’t think about running. With your strength at the second rank at best, you cannot defeat us. Standing here are the Chief of the Silvar Imperial Guards and the Captain of the Second Squad. As for me, I am the Eldest Princess of Silvar, Dofilia Alexia Yushir. Although I don’t know if you’ve heard my name, I must remind you that as commoners, defying royalty is a capital offense.”

“Uh…”

Fia’s statement caused all five men to look shaken. They rolled their eyes and looked around as if searching for an escape route, but upon seeing Anastasia’s hostile gaze, they lowered their heads in submission. The werewolves closing in from behind put them under immense pressure, and a layer of fine sweat soon appeared on their foreheads.

As more and more people were caught and brought back by Erin Slate, an aura of despair began to spread through the crowd. Some children and women let out low whimpers, but when Fia asked about their identities and purpose, not a single one answered. Even when Fia walked up to them and pointed at someone to ask, the person would just lower their head and remain silent, every face etched with deep fear.

Fia also discovered something else: the old man who was brought back last was the core of the group. Once he was captured by Erin Slate, the crying in the crowd gradually diminished. People looked toward the white-haired old man, consciously or otherwise, as if asking what to do next.

Meanwhile, the dozen or so werewolves charging down the slope also arrived near Fia. They surrounded Fia and the crowd in an orderly fashion. All the werewolves were dressed like mercenaries, wearing crude leather armor with large muscles exposed. They had likely used the beastmen’s Ancestral Blessing, as all their heads were wolf-shaped and their bodies were covered in deep blue fur. It wouldn’t be wrong to call them bipedal lycanthropes.

“Oh, what’s this… Silvar nobles? To run into nobles of your own country before we even acted—you sure are lucky. Thirty-one people, not one missing.”

Carrying a serrated greatsword, a tall female werewolf stepped forward. She looked at the elves sitting on the ground, her voice full of mockery.

Then, she casually scanned Fia’s group of three, stabbed the serrated greatsword into the ground, and offered a less-than-standard bow from the side.

“You three must be the noble lords of Silvar. Although I’ve never seen you, I can tell from your aura alone that Baron Yarua is nowhere near your level. As you can see, I am a werewolf of Cold Night. I’m not very practiced in your elven etiquette, so please forgive me.”

Given her rough yet attentive personality and the fact that she was a werewolf, Fia couldn’t help but think of Chiharu. She subconsciously asked:

“Do you hold no hostility toward us?”

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“Why should I? We are mercenaries commissioned by Baron Yarua. Why would we provoke people that even our employer wouldn’t dare to cross?”

The werewolf woman, still in her beastified state, gave Fia a few extra looks.

“Hmm, a black-haired, red-eyed elf… I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before. Seems like a big shot. Whatever, I’ll introduce myself according to your elven rules first. My name is Chinatsu. I’m the chief of a nearby werewolf tribe, hired by Baron Yarua to maintain border security. As you can see, I’m currently hunting down these deserters.”

At this point, the female werewolf calling herself Chinatsu looked back at the group of refugees and spat.

“A bunch of cowards.”

“Chinatsu…”

Isn’t this too much of a coincidence?

Fia’s expression became a mix of amusement and helplessness. Although she had felt from the start that these refugees were hiding something, she hadn’t expected their positions to be completely reversed. The werewolves were the ones standing with the elves, while the elves were the deserters. As for the name Chinatsu…

“Do you know Chiharu? She is also a werewolf.”

Chinatsu froze for a moment, then looked incredibly excited, stepping forward with an imposing aura as if she might grab Fia’s shoulders at any moment.

“Chiharu?! That’s my daughter! You—You’ve seen Chiharu? How is she doing now? Ever since she ran off with a human six years ago, I haven’t seen her. She’s actually still alive!”

“More than just alive, she is with the person she loves and should be doing quite well, probably. I haven’t seen them since our last meeting, so I don’t know her current whereabouts. I just felt that your aura was similar to Chiharu’s, which is why I asked.”

“Still alive… I’m just happy to know she’s living well. Since she chose to strike out on her own, she has to take responsibility for her own future; those are the rules of us werewolves. That being said, as a mother, I still worry about my eleventh daughter.”

The eleventh daughter…

As expected of beastmen, they give birth in litters. Just her daughters alone started at eleven; including boys, there was no telling how many children she had.

Fia couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed. She subconsciously thought of Nola and Tilulu, then immediately shook her head to dismiss that impolite thought.

“If you have no further instructions, I’ll take them back. Baron Yarua never liked these cowards in the first place. Deserting during a time of war… Hmph, thank you for helping us catch these deserters.”

“It was no trouble. But Chinatsu said they are all deserters… There are women, elderly, and children among them. Do they have to go to the battlefield too? I remember elves have strict age requirements for military service.”

Chinatsu snorted through her nose.

“They’re just criminals and the descendants of criminals. This place is close to the Land of Exile, and every year there are people who try everything to escape. They are one of those groups.”

To make Fia believe her, Chinatsu casually lifted a person from the group. Even though the person was a young, strong male elf, he was no different from a child before the much stronger Chinatsu. Chinatsu spat in her hand and wiped it hard across the youth’s cheek. A familiar green mark appeared on the youth’s face—it was the Sinner’s Mark that had once been on Anastasia’s face, a trace unique to exiles.

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“See? This is the proof of their exile. Disguising themselves as refugees to slip out of the Land of Exile is a common trick for this lot.”

“Oh…”

Fia’s expression turned complicated for a moment. She stole a glance at Anastasia beside her. Although Anastasia’s Sinner’s Mark had been erased by her, it was a psychological shadow that would be hard to wipe away for a lifetime. She was worried that seeing the Sinner’s Mark would remind Anastasia of her suffering in the past.

However, Anastasia could tell what Fia was thinking. She returned a gentle smile and quietly signaled with her eyes for Fia to look at the distant Erin Slate. The latter’s eyes were flowing with undisguised loathing, her gaze fixed firmly on the old man who served as the group’s core.

Fia simply asked Chinatsu directly.

“Chinatsu, do you know the identity of these people?”

“I don’t. I was just ordered to bring them back. It would be fine if one or two slipped away, but if thirty-odd people left at once, Baron Yarua would surely hit the roof and dock our entire spring reward. Though, this is the first time I’ve seen so many people fleeing together as a group. They must be a single family. The sense of responsibility to take one’s family along is admirable to us werewolves, but a deserter is a deserter. Once they go back, they will likely be publicly executed in the Land of Exile.”

“I understand, thank you. I am the Eldest Princess of Silvar, Dofilia Alexia Yushir. I hope you can wait a moment before leaving. If Baron Yarua asks, tell him it was my order.”

“The Eldest Princess! I knew black hair and red eyes were familiar!”

Chinatsu’s voice suddenly grew several times louder, to the point where her tone became incredibly coarse, sounding like a beast’s roar. Her voice quickly attracted the attention of the refugees who sat with their heads lowered, faces ashen. The older elves in particular stood up regardless of the werewolf mercenaries’ scolding, trembling with excitement as if on the verge of tears.

“Princess! Save us!”

“We are the children of the Kingdom’s heroes! The Kingdom cannot treat us like this!”

“Shut up! The Kingdom has no use for cowards like you who fear death!”

Before Fia could speak, Erin Slate’s voice, filled with intense hatred, silenced the crowd. The killing intent in her words was like an icy blade in winter, causing even the werewolf mercenaries to shiver and subconsciously move out of her way.

Erin Slate’s gaze was fixed directly on the old man standing in the crowd. The old man seemed to sense something as well. He looked at Erin Slate’s icy face with an expression of trying hard to remember. Erin Slate waited for a few seconds, then mocked him with a voice laced with disappointment.

“It seems you don’t even remember your own daughter’s face, Grand Duke Herr.”

The unfamiliar voice caused Grand Duke Herr’s body to jerk violently. As if realizing something, his mouth hung open, his beard and lips trembling together. His eyes quickly turned red, and his feet stepped forward uncontrollably as he called out tremulously.

“Erin… Erin Slate… You’re still alive…”

“Thanks to you, I am doing quite well. You are no longer worthy of calling my name. Kneel! There is only a Chief of the Imperial Guards and a fugitive here!”

Without a shred of sentiment, the longsword in Erin Slate’s hand pointed directly between Grand Duke Herr’s eyebrows, a raging fire of fury burning in her golden eyes.