Chapter 1: An Unexpected Reunion at Liadna

Lord Credias’ plump cheeks jiggled as he moved his lips.

Found you. Although there was still quite a bit of distance between us, somehow I just knew that was what he’d said.

A chill ran down my spine. Two years had passed since I’d escaped my marriage to the viscount. It hadn’t been long before he’d stopped sending people to Évrard to fetch me, so I had always assumed he’d given up on me. Yet here he was now, staring at me with such craving in his eyes.

Despite inhabiting a clay body, Master Horace made a sound much like a click of the tongue. “I figured out the trick here, little disciple. Those magical presences were spread all over the place as part of a trap laid for you.”

“A trap?”

“You know how that Ada girl was a spellcaster, but you couldn’t tell because of the contract stone she always had on her? It’s the same idea. That viscount scattered contract stones everywhere to throw you off his trail.”

While Master Horace was explaining his theory to me, something was afoot around Lord Credias. Several moans emerged from the cacophony of clashing swords. Ten soldiers standing at the front lines had begun to scratch at their own throats in anguish; one had burst into flames, while another was growing stone pillars from his shoulders. Every single one of them had been turned into a defective spellcaster.

“Watch... out,” I tried to shout at Cain, but I could barely get my voice out.

This wasn’t looking good. When I got down from my horse, there was so little strength in my legs that I all but collapsed to the ground.

Slamming my knees against the earth really smarted. Lord Credias’ powers were taking their toll on me, causing my mana to churn painfully throughout my body—enough to make me slump over on the spot.

I wouldn’t let that keep me down, though. Lord Enister’s men were few in number, so he already had his hands full keeping the Llewynian troops in check, and Cain had no hope of taking on that many defective spellcasters all by himself. If ten defectives attacked all at once, other soldiers were bound to get caught up in the crossfire, and soon we’d have no one left on the front lines.

My only option was to take them out here and now. Still, casting magic felt like an uphill battle. Not only was I feeling too woozy to concentrate, but my chills were severe enough to leave me on the verge of tears. Get your head in the game, Kiara! I scolded myself. Why become a spellcaster if you’re just going to be useless?!

“I can manage something with a bit of recycling!” To psyche myself up, I slammed both hands against the ground. Accompanied by a harsh grating sound, the patch of land-turned-sand expanded outward. The sand engulfed the feet of the nearby defective spellcasters—as well as some of the surrounding Llewynian soldiers—before solidifying.

Unfortunately, it didn’t have much effect on Lord Credias. His horse staggered after its hooves were caught in the sand, but that was the extent of it.

However, the knights under Lord Enister’s banner charged forward, taking advantage of the opportunity to strike.

“That was so reckless!” Cain yelled as soon as he’d made his way back to me. He wasted no time picking me up, setting me down on his horse, and taking off; thus, I didn’t get to see how many defective spellcasters Lord Enister managed to vanquish.

“Sir Cain...” Just taking my next breath took a monumental amount of effort.

Cain kept me tucked under his arm like a ball. “Quiet. Getting you away from him takes priority over anything else right now.”

He was trying to get me as far from Lord Credias as possible. Unless we put some distance between myself and the viscount, there wouldn’t be a thing I could to help. For now, I just had to pray for Lord Enister to hold out.

Not long after he’d broken out into a gallop, Cain glanced behind us. “Get down, Miss Kiara!” he cried hastily.

Before I could do as he’d instructed, he threw himself over me from behind, pushing me down against the horse. Moments later, a tree went flying right past us.

“What?!”

“The defective spellcasters are giving chase. I’m going to throw them off! Careful not to bite your tongue!”

“Uh, okay!” It was all I could do just to get out that reply. If I had tried to say anything more, there was a good chance I really would have taken off my own tongue.

Our horse dashed at breakneck speed through the gentle slopes of the woods. I was worried it was going to run us into a tree, but Cain spurred it onward, confident that it would steer clear of all obstacles.

Before long, the lethargy I’d felt had passed. We’d made it out of the viscount’s sphere of influence, presumably.

“I can use magic again, Sir Cain. Let me dow—”

I didn’t get to finish that sentence. A bolt of lightning tore through the nearby ground, drawing a cry from our horse as it bucked and threw us off. The only reason I managed to get out of it unscathed was because Cain had been cradling me in his arms.

“Are you alright, Sir Cain?!”

“I’m fine. I managed to stick the landing. However...”

Cain trailed off before breaking into a sprint, supporting my weight as he did. My legs still felt like jelly, but I did my best to keep up.

Someone flung a fireball at us from behind. Daunted by the explosion though I was, I managed to duck behind a particularly large tree for cover. When I glanced out from behind it, I saw three soldiers clad in the black capes of the Llewynian army, moaning and lumbering toward us. It was an ambush of defective spellcasters.

They looked like a bunch of zombies.

“Hey, little disciple,” Master Horace whispered while I stood there in a daze. “Something about these guys just isn’t right. I haven’t seen a single one of ’em fall apart yet.”

He was right. No matter how long we waited them out, their limbs never dissolved into sand, and they weren’t just blindly and mindlessly shooting off magic. And whenever they did start spewing fire, too overcome with agony to hold it in, they were clearly taking aim at us.

“I’ve never seen defectives act like this.”

“Then... do you think they’re just regular spellcasters being controlled?”

“I doubt it. Just look at the way they’re moving; real spellcasters would have too much presence of mind for that.”

It was an unexpected and inexplicable situation we’d found ourselves in, but our only option was to fight back. Now that I’d gotten away from Lord Credias and could wield my magic at will, I jumped into action.

“Sorry!” I apologized as I cast my spell.

The earth beneath the defective spellcasters’ feet stretched out like a giant needle, piercing two of them clean through. Blood splattered and turned to sand before it could even hit the ground. The rest of their bodies soon followed suit, crumbling away into dust.

Meanwhile, Cain sprang toward another defective, weaving his way through the man’s onslaught of fireballs until he’d gotten close enough to take his head off.

“That was the last one, Miss—”

Cain went pale. It was pure instinct that I raised a wall of earth before I even had time to turn around; however, that wall was swiftly blown away. As I toppled over along with it, I once again felt every last bit of strength drain from my body, making it a struggle to get back up.

As soon as Cain had helped me up to my feet, he gulped.

“If it isn’t the very woman who fled from me! My, you’ve grown to look even more like Annamarie since the last time I saw you.” The moment that voice reached my ears, a shiver crawled down my spine.

There sat Lord Credias, no less than thirty mers away. Lined up in front of his horse were several defective spellcasters, their gazes all fixed on me as they shambled forward.

I shuddered to my very core. What accompanied the fatigue that washed over me was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

While I stood there paralyzed, Cain threw me over his shoulder and took off running.

“There’s nowhere to run. You and I have a magical connection; I’m something of a father of yours, after all. No matter where you go, I can tell where you are instantly. And the more you run, the more I’m going to make you suffer.” His threat was accompanied by a repugnant guffaw.

The defective spellcasters bolted after us. Lord Credias didn’t so much as budge. Perhaps he knew the exact range of his power over me, and thus was in no hurry; he was confident I would still be well within those bounds by the time his minions caught me.

“Sir Cain... Put me down...”

I knew I had to take out as many defective spellcasters as I possibly could. Yet there was nothing I could do while I was getting jostled around atop Cain’s shoulder, and I was still too weak to move a muscle.

“We’re too close for you to start helping.”

“But...!”

The defective spellcasters chasing after us weren’t all that fast, but unfortunately, magic was a projectile weapon in practice. With all the fireballs they were hurling at us, it was a miracle that none of them had hit us yet.

No sooner had I thought that than we were assailed by a gale strong enough to shake the trees around us. The winds were too strong to move against; Cain’s feet were swept out from under him, and he fell to the ground, cushioning me in his arms.

I peeled myself away from Cain as he groaned in pain, tossing out a piece of copper ore I’d been keeping in my pocket before touching the ground. Despite putting my all into the spell, the best I could manage was two golems, each about the size of a person.

My throat hurt, and my breath was coming as raggedly as if I’d been running nonstop. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Still, I pushed my golems to run forward, throwing themselves at the incoming defective spellcasters. Hindered by their impaired judgment, perhaps, the two men tumbled to the ground.

That was the limit of what I could do, however. My golems crumbled immediately thereafter, returning to the soil.

These petty tricks weren’t going to cut it. Telling myself as much, I reached for my knife so I could draw my own blood, but I was stopped when Cain once again scooped me up into his arms.

We went back on the move. Another defective spellcaster, who had closed in on us while we were sprawled on the ground, started shooting fire. A nearby tree came toppling down, burnt to a crisp. Right as Cain swerved to avoid it, he was struck with a blade of wind.

I shrieked as I watched him take the blow, the cape on his back ripped to shreds. A huge gash had been cut down his armor.

He once again toppled to the ground from the impact. Although he managed to shelter me in his arms, he gave a pained moan when a fireball exploded nearby.

When I pulled myself upright, I saw that Cain’s ever-stoic face was twisted in agony.

“No! Sir Cain!”

What do I do?! I was about to try my hand at one more spell, but Cain grabbed me by the wrist before I could.

“Calm down.” After he’d opened his eyes to stare up at me, Cain pulled himself up off the ground, gritting his teeth through the pain. “Do you see that cliff up ahead, Miss Kiara? Is there a way to get us down from there?” he asked, getting to his feet and holding his sword at the ready.

I took a quick look around us. There did indeed appear to be a cliff about a dozen mers ahead—and a pretty tall one, at that. To be more specific, it looked to be about as high as a four-story building. Considering the shape we were in, making a staircase for us to run down wouldn’t be much of a solution. We needed a faster and easier way to get to the bottom.

“There is!”

“I’ll leave that to you, then!” he instructed, then charged toward the defective spellcasters.

I nearly called him back, but I figured he had to have some kind of plan. After all, he hadn’t suggested I leave him behind earlier.

Assured that he would be coming with me, I cut my palm with a knife, took a piece of copper ore out of my pocket with a trembling hand, and smeared it in blood.

For a passing moment, I came close to losing consciousness. I had to do this, though; it was the only way I could save Cain. After staggering all the way over to the edge of the cliff, I dropped the copper ore on the spot.

“I have to do it all... in one go...”

The less time this took, the better. With that in mind, I cast one giant spell.

A moment after part of the cliff crumbled away, giving way to exactly the structure I’d had in mind, I crouched down on the spot, strapped for breath. Of course, this was no time to be lying around.

“Sir Cain!” Confident that he would follow after me, I called out to him right before throwing myself down the slide I’d just built.

The slide, which I’d dug into the side of the cliff, propelled me toward the ground below at insane speeds. Cain slid down after me, catching me along the way. If he hadn’t, there was no telling how far I would’ve tumbled after hitting the bottom, given my momentum.

Cain was wounded all over. The sleeve of his left arm was singed, and half of his breastplate had been sliced away. His legs were a bloody mess, covered in jagged cuts. Still, he fought on.

The defective spellcasters clearly didn’t have any mental capacity to speak of; two of them came chasing after us, only to fall off the cliff to their deaths. One of them, however, copied what we’d done and took the slide, while another lowered himself down with his wind magic.

I buried the first defective spellcaster under the earth, using up an entire section of the slide to do it. Cain took down the other one, tearing up his left arm even more in the process.

This was the first time I’d ever seen Cain out of breath. Nonetheless, he pushed onward, holding me in his arms—all to bring us just a little bit closer to Alan and his troops.

◇◇◇

According to what I heard later on, Lord Enister had sent a handful of soldiers after us by this point. Lord Credias and his defective spellcasters had run off in hot pursuit of us, so he could see that we were in clear danger. He’d dispatched about thirty of his soldiers to back us up.

Although they’d managed to take down three defective spellcasters, ten of them had lost their lives in the process, and nearly all of them had been injured. Based on those numbers, if Cain and I had just stayed put, the defectives’ numbers would have multiplied into the dozens... or maybe even more, and the count’s forces likely would have suffered enough casualties to send them running.

The fact that Cain had taken down multiple defective spellcasters on his own was a testament to the strength of Évrard’s and Reggie’s knights.

At the time, I still didn’t realize that Cain had made the best possible choice there. All I knew was that he was focused on giving Lord Credias the slip, and that was why he had chosen to go down the cliff.

Sure enough, Lord Credias had no way to come down after us on horseback; he vanished from sight, having left to look for an alternative route. The rest of the defective spellcasters took the same detour as the viscount.

Once we’d made it to the foot of the cliff, we walked a short ways before stopping for a breather. I had to make Cain rest; between his injuries and how exhausted he was, he’d clearly hit his limit. I shoved him down into a hollow in the cliff, then hid us from sight with an earthen wall.

We couldn’t stay put for too long, or Lord Credias would find us. Regardless, we needed the chance to recuperate and treat Cain’s wounds. We were bound to get into at least one more altercation before we made it back to where Alan was. Seeing as I was functionally useless right now, it was of the utmost importance to raise Cain’s chances of survival as much as we possibly could. Since we had yet to leave Lord Credias’ sphere of influence, I was still feeling sluggish and shiver-prone, but I could still manage whatever first-aid didn’t call for my magic.

I rubbed a salve on Cain’s arm and back, where his clothes had torn, and laid his skin bare. The wound on his back wasn’t quite as deep as I’d feared, but his left arm was in bad shape. Surely it was nothing that the miracle salves of this world couldn’t heal, but the process was going to take a while.

All I wanted was to buy him a little extra time to rest. The fact that I couldn’t was nearly frustrating enough to bring me to tears.

“Do you think, perhaps... that the viscount can’t cast any magic of his own?” Cain mused aloud as I was tending to his wounds.

“The fact that he still hasn’t attacked us directly is a good sign that he can’t,” Master Horace answered. Evidently, he had been giving Lord Credias’ powers some thought, too.

I noted that Master Horace didn’t appear to be as badly affected as he had been last time, however.

“Judging by those defective spellcasters’ peculiar behavior, plus the way they never self-destruct, it could be that his specialty lies in manipulating mana—both his and other people’s.”

“You think?” I asked.

Master Horace jerked his head in a nod. “If he can control the flow of their mana, it explains why his defective spellcasters never fall apart no matter how much time passes. The way he gets them to do his bidding is probably the same as how I controlled those monsters way back when. He shared a sliver of the same contract stone with those men, then swallowed down the remainder himself. Heheheh!”

Now I see, I thought. It explained why they weren’t acting like normal defective spellcasters, as well as why they never attacked the viscount himself.

It also explained why Lord Credias never made an appearance in the RPG. Given that no defective spellcasters had ever shown up in the game, he probably didn’t have as many contract stones on hand there. If I had to guess, he’d used up his whole supply in fishing for a spellcaster; hence why he’d forced Kiara to fight for him during the war, likely lurking somewhere in the shadows as she did.

In which case, perhaps Lord Credias had been quietly taken out not long after Kiara died.

Right as I envisioned that scenario, I faded out of consciousness. My fever had gone down, but the exhaustion still hadn’t left me; maybe that was why.

For a brief moment, I witnessed some sort of hallucination.

Well done, Kiara. I had no need of that man anymore, murmured a woman, offering me praise. It was my first time ever hearing her voice, yet somehow, it felt so familiar. Now it’s time to give you that which you desired.

She took out something to show to me. In a box small enough to sit atop her palm, there was a silver ring with a translucent green gem, fixed upon what looked almost like... a white rod?

This was all that was left of him. But you ought to be able to tell whether it’s the real thing or not, no?

At that, I snapped back to my senses.

“That puts us in a hairy situation, to be honest. As long as he has enough stones, he can make as many magic-wielding soldiers as he wants. Bet he hit the mother lode somewhere.” Master Horace was finishing his previous thought, so I couldn’t have drifted out of consciousness for more than a few seconds.

I pinched the back of my right hand—the one that wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t quite enough to clear my head, but there was no time for me to be spacing out. Not until we got back to Alan’s troops, at least.

“But it doesn’t look like the viscount is having much effect on you this time around,” I said to Master Horace.

“He’s holding back, obviously. He’s having fun watching you run around trying to escape, knowing he can crush you at any moment. Eeeheehee! The healthier your prey, the longer you can enjoy the hunt.”

Lord Credias was letting us get away so he could watch us suffer, all to satisfy his own sadistic urges. From his perspective, the moment Cain was taken out of the picture, he could kill me whenever he wanted.

It finally dawned on me why the viscount had looked so complacent, and I heaved a sigh.

“Tired, Miss Kiara?” Cain asked.

“I’m doing alright. I’m still feeling a bit lethargic, but that’s all.”

In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a nap. Of course, Cain was much worse off than me, and he’d still carried me all this way. I was in no position to be whining.

“Alan’s troops shouldn’t be too far away; we’ll be there in no time. Let’s do what we can.” I didn’t want to worry Cain, so I flashed him a reassuring smile.

With just the hint of a rueful smile, he responded, “If we don’t make it back to the main body... would you be willing to die alongside me?”

I could practically feel my face fall. The very fact that he was asking me spoke to what grave danger we were in.

“I don’t want to see you in the hands of that viscount.”

He reached out to brush a hand against my cheek. Between the gentle gesture and the question he’d just asked me, I was lost for words.

“Under normal circumstances, being a spellcaster would guarantee you a decent level of treatment as a captive. But so long as that viscount is around, you’re as powerless as an old woman on her last legs. And based on what he said... the man is clearly obsessed with you. There’s no way he would leave you undefiled.”

Cain was exactly right. Lord Credias had made a strange comment about how I looked like someone else, and given that I’d run off on him before we could get married, there was a good chance I’d be subjected to the worst fate possible for a lady.

Lord Credias was the only opponent I couldn’t fight off with magic. There was no telling what he might do to me.

Still, I wasn’t going to give up and die—no matter how scary the thought was.

“If he’s that fixated on me, I doubt he’s going to kill me. He has no reason to keep you alive, though. It’d make more sense for you to leave me behind and—”

“I’m not going to do that,” Cain asserted. “Why would you ever think I’d abandon you? You’re irreplaceable to me—both as my sister and as something more.”

The declaration almost brought me to tears. He cared so much about me; that realization alone offered me a bit of salvation in this hopeless situation. Still, if I let myself get too immersed in those feelings, my will to keep running was bound to melt away with the rest of me. There would be no saving me or Cain if that happened.

“You’re my one and only brother, Sir Cain. I won’t let you die. Let’s do what we can to make sure neither of us does.”

If they lost Cain, Alan and Reggie would be devastated, too. No matter how much they claimed otherwise, both of them looked up to the knight like an older brother.

If my capture would lead to his death, I had to do whatever I could to keep from getting caught. I needed to get my slow wits in order and think of a solution.

It was then that, suddenly, I heard a sound—the crunch of footsteps over dried leaves and tree branches. Either a person or a horse was drawing near.

“Sir Cain!”

“If it were an ally, they would have called out to us. Let’s get going. If they get too close, they’ll be able to spot us easily.”

At the moment, we were sitting in a nook in the cliffside, with only an earthen wall erected to keep us hidden from view. Perhaps that could trick the eyes of someone far away, but the moment they got any closer, they’d be able to tell that something was off.

We stealthily slipped out from the hollow. Every now and then we would stop where we were, holding our breath and listening for the mystery guest’s footsteps. Whoever they were, they were still a good distance away... probably. I could hear the faint, metallic clank of their armor.

Purposely steering clear of the source of the sound, Cain walked along the edge of the cliff. The footsteps would sometimes get closer and sometimes get farther away, but they never faded into the distance.

“Sir Cain, let’s head up to the top of the cliff. I’ll make us a staircase. If our pursuer is on horseback, we’ll be able to shake him. The viscount and his lackeys shouldn’t be around anymore, since they left to find a way down.”

“Do you think you can manage it?”

“I’ll have to.”

There was no other way if we wanted to survive. Cain acknowledged that with a nod... only to thrust me away seconds later, the same moment I heard something slash through the air.

As I slumped down onto the ground, I watched an arrow whizz past my eyes. Cain, who had gotten to his feet to shield me behind his back, was staring fixedly at a certain spot.

Our assailant spoke in a tone casual enough to have no place on the battlefield. “Oho. Lord Bullfrog wasn’t lying, I see. You really are indisposed.”

There was no mistaking that voice—and this was the worst possible time to be hearing it. Oh, how I wished it could have been anyone else.

“I figured the spellcaster would come this way, and what do you know? It looks like that prediction was on the mark. I was right to slip away on my own. Am I good or what?”

Singing his own praises, the man lazily emerged from behind a tree. His rusty red hair was a bit on the long side, and his eyes were sharp and gray—it was none other than Isaac.

The first time we’d met, he’d pretended to be a merchant. He’d seemed like such a good person, cheering me up when I was down about Reggie denying me the opportunity to fight. But now... I knew that he was the king of Salekhard, who had formed an alliance with Llewyne and invaded Farzia.

“Can’t say I expected you to have a knight with you, though.”

At first, it looked like he’d come here alone. Soon, however, I heard the beat of horses’ hooves approaching, followed by a dozen cavalrymen coming up behind him.

When he caught sight of Isaac’s green cape, Cain deduced that he must be a Salekhardian. Of course, the whole point of the different colors was to prevent friendly fire, so that was to be expected.

“You disguised the sound of your approach by moving alone, I see,” Cain muttered, realizing that using those noises to guide his escape had been his downfall. Still, he didn’t sound particularly upset; to the contrary, he appeared oddly calm about this turn of events.

As for me? I couldn’t even bring myself to open my mouth and say something. Whenever Isaac looked at me, it wasn’t with the same gentle gaze he’d shown me before. The ice in his eyes chilled me to the bone; I may as well have been a pebble on the side of the road to him. Worse still, he hadn’t even bothered to lower his sword.

Eventually, Isaac took a step toward us.

I had no idea how strong he actually was. What I did know, however, was that Cain’s injuries were going to put him at a disadvantage. I desperately tried to think of a way to stop him, but I came up empty.

“Isaac...” Sensing that this wasn’t the time or place to be asking for mercy, all I could do was call out his name.

The redhead came to a halt. “Why, if it isn’t our little miss mage. If I’m being honest, you present little more than an obstacle to me. I’ll kill you as soon as I’m done with this man, so wait your turn like a good girl.”

He wouldn’t even say my name in return.

It was then that I realized that I’d been holding onto the naive hope that he might help me out the way he always had in the past. But that wasn’t going to happen; right now, he was standing before me as the king of Salekhard.

Cain held his sword at the ready, blood oozing from his open wounds.

The color drained from my face. At this rate, he really was going to die. An image of Cain lying covered in blood crossed my mind.

I needed to get these two away from each other. I didn’t want Cain to die. I didn’t want him to get killed by Isaac. But I was scared of hurting Isaac, too.

“Wha...? Little disciple?!” By the time Master Horace cried out in dismay, I had already cast my spell. The ground all around me turned into a giant pincushion, spikes protruding from the earth.

“Go away!” I screamed.

The wave of earthen barbs rippled over the ground. Just as I’d demanded, the knights who had lined up behind Isaac hastily drew back.

And yet, Isaac himself only took another step forward. Weaving his way through the extending spikes that threatened to tear into his limbs, he rushed forward to clash swords with Cain.

That was when I knew that I’d failed. Isaac probably realized that if he got right up close to Cain, I wouldn’t be able to hit him with my magic. I couldn’t risk Cain getting caught in the crossfire, after all.

I couldn’t attack anymore. The mana in my body was spiraling out of control, painful enough to make me clutch at my chest. It was so bad that I would’ve coughed it up, blood and all, if that was what it would take to make me feel better.

“You fool! What, are you trying to take years off your own life?” Master Horace berated me in hushed tones.

Sorry, Master Horace. If I’m going to end up dead either way, I want to do as much as I can.

“Sorry for dragging you down with me.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m not even alive to begin with.”

Master Horace’s words of reassurance tugged at my heartstrings. Even so, I had to create a chance for Cain to escape.

There was only one thing left that I could do.

“Just act like a real doll for a bit, okay?” With that request, I turned my gaze toward Isaac and Cain.

They were still in the heat of their silent battle. Isaac slashed at Cain, and Cain parried his strike. It looked almost like a sword dance they’d learned the moves to already. Cain was sent tumbling back by Isaac’s kick, knocking him off balance. He quickly pulled himself upright, pivoting into a thrust, only to be pushed back yet again. Then they exchanged blows once more.

Before long, Cain was running out of breath. Isaac, meanwhile, was composed enough that the smile hadn’t fallen from his face. “Now I wish I could’ve dueled you when you weren’t already hurt.”

Upon clashing swords for the umpteenth time, Isaac swept Cain’s feet out from under him. Even as he toppled over, Cain kept a firm grip on his weapon. Aiming to parry the next blow of Isaac’s sword, he raised his arm.

However, the tip of Isaac’s sword instead drew a smooth arc in the air, cutting into Cain’s leg, sending his sword flying, and then running him through the stomach.

The only reason I didn’t scream was because I couldn’t find my voice.

After Isaac pulled out his sword, dripping with blood, Cain crumpled to the ground.

My arms and legs were trembling violently. Still, standing there crying and doing nothing wasn’t going to help Cain. I forced my joints into motion, pushing myself forward with everything I had. I threw myself over Cain, as if to shield him.

“Don’t kill him...” I didn’t have the energy to so much as raise my voice, but I couldn’t let myself pass out just yet. There was something I still had to do.

My movements were sluggish, but Isaac didn’t move in to stop me. That alone was enough to reassure me.

Thank God. That means he might actually go for my proposal.

I put my idea into words. “You want a spellcaster, don’t you, Isaac? Isn’t that why you asked me to go with you before?”

When I glanced up, I saw Isaac wordlessly meet my gaze. He stayed silent, fixing me with a stern look—as if pressing me to put my resolve into words.

“I’ll go with you to Salekhard. I’ll join your side, so please, just spare his life,” I declared, my voice wavering.

“Miss Kia—” Cain probably wanted to stop me. Stubbornly holding on to consciousness, he called out my name, but I pretended I hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t like I really wanted to do this, either. Becoming an ally of Salekhard meant becoming an enemy of Farzia.

“Let Sir Cain go. In exchange, I promise to serve under you.”

Isaac mulled that over for a few seconds before answering. “Hmm. Your resolve is admirable, Kiara. But are you sure? There’s no telling how you’ll be treated. You’re a spellcaster, after all. I can’t hand you an opportunity to trick me.”

Now that he was acting as king, Isaac wasn’t going to say, “Sure, why not?” and abscond with me just like that. The ice in his gaze—the way he looked at me like a stranger—was enough to make me wince.

Unlike the viscount, Isaac had no trick to keep me in check. Thus, I couldn’t imagine what he might do to ensure I stay in line. What was I going to do if he had me tortured? Or if he did something no better than what Lord Credias would?

Just thinking about it made me want to cry. Still, it wasn’t enough to break my resolve to rescue Cain. Now that I could do little but sink miserably to the ground, this body of mine was the only thing I had to bring to the table.

Besides, his lack of confidence that he could keep the upper hand actually put my mind at ease.

I nodded. “I can’t use magic right now. I doubt I could put up much of a fight if you decided to carry me off somewhere, and if it means you’ll let Sir Cain go... I’ll listen to you.”

“Very well,” declared Isaac.

Cain tried to stop me. “No! You should just make a run for it—-”

Although he’d just asked me to die with him earlier, I knew Cain would never let me run off to my doom. Thus, I just smiled and said, “I don’t want you to die. You’re my only big brother in the whole world. How could I just stand by and watch my loving family get killed?”

“But there’s no need for you to sacrifice yourself. What about His High—?”

I touched a finger to his lips, cutting him off. Surreptitiously, I placed the back of my hand on the wound on his stomach.

“I’m sorry; I know I’m being selfish. Either way, it’ll be fine for you to go back on your own. I know Reggie will understand. He knows better than anyone how much I wanted a family. If it was to save you, the person who’s like a brother to me... he knows I’d do something like this.”

I clenched my teeth together, holding back a sob. Cain looked like he still wanted to argue, but I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. Using my blood, which was still flowing freely, I attempted to heal his wound with my magic.

Pretending to cry, I hung my head. My tears were falling of their own accord, soaking Cain’s clothes, so Isaac would probably believe I was merely sobbing. That was only going to buy me a tiny bit of time; still, I wanted to do whatever I could to increase Cain’s chances of survival.

Perhaps due to the pain of the spell, Cain appeared to have lost consciousness. I continued to cast my magic, concentrating my efforts on his internal injuries. If I’d healed the external ones, Isaac would have caught on to what I was doing. Besides, a little salve in the right place was all it would take to patch up those flesh wounds.

Unfortunately, I’d lost a little too much blood, and using my magic had cost me even more stamina than my injury. Although I’d managed to keep Cain alive for now, there was no telling if Alan and the other Farzians would be able to save him. It was going to take another miracle for Cain to survive this, but this was the limit of what I could do.

Strangely enough, I didn’t feel much worse than before, even though I’d just cast magic when I was already pushed to my limits. Why was that?

“Have you finished your goodbyes?” It was some number of seconds later that Isaac finally asked me that, gripping me by the shoulder.

Knowing that I’d done everything I could, I felt some measure of peace.

“Let him go,” I said, my gaze fixed on the ground.

Isaac’s tone softened. “There’s not much a man on the verge of death can do, so I suppose I ought to hold up my end of the bargain. You there! Mount this man onto a horse and send him away.”

I had no strength left to resist, so there was little I could do as Isaac hoisted me up in his arms. Unable to do so much as lift my head, I let it hang low. However, I could see a Salekhardian soldier load Cain onto a horse, tying him down so he wouldn’t fall off.

Before long, he gave the horse a light slap, spurring it into a trot. My bleary eyes followed the horse as it wandered off into the forest, but eventually, it disappeared from sight.

Everything went pitch black. I’d probably closed my eyes, but it was hard to tell myself. I didn’t feel any pain or anguish, though; I just felt like I wanted to sleep.

Only then did Isaac finally notice the condition I was in. “Wha... Hey, Kiara?!”

By then, however, I’d already lost my grip on consciousness. It was too late to even offer an explanation.

Consequently, I remained blissfully unaware of how the cut on my hand slowly continued to grow... and how the bleeding had yet to show any signs of stopping.

◇◇◇

“Hey, Kiara! Answer me!”

The man jostling Kiara in his arms was apparently someone whose name and face she knew.

Horace had first met him back at Fort Inion, when he’d claimed to be a merchant. It was clear to him, however, that his disciple had met this man once before that, and that the pair had already known a thing or two about each other by then.

Somewhere along the line, Kiara had realized he was actually the king of Salekhard.

It was possible that this man hadn’t been solely out to deceive her. Despite the cruel things he’d said only moments ago, he seemed awfully concerned for Kiara now that she’d lost consciousness. But also...

C’mon, boy! That’s going to make her feel even worse!

“You’re shaking her too much, you numbskull!”

“Oh, you’re that doll of a geezer...”

When Horace spoke up, the man called Isaac was startled for a fleeting moment, but quickly recalled who he was dealing with. Isaac’s cavalry, on the other hand, gasped in horror.

“Look at that doll! It’s moving on its own!”

“Did the spellcaster place a curse on it?!”

“We’re all gonna die!”

The knights steadily crept away from Isaac.

“Really now? A heartless lot, aren’t you?” he muttered.

“Your Majesty, we don’t want to be cursed to death!”

“Dying on the battlefield is one thing, but if anyone finds out I was killed by a curse, my wife will be ostracized for it!”

After overhearing that snippet of conversation, Horace was confident that these men were Salekhardians. Perhaps due to the harsh climate up north, the people of Salekhard tended to be a God-fearing sort. They were particularly afraid of curses.

That was just one more reason why he and Kiara were better off here than in Llewynian hands.

What’s more, there was no longer any question that Isaac was the king of Salekhard, given that he’d just been referred to as “Your Majesty.” How on earth had Kiara met him in the first place? Horace hadn’t the faintest idea, but what he did understand was why Kiara had allowed him to take her captive in her desperate attempts to save that knight. This was a man who could be reasoned with. And if he was a king on top of that, he could easily dismiss the objections of a Farzian nobleman like Lord Credias.

Might as well run with it, Horace thought.

“Who said I’m cursed? Don’t be so rude, you whippersnappers! Heeheehee!” He deliberately let out a cackle, knowing full well how ominous it would sound.

Isaac, the one standing closest to him, let out a sigh. “What in the world are you, anyway? I remember Kiara called you her mentor, but that’s all I know.”

“Call me Horace. I’m this girl’s mentor; you got that part right. But forget about me. Right now, you ought to focus on hauling my disciple back from the brink of death.”

“What do you mean, the brink of death?”

“Take a look at her left hand.”

Upon taking a closer look at Kiara’s limply dangling hand, Isaac initially just looked puzzled; he assumed she was only suffering a minor injury. However, the one subordinate of his who hadn’t cowered in fear of Horace—a blond boy soldier—stepped forward to observe it more carefully, only to comment, “Is the wound growing? Is this magic, too?”

“It’s because she used up too much of her mana—and your spellcaster ally didn’t help matters, either. At this rate, she’s going to turn into sand from the hand up and die.”

“Hey now,” said Isaac, a note of alarm in his voice. “If it’s a magic thing, what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Close up the wound, then head west as fast as you can. Once you get her away from that frog of a spellcaster, her condition will stabilize. Meanwhile, you should let him know that you’ve apprehended the spellcaster and that she’s at death’s door. Considering how badly he wants to toy with my disciple here, I doubt he’d want her killed.”

After giving those directions a few seconds of thought, Isaac began handing out orders. “Mikhail, tend to her wound. You there! Go find my horse.”

The men sprung into action at their king’s command.

“It really is growing.” Mikhail grimaced as he dressed the wound. He likely had no idea where to begin treating it.

Once he’d wiped away the blood and slathered on a liberal amount of ointment, he wrapped a bandage around the affected area.

Even after her hand was swathed in white cloth, it continued to ooze blood. Still, it was better than leaving it unattended. All that was left to do was move out as quickly as possible.

“Hurry it up, will you? C’mon, son!”

“Never thought I’d see the day when a king was bossed around by some doll,” Isaac muttered, striding over to his horse as soon as it was brought over.

Horace tacked on one more thing while he still had the chance. “Let me give you a word of advice: if you want to make my disciple listen to you, you ought to take me hostage. That alone will be plenty to ensure she doesn’t run off on you.”

Isaac snorted, his lips curving up into a knowing smile. He understood Horace’s implication: There’s no need to threaten the girl herself.

“Your disciple is quite precious to you, I see.”

“She’s a teenage girl. Handle her too roughly and she’ll break.”

Isaac silently mounted his horse, briefly handing Kiara off to one of his soldiers before taking her back in his arms. “We’ll see how it goes. Well... assuming she recovers enough to give us the chance.”

Horace shared that concern. “If she doesn’t bounce back, I’ll make sure to curse you.”

“What?” Isaac boggled at the doll, his eyes as wide as saucers. Gratified to see such a dumb look on the face of such a stud, Master Horace let out a cackle.