Chapter 30
What caught Rafaella’s eye even more than the masked bandits pouring out was the boxes the old man was sitting on.
“So, that stuff—did you steal it?” she asked. “Looks like quite a haul.”
“Pretty decent, yeah. I’m more capable than I look, you know. Heh heh.”
“Must be worth a lot?”
“Enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life anywhere on the continent.”
The old man chuckled smugly, then suddenly changed the subject.
“But say—do you still think we’re just ordinary bandits? Figures. You grew up coddled in the palace, so you don’t know much. Boys.”
At his words, the masked men drew their weapons. Unlike the sloppy bandits outside, every one of them wielded sharp throwing weapons. Though their shapes varied, they were all tools meant for assassination.
Rafaella forced an even more playful smile to suppress her tension. In her current condition, this would be a difficult fight.
“I figured you were assassins who play at being bandits. When I saw your hands, the calluses didn’t look like they came from farming tools.”
“Oh? You noticed.”
She shrugged nonchalantly and glanced back to check on Rosalie.
Rosalie still seemed affected by the drug; clutching her dizzy head, she couldn’t stand properly.
“Hey, little miss. Can you get up?”
“S-Sister… I mean—Your Highness. W-Where are we?”
“You don’t remember being kidnapped?”
“M-Me?”
Rafaella tossed her a small vial of antidote.
She’d expected that Rosalie—despite her monstrous strength—had been easily abducted because of an anesthetic, so she’d brought it along.
“Drink this first. It’s an antidote.”
“Y-Yes.”
“And about that bow—”
The old man cut her off.
“Is this really the time to be worrying about a child?”
“Haa… I know I’m not one to talk, but you really have no manners. What did I tell you about interrupting?”
Rafaella snarled, brows knitting fiercely. The old man, still seated on the boxes, only flicked his cane and sneered.
“What—die early? Heh heh. Not something I’d care to hear from a woman who’s about to die today.”
“You weren’t ordered to kill me.”
“!”
“That’s why none of you coated your weapons with poison, right?”
For an instant, the old man’s eyes sharpened, as if probing whether this young girl had caught on to something.
“And what makes our princess so confident? You’re the lowest of all those princesses.”
“I trust my usefulness.”
“Usefulness, huh.”
“There’s a kind you gnats like you wouldn’t understand.”
“Heh heh. Our client only said to capture and confine you. As long as you’re alive, it doesn’t matter if your arms or legs end up ruined. Didn’t you know?”
He finished and rapped his cane twice. About ten bandits—no, assassins—charged at Rafaella.
Clang—!
“Ugh!”
She blocked the first man’s blade with her spirit-wood club, but the difference in strength forced her feet to skid backward.
Another man thrust a dagger at her exposed side. She knocked away the blade she was parrying and leapt back, but the dagger sliced her clothes at the waist, tearing them open.
A moment later and her belly would have been cut open.
“So they really are different from the riffraff,” she muttered.
Their movements were clearly unlike the bandits outside—no hesitation, blistering speed. The one saving grace was that they weren’t aiming for instant kill points.
This time, a man wearing spiked knuckles punched toward her face.
Whoosh—!
Rafaella bent backward just in time, barely dodging. Three throwing blades followed immediately. She knocked two aside with her club, but the third grazed her shoulder.
“Ghk!”
From afar, the old man watched with interest.
“Oh? Quite nimble for your looks. Not bad for someone who’s supposedly been rotting away in the palace getting fat. Heh heh.”
He struck the ground with his cane again. This time, three men rushed her at once.
Rafaella ducked low, letting their attacks slide past, then smashed the knee of the closest one.
Crack—!
“Gah!”
As the man collapsed, she tried to use his body as cover—but the next attacker thrust his sword as if his comrade weren’t even there.
Thud—!
“G-guhk!”
The man Rafaella hid behind was impaled through the belly, coughing blood. The blade kept coming and slashed Rafaella’s thigh.
“…!”
She bit her lip to stifle a groan, then swung her club at the swordsman’s head.
Crack—
With a sound like something breaking, the man crumpled.
Seeing two subordinates fall so quickly, the old man scowled and shouted,
“What are you doing? You can’t even catch one woman?!”
The remaining men surged with even more killing intent. Rafaella leapt back to avoid a dagger, but another man behind her swung a longsword.
She rolled away the moment she landed, fleeing toward the side of the prison.
Clang—!
The longsword slammed into the ground where she’d been, sparks flying. Gasping as if her lungs might burst, Rafaella scanned her surroundings.
She was clearly outmatched—both in numbers and stamina.
“Damn it. If only I could use my authority—those guys would be nothing.”
Grinding her teeth, she racked her brain for a way to buy time.
The plan had been to fight together with Rosalie and escape quickly, but Rosalie was in worse shape than expected. Just how much of that drug had they given a child?
Cold sweat ran down Rafaella’s back. Blood seeped steadily from her cut thigh and shoulder.
Watching the dangerous fight through blurred vision, Rosalie crawled toward her, wobbling.
“S-Sister! Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not! So get up, now!”
“I want to, but….”
“That bow I tossed earlier—see it?”
“Y-Yes. Why?”
Rafaella had no time to answer.
She sidestepped another blade and smashed an opening in the man’s side with her club.
Crunch—!
“Guh!”
The man staggered back, ribs broken, but others swiftly filled the gap, trying to surround her.
Rosalie, dizzy but determined, struggled to her feet. Clutching the prison bars, she finally stood and picked up the fallen bow. It was huge and thick—nearly as tall as she was.
“I-I’m not good at archery… I’m really bad at it….”
“Who said anything about shooting? I didn’t even bring arrows!”
Rafaella shouted urgently as she kept batting away incoming blades.
“See my weapon? Just think of it as a club and swing it! They said it’s sturdy, so don’t worry!”
“S-Swing it? The bow? M-Me?”
“Who else?!”
“B-But I’ve never… hit a person….”
Trembling with fear, Rosalie slumped back down.
She’d never struck a person before—only smashed rocks or dug up earth in anger. The thought of hurting someone filled her with instinctive fear and resistance, her fingers shaking violently.
Yet seeing the blood flowing from Rafaella’s shoulder and thigh, she whimpered in distress.
“What do we do… what do we do?”
“What do you mean, what do we do? They kidnapped you! Are you just going to let them?”
“B-But….”
“I brought that thing precisely because I thought you’d be scared to hit someone with your hands. So use it!”
“W-What if it breaks when I swing it…?”
“That bow is tough!”
“N-No, I mean… those people….”
“…What? What are you talking about? You’re hitting them to break them! Do you want to stay locked up here forever?”
“B-But….”
“Hah, you really—!”
Clang—!
Rafaella had no time left to answer. She knocked aside a blade aimed at her leg and barely widened the distance.
“Hah… huff…”
Panting, she thought: Rosalie needed a trigger—something to shatter her fragile resolve. And that trigger might come sooner than expected.
“Yah—!”
Rafaella leapt with all her strength onto the prison roof.
Dodging the men blocking her path, she used the unevenly stacked boxes as stepping stones and charged straight at the old man. A hidden guard burst out behind him, drawing his sword to block her.
Suddenly, Rafaella came to an abrupt halt.
The men chasing her froze as well.
