Chapter : 87
“Catch him!”
The enemy soldiers, who had followed closely, shouted loudly. The distance was so close that an arrow could have reached them. Curtis, calculating the distance where he could almost be caught, urged his horse forward, leaving the enemy soldiers chasing him fiercely behind. But as soon as they entered the narrow canyon, the horse, struck by an arrow in the leg, lifted its front legs.
“Hee-hee-hee!”
“Damn.”
With the wounded horse limping, he couldn’t escape any further. Gritting his teeth, Curtis jumped off the saddle and onto one of his soldiers’ horses, which had followed behind. No sooner had he mounted than a general from the Crotians charged toward him, aiming his sword.
“There he is! Shoot arrows!”
“Ugh!”
The arrows rained down like a baptism, and the knight sitting behind Curtis fell to the ground. With the enemy closing in, Curtis pulled on the reins to speed up.
The general raised his hand after a moment, seeing Curtis’ retreating figure heading deeper into the canyon.
“Wait! Something’s wrong!”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems like it was a trap…!”
“Look! Over there!”
The general turned back at his subordinate’s words, his face instantly turning pale. The path they had just entered was now blocked by rocks. Realizing their mistake, he turned toward the Baron’s side and saw them staring at him from a gap barely wide enough for one person to pass.
“You bastards!”
It had been a trap after all. The Crotians’ general, with veins bulging from his neck, cursed angrily as he breathed heavily.
When he first learned the enemy’s commander was Curtis Russell, he had been nervous. But after their first victory, he had been disappointed, thinking the reputation was exaggerated.
There had been more minor skirmishes, but after the first day’s victory, they had become overconfident.
“His reputation is overrated. The enemy’s just a former mercenary. Once you figure out his tactics, it’s not hard to deal with him.”
And indeed, just as they had anticipated, that morning when the Baron wandered near their camp with only a single knight and a few soldiers, it seemed like prey caught in a prepared trap.
But the one who got caught in the trap was the general himself. The hasty judgment, the provocation, and the reckless pursuit for glory were all mistakes. Keeping just out of reach was part of Curtis’ strategy all along.
“I will send you to the underworld!”
“Try it!”
The Crotians’ general, abandoning his confused soldiers, gripped his sword tightly and charged at Curtis at full speed.
“Fire!”
A knight by Curtis’ side ordered the soldiers stationed above the canyon. At the same time, arrows rained down on the Crotians’ soldiers.
“Argh!”
“Save me, please!”
Soldiers, panicked and screaming, were killed off one by one. Some tried to escape through the gaps between the rocks, but were cut down by swords waiting on the other side.
In the chaos, the only one who rushed toward the opposite side was the Crotians’ general. Curtis met his descent with his own sword, parrying the blows. After several clashes, Curtis aimed his sword upward toward the general’s face.
“Not a chance!”
“We’ll see.”
Muttering, Curtis turned his right hand holding the sword hilt counterclockwise and attacked from above to below. The general instinctively blocked, and while his guard was up, Curtis spurred his horse forward, getting closer. Then, he used his left hand to grab the general’s sword arm, right above the general’s right arm.
The general’s eyes widened in confusion at the sudden movement.
It was then.
Curtis, wrapping his left hand around the general’s right arm, used the reins to bind the general’s arm. With the general losing balance, he stumbled and fell to the ground.
“Argh!”
It happened in an instant. A sharp pain, as if his leg had broken, struck the general. Curtis swiftly drew his dagger, cutting the reins that had bound the general, then immediately decapitated him.
“Waahh!”
Lifting the severed head, the echo of the soldiers’ cheers rattled the canyon as if shaking the earth itself.
It was a victory over a much larger force, with the enemy commander’s head taken as a trophy. The soldiers, excited by the enormous victory, threw down their weapons and embraced each other.
The joy of victory continued into the late evening. A small celebration was held for the soldiers, who were elated, with the beasts they had hunted and the limited wine available to toast their success. However, the only quiet place among the excited soldiers was the commander’s tent.
The deputy, Sir Gray, filled the commander’s cup with wine, praising his achievements.
“It was an overwhelming and inspiring victory.”
“We won, but it’s not as simple as that. We lost one knight and had casualties.”
“Indeed, we did lose some valuable soldiers, but compared to Crotians losing their general, it’s minimal.”
The dead general had been a young knight, similar in age to Curtis, who had risen through the ranks with unprecedented promotions. His early victories had made him complacent, and when provoked, he took the bait and walked right into the trap. Like a blind horse, he only saw what was in front of him.
“This victory was partly due to luck. We can’t rely on the same tactics next time. We’ll need a more effective and unpredictable strategy.”
Curtis, putting down his cup, stared intently at a map that depicted the current position of both armies, as well as the terrain. There were still a few ways to use the terrain and their limited resources to secure victory, but these would soon be exhausted. If the Crotians sent reinforcements… then…
“Sir?”
Sir Gray, who had been observing Curtis with a thoughtful expression, cautiously called out.
Curtis, lifting his head as if pulled from his thoughts, looked at him with a questioning glance.
“The weather seems odd. I asked the locals, and apparently, this area often experiences torrential rains at this time of year.”
Curtis’ expression darkened at the unwelcome news. It had already been three months since they had arrived at this remote frontier. To prepare for food shortages, they had been hunting to make up for any missing provisions, but if it rained, hunting would become difficult. The worst-case scenario was spoiled or rotting food.
This wasn’t the time to be celebrating their victory. The morale of the soldiers was crucial to changing the tides of battle, and though he had allowed a celebration today, it would be the first and last time.
“Understood. Tell the soldiers to start wrapping up the feast and return to their tents.”
“As you command.”
Sir Gray bowed and exited the tent. After he left, silence fell. Curtis, removing his gauntlets, took out an envelope he had been keeping close to his chest. The envelope, worn from repeated readings, contained heartfelt words.
[Remember that I’m always by your side. Don’t forget I’m waiting for you.]
[Do you remember our childhood? You used to tease me, saying I looked like a log when I splashed around in the water. I was embarrassed, but it was true. You’ll never know how much I practiced in secret. Now I swim pretty well. Curious? Then let’s go back to that island this summer.]
[Today, I want to tell you a story from my time at the convent. One day, I ate the wrong herb and had a terrible reaction…]
Each letter, with its unique message, was filled with sincere comfort and longing. Curtis had read them so many times that he could recite them from memory.
“Roxana…”
Curtis kissed the letter, his eyes closed as he recalled her face. Bright, shining red hair like the summer sun, purple eyes that made him feel a flutter, a cute nose, and lips so red and sweet that once tasted, they were impossible to forget.
If only he could lock her away in his room and keep her all to himself forever. She was his in every way, just as he was hers. A love no one could break.
On the cold earth, with scarce food, they lived, each day teetering on the edge of death. But she was the one who kept him going.
“Sir!”
Just as he was about to read the letter once again, a soldier outside called out to him. Before answering, Curtis quickly tucked the letter back into his chest.
“What is it?”
“The scouts have returned.”
“Let them in.”
The scout, who entered the tent and knelt respectfully, gave his report.
“Report.”
“…That is…”
His voice trembled. Curtis frowned, sensing something was wrong. The scout’s face was pale, as if he had seen a ghost.
“What’s happened? Did the Crotians send reinforcements?”
“Yes…”
Curtis swallowed a bitter lump at the response. This land wasn’t the only place at war with the Crotians. The war across the sea with other countries meant they would have less attention here, but now, that hope seemed to have shattered.
“…That’s not all, is it?”
