In the forest near the Duke’s mansion, she kept looking back even though no one was following her. She hoped that if she turned around, she might miraculously see her parents having escaped from prison.
But all the way to the carriage, she was alone.
“Lady Eoret.”
Viscount Hugo, who had been pre-warned by the Duke and Duchess, stood by the prepared carriage.
“I will escort you to Sukesohr.”
Sukesohr was a neutral state ruled by a High Priest rather than royalty. Because it was politically neutral, no outsiders carrying weapons were allowed to enter.
“Are you coming with me, Viscount?”
This was a journey from which there was no return. She had to abandon everything—even her status.
“I will go with you.”
“But why?”
The Viscount was around Eoret‘s age. It pained her to think a young man who had worked so hard to earn his title would throw it all away and leave.
“I can leave alone. Do you not still have much to do here, Viscount?”
“Lady Eoret.”
She felt pity for him, leaving Obruxen before his youth could even bloom. But as she insisted she could go alone, the Viscount quietly stopped her.
“……Um.”
His face flushed a bright red, as if he were trying to find the right words. With his reddish-brown hair, he glowed as red as a tulip, making his freckles stand out.
“I am fine,” the Viscount soothed her with a bashful smile. His gentle expression looked even warmer because of his awkwardness.
Pure affection and goodwill, without a single drop of malice. She was moved nearly to tears to find that someone could still look at her with such eyes.
“Do not grieve for the things I am leaving behind in Obruxen.” “……”
“I am going because I am protecting something far more precious than those things.” From his soft, dandelion-like smile, Eoret gained a small seed of hope.
“Please, get into the carriage. I will protect you in Sukesohr as well.”
“……Thank you.”
Because someone was risking their life to help her, she could no longer give up. Eoret climbed into the carriage without further hesitation. The Viscount took the reins himself, acting as the coachman. Eoret watched the palace for a long time as it disappeared into the shadows beyond the horizon.
They had left the capital; there were no city lights in sight. The scent of grass suggested they were racing through a forest path. It was a carriage disguised as a merchant wagon to avoid the eyes of watchers. The heavy jolting made her feel nauseous, so she closed her eyes to calm her stomach.
Through the gaps in the old wagon, the wind carried many sounds: crickets, larks, and owls. It was the first time in three years she had heard the sounds of nature, as she hadn’t left the capital since her engagement to Caleb.
Her three years of effort had crumbled in just three days. Only three days after learning of her parents’ arrest, she was fleeing her home. She had thought that living diligently would lead to light, but everything had collapsed like a sandcastle. How she wished this was all a dream.
“……?”
She snapped her eyes open at a sound from the mountain. It wasn’t the sound of a small animal like a rabbit or a deer. It felt like a predator was fiercely pursuing the carriage.
“Lady Eoret.”
The Viscount’s voice came from the driver’s seat.
“I’m going to pick up the speed now. Please hold on so you don’t get hurt.”
As the speed increased, those following them began to reveal themselves. They were not soldiers sent to arrest the family of a traitor; instead of ropes to bind a prisoner, they carried bows. They were assassins, clearly intent on taking a life.
“Fire! Shoot the arrows!”
A rain of arrows pierced through the carriage. Eoret quickly protected her head with her luggage and cushions. The sound of the arrows hitting the wood was like a hailstorm.
Whinny—! The horse shrieked, likely hit. Simultaneously, a groan came from the driver’s seat, followed by the sound of someone falling. Panicked, she looked toward the window. The Viscount had been hit in the thigh and was tumbling onto the ground.
“Viscount!”
Even in the dark, she could see him. He couldn’t move, and a massive amount of blood was flowing from his leg.
“Do not come for me! Don’t come!” the Viscount barked. Assassins were already closing in behind him.
“Viscount! No!”
She wanted to help him, but the horse, maddened by pain, bolted forward.
“Aaaah!”
With no one at the reins, the carriage bounced violently, tossing Eoret‘s body around like a piece of paper. Though she was pulling away from the assassins, the carriage was moving too fast to jump out. A wheel must have broken, as she was slammed against the right side of the carriage. She reached out, but couldn’t even touch the door.
At that moment.
“……!”
A terrifying sensation of weightlessness took over as the carriage began to break apart. It had plunged off a cliff. As it hit the rocks on the way down, the wagon shattered instantly. A horrific, sharp pain surged through Eoret as a wooden splinter pierced her body.
“Ah! Haa……”
Eoret screamed as soon as she opened her eyes. She could do nothing but cry from the indescribable agony. Her limbs were powerless, and her body was soaked with water and blood. The wind felt like it was seeping into the very bones of her side where the debris was lodged.
“Do not try to get up.”
It was too dark to see her surroundings. A low, kind voice spoke, and a man pressed something to her lips. She swallowed it instinctively.
“If you force yourself up, your wounds will tear open.”
After some time, the pain began to fade. The man had given her a painkiller. Finally, her surroundings became clear: she was inside an old, very weathered house.
“……Who, who are you?”
The man before her was an elderly person she felt she had seen somewhere before.
“I am Harold Delamin. I don’t know if you remember me.”
Remember? “It is a true miracle that you survived the carriage falling from the cliff, Lady Eoret.”
“Do you… know me?”
“I once owed a great debt to the Duke and Duchess. I saw you then.”
Harold Delamin explained that he was a retired old knight.
“What… what day is it now?”
“You have been asleep for ten days.”
“Then, my parents……”
“……Yes, I heard the sentence was carried out.”
He told her the bodies had been left in the square, but someone had recovered them in the middle of the night.
“Perhaps someone else who owed them a debt took them.”
Eoret wept as she listened.
“Again… once again, only I survived.”
What happened to the Viscount? He was the man who was going to leave everything behind for her. He was hit by an arrow and captured by assassins; he was likely dead. Her parents were gone, the Viscount was gone. What was she living for? Why had she stubbornly survived a fall from a cliff? She hadn’t even managed to leave Obruxen.
“Why did I survive?”
Her life had turned to dust in three days, yet her spark of life was cruelly persistent. Caleb had betrayed her, her family was dead, and the Escutere name was branded as traitors.
“You must live,” Harold said gently.
“How can I?”
There was no place for her. She could no longer use the name Escutere in Obruxen. As she sobbed, wishing she had died, Harold spoke softly.
“Then I will lend you my name. I will give you the name Delamin.” On the day the news of the death of the Escutere lady spread through the kingdom, Eoret buried her true name in her heart.
Two years passed since the fall of the Escutere house. People expected the family to be forgotten by history. But then war broke out. The Aristocrats filled their pockets by selling weapons, and the young King stopped caringaboutr the nation. People began to miss Escutere.
The newly crowned King, Caleb, declared war on Haiderk, backed by the Aristocrats. Everyone expected him to win. He was arrogant, believing Obruxen had military power equal to an Empire. He thought the “barbarians” of Haiderk were no match for his nation’s dignity.
But Obruxen lost.
Suddenly, a defeated nation, Obruxe,n fell into ruin. Men were sold as slaves, and women were dragged away. Fearing that the very name of Obruxen would vanish, the King finally reached out to Haiderk for a truce.
He gave the order to send a “delegation” to Haiderk.
“What is the meaning of this?”
One day, a guard carrying the flag of Obruxen swarmed the home of the retired knight, Harold Delamin. They wore golden handkerchiefs on their armor, a symbol of a royal command.
“Is this the home of Eoret Delamin?”
“……She is my daughter. What is the matter?”
The rumor that Harold had taken an adopted daughter was well known in the village. The guards searched the house with eyes as sharp as hunting dogs.
“Where is Eoret Delamin?”
“She went to the mountain to pick herbs.”
One of the guards held out a piece of paper with a royal seal.
“By the grace of the King, your daughter, Eoret Delamin, has been chosen for the delegation to Haiderk.” “……What?”
“It is a royal command to gather at the Palace of Stars in the Outer Palace by tomorrow!”
