CHAPTER 54……………….
Meanwhile, Robby ran headlong into the forest.
“Robby! Wait, Robby!”
His friend Karl, panting hard, stumbled after him.
Robby, who had been shouting to himself, cursing Eryshi’s husband, and then collapsing in a heap, was now bolting into the woods like a madman.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
Karl barely managed to catch up and grabbed Robby by the shoulder. But Robby only turned to him, screaming even louder, “Aaaah! A demon!” before breaking into another sprint.
“Robby!”
Karl had no way of understanding what was happening.
Still, it wasn’t as though he could simply abandon his drunken friend in the forest in the middle of the night.
Karl was often called simple-minded, but the reason the young men kept him around was because he was kind. At the very least, he had enough loyalty to look after his friend.
“Damn it, you bastard! How much did you drink?”
But it was impossible for him to keep chasing after Robby, who ran like a lunatic.
Breathless, Karl bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. At the same time, he thought back—was Robby’s drinking habit always this bad?
He was rowdy when drunk, but not like this… Could it be because of that man earlier?
To be honest, Karl himself had nearly wet himself when Lahan had threatened them.
The knight’s aura hadn’t been something only Robby felt. Since Karl had no way of knowing that Robby had actually heard a demon’s whisper, he could only make such guesses.
But there was something else Karl did not know: at some point, Robby—still fleeing—had begun to hear another whisper.
[Well, well… what do we have here? A human marked with the trace of a demon.]
“Aaaaargh!”
[Ah, so that’s it. You’ve been branded with… the footprints of that salt-scented one.]
“Go away! Get away from me!”
Robby shook his head frantically as he ran. A new voice was now resounding inside his skull.
If that wasn’t a demon, then what else could it be?
Thorns tore his legs, branches whipped his face, but he didn’t care.
[What a pity. If not for that salt scent, you could have become part of the Great One…]
No! Don’t eat me! Get out of my head!
Robby’s screams carried even to Karl, who was still gasping for air farther back in the forest. Karl grimaced. He really just wanted to go home.
Still… I guess I have to bring Robby back with me, right?
Hoot. Hoo-hoo.
In the dark forest, an owl’s call sounded like mockery, sending chills down Karl’s spine. He hugged himself and forced one foot forward at a time.
“God, this is scary. It really feels like a demon could pop out any moment. Hey, Robby!”
The rustling thickets snagged at him in the dark. Robby must have already gone far ahead; his screaming was barely audible now.
Creak… creak-creak…
“Robby! Answer me!”
Naturally, Karl only grew more terrified.
What if a monster suddenly jumps out at me?
[Oh? And what’s this?]
And finally, the lurking darkness caught the scent of fear.
[Behemoth, my lord, look. Another prey has appeared.]
Crunch.
“Aaagh!”
Karl shrieked in sudden, unbearable pain. Something had bitten into his leg from the shadows.
“Ahhh! Aagh! R-Ro—agh!”
In an instant, he lost one leg and collapsed, rolling on the ground. His face was drenched in tears, mucus, and sheer terror as the darkness refused to reveal its form.
“Help me! Robby! Something bit m—aaagh!”
[Do not weep, child… Rejoice, for you shall become part of Behemoth’s great flesh.]
Of course, Robby, still fleeing, heard both the voice and Karl’s screams.
“Karl?”
Even in his terror, Robby could easily guess what was happening to his friend.
He stood frozen in place, staring helplessly into the dark forest. He ought to go save Karl, but his feet would not move.
Crack, snap.
The horrible sounds echoed. Karl’s screams as well. Robby just stood there, dumbstruck.
“Hel—”
Karl’s final word was cut off, vanishing into silence.
Crunch, crack.
The sound of a massive beast chewing. The brush stirring. Robby, dazed, finally snapped back to his senses. His choice was flight.
“Hhhh…”
He smothered his sobs, terrified the beast would hear him.
[Tch.]
Watching Robby vanish into the woods, the beast smacked its lips. Its contractor clicked his tongue as well.
[Because of that salt scent, we couldn’t touch him anyway. He could’ve taken his time.]
But of course, Robby had no way of knowing that.
The beast, unable to eat its fleeing prey, stroked its swollen belly instead. It felt satisfied.
It was the first fullness it had felt since its loyal underling, once charged with bringing it food, had been slain.
The beast clicked its tongue. Humans, after all, were edible without needing to be torn and carried.
But the underlings on land weren’t clever enough to think of that. That was why they had been slain by mere humans.
[Are you pleased, my lord?]
The “contractor” asked cautiously. The beast snorted. To devour a single human was hardly a reason for pleasure.
Yet the contractor, sensing the beast’s mood without another word, bowed his head.
[Please wait a little longer. I shall slaughter all those treacherous ones of Windrock and offer them to you.]
“….”
[And soon, that accursed ring will also belong to you, my master.]
The beast snorted again. The “contractor” shuddered, then quickly added:
[Of course. That salt-scented one… yes, even that one will kneel at your feet.]
The beast had once been a mighty ruler of the seas. But on the final day, it had been driven from the ocean, forced to linger in the lowly lands. The humiliation still burned.
But its vengeance would soon be complete.
The beast’s eyes gleamed.
Though it was early summer, there was still a land where the winds howled fierce—the marches of Norwich.
In Poldenbach, this was the season when maids collapsed from fanning their masters, yet here the sunlight only barely warmed the land. The northernmost tip of the Poldenbach Empire.
Nights in the marches of Norwich, beneath the crown of the barren snows, were still bitterly cold.
“Mother.”
The Countess of Norwich—now styled Lady Norwich, having ceded the title to her eldest son—looked up.
Her eyes were as dry as stone, whether from decades frozen and thawed by the harsh winds, or from her own aging. Even when facing her son, they held no warmth.
Akhim Norwich, now the Margrave of Norwich, handed her a letter.
“An urgent message from the House of Aachen.”
“From the Duchy of Aachen?”
Lady Norwich’s voice brightened with hope.
With the drought unending, peasants had starved to death. The wheat fields had failed to overwinter, cutting yields in half, and the corn had fared no better. It had already been a month since she requested aid from Aachen.
Perhaps this was the reply. But her son’s expression was troubling. She took the letter from Akhim and unfolded it.
Inside was not the relief she had hoped for, but an unexpected message.
“…What is the meaning of this?”
Finishing the letter, Lady Norwich lifted confused eyes to her son. Akhim sighed.
For more than twenty years, his mother had acted as though she had forgotten she even had a second son.
Sometimes even Akhim himself forgot he had a brother—at least until he became Margrave.
But the younger son Lady Norwich had abandoned had risen to prominence nonetheless.
At only fourteen, he had joined a campaign in the Archduke’s stead, built a monastery in Erydrahan, and thereafter kept the Empire in uproar.
Yet every time news of him reached them, Lady Norwich had steadfastly feigned ignorance.
She knew well that people whispered: wasn’t it divine punishment, that the woman who had once celebrated at her cruel husband’s death had borne a child with red eyes?
Thus Akhim had tried to avoid speaking of Lahan in front of his mother.
But this time, he could not keep silent.
“Lahan has married the Aachen family’s heiress.”
News reached the Norwich marches late; the roads were treacherous. Few ever crossed the land of rock, ice, stiff grasses, and barren soil.
Thus Akhim only learned of his brother’s marriage through this angry letter from Aachen.
Lahan Norwich.
Abandoned by his mother and taken in by Archduke Yvette Lachèse, eight years Akhim’s junior.
Akhim had thought Lahan would live and die as nothing more than the Archduke’s loyal hound, perhaps her consort. But the letter carried quite different news.
“The heiress?”
“Eryshi Aachen.”
Even with slow news, he had at least heard of her.
The Norwich marches, allied with the Marquess of Karakal and the Aachen house in support of Prince Elio, could hardly remain ignorant. But that his brother had married Eryshi Aachen was shocking.
“It says he injured the Archduke while guarding her. To escape punishment, he kidnapped Eryshi Aachen—on the eve of her marriage—and consummated the union. He was then exiled to Arnsberg.”
Though infamous across the Empire as a bastard, Akhim had not expected this.
Yet Lady Norwich’s reaction was beyond belief. She only twitched an eyebrow and asked,
“…What of Aachen’s aid?”
“…That’s the problem.”
He hadn’t thought she would ask about food first. It was clear she cared nothing for the son she had cast off, whether he married or died.
Ordinarily Akhim would have respected her will and never spoken of Lahan again. But there was a reason he had brought this to her.
“The House of Aachen requests… an audience with Lahan Norwich.”
Herbert Aachen had been furious that his son’s marriage to Eryshi had been ruined. But he acted swiftly. He traveled at once to Prince Elio.
It was, in many ways, a masterstroke. The Prince confided to Herbert that while the marriage could not be annulled, there were still ways to hinder it.
One of them was this letter.
Prince Elio already knew that the marches of Norwich had petitioned Aachen for food. They had also petitioned the wealthy Prince himself.
“Ask Lady Norwich for a bargain.”
“A bargain, Your Highness?”
“Well. Lahan Norwich’s name still hasn’t been erased from their family tree, has it?”
“!”
