Chapter : 90
The battle ended in a decisive victory.
With their morale soaring, the soldiers fought like men possessed. The Crottian army, thrown into chaos by an unexpected explosion just before deployment—which reduced their weaponry—and the sudden arrival of reinforcements, was caught completely off guard and utterly overwhelmed.
By the time the sun rose again, the enemy—now pushed into a disadvantage—retreated and withdrew from the border. The soldiers erupted into cheers, embracing one another and shedding tears of joy.
Their collapse from exhaustion was only momentary. After chasing down the remnants and driving them beyond the border, they barely had time to settle things before a victory banquet broke out inside the barracks. With crackling firewood burning between them, everyone drank heavily, each more intoxicated than the last.
“I really thought we were done for—stuck there, unable to move, just waiting to die.”
“Tell me about it. Guess the heavens were on our side after all. We weren’t meant to die like that, right?”
“Exactly! Here—have another drink!”
“Cheers!”
Amid the raucous excitement and drunken revelry, Curtis quietly shared drinks with his old comrades inside the barracks.
“I never imagined you’d actually come.”
“We were abroad. You have no idea how shocked we were when we heard about you.”
They were comrades from his mercenary days—men who had shared hardship and battle alongside him—and now served as trusted allies. After Curtis was restored as Margrave Russell and they naturally disbanded, these were faces he hadn’t seen since.
“Why didn’t you ask us for help?”
“I didn’t have the time. And didn’t you refuse before when I asked you to become my knights? You said you wanted freedom more than honor or land.”
He hadn’t wanted to drag them into such a disadvantageous battle with an uncertain future. One wrong move, and they could all be consumed by the flames together.
“Have you already forgotten? When we parted years ago, we swore that if you ever asked, we’d help you once—no questions asked.”
“…Right. We did.”
Curtis smiled faintly as he drained his cup, memories surfacing. When he’d finally driven every Crottian soldier beyond the border, the first emotion he felt wasn’t triumph—it was relief. Relief that he could see Roxana again. That he could hold her, touch her, whisper his love, and kiss her once more.
“By the way, how did you even get here? Shiloh. You should’ve been detained too.”
Curtis set his cup down, his smile fading as he alternated his gaze between his friends and Shiloh. Shiloh responded with a gentle smile and pulled something out.
Curtis’s eyes widened as he received the letter.
“This is…”
“Please, read it.”
The neat, composed handwriting was unmistakably Roxana’s.
Sir Shiloh. Please march in support of your liege, Margrave Russell. He is fighting alone at the border with only a small force.
That was how the letter began. In total, there were five letters—each delivered to a different person, each containing different words.
“The reason we were released from detention was because Lady Roxana personally went to the Grand Dukes and persuaded them. In the end, His Highness sent us here.”
“…I see.”
It felt as though something filled his throat. Sensation dulled at his fingertips as warmth spread through his chest. Curtis closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, steadying his emotions, when one of his comrades spoke.
“It was the same for us. We were scattered across foreign lands, so we couldn’t all meet in person—but somehow, someone sent a messenger hawk to me.”
“So that’s what happened…”
So that was where the messenger bird had gone—the one he’d feared had been eaten by a hawk. Curtis exhaled in relief and rubbed his face dryly. Joy, gratitude, surprise, and deep emotion tangled together, filling him to the brim.
Seeing this, one of his comrades let out a hearty laugh.
“You’ve got yourself a good woman, Captain. Her identity was… unexpected, though.”
“Yeah.”
“Remember what you used to be like?”
“Of course.”
He remembered Curtis clearly—the man who led a mercenary band that struck awe into knights everywhere and swept across the continent. Blindingly brave, his blade so revered that anyone who wielded a sword admired it; his brilliant strategies enough to instill terror in any enemy.
But what captivated people most was his gaze—fixed straight ahead. No hesitation. No regret. A boldness and decisiveness that charged forward without looking back.
It seemed freer than the wind sweeping across the plains, freer than the restless sea that wandered the world.
“You’ve changed a lot since then. Your ability to command soldiers at the forefront of battle is still unmatched—but something fundamental has changed.”
Curtis nodded quietly instead of replying.
“Yes. Nothing’s the same anymore. Unlike you all.”
A smile heavy with meaning passed between them. They continued talking, and as dusk approached, the mercenaries stood.
“We’ll be going now. We still have a long road ahead.”
“Already?”
Curtis rose as well, reluctant.
“Stay a little longer. If you want, you can remain in my territory as long as you like.”
“So you can tie us down as your knights? I’ll pass. We may not be as busy as when you were with us, but we’re still mercenaries with commissions pouring in from all over.”
“Right? If you want to stop us, Your Excellency, you’d better bring a contract. Something chilling. Something exciting. Like treason, maybe?”
“So dying anonymously on the road is still your dream. Shame, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”
With that half-joking curse, Curtis escorted them past the sprawled, drunken soldiers to the front of the barracks.
“Curtis.”
Before mounting their horses, the men stretched out their arms—and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Live well. Since you abandoned us, you’d better be happy—no exceptions.”
It was calm, but sincere. Curtis hesitated, then embraced them back.
“Obviously. If you die out there, let me know. I’ll at least give you a grave in my territory.”
“That’s supposed to be a joke? Your cursed confidence hasn’t changed at all.”
“That’s honestly part of why we followed you.”
“Well… that’s true.”
With a snort of laughter, the men mounted their horses and left him with one last mischievous farewell.
“Be happy. And treat that woman well.”
“Yeah. She’s far too good for someone like you—cherish her like a treasure.”
“Stop spouting nonsense and get going.”
Curtis waved them off, then suddenly mounted a nearby horse and chased after them.
“Your Excellency?”
Before Shiloh or Greg could stop him, Curtis caught up and halted them. Before they could even ask why, he spoke.
“You said I don’t look like I used to.”
“I did.”
“How do I look now? Do I seem less free?”
The men paused, then shook their heads.
“No. Not at all.”
“Good. I’m still free. I just have a place to return to now. People become freer when they have somewhere to go back to.”
And that place wasn’t his territory or his castle—it was by the side of the woman he loved. By Roxana’s side.
“If you ever want to become freer than you are now, come find me.”
“Showing off again.”
“I mean it. I’ll make a place for you in my land. Not a grave, though.”
“……”
“I’ll become a place you can return to.”
It wasn’t a joke. Faced with the seriousness of his offer, the mercenaries exchanged silent glances.
“I’m not asking you to decide now. Just think about it. Safe travels.”
“…Alright.”
Some waved with thoughtful eyes, others with clear relief.
After seeing them off, Curtis turned his horse back toward the barracks alone. That was when someone came running toward him in a panic.
“Your Excellency!”
“Sir Gray?”
It was his adjutant. Curtis halted his horse at the sight of his frantic face.
“It’s terrible! There was poison in the drinks! The soldiers won’t wake up!”
“What?!”
Shock stole his breath. The adjutant pulled a wrapped cloth from his chest.
“It seems this was used…”
“What is that?”
Curtis dismounted and reached for it—
“Die!”
A dagger hidden within the cloth lunged toward his left chest. Curtis twisted the man’s wrist, deflecting the strike, and wrenched his arm behind his back, subduing him.
“Aaaargh!”
“So you were suspicious all along. Speak, Sir Gray. Who put you up to this?”
The adjutant struggled and spat out bitterly.
“You traitor who dared defy His Majesty! A mercenary-born wretch daring to reclaim the title of Margrave—it was more than you deserved!”
“Oh. So you acted alone?”
“You must die here! We’ll say you were killed in an ambush by Crottian remnants. Isn’t that an honorable death for a knight?”
“…The king, then?”
At Curtis’s sudden question, the man’s lips trembled. Curtis spoke calmly.
“Tell me the truth, and I’ll spare your life.”
“Fine! He ordered that you must die in battle no matter what. If you lost, you’d be executed for your failure—but if you somehow returned victorious…”
“You planned to assassinate me.”
Curtis murmured, cutting him off. At that moment, Gray seized his last chance and shouted toward someone hidden in the bushes.
“Shoot!”
“Your Excellency!”
Greg came running toward him from afar.
At the same time, searing agony exploded across Curtis’s back.
