Chapter 07
7. Black Wolf (7)
“If you follow the river upstream, there’s a village where the water narrows. People there mostly make a living selling small goods to the border hamlets of the Empire, so I’m sure there’s a bridge.”
While sharing the intelligence their men had gathered, Hans kept sneaking glances at the duke’s injured arm—the arrow scratch he’d gotten a few days ago while saving her.
The wound wasn’t serious, but Hans still felt guilty for failing to protect him properly.
Should’ve just left me when I said I’d disappear on my own, she thought.
Sure enough, Joseph didn’t like what she’d said; his retort came sharp and dry.
“Don’t tell me we have to spend another night in the kingdom….”
He trailed off, eyes flicking to the sky. Judging from the sun’s position, it was already past noon.
Even if they went upstream, reaching a stretch narrow enough to have a bridge meant a long climb.
“So, are you planning to sell Andreas off?”
As if he understood Anze’s words, the horse Andreas snorted roughly and stamped the ground, glaring at Joseph.
Joseph chuckled in disbelief at the insult in her eyes.
“Of course not. Though I wonder—does arrogance rub off?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Joseph looked back and forth between Andreas and Hans, then shook his head. Now that he thought about it, their oversized dark eyes and stubborn, disobedient nature really did match.
“Get on.”
Joseph swung easily into the saddle and, without asking, hauled Hans up by the scruff to sit in front.
“I can walk—”
“With those slow legs? We’re already late. At your pace, we’d reach the village by tomorrow morning, and then I’d be crossing the river without a wink of sleep.”
His eyes already felt gritty from exhaustion. Ignoring Hans’s protests, Joseph urged Andreas onward.
“When someone once called you stingy with food, why aren’t you eating now?”
“I started wondering if you overordered because you’d slipped something into it.”
Joseph rarely ordered so much, and his insistent urging to eat only deepened her suspicion.
Anze eyed the piled dishes warily.
The inn doubled as a restaurant run by a southern émigré from the Empire, known for hearty traditional fare. In this warm, resource-rich region, everything—meat and vegetables alike—was fried or sautéed until rich with flavor and oil.
Her gaze settled uneasily on the soup before her: a broth rich with pork, golden fat floating on the surface. It looked delicious, but oily food often upset her stomach.
Besides, her mission was nearly done. She planned to disappear tonight, leaving the aftermath to Grey. Getting sick mid-escape would be disastrous.
Joseph stabbed a large chunk of meat and deliberately chewed.
“Tastes great. Eat while you can—tomorrow we’ll leave early after only a light breakfast.”
He seemed unusually cheerful.
And why not? He was finally going home. There’d be mountains of work and business waiting at his estate, but still—he would return alive.
Ha…
Joseph closed his eyes and exhaled, a sound halfway between a sigh and relief. But as soon as he did, memories turned the quiet around him into a battlefield of screams and chaos.
Was this what it felt like to stand in the middle of hell?
The emperor had ordered him to war, speaking of a noble’s duty. Fortune favored them; they won every campaign. And for that he’d earned titles like “cold-blooded butcher” and “merciless iron swordsman.”
But how many of those who admired such titles truly knew war’s reality?
Anyone who’d seen flesh torn and blood flow like water would never simply revere him.
He preferred hatred or contempt. For nights, the phantom scent of blood kept him from sleep.
Things improved only after Hans began staying near. His insomnia eased; even the piercing headaches lightened.
The boy’s nonstop chatter was maddening, but the fact that sleepless nights were fewer made Joseph almost forgive him.
Joseph even considered employing the troublemaker permanently—though Hans would surely leap up in horror.
“I’m fine, I’m full,” Hans said sourly. Joseph smiled faintly, his mood lifting further.
“Did I do something wrong?” Hans asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You were staring at me with such a grim smile…I wondered if I’d upset you again.”
Joseph’s mouth twitched.
What did that little brown-haired head hold to keep turning him upside down?
Noticing Joseph’s look, Hans quickly set down his fork and half-rose.
“I’ll just go check on Andreas.”
Joseph clicked his tongue but let him go. Even without Andreas, tomorrow he’d cross the border into the Empire.
He glanced around the quiet, clean inn. The owner seemed kind, but trust was another matter.
“…He’ll be fine,” Joseph murmured, eyes on the door Hans had exited.
Foolish sometimes, yes—but never entirely clueless.
“What a magnificent horse. Very clever too.”
In the stable, a worker recognized Andreas and lavished praise. Hans stroked the horse’s gleaming back.
Anze turned when a friendly-looking young man struck up conversation. Slender and small for a man, he smiled easily.
“Such a fine horse is rare in this kingdom. You must have come from far away.”
“Ah, yes, well…”
But as she looked at his face, Anze suddenly stepped back, her ease gone.
The man tilted his head.
“Are you all right? It’s gotten chillier lately—lots of colds going around. Take care.”
Anze barely heard him. Her gaze shifted over his head, to the space above.
His energy… an ominous imbalance. The fiery life force was shattered.
And from him wafted the sticky stench of blood.
He might think a bath hid it, but she sensed the madness and violence beneath his pleasant smile.
Unlike Joseph’s solid, grim resolve, this man radiated a darker urge to kill.
Color drained from her face.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said with forced calm.
“I’ll take care of the horse from here. You can see to other work.”
“Oh no, that won’t do. I’m hired help—I should do my job,” he said lightly, picking up a brush and running it through Andreas’s mane.
“Hrrrhh!”
Andreas stamped threateningly, clearly disturbed.
“How odd—he’s usually so gentle,” the man said.
Anze backed away and quietly loosened Andreas’s tether, waving her hand behind her back.
Run, Andreas!
But the horse only shifted slightly, unblinking. She pushed him, but he wouldn’t move.
“Oh? How did this come loose?” The man reached for the reins.
Anze snatched them away and leapt back.
“I thought I’d take him for a walk.”
“At night?” he said, gesturing toward the dark outside.
“He’s so lively I often walk him late,” she replied with a quick laugh.
“Ah!” The man nodded as if understanding—and suddenly grinned.
“Too late. I think you’ve caught on.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, still trying to shove the immovable Andreas.
“This fine-looking horse is rather stupid,” he sneered, drawing a short sword.
Andreas snaked his neck and snorted violently.
“Ha!”
Anze rolled aside as the blade slashed through where she’d stood.
The man’s eyes gleamed with contempt.
“Quick on your feet—or just lucky. But luck won’t help you this time.”
The raised sword gleamed a deadly blue.
Anze backed away until her spine hit the stable wall. No more room to dodge.
Her eyes flicked from Andreas to the sword to the man’s face.
So this is the end…
“Hrreeeigh!”
Suddenly Andreas lashed out with his hind legs, sending the man flying. The unbelievable sight froze her.
“Andreas! Are you all right?”
Still breathless, Anze bent double, relief flooding her.
“Impressive,” came a voice.
Grey appeared at last, clapping. Anze glared.
“Hey! Why so late? I nearly died!”
“You think I’d let that happen? I had a dagger ready, but your horse beat me to it.”
Grey scowled playfully at Andreas, then clapped Anze on the shoulder.
“Good work. We’ll take it from here. You’ve done enough in that frail body.”
His men were already cleaning up. Alec approached with a pouch of animal blood.
“Where should I spill this?”
Sensing a familiar presence, Joseph snapped awake. It was the same aura that had always lingered nearby during their travels.
But it had never intervened before. Why now?
A cold, familiar dread slid down his spine. He sprang up as a man bowed beside him.
“What is it? Where’s Hans?”
“From now on, I’ll attend you, my lord.”
“Where’s Hans?”
The man didn’t answer directly.
“Assassins attacked. While protecting your horse… Hans… died.”
“That can’t be.”
Joseph muttered in disbelief.
That loudmouth who’d do anything for money couldn’t die so easily. He was like a cork that always floated no matter how hard you tried to drown him.
But Grey held firm.
“We were a step too late. My apologies.”
Joseph shoved Grey aside and strode out.
“Where is he? I need to see the body—”
He stopped, frowning.
Useless as Hans could be, had Joseph grown attached?
The moment he heard the words Hans is dead, a hot lump rose in his throat.
“…I’ll see for myself.”
He didn’t have far to go.
Across the inn yard, beyond a trail of dark blood leading from the stable, lay a figure covered in black cloth. Joseph approached in silence.
“My lord, it’s a gruesome sight,” Grey warned. “Better not—”
But Joseph ignored him, lifting the cloth.
The sight beneath was so horrific he had to lower it again almost immediately.
