SV 08

Episode 8

The fortress of Otkirchen was under attack.

The clash of steel, the shouts, and the screams that followed echoed throughout the castle.

“It’s not an attack from a single point…”

Just from the chaotic sounds coming from all directions, Isabel could roughly grasp what was happening on the battlefield.

It was a coordinated, simultaneous assault — a surprise attack involving a considerable number of troops.

The defense outside the walls had already failed. She didn’t know how many soldiers remained inside the castle, but in this situation… repelling the invaders might be impossible.

As her thoughts reached that conclusion, Isabel checked herself. She had nothing with her except her nun’s habit.

“I must be the weakest one in this fortress.”

At that moment, a frantic voice called out from behind her.

“Sister! You’re here!”

When she turned around, Yulia was running toward her, gasping for breath. Even though Isabel had told her not to call her “Sister” anymore, Yulia refused to change how she addressed her.

“It’s terrible! The intruders are killing the guards—!”
“Quiet down and calm yourself, Yulia.”
“Uh—”
“Take a deep breath. You can’t waste your strength right now.”

At Isabel’s composed advice, Yulia nodded and followed her hand signal to hide behind a pillar.

Once she had calmed herself a little, Yulia spoke again.

“We need to escape! I’ll lead you to the stables!”
“No. The stables would’ve been taken first.”

If there were horses, someone could escape to call for reinforcements—or the attackers could use them to pursue fleeing survivors. Hitting the stables first to eliminate mobility was the most basic tactic in a siege.

Yulia’s face went pale. Isabel placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s find somewhere we can slip out quietly. Can you think of a place?”
“Um… there’s a passage leading outside from the storage room connected to the kitchen.”
“That might work.”

The kitchen was along the outer edge of the castle—less likely to be searched right away.

With that plan decided, the two moved cautiously down the corridor, screams echoing in the distance. The western wing of the castle was sparsely occupied, making it easier to move unseen.

“No one’s here?”

Just as Yulia relaxed and whispered that, dull thuds echoed from around the corner.

Isabel quickly covered Yulia’s mouth and pulled her back.

Two men’s voices could be heard.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think? Chasing after the prince.”
“Didn’t you hear the signal whistle? They found him in the audience chamber.”
“Ah… is that so?”

It sounded like their talk would end there—awkward but harmless.

Then came a sudden choking sound.

“Y-you… what are you—”
“You filthy rat. Did you really think no one would notice you sneaking around, trying to loot in the middle of this?”
“I didn’t—”
“Typical vagrant scum. Can’t shake off your old habits.”

A cold verdict followed.

“There’s no place in our great cause for parasites like you.”

A heavy thud shook the ground, followed by receding footsteps.

After waiting a moment, Isabel peeked around the corner—one of the men lay dead.

“Signal whistle… great cause…”

Those weren’t words mere bandits would use.

Still, judging from their poor discipline, they weren’t elite troops either—more likely hastily gathered soldiers, trained just enough to fight together.

Isabel knelt beside the body and turned it over, but there was no insignia to identify his allegiance.

While she was assessing the situation, Yulia fidgeted nervously behind her.

“Sister…! Please, we need to run…!”

Isabel’s eyes turned toward the far corridor where screams continued.

Considering the attackers’ scale, their coordination, and the fact that Lionel had chosen to defend from the audience chamber—it didn’t take long for her to reach a grim conclusion.

The prince would likely die today.

“Sister?”
“…That corridor leads to the kitchen, right? You go first, Yulia.”
“What? What about you?”
“I’ll head to the audience chamber.”

If today was the day the Empire’s prince died, it would also be her best chance to escape. Amidst the chaos, no one would bother searching for one missing nun.

If she fled to the convent, gathered the others, and escaped far away, she might live peacefully for decades.

But to Isabel, that kind of peace would be nothing more than a lie—filled with scars and regret.

“If there’s someone to walk beside me on the road to hell… it might not be such a lonely journey.”

Just imagining what she might say to him at the gates of hell brought a twisted sense of joy.

She smiled faintly and lifted her head. Yulia, terrified by that eerie smile, grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

“Have you gone mad?! Why?!”
“I don’t know if I should say this, but… His Highness brought me here to torment me. So, I’d like to stay close—just long enough to guide him on his way.”
“Wha—?”
“You don’t need to understand. You’ll be going to heaven, Yulia. Pretend you never heard me.”

But Yulia, tearful, shook her head.

“I’m not that good a person, Sister…”
“What are you talking about? Just the way you tried to feed me a spoon of soup—”
“That’s because I knew if I said I’d starve with you, you’d finally stop fasting! I used it against you!”

Yulia clung to her arm, desperate, insisting she wasn’t as kind as Isabel thought.

“And do you know why I volunteered to attend to you? Because you never asked for anything and stayed quiet—it was easy!”

Her words were harsh, but Yulia had always cared for Isabel—far more than a servant ever needed to care for a nun.

Yulia was, at her core, a good person—so good that she didn’t even realize it herself.

Isabel had meant to comfort her, but she decided to say what needed to be said first.

“If you really think you used me… then I have one favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“Don’t follow me this time.”

If Yulia insisted on coming to the audience chamber, Isabel would have had to reconsider—but she used Yulia’s own words to head her off.

Yulia’s face stiffened. Isabel looked at her gently, almost pleading.

“It’ll be hard to find a better place to die than right now. But you’re different, Yulia.”
“Sister, please stop saying things like that…”
“Go, Yulia.”

Her tone was final. Hesitant but powerless to resist, Yulia turned and went toward the kitchen.

Isabel watched her go, glancing back several times, until she finally disappeared. Then she bent down slowly.

“Just in case.”

From the corpse of the man she’d seen earlier, Isabel took a small dagger and hid it inside her robe before walking toward the heart of the castle.

The closer she came to the audience chamber, the more blood and bodies she saw. Among them were attackers and soldiers—but most were unarmed servants.

“I’ve already set foot in hell,” she murmured bitterly, yet her steps never faltered.

At last, she reached the shattered doors of the audience chamber—and through the splintered wood, she could see the battle.

“Seven royal guards… and over forty attackers?”

The difference was hopeless. The guards fought to protect someone, wearing only plain clothes and carrying swords.

The attackers, believing victory was already theirs, didn’t rush—they mocked Lionel instead.

Their leader spoke leisurely.

“Lionel Ortega. It’s time you paid the price.”

Lionel replied coldly.

“Tell me who sent you. Kallia? Or my sister?”
“Who knows? Maybe it was Liberde or Britellia. Think about it carefully.”
“I do have quite a few enemies. I’ll have to start reorganizing things soon.”

The attackers burst into laughter.

“You don’t even understand your situation. You really think you’re walking out of here alive?”

At a signal from their leader, the men on either side began to advance slowly.

The final battle was about to begin. Isabel moved closer—she wanted to see it clearly.

But watching a battle from afar was never as easy as it sounded.

The royal guards noticed her standing by the doorway. Their gaze drew the attackers’ attention—soon, everyone saw her.

“What the—? A nun?”
“If you survived this long, you should’ve run. What are you doing here—looking to die?”

The bloodthirsty men bared their teeth. Isabel met their gaze with a blank expression.

One of them turned, spinning his sword lazily as he approached.

“Come to pray for the prince, have you? Listen, Sister—if you don’t want to lie down next to those corpses, walk away while I’m being nice.”
“…”
“Didn’t you hear me? Get lost!”

When Isabel didn’t flinch, the man grew irritated and strode up to her.

“You know, it’s almost a waste to kill you… but we’re busy. And if I don’t, my boss will probably kill me instead. I warned you enough, so don’t hold it against me.”

Without hesitation, he swung his sword.

To a man who had already slaughtered dozens of unarmed innocents, killing one more nun meant nothing.

Clang!

But Isabel stepped lightly back—just enough to evade the strike. The blade glanced off a metal ornament beside the door, ringing sharply.

The man didn’t stop. He thrust again, quick and brutal. Isabel sidestepped, her movements calm and fluid.

Now both of them were startled—the attacker, and Isabel herself.

“Why am I avoiding it?”

Was it because she wanted to live?
Because she wanted to see Lionel die before she did?
Because she refused to die by such a man’s sword?

Many reasons flashed through her mind, yet none felt true.

After dodging a few more blows, the man pulled back and leveled his sword properly.

“You’ve had training… Are you from a knightly order?”

The knights of the holy orders—precursors to the imperial knight corps—were renowned for their skill.