3 bar menu

Chapter 115: Ursula’s Pursuit part 1

 

Viscount Urs Barten carved an enemy rider out of the saddle. The rest broke and pulled back. Barten’s men had wounded too; they couldn’t spare the strength to chase. Both sides were running on fumes.

They’d been found the night before. They’d kept their guard up, but once the cooking fires went on, the pale smoke must have given them away against the dark.

The first raid was repelled without trouble. The problem was endurance. After a sleepless night on watch, the men were dragging. They rotated naps in the wagons, yet morale sagged. Barten’s side had the numbers: whenever they stood and fought, the enemy yielded ground. But once driven off, those same enemy riders circled back, correctly judging that Barten lacked the legs to pursue.

「This persistence—they are waiting on a detached column to link up,」 Barten told Viscount Prell, riding at his side.

「At that pace, they’re a day or two out, I’d say.」

The two men hadn’t known each other for long. Prell had been assigned to the mine not too long ago, but steel tempered fast in combat. The two of them had grown close in these last few days of battle and had grown close enough to trust each other with their backs.

Barten acted the carefree bruiser, but he handled his men with a certain rough tenderness. He was the type to dive into the front line—yet because the soldiers adored him, he got results. It looked like he muscled through with brute force; in reality he chose his moments with a cool head. The man had an eye.

Prell, for his part, was a blade master—and good at erasing his presence. He was lethal at striking from nowhere. In the last few skirmishes they’d settled into a rhythm: Barten drew the enemy’s eye; Prell, with a picked handful, slipped into the seams and cut something vital.

「Shame. If we each had a few more squads, we could make this a real fight,」 Prel said.

「Complaining about headcount won’t change it. But I agree—give us real numbers and I’d like our odds.」

The enemy would flip back soon. Barten wanted to punish them on the turn, but his men were tired, and even he couldn’t promise a clean kill.

「We should move while we can,」 Prell suggested.

「Hold. We should load the wounded in the wagons first. Anyone off-duty mounts up next. Once every horse has a rider, we march.」

Even here, the man everyone trusted put his troops first. The enemy would come again—that was all the more reason to keep the formation from fraying. Barten and Prell spent their breath settling frayed nerves and keeping the line glued together.

I sent the Guinea Alchemin ahead with Erwin. If Lord Corinth truly is the hero people say, he should be sending relief by now.

This enemy meant business. If they’d turtled up inside the mine, they’d all be dead.

At least we saved the Guinea Alchemin. Still—too many flattering stories and you start expecting heroes to be saints. Dangerous habit.

If Lord Corinth showed up now with a relief column, his men would roar. And if he matched the ideal they’d sketched in their heads, Barten would throw in with Lord Corinth as the realm’s savior without a second thought.

We’ll see if Lord Corinth is the man of rumor—or just rumor.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Ursula should have been leading the cavalry in pursuit. Instead, when she came to, her face was in the dirt. She’d flown off her horse and met the ground, helmet first.

「Bring their commander here.」

A voice—female, crisp.

Hands wrenched off her crumpled helm. Warmth spilled down her face. Her vision swam. Someone grabbed the black hair she wore bound back and tilted her head so her face showed to the opposing commander.

「Ah—」

A woman gasped. Ursula’s helm had been more pageant than armor. A face-first fall meant her features had probably come off worst. She could feel blood slick across her cheeks and lips. Something was split open. Breathing through her nose hurt. Her beauty and quick mind were her weapons. If she lost the former, even Crown Prince Rouge—whom she hated—would cast her aside.

Would she receive healing in time? Would a scar remain? The air around her didn’t promise kindness. If she had to choose between a mark on her face and death… She would choose life. Fear of that hideous future shook tears loose.

「Treat her. Take her to a tent.」

「Agreed. No point parading that face before her men like this, Elna.」

「Yes, Ria-sama.」

A woman knight’s orders drifted closer, then away.

I blundered.

Ursula thought, acid burning her gut. How had she missed the ambush?

If the commander was down, her troops had bled too. These were some of the Cecilio Kingdom’s best: elite among elites. To be taken apart this cleanly beggared belief. Who commanded the enemy? Only one man near Gantz could have outplayed her—Lord Corinth, the one who took the city.

She must have blacked out, because the sting of water cleaning cuts snapped her back. They laid her on her back on a table inside a tent. A lean man with a commander’s posture approached.

Is he Lord Corinth?

And in that moment she felt it—the gap. If this man chose to do anything to her, she probably wouldn’t be able to lift a finger in real resistance.

「If you mean to violate me, do it. But I carry royal blood. If you want me, treat me as a princess of the blood. Make me your wife, and a crown won’t be far behind.」

The man—likely Lord Corinth—glanced at his aides, then stepped in.

「First we fix you up. We can talk after. And as for a princess—I’m covered.」

Covered? Belta had no princess. The line made no sense.

While Ursula was in confusion, he murmured a short chant.

「〈Heal〉.」

Warm light swallowed her. The activation was absurdly fast. More than that, she felt flesh knit almost as quickly as she could notice it.

What is this?

A normal Heal only hastens nature, and not by much. This was like… a miracle.

「It’s like a gift straight from the goddess,」 she heard herself say.

Her tongue felt normal. So did her nose and teeth. All of it had been a ruin seconds ago.

「Good. You do have a lovely face. It would’ve been a shame to leave it like that,」 a pleasant young voice said as its owner leaned in to study her.

「Ria-sama, she’s a prisoner. Please keep your distance,」 the knight—Elna—cautioned. A commander bringing his wife to a battlefield would be strange. And Ursula hadn’t heard Lord Corinth was married; she always checked that first. No, this Ria was probably a favored mage retainer. In other words… a mistress.

「My thanks for the treatment, Lord Corinth—if I may call you that,」 Ursula said to the man looking down at her.

「Yes. I’m Alan Corinth—Margrave of the Belta Kingdom and its Lord Protector.」

He helped her sit. Women soldiers ringed the tent—not what she expected if he meant to violate her, but maybe he liked it like that. However, their eyes were cool and professional, not hungry.

「I’m resolved. I am Ursula Dopner, Countess of the Cecilio Kingdom. I surrender. Kill me or take me as you please—but spare as many of my soldiers as you can. On those terms I will not resist. I swear on my noble name to cooperate with you. And I am of royal blood. You’d profit more by making me your wife than by slighting me.」

「Understood, Countess Ursula Dopner. I accept your surrender. As long as you follow instructions, your safety’s guaranteed, and I’ve already offered terms to your troops. A good number laid down arms the moment they heard you were captured. As for your future… we’ll talk it through.」

「My thanks—for accepting our surrender and for showing mercy to my men, Lord Corinth.」

They stripped off her armor, pressed tea into her hands, and took her to relieve herself. The confused Ursula could only think it was to keep her presentable when presenting her to their lord. The woman called Ria had arranged it all with a word.

「You lost a lot of blood, you need to replenish your fluids. And I doubt you get many breaks on campaign,」 Ria said, sending a knight to and fro. They wiped her clean and handed her fresh clothes. A private latrine stood ready too—likely meant for Lord Corinth and his mistress.