Episode 37
“Yah!”

Derga urged his horse’s side with a sharp kick and dashed into the forest. This was the opposite direction from the border desert, adjacent instead to the Merelrop territory. There was a temporary training ground set up there from the previous generation’s efforts to claim the area.

Deo would be there with his soldiers.

No—he had to be there!

Though the soldiers stationed at the mansion had been disbanded under pressure from the investigation team, the mercenary unit centered around Deo remained.

“Deoooo!”

Derga dismounted and sprinted toward the training ground. He shouted with a heart so heavy it felt like it was bleeding, and his voice echoed back to him.

But the surroundings were silent. Not a single sign of life.

“No way, no way…”

Could the worst still be worse?

A flood of terrible possibilities raced through Derga’s mind. Had the fleeing steward managed to pass a message to Deo? Even if he had, would Deo have run away…?

“Count!”

At that moment.

The training ground’s flag fluttered, and voices called out. Panting, Derga entered and soon came face to face with the soldiers who had been hiding.

“Deo!”

“Count, are you all right? What about the Cheollyeo tribe?”

Originally, when the Cheollyeo arrived to shake the investigation team, they had planned to provide full support from the rear. A full-scale war with the central army carried significance beyond mere resistance, so they intended to use the Cheollyeo as a buffer.

“It failed. They betrayed us. We must retake the mansion before the central army arrives. We have to hold out until the reply from First Prince Marib comes.”

Though they suffered humiliation for being on the border, it was also because they were on the border that they could endure. Bratz had two to three times more soldiers than other territories, and its unique terrain created many variables.

And more than that?

The presence of the Cheollyeo tribe meant they were always prepared to enter wartime at a moment’s notice. The fact that they could rally the soldiers even after the sudden attack by the investigation team was proof of that.

For the first time in his life, Derga felt pride in his territory and his soldiers.

“I will follow your orders.”

“Unlike the central army, the investigation team’s forces aren’t that formidable. Let’s go. We’ll kill them all. Tear them apart and feed them to the beasts.”

Deo bowed his head and smiled.

There are always those who crave war. And right now, Deo was one of them.

“If we win this battle, command of the army will definitely come to me.”

Then, in Bratz territory, he would be second only to Derga in power. Chel? Even if that fool became the rear count, the blood and sweat Deo shed today would be remembered forever.

He, too, was a man born from humble beginnings, his heart now pounding as he stood on the brink of his life’s peak.

“Let’s go! To reclaim our everyday lives!”

“Wooooah!”

Deo’s shout was met with a wave of cheers from the soldiers. The mountain echoed with their fierce battle cries. Birds startled and took flight, and through the sky, a massive hawk circled leisurely.

Whoosh.

Far off, the long line of the central army’s procession was captured in the hawk’s sharp eyes. The Bratz territory, passed down through generations, was about to witness a bloodbath unlike any before or after.

Watching this, Su reached out and caught the hawk, fixing Kusile’s gaze toward the great desert.

---

Beric’s body was drenched in cold sweat. The aged medic stuffed handfuls of herbs into the hole in his side and kept pouring an unknown black liquid into his mouth.

Kakantir leaned against the barracks entrance, watching, then quietly asked,

“How long until he can get up? A month?”

“Lord Kakan, those not of the Cheollyeo tribe have low recovery rates. A normal person would have died instantly. But judging by his stubborn spirit, I’d say three or four months at least.”

“Three or four months, huh? That’s troublesome, Lord Ian.”

The battle between Derga and the central army was on the brink of eruption.

Even if Ian had the Cheollyeo tribe backing him, his personal strength was only Beric. If even he was gone in this chaotic situation…

Ian faintly smiled and brushed Beric’s tangled hair away, matted with sweat and sand.

“It’s all right.”

“You seem to have other plans.”

“Whether Beric recovers or not, there’s always a way.”

Kakantir left at the call of Nersarn outside. The medic continued replacing the blood-soaked herbs, treating Beric. His dark skin seemed to grow paler with time.

“Stay here a moment. I need to prepare fresh herbs.”

After reminding Ian, the medic stepped outside carrying a heavy load of debris. The room fell silent. Ian took a deep breath and placed his hand on Beric’s forehead.

“I don’t know if this will work, Beric. But it’s better than doing nothing.”

He began to channel magic continuously, unlike before when he only gave brief bursts. It felt like he was breathing out steadily without stopping.

“Ah…”

Minutes passed.

Sweat poured down in beads, and his vision blurred. Still, Beric showed no response. Unable to bear it any longer, Ian withdrew his hand.

Scratch.

“What are you doing, Lord Ian? Are you all right?”

The medic, just entering, hesitated and asked. Ian swayed as if about to fall, holding onto the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine.”

“Why, why all of a sudden…?”

“Dizziness. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll just replace the herbs and bring something for the dizziness. Oh? Look at this one.”

The medic paused, seeing Beric’s face. Though he had been moaning and unconscious, his breathing had stabilized somewhat. The medic gently adjusted the damp herbs, noting the blood had lessened.

“What on earth is this?”

“…Beric?”

“Not your name. I didn’t see the battle myself, but everyone’s been talking about it.”

The medic muttered as he continued treatment. He glanced at Ian, seemingly expecting a response, but Ian, drained of strength, turned his head away.

“…Kakan?”

Kakantir entered holding something in his hand. He smiled wryly at Ian’s condition.

“Oh dear. Is this not enough?”

“What do you mean?”

Without a word, Kakantir placed a round candlestick with a gurot leaf on top. The leaf crackled and burned, filling the barracks with thick smoke. The chieftain carefully held the leaf to Beric’s nose, then passed it to Ian.

“This is how the Cheollyeo avoid death.”

“Will it work on Beric?”

“Who knows? I’ve never seen outsiders use it. But at the feast, it seemed to have some effect.”

A secret technique of the tribe that numbs pain and instantly revitalizes the body. They were strong on their own, but the gurot leaf’s effects couldn’t be ignored. That’s why it was never classified as contraband in trade with Bratz.

Yet here they were, sharing it with an outsider.

It felt meaningful and strangely moving.

“Thank you.”

Ian chewed the leaf thoroughly. Bitter at first, then sour and sharp. Kakantir watched him silently before continuing.

“Ryu, who was sent with Su, has returned first. Su will wait at the border.”

“You mean that huge hawk?”

“Yes. As you said, Derga was cornered. Looks like he gathered his soldiers.”

Bratz’s strength was somewhat predictable. Ian had seen and heard much while living at the mansion. Most importantly, he knew how much was poured into maintaining the mercenaries, so that wasn’t a concern.

“What about the central army?”

“No reports yet.”

The problem was the size of the central army and the investigation team. Knowing that would allow them to estimate the battle situation and respond accordingly. Ian felt his heart beat faster and spat out the gurot leaf.

“You have a few days. Rest.”

As soon as Kakantir left, Ian collapsed to his side, curling up. The medic quietly raised a blanket over his shoulders.

Time passed.

Ssssh.

Ian suddenly woke to a cold breeze. Night was dark. The medic was nowhere to be seen, and the candle was out. Only the faint scent of gurot leaf lingered.

“…Beric?”

Beric no longer sweated but remained unconscious. Ian leaned back on the bed, rubbing his face to clear the haze.

Swoosh.

But then, footsteps outside.

It wasn’t just the wind that had woken Ian. He stared toward the entrance, groping for the dagger attached to Beric’s belt.

“Who’s there?”

No answer.

Ian stepped slowly into the moonlight, his long shadow stretching behind him. Instinctively, he sensed someone at the door.

“Damn it. I don’t understand.”

The figure outside was surely Cheollyeo. They were the only ones living as a tribe in the great desert, and even if Derga had sent a spy, no one could have breached the Cheollyeo’s watch to come this far.

So Ian couldn’t guess who it might be.

During the day, the outside had been friendly enough to offer even the gourd leaves to Ian and Beric, so why now did this stranger harbor murderous intent?

Whoosh!

The door was flung open from the outside. Sensing Ian’s hesitation, the intruder acted first.

A mask made of animal fur, feathers draped over his shoulders. Without hesitation, the man swung his sword and lunged at Ian.

Clang!

“Ugh!”

It wasn’t so much a solid block as a lucky deflection.

Ian’s dagger, swung reflexively, snapped in two and clattered to the ground. The assailant showed no hesitation. With one hand, he roughly grabbed Ian’s face, and with the other, he seized his throat.

Thud!

“Ugh!”

He clamped Ian’s mouth shut, silencing any chance of a cry for help.

Ian’s feet flailed in midair. The suffocating pressure was a pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced. After all, who would dare seize the nape of Emperor Ian’s neck?

“If you’re lowborn, then stay lowborn. What’s with all this scheming?”

The voice was unfamiliar, yet not entirely strange.

“Do you know how much trouble you and that redhead have caused? Honestly, that’s why the Empire’s no help. Your father was the same.”

Mentioning Derga?

Ian pushed the man’s face away with his hand. He worried the fur mask might nullify his magic…

Ziiing. Ziiing.

“Quietly die now—!”

Whoosh!

Bang!

Ian unleashed a burst of magic like an explosion. The sudden shock pushed the attacker backward, and Ian himself was thrown into the air before crashing down.

Thud!

“Damn it.”

Ian lay face down, coughing. He must have landed wrong—his wrist stung sharply. Outside the barracks, lights flickered on one by one.

The keen-eared Cheollyeo tribe had sensed the commotion and awakened.