Chapter 422
Click.
The coachman instinctively sensed something was wrong with the carriage. As he gently tugged the reins, the man sitting beside him waved a flag, signaling the situation to those behind.
They were in a lush green field.
It resembled the landscape around Clifford, but the hills bore the unmistakable hues of Bariel. The silent escort gradually slowed their pace until the entire procession came to a halt.
“What’s the matter?”
“Something’s caught in the wheel. Every time it turns, there’s a grinding sensation along with a clicking sound. Are the front or rear carriages having any issues?”
“Doesn’t seem like it up front. Let’s check the back.”
“Right. It’s about time for a break anyway. We should report to Lord Ian and take a moment to rest.”
“The air here really is different. I never thought air could have a flavor. Coming back to Bariel, it tastes like the air I’ve breathed my whole life.”
The coachman smiled faintly and bowed slightly. His hands carefully inspected the front and rear wheels. Though the technicians were all present, they were escorting very important people, so even the slightest noise demanded attention.
Meanwhile, Ian stepped down from the carriage and called the coachman over.
“Is there a problem?”
“Ah, Lord Ian, no major issue. It seems the wheel caught on a jagged stone. The support is slightly bent, but with a bit of repair, it should hold.”
“It would be troublesome if the carriage broke down in the center. There may be no eyes here, but just a little further in, the gaze of Bariel’s citizens will be upon us wherever we go.”
Ian studied the small map in his palm. To move as quickly as possible, they had chosen a rough path rather than avoiding it.
Thanks to that, even though they had entered Bariel, encountering any locals was as rare as catching a star. All they saw were herds of mountain goats passing by, endless gentle hills, and their own increasingly weary group.
Ian watched the mages stretch. The carriage’s constant shaking was making even the airborne mages battle motion sickness.
“Better to be a little late than to rush. Make sure the repairs are thorough. It’s better than having the mages’ carriage break down while returning with news of victory.”
“I’ll make sure it’s fixed properly.”
“We’ll stay here tonight. There’s flat land and, judging by the mountain goats nearby, little danger from predators.”
“If we rest here, we should reach the center by the day after tomorrow, probably early morning.”
“Better than rushing through the awkward afternoon. Alright, everyone, unload the luggage and let the horses rest.”
“Yes, Lord Ian. I’ll prepare the meal.”
“Beric! See those mountain goats? Bring some back today! Otherwise, you’re only getting a single serving!”
“A hunting party? What hunting party?”
“The mountain goats, over there.”
“Oh! The meat’s moving!”
“I never liked mountain goat meat.”
“Does he eat for taste? He eats to survive. Beric! While you’re at it, scout the area. See if there’s a water source nearby.”
Pat-pat-pat!
Before the mages could even shout, Beric was already sprinting energetically up the hill. Since their supplies were limited, Beric’s share was practically a fast.
If they couldn’t provide for themselves at every meal, survival would be difficult.
Ian nodded toward Hale, who responded with a knowing look and then led the way toward the carriage where Damon was held.
Creaaak.
As the carriage door opened and a cool breeze blew in, Damon’s brow furrowed.
A gag to prevent self-harm or suicide. His limbs tightly bound. Guards who showed no respect for a former king, always watching. But above all, his senses were heightened, and his nose caught the unmistakable scent of Bariel.
The foreign aura carried on the wind. Damon lifted his clouded eyes to look at Ian, whose face was obscured by the backlight.
“Any problems?”
“No, none.”
“No disturbances?”
“Quiet.”
“Good work. Rest a moment before the next shift.”
Ian turned aside by the carriage door, and the guard bowed in thanks before stepping away.
Ian sat opposite Damon, crossing his legs slowly. They checked on him at regular intervals, but the silence between them was so heavy it felt suffocating.
Would it be the same this time? When Ian habitually pulled out a cigarette Hale had saved, Damon’s gaze shifted toward it—an almost automatic reflex. In this stifling moment, when everything felt like it might unravel, the only thing that could soothe him and erase the scent of Bariel’s wind was that cigarette.
Ian noticed the reaction keenly and reached out to Hale.
“Yes?”
Hale looked at Ian’s hand, confused. He had no report to give right now. After a moment’s hesitation, Hale tried to clasp Ian’s palm, but Ian sharply brushed his hand away.
Snap.
“Cigarette.”
“Oh. Ah, yes. Cigarette. But Lord Ian, you don’t smoke.”
“Not me. Him.”
“Him.” The honorific Damon once held had been sharply downgraded. Hale felt awkward hearing it and glanced at Damon, who seemed oblivious to Ian’s words, showing no change.
Hale handed over the remaining cigarettes to Ian and closed the carriage door. Except for the soft light filtering through the curtains, darkness enveloped the surroundings.
“Feels like a stable in here.”
Ian made a biting joke. Though he’d never been locked in a stable, he could easily imagine it—the helplessness of being bound and transported somewhere.
“Want a drag? Be careful not to do anything reckless with it. The ash is hot.”
Ian held the cigarette between his fingers, flicking it slightly. He was offering to loosen the gag briefly, suggesting Damon take a moment of human rest without causing a fuss. Otherwise, Damon would soon learn what kind of ‘punishment’ awaited him. Only someone holding a cigarette knows how hot the ash can be.
Damon glared at Ian. Silence was assent. Ian slowly shrugged and removed the gag. Blood, which had been swallowed down but never stopped flowing, trickled down.
“We’ve already crossed into Bariel proper. Damon, you’ve lost. There’s no way forward now. If we reach the palace, the Magic Department will interrogate you, but I’m curious about the words you’ll speak that won’t be recorded.”
“…”
Ian lit the cigarette and offered it to him. Like a wary wild animal, Damon watched it for a long moment before finally taking it into his mouth.
Haah. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, the breath tinged with the metallic scent of blood.
“Why are you curious about what won’t be recorded? You care more than anyone about what gets written down.”
“A single sentence carries countless voices layered upon it. Sometimes, it’s so noisy it clouds judgment. So, I want to hear your pure words, untainted by anyone else’s opinion.”
Damon let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. In plain terms, he thought Ian was talking nonsense. Is this the luxury only a victor can afford?
“Enough. Just kill me. If you stab a sword through my heart, I’ll personally tell you my last words. About Rutherford and the return? Or the secrets of the Burgos Kingdom? I’ll spill everything until my last breath.”
Hoo. Damon defiantly blew smoke in Ian’s face. Ian didn’t flinch. He elegantly let the smoke drift away and spoke a name.
“Timothy—”
Ian paused. The change in Damon’s expression was so sudden it was almost visible. Damon froze, holding the smoke inside.
“Timothy will see you.”
“…”
“He will bow his head to our lord, bleeding, while standing tall alongside the others, looking down.”
Something in Damon’s eyes snapped shut.
He hadn’t expected this. In the rocking carriage, the worst scenario he had imagined wasn’t truly the worst. He seemed to realize, faintly but surely, that he had still held onto hope.
And it wouldn’t be just Timothy. Every Burgos citizen living in Bariel’s center would witness his miserable end.
“When that time comes, you won’t even be able to say what you want. Better not to miss this chance.”
A quiet offer whispered again. In exchange for preventing a reunion with Timothy, Ian urged him to confess everything.
Rutherford, the return method, Damon’s siblings—all tangled threads that Ian carefully began to unravel with a delicate touch.
Damon spat out the burning cigarette and crushed it underfoot.
“Rutherford is—”
Then, with a resigned, irritated tone, he muttered. Above all, he wanted to avoid meeting Timothy like that. If only a small incident could prevent it…
“Rutherford is someone who communicates directly with the gods.”
“Gods?”
Ian smiled and pointed toward the sky with his finger.
God? The one who looks down upon Gaia all at once, who hears every sound of Gaia simultaneously—this God? A single being, yet present within countless humans across the world?
“…Are you from the temple?”
“I’ve heard similar things before, but I can’t be certain. Still, when I met him in person, I understood why they call him that. Rutherford is the one who communicates with the gods to keep the world in balance. Ian, no matter how skilled you are, you can’t stand against that kind of harmony.”
“So that’s why, Damon, you ended up like this.”
Hmm. Damon smiled faintly, brushing off Ian’s mockery. If Damon was powerless, then Ian was powerless too, wasn’t he?
Knock, knock.
“Ian, are you alright?”
At that moment, Hale knocked on the door from outside, his voice tinged with concern. Damon turned his head as if he had said all he needed to say, and Ian realized he wouldn’t hear Damon’s voice again today.
“Come in.”
“Oh, the smoke…”
“Ventilate for a moment, then double the guards.”
“Double?”
Using two guards when one would suffice was a clear order to loosen the reins.
Ian stepped outside slowly, breathing in the fresh air. In the distance, Barrick, chasing a herd of mountain goats, looked as small as a fingernail, and above him, massive billowing clouds rose into the sky.
‘Are you hiding back there?’
Oh God. If you truly watch over all of Gaia, then surely you see what I’m looking at now. I’d rather you show yourself than Rutherford, but why do you remain unseen?
“Ian, they’re preparing the meal.”
“Good. I’m not hungry.”
“If you say that, Barrick will come running, begging for leftovers. Please hold him back; it’s a hassle.”
Hale clicked his tongue and straightened his collar. Soon, two guards entered the carriage. Until the door closed again, Damon didn’t look outside.
That was the pure truth Ian heard from Damon—the last words spoken outside the palace, never to be recorded.
Wheee!
Tap, tap, tap!
The coachman sniffled as he caught sight of the central walls of Bariel in the distance. His home, the place he longed to return to, shimmered just ahead.
Though morning had just passed, Barrick was surprisingly awake. Pressing his forehead against the window, he stared down the rugged path.
“Ian.”
“Yeah?”
“This is the same road we took coming up from the border, right? With Uncle Romandro.”
“Why do you call him that?”
“Isn’t that right? Hasha was with us too.”
“Yeah, that’s right. There’s only this mountain path leading into the center. The mountain where we stopped after bringing the oracle’s light from the temple is here.”
“No wonder. I really do have a good memory.”
“Barrick, weren’t you bad with directions?”
“That’s different.”
Different how? Ian tilted his head, watching the back of Barrick’s head as he kept marveling at the view outside.
“I never imagined back then what it would be like now.”
“Now? What do you mean?”
“Literally now. Coming into the palace, eating all the meat you want, going off to war, and then coming back like this.”
“That was amazing, wasn’t it? Back then.”
“Yeah. Like a… star…”
“A whole new world.”
“Yeah. A whole new world.”
Ian snapped his book shut and gazed toward the distant center. White balloons slowly rose into the sky. Barrick’s eyes widened.
“This time, it’ll be an even greater wonder. You’ll see the cheers the people of the Bariel Empire send to the victorious warriors returning home. Look—already, they’re forming huge clouds up there.”
Come quickly. Like the clouds in the blue sky, this is where you belong. The cheers from the empire’s people rose high into the heavens.