SBTMK Chapter 40

As time passed, Paul's uneven breathing settled into something regular.

The tension that had seemed almost put-on in his expression eased too.

'Must be asleep.'

Staying by his side and watching over him, so he wouldn't lie awake alone again, seemed to have helped.

Flora looked at the sleeping Paul with a pang of pity.

He'd grown attached to his squadmates, days of hard searching together, that's all it was.

She understood, completely, the guilt of feeling that his own fear had cost them their lives.

How heavy that thought could sit on a person—failing to protect someone who mattered. No one knew it better than she did.

She, too, had lost so many people over the course of her life—people she'd let herself get close to.

She only hoped he wouldn't let himself be swallowed by that thought and make it worse for himself.

Flora left Paul's room.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, she ran into Sarthe.

"Dame Flora."

"Hello, Sir Sarthe."

"Where are you coming from?"

"Ah—Sir Paul's room. I came to check on him."

"How's his condition?"

Flora stood at attention and answered.

"The priest said he'll be mostly healed by the time we head back to the capital."

"...Good to hear. Anything besides the wound, then? Trembling from fear, that sort of thing?"

His tone was strikingly matter-of-fact, as though he'd asked this exact question many times before.

Flora hesitated, then answered.

"He seems to be carrying some guilt over the comrades who died. He hardly slept last night, either. I just watched him finally fall asleep before I came out."

Sarthe nodded, as if he understood exactly what state that put a person in.

"It's something a knight has to go through, sooner or later. See that he pulls through it well—look after him. I'll see you at the search, then."

"...Understood."

Flora headed straight back to her room after parting from Sarthe.

Squad One, Flora's assigned squad, would be leaving for the mountain search soon.

She went back to her room to grab her bow, and froze in the doorway the moment she opened it.

She'd been gone about an hour.

In that time, someone had clearly been there.

A snapped bow and a folded slip of paper sat on the bed.

Stepping quietly into the room, Flora checked every place someone might be hiding first—inside the wardrobe, under the bed, beyond the window.

No trace of anyone remained. Whoever it had been was already gone.

Flora picked up the bow Kasin had given her. The limb had been bent back the wrong way and snapped, cleanly, into two pieces.

'Who the hell would do this...'

Brow furrowed, Flora unfolded the note.

'I will take everything you hold dear. Traitor Flora.'

By the time she'd finished reading the short lines, her fingertips trembled, faintly.

Up until she'd seen the broken bow, she'd kept her anger under control without much trouble. Then fear flooded her mind—all in an instant.

Something she'd forgotten, lost for a while in this peace, came rushing back.

Dull pink eyes that always seemed drunk on some private excitement. Tangled blond hair. Pale skin, with dried blood permanently caked somewhere on it.

The moment Ayden's face surfaced in her mind, her heart seized like it might burst, and her head spun.

She'd assumed, vaguely, that this was some petty stunt from a knight who envied and resented her.

But reading the note, it was heading in a completely different direction than she'd expected.

Flora felt the strength drain out of her legs all at once and barely managed to sit down on the bed.

She'd known Cenkan would keep coming after her.

It was only that Simen's embrace had been so warm and safe that the threat had never sunk into her body at all.

Anxiety flooded in. Flora bit down on her lip, again and again.

The peace she'd felt all this time — shattered, all at once, like glass.

The sweet, quiet dream broke, and reality—the hellish churn of it—came back around.

'...There's something I need to tell you, once I'm back.'

Once this was over and she made it back, she'd meant to tell Simen everything.

About the life she'd lived. About Cenkan.

The reason she hadn't told him from the very start was that Simen himself had been suspicious to her, too.

The head of an empire, going out of his way to help some outsider who'd stumbled in with no papers, no claim to the land, and settle her in, treating her with nothing but blind warmth—she'd assumed there had to be some angle to it, and stayed on guard.

But as time went on, her guard had eroded, little by little, and her concern for him had only grown in its place.

Cenkan's military strength was laughably weak next to a power like Haenkan, but its skill at planting spies was another matter entirely.

If Laviu and Ayden learned that Flora, Cenkan's own hero, had sworn loyalty to "enemy" territory, there was no way they'd simply let that stand.

She'd never assumed for a second that the castle was entirely clean of Cenkan's people.

Could be a working maid. Could be a knight. Could be a bribed noble.

That was exactly what she'd been guarding against.

If she told her secret, and Cenkan somehow found out she'd told it, every threat would descend without warning—not just on her, but on Simen too. That much was certain.

She hadn't wanted to add to the danger pressing on Simen right away.

She'd known she would be the first one attacked, and she'd meant to buy herself time alone to get a read on the internal situation.

But things had turned out unexpectedly peaceful, and—blinded, just for a while, by that happiness—she'd let her guard down.

The line about taking something precious from her landed far more terrifying than it would have, otherwise.

Not Simen. Him—not him.

So this is what it feels like, to have something you need to protect.

She thought of her sun. Ground her teeth.

"Good morning, Commander."

"Oh? Dame Flora. Morning. Get some good rest?"

"Yes. I rested well."

Hakra was already out at the gate, the meeting point for Squad One.

Flora greeted the commander first with a proper bow, and he tilted his head into an easy, warm smile and asked after her.

Hakra looked well rested too—no trace left of the exhaustion he'd worn after days eating and sleeping on the mountain.

His eyes swept quickly over her.

"Only your sword today? Where's the bow?"

"...It broke."

"Huh? How? That thing looked brand new!"

His eyes went round—like he was begging her to spit out a reason.

Where Hakra looked as shocked as if his own weapon had snapped, Flora's expression stayed perfectly calm.

She'd already spent all her fury alone in her room.

"If someone strong bends it the wrong way, it'll snap easily enough."

"...Dame Flora. Did something bad happen?"

"To be precise—it was already broken when I found it."

Hakra turned over what her calm-but-faintly-jagged tone might mean, then furrowed his brow slightly.

"So someone broke it, is what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"...And you don't know who?"

"No."

"What kind of gutless bastard puts his hands on a knight's weapon without permission?"

Hakra's voice dropped low, as if the very thought made him angry.

Flora said nothing. All she could offer was that someone had broken into her room and snapped the bow while she was gone.

"No one you can think of who'd have a reason?"

"...No."

"Hm. Someone who can move freely through rooms in the castle... The women's quarters are even on a different floor, aren't they? Though I suppose anyone could go up if they had a reason. That means it's either castle staff, or one of the knights."

"......"

"...I'd rather believe it isn't."

Hakra started working through his own theory of the culprit, alone. Then, whatever grim thought crossed his mind, he shook his head hard, on his own.

"Dame Flora, you haven't done anything to earn a grudge?"

Plenty of reasons. Just none of them in Haenkan.

Flora shook her head.

By then, Squad One had fully assembled.

The moment they exchanged greetings, the knights immediately wanted to know what had happened to her bow. Rather inconveniently.

Thanks to yesterday's cover fire, there were people alive right now because of it—her bow had apparently become something of a symbol.

One person told her she'd looked like a wind god out there.

Flora gave only a brief "it just broke" and headed out for the search.

"Do you have any idea how much gold it took to bring you here, Ayden."

Smack. Ayden's head snapped sideways.

"And on top of that, the gold I pay out to you every month isn't small change, either."

"......"

"You think I brought you here just to eat and idle your days away?"

Again—smack—

This time he went down flat, sprawled on the floor.

Eyes brimming with tears, Ayden knelt and looked up at the king standing before him.

Next to the life he'd lived so far, a beating like this was nothing.

His ears rang, but he could bear it.

'He's disappointed in me. Just—disappointed.'

Ayden clenched his fists and held back the tears.

"Make something worth a damn. Do something that's actually useful to me."

Laviu arched one eyebrow and looked down at him.

He was someone who'd looked down on people since birth—so this, too, came naturally.

"Y—yes... yes, Your Majesty."

"Just a little more effort. Understood?"

At the sight of Ayden thoroughly cowed, Laviu let out a heavy sigh and softened his voice.

Ayden nodded fiercely at that, a faint smile forming.

"You're going to become a god to the people of this island."

"...God?"

Laviu crouched down in front of him and met his eyes as he said it.

"That's right. A god."

Laviu reached out and ruffled Ayden's golden hair, forcefully.

Ayden, caught in the fantasy, wore a sweet smile.

Even after Laviu left, Ayden stayed sitting on the floor for a long while.

'God. I'm going to become a god.'

Ayden repeated the words to himself, like an incantation.

Laviu had saved him back when his own father had been about to sell him off to some mad alchemist.

Not only that—he'd given him food and drink in plenty, and let him do all the research and study he wanted.

His life had changed completely.

Selling elixirs he'd brewed himself, counting it luck on the days he got even a dry crust of bread—those days were gone now.

He was being reborn on this island as a perfect creator-god.

A shivering thrill filled him, head to foot.