Chapter 2
“Please lie still.”
He said as he lifted Mia’s clothes. Instinctively, Mia moved to stop him, but quickly relaxed after confirming he had no other intentions beyond treatment.
It felt strange. The Etienne Rochefort Mia knew was never this delicate in manner.
As the dark crimson bandages peeled off with a sticky sound, Mia tried her best not to show any signs of pain.
Etienne observed her reactions briefly and, deciding she could handle it, began explaining the situation. His hands stayed busy stitching her wound the entire time.
After hearing a rough explanation of the circumstances, Mia spoke calmly.
“So, while we’re stationed here, our objective is to secure declarations of surrender from the nearby territories?”
“In the best-case scenario, yes. But we’re not expecting any real surrenders. Once we’ve gathered enough reconnaissance on the territories, we plan to advance regardless of their response.”
I didn’t know that.
Mia had been certain, before the campaign began, that surrender declarations would arrive. So, she had assumed that was their primary goal.
Lost in thought, Mia remained silent after that, allowing Etienne to finish his one-sided commentary as the treatment sped up.
Etienne finished stitching the last thread and channeled Divine Power into Mia’s wound. His Divine Power wasn’t well-suited for healing or recovery, but it was enough to ensure that the sutured wound wouldn’t reopen.
“There, all done. Now, do you have any other questions…?”
Etienne wrapped Mia’s wound in a fresh bandage as he spoke.
There was no reply.
…Did I do something wrong? A sudden wave of panic hit Etienne, and he quickly checked under Mia’s nose for breath. Feeling warm air on his fingertips, he sighed in relief. At least she was still alive.
She had endured the treatment surprisingly well while fully conscious, so he had assumed she might not feel pain acutely. It appeared that judgment had been mistaken.
“If I’d known you’d lose consciousness, I would’ve used an anesthetic.”
A wrinkle appeared on Etienne’s otherwise smooth forehead.
Was it too painful? Should I have checked on her more often?
His troubled gaze lingered on Mia’s closed eyelids.
Still, she should be fine, right?
It didn’t take a full day for him to realize how entirely wrong that assumption had been.
***
“Teach me swordsmanship.”
“Pardon?”
Who would have thought that after sneaking out to train at night to avoid the troubled soldiers, he would hear something like this?
Etienne looked the woman before him up and down with an expression of disbelief.
Her appearance was disheveled, as if she had just jumped out of bed. Her shoes were barely tied, and the sword hilt awkwardly jutted out from the sheath she had hastily grabbed.
On her white uniform, crimson stains stood out, making him suspect that her wound had reopened, which greatly concerned him.
But why was she suddenly saying this? Anyone could see that tending to her wound was far more urgent than sword training. Yet Mia seemed completely unconcerned about the blood slowly soaking through her clothes again.
The sight didn’t match the reputation of the perfectionist Lady Blanchard, who was said to have a flawless demeanor even in the vicious world of politics.
Perhaps she had a nightmare. Guessing at her state of mind, Etienne gently suggested,
“You seem tired. Why don’t you rest first? We can talk again in the morning.”
“No, I need an answer now.”
Her voice was firm. It didn’t sound like the ramblings of someone half-asleep.
Only then did Etienne look into Mia’s eyes again. Her crimson eyes burned with a resolve, a kind of determination.
Etienne realized it. This wasn’t just a casual request. This wasn’t the whimsical demand of a naïve noblewoman.
Mia Blanchard was entirely serious. Whatever had driven her to make this request, Etienne could sense her sincerity.
***
-Don’t look at me like I don’t know what I’m talking about.
-Oh, did it show?
-Do you treat the soldiers so leniently when you train them?
-I wouldn’t know. When those idiots’ bodies fall apart, they naturally avoid training. I’ve never had to yell at them to get back in line.
-But am I the same as those soldiers?
-What?
-Does it make sense for someone called a hero to retreat to the rear over a minor wound, just like an ordinary soldier?
-My lady!
-I told you not to call me that!
Mia was truly desperate. But it seemed Etienne had no intention of letting her stay out any longer in her current state, unable even to finish her sentences properly. The conversation petered out as he continued trying to soothe her.
In the end, he persuaded Mia to wait until she had fully recovered before they would discuss sword training again. Reluctantly, Mia let herself be ushered back to her tent.
Rochefort didn’t follow. Outside the barracks, the sounds of soldiers grunting in training filled the air.
Mia sat alone, thinking about the unsettling dream she had the night before. Even though she had received Etienne’s promise to help her train, the memory of that dream left her feeling uneasy.
The winter mountain path was bitterly cold and slippery. The unfamiliar climate made it difficult to adjust. The thickly piled snow and branches obstructed visibility, and given the nature of the terrain, detecting enemy ambushes or encirclements was not easy.
The constant fear of total annihilation weighed heavily on everyone’s minds, and with each step, the morale of the troops gradually sank.
However, for the 1st Holy Corps, which had already lost nearly half its men, this harsh path was the only way out. The enemy’s army was stationed in the plains, and the sea route was too far away.
It was obvious that the enemy would soon give chase if they tried to circle around the mountain, and retreating wouldn’t change the outcome much. The only viable way to reach their next destination alive was to secretly traverse through the mountains.
It was a fairly hopeless situation, but no one dared to voice it. Their only hope, Etienne Rochefort, was still leading them at the front.
No one anticipated that this battle would be Rochefort’s last.
Except for one person: Mia Blanchard.
Mia gazed at the scene before her with a detached expression. Whether it was because she had already experienced this once or because she was aware that it was just a dream, the tension from before was absent.
Frost descended. Soon, the enemy would launch an ambush, taking advantage of the obscured view.
And soon, Rochefort would be caught in a trap and dive straight into the midst of the enemy…
‘Wait…?’
This dream was different from Mia’s memory.
“Get out of the way!”
Rochefort shoved Mia aside and dashed forward. Mia rolled in the snow, coughing dryly.
The explosive divine power and the snow blinding her made it hard to see ahead. But despite that, with her battle experience, she could tell.
Rochefort could have survived that battlefield. He didn’t have to die at that moment.
It wasn’t that he was caught in a trap—he had voluntarily jumped into it.
If he had any will to live, he could have surely survived…
‘But if that’s the case, doesn’t it mean… he died to protect me?’
Mia had been by Rochefort’s side during his final moments. She no longer remembered what she had been thinking at the time.
But she clearly remembered thinking that this disaster she had caused was too high a price for the death of a single person.
Etienne Rochefort had not uttered a single scream, even at the end. It was astounding how he had endured with a gaping hole in his chest, too large to even cover. Mia still didn’t know whether he was especially strong or if there had been something he desperately wanted to convey, even at the cost of his life.
“Blanch…ard. You’re… much more capable… than you think…”
Perhaps due to exhaustion from the battle, his fading divine power visibly ebbed away, wrapping around Mia like a gentle embrace.
Ah, yes.
The memory buried under years of guilt rang loudly in Mia’s mind.
Even back then, his dimming violet eyes had been fixed on her until the end. The last thing Mia saw in his face was trust. A gaze full of trust from someone who had no idea that the subordinate holding his hand was the very cause of his death.
It was far too generous a price for her incompetence and the eventual malice she had shown.
—
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