If You Leave Without a Word - Chapter 231

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

From bodies sprawled out on the road with eyes barely closed, to others lying at the roadside missing limbs— the scene was utterly horrific.

“Mi-Miss…”

Charlotte and Liana tried to shield Agatha’s eyes, but it was useless. If there had only been a few bodies, they might have been able to look away, but with so many corpses scattered along the road, it was impossible to avoid seeing them without closing their eyes.

When the carriage could no longer move forward, Cain finally ordered the driver to stop.

Agatha could read despair in the silhouette of Cain silently stepping down from the carriage.

“Miss, please don’t get down.”

“It seems the carriage can’t proceed. Sitting still here won’t help anyone. We have to move forward, even if on foot.”

“B-but…”

Ignoring Liana’s protests, Agatha followed Cain down from the carriage. A few knights, scouting to see if the culprits remained nearby, immediately surrounded her in alert.

“Fortunately, there’s no threat.”

Lehman reported quickly to Cain, who gave no reply. As if anticipating Cain’s grief, Lehman did not wait for a response and began gathering the bodies.

What Agatha saw when she finally faced the scene was truly grim. Smoke from smoldering embers drifted through the air. A flock of crows, drawn by the scent of death, busily pecked at the corpses.

Liana covered her mouth with both hands, clearly unwell. Agatha, equally shocked, forced herself to focus, examining the faces of those lying on the road one by one with trembling eyelids.

Judging by their clothing, these people dragged outside Arta and killed were not from Kristin’s faction. They were likely refugees from Amasril, brought here thanks to Cain’s mercy.

Agatha’s gaze wandered and landed on Cain.

His figure felt larger than usual. Standing quietly as he assessed the situation, his clenched fists trembled violently. Though he tried to maintain composure, the catastrophe before his eyes overwhelmed his reason.

These were his own people—his fallen countrymen—brought here by his own hand, all meeting death in such dreadful states. How could his heart not ache?

Agatha quietly approached Cain’s side.

“Sir…”

She called softly, but he didn’t turn around. She tried to reach for his arm, but withdrew her hand.

After calling him, she found herself with nothing more to say. Any clumsy words of comfort would be meaningless—perhaps even poisonous—especially since more grief might still lie ahead.

“…Please return to the carriage.”

After standing still for a long moment, Cain slowly spoke.

“Yes?”

“Return to the carriage. After quickly clearing the bodies enough to let the horses pass, we will depart immediately.”

“Sir, but what about those people…”

“They are all dead. There is no time to properly tend to these bodies. We must hurry to reach Arta.”

Though harsh toward the dead, the words were necessary for the living.

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

Agatha nodded. She had the same thoughts as Cain.

While it was important to care for and bury the dead, that task could wait until after they’d checked on those remaining in Arta. Besides, as Cain said, all these people were already beyond help.

Agatha climbed back into the carriage.

The knights pushed aside the bodies lining the road and mounted their horses one by one. Only when Cain joined the carriage did the procession move again.

This time, curtains were drawn over every window.

No more beautiful flowers would be visible outside.

Liana carefully sealed every crack in the carriage to keep the stench of death and the foul smell of explosives from creeping inside.

Still, Agatha’s nose caught phantom scents of decay and gunpowder. Fighting the nausea, she shut her eyes tightly.

May the dead receive God’s blessings.

After the silent march, they reached Arta. Sadly, Agatha could feel no warmth of life there.

The ruins of burnt-down homes barely held their shape. Charred corpses, too damaged to tell whether they were animals, people, or something else, were strewn everywhere. The horrifying scene alone made her face contort and her stomach churn.

The steps toward Kristin Orphanage were heavy. From the moment they approached, the carriage could no longer move, and they had to walk the rest of the way.

They carefully avoided the bodies littering the path, sometimes stepping over them.

Has a war been fought here? Agatha had never experienced war firsthand, but she guessed no battlefield could be less gruesome than this place.