Chapter 234
After staring at Roseline seated on the table for a long while, he finally gave a hazy smile.
“Alright, I’ll be back.”
The next day, a resounding cheer filled the encampment as the deployment ceremony commenced. Soldiers raised their spears high, shouting for victory, and the beat of war drums shook the ground.
Valen urged his horse forward. His jet-black hair and refined features were, in themselves, a symbol of the battlefield and the empire’s spirit.
Watching from a distance, Roseline suddenly recalled the meaning of his name. True to its origin as the name of an ancient, valiant monarch, his presence was overwhelmingly formidable. Even though it was his first major campaign, he exuded a sense of veteran prowess.
Just as she began to feel embarrassed, remembering how she had offered to teach him about real combat the previous night, Valen turned his head.
“Oh my. It seems he’s looking for the Young Lady.”
Schnitzel poked her sharply in the right side.
“Hurry and respond! Hurry!”
Malsen slapped her left arm. Jostled from both sides, Roseline looked back, but Valen’s eyes had narrowed as he watched her—a detail they failed to notice from the great distance.
“How am I supposed to respond from here?”
“Goodness, like this! See? You just blow a kiss from your hand!”
Malsen made kissing noises into her own palm and then blew—whoosh—into the air. The expression on Schnitzel, who was standing on Roseline’s other side, crumpled in utter dismay. Roseline also subtly created some distance, as if she’d witnessed something unsightly, prompting Malsen to grumble about what was the use talking to young ladies who’d never even had a proper romance themselves. This, despite never having had one herself.
“……”
Roseline timidly waved her hand toward the man who was still watching her. As if that was more than enough, the corners of Valen’s mouth lifted sharply into a smile, though, true to form, Roseline couldn’t see it.
“Let’s go.”
Only after gazing at Roseline for a long while longer did he finally adjust his grip on the reins. His warhorse, with its flowing black mane, pawed at the ground, kicking up pale dust. Behind Valen, a line of knights and soldiers followed in procession.
For some reason, a heavy feeling settled in her chest. It wasn’t just because of Valen, but because she had spotted familiar faces among the marching troops. Roseline prayed for the safe return of the Taras she had traversed the battlefield with and the nameless comrades she had fought alongside.
◇◇◇
Five days passed.
While Valen faced the King’s army, the operation to blockade Runzak Castle continued, leading to sporadic, incessant battles.
The healing center operated busily, day and night. Even when resting in her barracks, if summoned, she would barely manage to throw on her robe, rub her tired eyes, and head to the healing center.
The knights assigned to Roseline’s guard, including Merrick, found themselves swept up in the ensuing busyness. As they were the vanguard knights—excluding Armenia, Giorno, and Edan, who were each on different assignments—Roseline had dubbed them the ‘Screaming Corps’.
Even in their mutated state, they never neglected their vigilance and carried out their escort duties with utmost diligence. The problem, perhaps, was that they were too thorough.
Once, a scream of agony was heard from outside the healing center. Since the healing center was naturally a place where the wounded gathered, moans and groans from within the tents were constant, but this sound was loud enough to drown them all out.
The medics, expecting the patient to be brought in immediately, cleared a cot, but for some reason, the screams only grew louder, and no patient appeared. Puzzled, one of the medics went to check outside, then returned with a troubled expression and approached Roseline.
“Um, Manifestor. There’s a bit of a problem outside.”
It was a request for her to go out. Roseline hurried outside and was left speechless by the unbelievable scene. A line of wounded soldiers on stretchers had formed, and the Screaming Corps was meticulously checking the identity of each person, one by one. The sight of them relentlessly demanding the name and rank from a knight who was clutching his chest and moaning was utterly bizarre.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s procedure.”
Merrick’s flaw was his complete lack of flexibility. Roseline, simmering inside, controlled her anger and calmly persuaded him, eventually reaching a dramatic compromise: treat first, verify later. After that, the Screaming Corps entered the healing center and strictly checked the identities of the injured as they moved between the cots.
She occasionally spotted Viscount Mür glaring at Merrick as if he were a bug, but since she couldn’t very well ask why his eyes were open so wide, she pretended not to see and ignored it.
There was no news from the battlefield. When she had been on the front lines, every single move of hers had been reported, but now that it was his turn, the news had completely dried up. Unconsciously, she found herself thinking of Valen more and more. One day, she subtly asked Merrick for news from the front. Merrick’s reply was curt.
“No news is good news.”
“Why?”
“The only time messengers are sent to the encampment is to request reinforcements. If there is no news, it is a good sign. Please rest assured.”
Would it kill you to share even the ‘good signs’? she thought, feeling it was rather cheap of him, but Roseline nodded in acceptance.
And then, around the time the mark left on her collarbone began to fade, Valen finally returned. With the head of the Carnoc King.
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