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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 294: Side Story – Black-haired Man (2)

Chapter 294: Side Story – Black-haired Man (2)

Very‌‌ early in the‌⁠ morning, before dawn⁠​ had even broken,‌ a group of‌‍​ men crossed a fog-covered prairie.

There⁠ were more than‌‍ twenty of them.‍‌

All‍ were dressed in​‍ a disorderly manner,‍​ with no uniformity​ whatsoever.

But⁠​‌ one thing was⁠ obvious.

They⁠ did not look​​⁠ like people from‌ the North.

“Whoa,⁠​⁠ whoa.”

They‌‍ looked more like​ sailors or pirates.‍⁠​

Men‍ who carried the‍​‍ strong scent of‍⁠ the sea.

The​‌ one leading the⁠ group spotted something⁠⁠⁠ in the distance‍⁠ and stopped everyone.‌⁠

“Well,‌‌ well. These short-legged​ brats made it⁠ pretty far.”

What⁠​‌ he had seen⁠ was a wrecked⁠⁠⁠ carriage.

One​​‍ of its axles​‍ had broken, and‌⁠ it could no⁠ longer move.

It​⁠ was the same‌ carriage the children‌ had used to‍ escape from Sturma.⁠⁠⁠

“They​​‌ got lucky too.⁠ If they’d taken⁠‍ the main road,‍‍ we would have‍⁠‌ caught them a long time ago.”​‌⁠

The⁠‌⁠ man clicked his‍ tongue as he⁠⁠ looked at the⁠‌‌ carriage.

They‍‍‌ had lost the‌​ children’s trail for‍​‌ a while due‍ to certain complications.​⁠

Yet‍ they had still‌ managed to get​‍ this far.

And‍‍⁠ they had avoided‌‌ every patrol and⁠ blockade zone with‌‍‍ incredible precision.

It‌‍ was almost as⁠‌​ if someone had⁠‌ been guiding them.⁠‍‍

“Boss,‍‌ I found tracks.”‍‍‍

The‌‌​ man turned his‌ head toward one‍ of his subordinates.‍

Sure‌‌​ enough.

The​ children’s footprints were‌‍ clearly visible in​ the damp soil.‍

It​ seemed they had​ even lit a campfire while fleeing.​⁠​

A few half-burned logs⁠‍ still remained.

And​‍ countless footprints stretched‌‌ around them.

“…What⁠​​ the hell is​‌ this? Were they​⁠‌ dancing?”

Around‌ the campfire were​‍ chaotic footprints leading‌‍⁠ in every direction.‍⁠

As⁠⁠​ if the children‍ had spent the​⁠ night dancing.

Those‌ incomprehensible tracks made​‍​ the man frown‍​​ deeply.

“It‍ looks like they​​ camped here and‌⁠ then headed out‌‍ into the prairie.‌‌‌ Judging by the​⁠​ direction…”

The‍‌‌ subordinate, a former​ tracker, followed the‌‌⁠ trail.

But‌⁠⁠ eventually tilted his‍‌​ head in confusion.⁠‌‍

Because⁠ the children were‌​ heading neither toward​ Varna nor Soara.​‌​

They‌​ were moving southwest⁠ across the prairie.‌‍

“…I‍​ have no idea‌ where they’re going.”⁠⁠‌

When⁠ they left Sturma,​ the children had‌‌⁠ a clear destination.‌

But⁠​⁠ once they entered‍ the prairie, they⁠ began walking in‍​ completely absurd directions.⁠​‍

As‍ if they had​‌‍ gotten lost.

“Maybe…‌ that’s for the‍​ best. After all…​​ there’s something I need to recover‌​ as well.”

While‍ the assassins from‍⁠ the Southern Archipelago⁠‍⁠ tried to make‍​⁠ sense of the‍ change in direction,​ a voice spoke‍ from the side.​‍

“The‌ direction is correct…⁠⁠⁠ If you accompany‍ me there… I’ll​ pay you more.”‌

It⁠‍‌ was not a pleasant voice.

Every⁠⁠ word was accompanied⁠⁠‌ by an unpleasant⁠‍‍ metallic sound.

A noise that instinctively‍⁠ provoked revulsion.

Furthermore,​‍ the speaker wore​⁠ a hood pulled‍‌‍ deeply over his‌​ face, as if‍ trying to hide⁠ himself.

“…You’ll​⁠ have to pay⁠‌​ us more, of​​ course. This wasn’t​ part of the‍⁠‌ original job.”

The⁠​‍ chilling voice.

The‍ old robe.

The⁠‍ hood concealing the​‍ face.

Even‌‌ for assassins accustomed‌⁠ to all kinds‍‍ of experiences, he‍ was someone they​‍ would rather avoid‍ dealing with.

Then⁠‍ another sound was‍ heard.

Clink—​ Clink—

“This…​⁠ should be enough.”​⁠

The​⁠‍ weight could be‍‍ felt from the⁠‍ sound alone.

The‌⁠ men from the‍ Southern Archipelago, especially​‍‍ sensitive to money,‌⁠⁠ could estimate the⁠‌​ amount of coins​‌ almost exactly.

The⁠⁠ leader carefully opened​​‍ the pouch.

Then​​ he swept his⁠ gaze across his‌‌‍ men and nodded​⁠‍ with a peculiar⁠​‍ expression.

“Ahem.‌⁠⁠ You don’t have​‌ any other requests?”⁠​‍

The‌‌ corners of the​ assassins’ mouths rose‍⁠‍ at the sight⁠‌‌ of the generous‍‍​ amount of gold.‍‌‍

That‌ mage really has⁠ no sense of‌ the value of‌​ money.

Then⁠‌ again, someone who‌​ goes around carrying‌‍ corpses probably has‍‌ little use for‌ coins.

Mocking​ comments began spreading‍ among them.

But‍‌ the hooded man‍​‌ did not respond.‍‌​

He‌ simply watched the⁠⁠ assassins celebrate their​ payment and nodded‌‍ silently.

“As‍⁠ agreed… you may‍‍ do whatever you​⁠‌ want with the‌‍‍ girl.”

After⁠‌ all, a deal​ was an exchange​‌ of what each⁠ party desired.

“But​​ the boy… I would like you⁠ to hand him‌​‌ over to me.”‌​⁠

Both​ were golden.

But⁠​⁠ their value was‌​⁠ completely different.

The‌‍‌ hooded man’s voice,​ as he searched‍ for a blond-haired‌ boy, sounded much​ clearer than before.‍

***​

“…So,‌‌ what’s your real​ name?”

A group of children‌⁠ walked through a fog-covered prairie.

The‍​‍ white mist was‌​​ so thick they‍‍ could barely see‍‌ more than a few steps ahead,‌ forcing them to⁠​⁠ walk shoulder to​‍ shoulder.

On​‍​ top of Emil’s⁠‌ head, the yellow⁠​ mole pointed the‌​‌ way with a solemn expression, as‍​‍ if it were‌ the captain of⁠​ an expedition.

“Are​ you really the⁠⁠⁠ Golden Duke’s daughter?”‌​

Perhaps‍ it was because‍​ everything around them⁠ felt unreal.

The​‍ children had finally⁠ begun getting to​​ know one another.​

And⁠ naturally, they ended‌ up asking Tarenian​​ who she really⁠ was.

“…Yes.”​

There⁠​ was a phrase​ they had heard​​​ repeatedly while escaping‍ from Sturma.

Barbossa’s‌⁠ daughter.

Not‌ all of the‌ attackers who had​ assaulted Sturma were⁠ returned dead like‍⁠⁠ Ishtvan.

Some‍ had very clearly‌‍‌ pointed their swords‌⁠​ directly at Tarenian.‍

“My⁠ real name is‌ Lenia Barbossa.”

Her⁠‍‌ real name was⁠​ Lenia Barbossa.

They‌ had altered her‌‌ name to sound‌‌ more masculine and‌​⁠ bribed the insignificant‌​ House Modvia of​ the South to‌⁠⁠ create a false​ identity.

All​‍⁠ of it had​ been done to⁠‍ escape assassins.

“In‌ my family, succession‌‍​ has always been⁠‌ violent. You all​​ know that. It​ doesn’t matter how‌​​ many children a family has. In‌‍⁠ the end, only‌​ one becomes the⁠‍ head.”

The‌‍‌ blood of nobles​‌ is blue.

Not‍ the warm red‍⁠ that should flow‌ through a person’s​​‌ veins.

But​‍ cold blue blood.‍⁠

And​‌‍ what chills that​‍ blood is an⁠‍ insatiable thirst called​ power.

“There⁠ used to be‍‌ more than twenty‍ siblings. Now only​‌ three of us​⁠ remain, including me.”‍‍

Lenia​​ Barbossa had originally‍‌‌ been the youngest​⁠‍ daughter of the‍ Barbossa family.

She⁠⁠‌ had been far‌ removed from the⁠ struggle for power.‌

But‍ as her siblings​‌ disappeared one by​⁠‍ one, she was​‌ unwillingly drawn closer‍ to the center​ of the succession⁠​‍ battle.

Her​​‍ mother fought desperately⁠‌ to protect her.‍

And‍ was eventually poisoned.‍⁠

“…That​⁠​ man over there⁠ is also an​ example of that.”‌‌⁠

Lenia‌⁠​ cast a weary⁠ glance behind her‍‍ and whispered into‌​ Emil’s ear.

“……”​⁠

Emil‌⁠ followed her gaze.​

And‌ there he still​ was.

The⁠ black-haired man walking‌‍ behind them.

“Joseph‌ Bayezid. Isn’t he​​ the man who‌‍ lost to Count‌‍⁠ Rutiger?”

The⁠ fog was so‍⁠ dense that it‌‌​ barely allowed anyone⁠‍​ to see a few steps ahead.‌

And‍‍ yet Joseph’s figure​‍ seemed clearer and‍⁠ clearer.

His⁠ face had even‌ regained color.

He‌ looked like a living person.

When​⁠‌ his eyes met​ Emil’s, Joseph smiled⁠ gently.

“…Why‌ can a ghost‍ walk around during​ the day?”

“Maybe​‍‌ it’s because of⁠​ the fog. The‌ sunlight can’t get​ through.”

“Since‌⁠⁠ when do hymns​⁠ not work against​⁠​ ghosts? That’s cheating!”​

The​​​ children whispered among‌​‍ themselves while watching‍‌ Joseph follow behind‌‍ them.

Lenia’s​ true identity was‍ important.

But‌​⁠ what truly kept‍⁠ everyone on edge‌⁠ was Joseph Bayezid.⁠

A ghost who had‌​ appeared beneath the⁠⁠⁠ light of the‍⁠ Black Moon and⁠ had continued accompanying‍‍ them ever since.​

“Don’t⁠​ assume he’s really​‌ Lord Joseph. He‍ could be trying‌‌‌ to trick us.”‌⁠

Emil⁠⁠ narrowed his eyes⁠ and looked back‌‌ once more.

[……?]​‍‍

Joseph⁠ tilted his head⁠​ as if asking⁠ why they were‌ looking at him​​​ that way.

Then‌ he smiled.

A warm smile.

But⁠​ to Emil, it‍⁠​ was terrifying.

‘Why⁠ only when I’m​‌ looking at him?!’‍

Joseph‍ smiled only when​ he made eye‍ contact with him.‍

Never‌​‌ when he looked​​⁠ at the other​ children.

And⁠‌‍ that made Emil‍ suspect that perhaps⁠‍‍ he was the‍​⁠ real target.

‘As​⁠‌ if this situation‍ wasn’t already terrifying​ enough…’

Even‍‍⁠ though he pretended‍‍‍ to be calm,​‍‍ Emil had always⁠​​ been afraid of​⁠ ghosts.

And‍⁠⁠ much of the⁠ blame belonged to​‌ his father, Vlad.​

Even​⁠ before Emil learned⁠​ how to walk,⁠ Vlad would sit​ him on his‍ lap and tell​​​ him adventure stories.‌​

‘Seriously,‍⁠‍ it was terrifying.⁠ Every night a mercenary disappeared.’

‘Honey,‌‍​ you’re scaring the​⁠ child.’

‘And‍​‍ every time we‍‌‍ heard something crying​‌ inside the forest…’‌​

‘That’s‍‍ enough! Look, you’re⁠⁠ making him cry!’⁠

Vlad‌⁠ described those stories⁠​‌ so vividly that​ little Emil felt‍‌ as if he‌​⁠ were there himself.‍‍‌

And‍⁠ this very prairie⁠‌ was the setting‌‌‍ of the story⁠ that had frightened​ him the most​​‌ when he was​ a child.

— Huuu… huuu…

Tenss!‍

The​ sudden crying sound‍‌⁠ made all the‌ children stop.

“What‍ was that?”

“Wasn’t‌​‌ that a woman‍‌‍ crying?”

“Enough​​ already. This is‍‍ too much.”

“……”‌​‌

While‍‍ the others murmured,⁠​ Emil closed his‌⁠‌ eyes and bit‍ his lip.

Why​⁠ are bad feelings​⁠ never wrong?

Why‍‌⁠ do the things‌⁠‍ you most desperately⁠ hope won’t happen‍⁠ always end up⁠⁠ happening?

— Huuu… huuu…

Just⁠‍​ like at the‌ beginning of that‍‍⁠ terrifying childhood story,⁠ the sound of‍ a woman crying‍ began echoing through⁠⁠ the fog.

It‍ was exactly as⁠‍⁠ he had imagined‌‌ it as a child.

Emil⁠‌‌ focused his hearing‌⁠ to locate the‌⁠‌ source.

But‌‍ the voices seemed‌⁠ to bounce from‌ every direction.

Even⁠‌ his senses could​‍ not determine where⁠‍‌ they were coming⁠​‍ from.

“…E-Emil.​ Look.”

A hand shook his‍​ shoulder.

“There⁠‍ are women over⁠ there.”

How‌‌ cruel.

The​‌ words he least‍‍ wanted to hear‌‌​ were precisely the‌‍‌ ones that arrived‍‌⁠ most clearly.

Hampton​​ insisted that he⁠ open his eyes.‍⁠​

And​‌ Emil felt like⁠​‍ it was torture.‌‍‍

‘N-No‍ way…’

He‍‌​ didn’t want to‌ look.

He⁠⁠ really didn’t want⁠⁠⁠ to.

But‌​ he had no‌ choice.

He‍‌​ slowly opened his​​⁠ eyes.

Thousands⁠ of thoughts crossed‌ his mind.

‘What‍‍ was it that​ Dad used to‌​ say?’

‘That‍⁠‌ their tears were⁠ black?’

He⁠​‌ felt that if​⁠​ he opened his‌‌ eyes, all those⁠ horror stories would⁠ become real.

Dead⁠ women searching for‌ their children.

Floating​‍ heads.

Wandering‌ spirits.

“……!”‍⁠‌

But‍ what he found​⁠‍ was something completely​​ different.

“…Women?”‌​

In‌​ an unnamed corner⁠ of the prairie,‍​‌ where the fog​‍​ was beginning to⁠ dissipate, there was‌‍ a scene full⁠⁠‍ of life.

Horses.​‌‌

Carts.‍⁠‌

People.​​

And⁠ what surprised Emil​⁠‌ the most was‌ the group of‌ women staring at⁠⁠ them with wide⁠⁠‌ eyes.

“Abubu!”‌‌

And‌ the babies they​⁠⁠ held in their​ arms.

“…Hello,​‌ children. Where do‍​‌ you come from?”​​

The‍⁠ women observed them‌ cautiously.

After‍​ all, a group​⁠‌ of children had⁠ suddenly emerged from⁠‌‌ the fog.

But‍⁠ one of them,⁠‍ after noticing their⁠​⁠ age, approached with​‍ a smile.

“I⁠​ come from Soara.”‌

She​⁠​ was a brown-haired‍ woman.

Far⁠​ too young and⁠ beautiful to fit​‍ the typical image‍‍​ of a mother.​‍⁠

The‌‌ baby she carried‌‍‌ in her arms‌‌⁠ stretched its hands‍‍ toward Emil excitedly.⁠‌⁠

“W-We‍‌ come from Sturma.”⁠

“Really?⁠⁠ You’ve come from​​ very far away.”‍

The‌​ woman looked them⁠ over from head‍​⁠ to toe.

Hair‌⁠ full of dust⁠‌ after sleeping outdoors.‍‌

Torn‍‌​ clothes.

Hands​ covered in wounds.‍

And‌​​ above all.

Faces​⁠ marked by tears.‌

“Was‍‍⁠ the journey very​​⁠ difficult for you?”​⁠​

It​ was a logical‍ question.

They‍⁠ looked like children​‍ who had suffered‌ greatly.

“Would‍ you like something‍ to eat? I brought it for​ myself, but you‌⁠ can have some.”​

The‌‌ woman offered them​ a basket of⁠‌​ eggs.

Boiled‌⁠‌ eggs, large and‌ nutritious.

The‌‍‍ kind that seemed‌⁠‍ capable of restoring⁠ anyone’s strength.

“My​⁠​ name is Anna.⁠‌⁠ And yours?”

In​‌​ Vlad’s stories, all‍ the women cried​​ black tears.

And⁠⁠ wandered forever searching​⁠ for children they⁠ would never find.‍​

“By‌‍‌ the way, your‌ blond hair is‌‍ very beautiful. It‍ reminds me of​‍​ a certain boy​ I once knew.”⁠

But‍​ the woman standing‌⁠ before Emil simply​​​ smiled as she​ offered him an⁠​‌ egg.

It​ was such a peaceful scene.

So​‍ warm.

That​ Emil eventually reached⁠⁠‍ out and gently​ touched the cheek‍ of the baby​ resting in her‌‍​ arms.

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