Chapter 12: The Price of Loyalty

This was, without a doubt, the most awkward journey I had ever endured. For the first time, I truly understood the meaning of restless apprehension.

The carriage we had been using was reclaimed by the soldiers, as it was primarily for transporting their weapons. Consequently, we were left without our mobile shelter, the remaining carriages being laden purely with provisions. Frankly, for a hero, Vilya’s retinue was pitifully meager.

Her entire convoy consisted of just one carriage and two horses. Vilya had already dismissed all her guards, leaving only herself, Lia, and me.

A lone, elderly coachman completed our party, though he seemed barely alive. I rode on the other horse, grateful for the riding lessons I’d received in the past; a former superior’s hobby had inadvertently prepared me.

Lia sat nestled in front of me, her eyes darting between us and Vilya, who strode ahead to our left, back ramrod straight, a picture of solemnity. If fear had been her primary emotion before, then after last night, a palpable aversion and disgust had tainted her feelings for Vilya.

This predicament felt even more daunting than anything before. Last night, Vilya had tasked me with fostering a good relationship between her and Lia, yet I was utterly clueless as to how.

The profound psychological trauma Vilya had inflicted upon Lia could hardly be mended by mere ‘love and peace.’ After all, who could possibly accept witnessing their parents’ murder, only to then be relentlessly hunted by the perpetrator?

A child, especially, would find the notion of ‘each serving their own master’ utterly incomprehensible. Reflecting on it now, I genuinely had no idea how Vilya could ever hope to earn Lia’s forgiveness.

Conflicts between adults invariably had solutions, but children presented a far more complex challenge. I was confident in my ability to negotiate, to make adults set aside their grudges; with mutual benefit at stake, even sworn enemies across generations could find common ground.

The crux lay in identifying an interest acceptable to both parties.

But what common ground, what shared interest, could Lia and Vilya possibly possess? In truth, there was no tangible benefit whatsoever. Any reconciliation between them would hinge entirely on emotion.

And regrettably, emotional matters had never been my strong suit; otherwise, I wouldn’t still be single.

I could facilitate opportunities for them to interact, but I harbored a strong suspicion that any unsupervised contact between the two might erupt into a bloodbath. While Vilya had stated her intention to reconcile with Lia, she was far from immune to anger.

And what the notoriously impulsive Vilya might do in a fit of rage… well, that hardly bore elaboration.

Therefore, I had to maintain control over both of them, acting as a buffer between their volatile emotions.

Even though Vilya professed a desire to mend fences with Lia, she remained silent for now. Lia, clutching me tightly, watched Vilya with an almost frantic wariness, as if expecting her to suddenly lunge and stab me.

Vilya hadn’t imposed any restrictions on me. Despite viewing us as spoils of war, as slaves, she seemed oblivious to the implications of such a status, readily permitting me to ride alongside her.

They claimed they wished to improve their relationship, yet neither uttered a single word. How could any bond possibly form under such circumstances?

We pressed onward. Eventually, as the air grew noticeably warmer, we spotted the first signs of human construction beside the road. The desolate wilderness on either side had given way to cultivated fields, dotted with small houses that likely belonged to land overseers.

The road itself improved dramatically, no longer just twin ruts carved through the wild, but a simple path paved with gravel. Following this, we soon came upon a rudimentary stone wall, meant to serve as a city’s defense.

This wall was astonishingly crude: roughly square stones haphazardly stacked, cemented together with clay. In the winter chill, it appeared to have been further reinforced by ice, yet it still leaned precariously, looking so loose that a mere push might send it tumbling.

At the path’s end stood two tightly closed wooden gates. However, these gates were so ramshackle that I could discern glimpses of the town within, even from our distance.

Well, given its modest scale, it could hardly be called a city. It was, at best, a town—a town so insignificant it lacked even a nameplate. I had no idea what it was called, and it seemed that for some time, this settlement had existed outside the kingdom’s direct jurisdiction. Otherwise, it would surely possess a name.

Regardless of its previous status, Vilya’s decision to come here now indicated the town was indeed on the kingdom’s map. So why, then, was there no welcoming party for her? Even the most rundown villages or towns typically offered a feast for a newly appointed official.

We halted before the town gates. Vilya’s brow furrowed, and she bellowed towards the settlement: “I am the new lord, sent by Queen Sisi of the Kingdom of Trainor! Open the town gates and admit us at once!”

No sooner had her words echoed than two helmeted heads appeared above the wall. The distinct military style of their headgear made me breathe a sigh of relief. I had initially feared this town was in rebellion, seeking independence from royal rule. Evidently, that wasn’t the case; perhaps it was merely a breakdown in communication, and the news of Vilya’s arrival hadn’t reached them.

Before my sigh of relief was complete, the two men raised their crossbows and fired directly at us. I had no time to react, summarily shoved from my horse and sent crashing to the ground. The impact on my back momentarily blacked out my vision, leaving me gasping, nearly spitting blood.

Lia, having been cushioned by my body, seemed unharmed. I struggled to sit up, still clutching her, and saw Vilya’s sword already drawn, her gaze fixed with chilling intensity on the soldiers above. Their initial volley of bolts had struck my horse in the head, sending the animal collapsing to the earth, blood gushing in thick torrents.

The two soldiers scrambled to reload their crossbows, but Vilya granted them no such opportunity. With a sudden movement, she drew two small daggers from her belt and flung them with deadly precision. A chorus of death cries and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground echoed, one corpse even plummeting directly before us.

“A rebellion?”

Vilya kicked the corpse aside, her gaze fixed on the wooden gates. Turning to me, she declared, “You two hide. I’m going in to kill everyone inside.”

“Are you going to kill even the civilians?” I quickly scrambled to my feet, clutching the terrified Lia, and looked at Vilya, my voice urgent.

This was no military encampment; it was a town. Should a battle erupt here, the townspeople would inevitably become collateral damage. If, as Vilya claimed, this was a rebellion, then the residents were either complicit or held hostage.

In either scenario, Vilya’s entry would likely result in the slaughter of far more than just the rebellious soldiers.

“Of course. Those who support rebellion will be shown no quarter. Every single person in this town must perish,” Vilya stated, her voice devoid of all emotion.

“But they were powerless! Surely this rebellion has nothing to do with the common folk!”

“Everyone is afforded a choice. They simply chose not to resist,” Vilya stated, her gaze unwavering as she looked at me. “They could have chosen to fight back; they could have chosen to dedicate everything to the Queen. Yet, in their cowardice, they made no such choice. They harbored no faith that Her Majesty the Queen would protect or rescue them.”

“As Her Majesty’s knight, then, I have no obligation to safeguard them. They themselves failed to demonstrate the loyalty expected of the Queen’s subjects, and for that, they deserve death.”

‘For a fleeting moment, I found myself thinking Vilya actually had a point.’

‘Nonsense!’ I thought. ‘If these common folk possessed such righteous courage, there would be no rebellious soldiers to begin with. Civilians, lacking the power to defend themselves, naturally require military protection; otherwise, what purpose do soldiers serve?’

‘In times of chaos, commoners need only protect themselves; managing warfare is the army’s sole responsibility! Civilians in occupied territories have no obligation to fight to the bitter end; merely offering support when the army arrives should suffice.’

‘To put it another way, if civilians alone could defeat these soldiers, what need would there be for Vilya and her knights?’

This, however, was hardly the moment to debate Vilya. She was already striding purposefully forward, delivering a powerful kick to the wooden gates. I couldn’t fathom where she drew such immense strength, or perhaps the town’s entrance was simply crumbling with age.

With a resounding crash and a burst of dust, Vilya sent the gates flying open. Beyond them, a dozen soldiers stood, weapons clutched in trembling hands, facing her. To my surprise, they displayed no fierce fighting spirit. Instead, confronted by Vilya, the slayer of the Demon King, they were undeniably terrified.

Their armor and clothing were already tattered, their once-proud military uniforms riddled with holes. Army insignias had long since fallen away. Their eyes held no trace of battle-lust, only profound fear, a palpable desperation in the face of certain doom as they stared at Vilya.

Vilya would find it utterly effortless to dispatch them. She was the knight who had stormed the Demon King’s castle and personally ended the Demon King and his consort. Now, her battle intent was clearly surging.

Should she strike down even one, I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest immediately scattered and fled. Indeed, these were less rebellious soldiers and more a band of terrified deserters.

“Don’t come any closer!” one of them shrieked, his voice cracking. “I warn you, we have men holding all the villagers captive in a building. If anything happens to us, we will slaughter every single one of them! Do not advance!”

“How convenient for you,” Vilya replied, her voice chillingly calm. “I had, in fact, already planned to eliminate everyone here.” Her stride did not falter; instead, she advanced with even greater resolve. Vilya was utterly serious, completely indifferent to the fate of the townspeople, even seemingly eager for them to perish alongside these deserters.

“What purpose would that serve? Are the three of us meant to simply starve to death out here?”

“Vilya!” I roared, halting her determined advance. Vilya spun around, startled, her expression morphing into anger—a sight I hadn’t witnessed before. She pointed furiously beyond the town gates. “Did I not instruct you to hide outside?! What right does a mere s*ave have to speak?!”

Now, the critical task was to negotiate with Vilya, to make her concede. She wouldn’t tolerate a lengthy discussion, nor would the enemy wait indefinitely. I had, at most, a single sentence to sway her, to compel Vilya to abandon her current course of action.

Thus, the analysis began.

Vilya’s [Stance] was to kill both the rebel soldiers and the civilians here.

My [Stance] was to spare the civilians.

Therefore, our [Conflict] lay in the killing or sparing of civilians.

What [Condition] could I use to make Vilya abandon her [Stance]? Or rather, what [Threat] could I employ to force Vilya to abandon her [Stance]? I had no [Conditions] to offer, as I possessed nothing Vilya would genuinely be interested in. Thus, the only means I had to make Vilya change her mind was a [Threat].

What could Vilya possibly fear?

I realized it.

Vilya had always been unfailingly loyal. For her, Queen Sisi’s commands were absolute. So, had Queen Sisi sent her here to commit mass slaughter? Certainly not. Queen Sisi had sent her to govern this area as its new lord. If there were no people left, what would she govern?

I had to try!

“Do you remember Queen Sisi’s orders to you?”

“She commanded me to manage this region effectively, which is precisely why I must eliminate this band of rebels!”

“Then if you kill everyone in this town, how will you manage anything here?!”

Vilya’s body stiffened abruptly. I knew then that I had succeeded. Negotiating with Vilya was, surprisingly, the easiest challenge. She stared at me in astonishment, then looked at the group of soldiers before her, utterly bewildered. I met her gaze, gently placed Lia on the ground—Lia looking up at me in bewildered panic—and kissed her forehead with a reassuring smile.

Turning, I walked towards the soldiers. “Leave this to me,” I told Vilya. “If you trust me.”

Rebel soldiers were formidable. However, deserters were remarkably easy to handle.

Deserters inherently feared death; they simply wished to avoid being captured and executed. Such negotiations required no elaborate conditions, merely the promise of a path to survival.

And who could offer them a path to survival?

The lord.

And who was the lord?

The woman behind me was the lord.

“What… what are you going to do…?”

The deserters before me looked utterly terrified. This time, even though they held swords, I felt no fear. Their hands trembled so violently that their blades quivered. I had endured Vilya’s longsword at my throat, survived that intense killing intent. I was confident that no matter whose blade rested against my neck in the future, I would never be afraid again.

“I’ve come to talk with you,” I said, smiling at the deserters, raising my hands.

Though they brandished swords, I knew now that in this negotiation, I held the true advantage! This was not merely about protecting the townspeople; more importantly, I refused to let Vilya slaughter everyone in this town, only for the three of us to starve to death here!