Chapter 34: A Lord’s Fury and a Brother’s Plea

“Damn it all… go on, kill me then!”

A wave of exhilaration washed over me the moment those words left my lips.

‘Damn, I’m truly incredible, to actually challenge a lord like that!’

This surge of defiance made me feel as if the dignity I had lost years ago had finally been reclaimed.

In response to my outburst, Moen Rodd’s reaction was…

“Thump—”

In an instant, the entire carriage shuddered from the force of his movement. Moen Rodd’s broad frame pressed me down onto the carriage floor.

My mind went blank.

‘No, big brother…’

‘You’re not actually serious, are you?’

Just as this thought crossed my mind, a whooshing sound suddenly echoed from outside the carriage. Moments later, a slender black shadow appeared from the spot where I had just been sitting.

It effortlessly tore through the cloth curtain, sliced through the air, and flew out the other side.

Almost immediately, with barely a breath’s interval, more black shadows struck the dilapidated carriage. A rapid succession of thudding sounds, like a sudden downpour, yet carrying the ominous whisper of death, began to pound against it.

They were arrows!

I finally understood.

“Enemy attack! Stay put, do not dare to go out!”

With these words, Moen Rodd pinned me to the carriage floor, then threw his own cloak over me before rushing out.

The moment the door opened, I glimpsed numerous unknown figures outside, locked in battle with the grey-robed soldiers Moen Rodd had brought.

“Thump—”

With a dull thud, the door closed again, and I could see nothing.

I dared not peek out the window, choosing instead to close my eyes and listen intently.

With my eyes shut, I perceived the whinnying of horses, the dull thud of impacts, the whistling of arrows tearing through the air, the clash of swords, the shouts of men, the groans of the wounded, and the wails of the dying.

These sounds appeared and faded, faded and reappeared, one after another, without pattern or rhythm. They were like a sudden, torrential downpour, flooding into my ears and intensifying my fear of this world.

I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, the sounds outside gradually subsided.

‘Did we win? Who won?’

I huddled, afraid to move, my eyes fixed longingly on the carriage door. I prayed it was Moen Rodd’s side that had prevailed!

The carriage door soon opened, but an unfamiliar face appeared.

It was the face of a youthful boy, still showing traces of immaturity. His features were slender, and his skin was lightly tanned by the scorching sun.

His disheveled black hair fell like a night sky, framing a pair of large eyes as blue as a deep lake.

Those eyes held both the innocent purity of youth and a hint of profound depth and contemplation that belied his age, as if concealing many untold stories.

Though I did not recognize him, my intuition told me he was not one of the attackers.

“Come down. The people who attacked us have been dealt with.”

The boy spoke to me calmly, seemingly unfazed by the recent assault.

“Ah… um… excuse me… where is Lord Moen Rodd?”

My own voice, in contrast, trembled slightly, clearly still recovering from the recent turmoil.

“You mean my brother? Oh, he’s over there, tending to the injured men.”

Having said this, he started to leave, but then seemed to remember something and asked me, “What? Are you going to look for him now?”

“Yes, yes, please take me to him, hey—”

I nodded vigorously, rushing to get up, but I hadn’t realized my legs felt so weak. In my haste, I stumbled, pitching forward.

“Watch out!”

The boy in front of me quickly reached out, steadying my shoulder just in time, saving me from a painful fall from the carriage.

I felt both relieved and surprised, for this boy, despite his seemingly young age, possessed the strength of an adult male in his arm, holding me steadily without a single tremor.

“Thank you…”

“It’s nothing.”

He calmly helped me down from the carriage, then asked, “Can you still walk?”

“Yes.”

Only after I nodded repeatedly to confirm I was fine did he nod in return, leading the way.

‘Clumsy…’

Though the boy had maintained a polite demeanor throughout, my keen ears seemed to catch a muttered remark.

Ugh…

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I simply followed him in silence.

The recently concluded attack had left the air thick with the pungent scent of blood and gunpowder. Broken branches and trampled grass bore witness to the fierce battle that had just taken place.

Along the way, I saw countless bodies strewn about like refuse. Bloodied, severed limbs and torsos lay everywhere, from muddy ditches to beneath arrow-pierced trees.

In the sky, several crows circled high above, emitting ominous caws that drifted in and out of earshot.

On either side, some weary soldiers leaned against their horses or the carriage, casting wary glances my way.

I didn’t understand why they looked at me like that, and my unease grew until I saw Moen Rodd’s familiar face, which brought a significant sense of relief. I wasn’t sure why I felt this way.

At that moment, Moen Rodd sat on a large stone, his longsword stuck diagonally into the ground beside him, its blade still stained with enemy blood.

His leather armor was torn in several places, revealing fresh, crimson wounds beneath the gashes.

However, he paid no mind to these injuries. Instead, his gaze was fixed intently on two figures lying on the ground before him, his hands clasped tightly, revealing a profound sense of anxiety.

“Brother, I’ve brought this fellow over to you,” the boy said to Moen Rodd, his tone affectionate and natural.

Moen Rodd quickly glanced at me, and after confirming I was unharmed, his gaze returned to the two people before him, his eyes filled with unease.

“Allen, is there anything you can do to help these two?” Moen Rodd spoke to the boy standing in front of me, his voice urgent.

Allen, as he was called, looked at the two figures on the ground, then said with a regretful expression, “The one on the left has no breath left; bury him. The one on the right had his arm severed. I bandaged him earlier, but it seems the bleeding hasn’t stopped…”

“So he, too, can only die?”

Moen Rodd glared at him, his brow deeply furrowed, almost speaking in an accusatory manner. “Isn’t your father a doctor? Think of something, think of something more!”

“Brother…”

Allen gave him a deeply regretful look and sighed. “Even if my father were still alive, it would be no use. Eight out of ten open wounds like this cannot be saved. Whether he lives or dies depends on his fate…”

This mention of ‘fate’ seemed to completely crush Moen Rodd’s last shred of hope. He closed his eyes with difficulty, then slammed his fist against the stone he was sitting on.

The sturdy stone cracked under the force of his angry blow.

“Sigh…”

Moen Rodd’s expression at that moment conveyed profound sorrow, his tightly furrowed brows revealing a helpless grief. This was the first time I had seen such emotion on his face, and it even infected me, making me feel incredibly sad as well.

Just then, the soldier lying on the ground suddenly let out a faint sound: “Boss… just end my suffering…”