Chapter 16
Hasollan wasn’t suited for large-scale battles. Leading an army and attacking a fortress was too much for her. But at the very least, she could defend and lead smaller skirmishes. Even if it wasn’t her strength, someone had to step up—and she could. She didn’t outrank the seasoned soldiers enough for them to follow her just because she spoke, but she had “authority” that couldn’t be ignored.
“Damn it.”
She muttered a curse she’d picked up while spending too much time with soldiers. She hadn’t wanted to use her power—but on the battlefield, it was necessary. She used it to slam a pale-faced man charging toward her flat onto the ground.
“Don’t cry, sweetie. Run now, be a good child.”
A few children who had taken shelter inside the castle were crying in fear. While calming them and guiding their evacuation, Hasollan protected them with arrows and her powers. She had spent the past 14 years protecting civilians—her people.
“Get people to safety around the lady!”
“Protect the supplies!”
The people of Roetingen were different from regular soldiers. They had been invaded so many times, they were used to this. Hasollan saw Lord Vitaly evacuating maids and elderly women with a bloodied sword in hand and pulled her bowstring again. She didn’t want to use too much power or attract attention—but that wasn’t easy in battle.
“How did they get into the courtyard?”
She couldn’t believe it. Still, she knocked down more of the big NeMantel invaders. Next to her, Lord Gidmong efficiently drove his sword into the backs of the fallen men, finishing them off. He was more confident now—watching intruders collapse around Hasollan as if paralyzed, convinced him she was the dragon’s partner.
“Was our defense this week?”
They’d have to reinforce both the castle and the outer walls of the city. Hasollan aimed her bow at the NeMantel invaders, who had come for the emperor’s gifts. Every shot hit its mark. She had trained endlessly, losing sleep to avoid being a burden in the civil war—and now, she could shoot with her eyes closed.
“Where is His Majesty?”
Though she spoke like a commander, it came out naturally. A nearby officer instinctively replied, “He’s at the east gate!”
“Are reinforcements on the way?”
No one knew. The castle was chaos—how could they know what was happening at the gate? Hasollan took charge of the confused soldiers. She didn’t yell or drag them by the collar. She simply gave short, clear orders, and every arrow she fired hit. Her words made sense, and they followed her without question. She naturally commanded respect—as someone who had served right beside the emperor.
“Aaagh!”
Whether looting or defending, everyone was risking their lives. Hasollan knocked over another NeMantel soldier who was charging at a group of screaming women.
“What’s happening in the city? Doesn’t anyone know?”
If things were this bad at the castle, the city must be worse. Getting no answer, Hasollan ran to the watchtower. From there, she saw thick black smoke rising through the screams.
“East!”
She shouted in the direction of a cry. The East was a disaster. It made sense the emperor would be there. Lord Gidmong rushed to follow Hasollan again, barely keeping up.
“You’re heading to the east?”
“No—I’m staying here!”
She firmly accepted a fresh quiver from someone who ran up to her. Leaving for the east now would be foolish. Roetingen’s people were handling the attack well. Akelans would manage. After all, he was a dragon.
“So don’t worry. Stop being anxious,” she told herself, ignoring her pounding heart. She always worried for him, even though dragons don’t need to worry. Sure, he could get hurt—or even die—but she was only human. If anyone should be worried about it, it was her. She was annoyed with herself for being alive and stuck protecting this castle.
“Is it my fate to serve the empire until I die?”
She frowned and drew her bow again. What a tiring life. She’d quit—after today. Just get through today.
A NeMantel leader fell with a spear through his chest. Akelans, tall and proud on his black horse, clicked his tongue as he fought off the invaders. They had come through the east wall Tyrell McQueen had deliberately left unguarded.
“So, he used his brain this time.”
Invading from Soruk would’ve been too obvious—this was all clearly leaked. Akelans never liked how friendly Tyrell was with Hasollan. Now, it was time for Tyrell to die. Akelans slaughtered the NeMantel invaders quickly and cleanly—no mercy, no hesitation.
“What about Hasollan?”
His mind grew foggy the moment he thought of her. She’d handled worse—she wouldn’t panic. Or… was he being arrogant thinking that? The Hasollan who coldly told him she was leaving—that wasn’t someone he knew.
“Raaaah!”
A bloody scream rang out. Akelans caught a spear thrust at him, used the momentum of his horse to rip it away, spun it, and stabbed the attacker. He had fought countless battles. Since the civil war, he had expanded and secured the empire’s borders.
“Your Majesty!”
The northern army in Roetingen was used to these tribal invasions, but Akelans—who had lived 17 years in the future—saw all their weaknesses.
“Don’t come to me. Protect the civilians.”
Though he didn’t shout, his voice cut through the battlefield like a command carved in stone. Colonel Hunts, his shadow-like aide, never forgot that moment. It was like witnessing something more than human. As Akelans swung his spear, blood misted in the air like fog.
“Put out the fire! Water!”
Even in chaos, people rushed with buckets toward the rising black smoke.
“Casualties inside the castle are severe!”
Colonel Hunts shouted the report. Akelans’s brow twitched.
“Did they breach the castle?”
“Yes, sir—but it seems the castle was their target all along!”
Akelans was still killing the ones trying to get in. He knew that sealing the entrance would prevent more damage.
“Of course. The imperial gifts are all stored here.”
He muttered while killing two massive warriors at once. He was used to battle and knew he had to finish this fight before returning inside.
“They’re evacuating the women and children!”
Akelans nodded. Of course, they are. But still, something in him felt uneasy. He was irritated and impatient. He wanted to kill all these invaders and rush to the castle.
“Is Hasollan safe? Did she evacuate in time?”
“They’ve docked ships over there!”
“They made it that far up?! Disgusting!”
He didn’t even look—just stabbed a sword into the neck of the next attacker. He fought with anything he grabbed—bow, spear, sword, axe. He was a master of them all. But what did it matter? He was always tied to duty. Fourteen years of it—and still, he couldn’t leave.
BOOM!
A thunderous crash turned Colonel Hunts’ head toward Akelans.
“Oh wow…”
Three massive NeMantel warriors were thrown off their feet. Black mist danced in the air. Akelans’s eyes burned like fire.
“Colonel, handle things here.”
He had taken out the strongest enemies. Now, he turned his horse toward the castle. Hooves thundered across the stone as the black horse galloped toward Roetingen Castle.
“Hasollan is fine. She has power. She’ll be okay… right?”
His old reasons for not worrying about her didn’t work anymore. What good was power, if she could still die?
“His Majesty is here!”
Cheers erupted. The northern command had been their only hope, but now they had someone else to believe in—the Roetingen lord himself, cutting down any living invader in his path.
“Damage report?”
“Not clear yet, but we’re protecting the supplies with our lives!”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear: “Your partner is safe.”
Akelans scanned the castle—less chaotic than expected—and pushed forward.
“Where are the women?”
“The lady evacuated them!”
Lady? His eyebrow twitched.
“My partner?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where is she now?”
“She was just here, but…”
Akelans felt a curse rise in his throat—and had to laugh. It was ridiculous.
“Hasollan!”
“Solan!”
Isn’t it funny? She was doing what she always had—for 14 years. Evacuating the weak, caring for the children, pleading with the emperor to care for widows and orphans—and fighting to protect him, even though she was far weaker.
“Solan!”
So ridiculous, how much it hurt, how desperately he called her name like any human would. She was probably fine. But Akelans’s mind was a storm of worry. He didn’t want her involved anymore. He didn’t want to lose her.
“Your Majesty!”
Lord Gidmong, who was supposed to protect her, called out from the east wall. Akelans didn’t like how happy he looked.
He was supposed to protect her—why is he up there?
“Burn that ship!”
Hasollan was there, shooting fire arrows at the NeMantel boats, her long hair flying in the wind. Every arrow hit. She wouldn’t even let them escape. Just like Akelans—or maybe he had taught her that.
“Solan!”
Of course. This was just like her. But then Akelans blurted out something he’d never asked before:
“Why are you here? It’s dangerous!”
Even to himself, it sounded stupid. Naturally, Hasollan looked at him like he was insane.
“Has that dragon lost his mind?” she thought, scanning him for injuries like always. As expected, he was perfectly fine—not a scratch. Worrying about him had been a waste of time.
“All that worry—and he didn’t even need it.”
She turned back and pulled her bow again, aiming for the ships below. She didn’t say a word.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
The others knew better than to interrupt. They silently fired with her. Hasollan shot again then walked over to him and whispered:
“Do you think a battlefield is the place to pick a fight? You never cared before—you used me as you saw fit. Just keep doing that.”
“How could I possibly—”
