Chapter 29
“Are you the reinforcements from the castle?”
Even through her clothes, the tall woman’s lean frame revealed well-toned muscles. Her long hair was tied up in a single knot, and the black eyepatch covering one eye lent her a strong yet striking presence.
“I’m Rusli, captain of the village watch.”
Her voice was firm and clipped. Only after inspecting the food and medical supplies Annette had brought did she allow her expression to soften.
“We were in desperate need of supplies. Thank you.”
Fatigue was etched clearly into her face. One arm was wrapped in thick bandages, but the bright red stains seeping through testified to the urgency of the situation.
“And this person?”
As Rusli’s gaze moved over the castle’s party, it landed on Sharie. It didn’t take her long to realize the truth—Sharie’s build was clearly not that of a snakefolk.
“I’d heard rumors that the lord had taken a rabbitfolk bride, but it’s my first time seeing her in person. You’re… even smaller than I imagined.”
Annette’s brow furrowed at the hint of rudeness in Rusli’s tone.
“Please show proper respect to the lady of the castle.”
“Annette! I’m fine. More importantly, what’s the situation?”
The fact that Sharie’s first concern was the state of the battle drew a curious look from Rusli. After a brief pause, the woman gave a straightforward answer.
“A group of trolls has been attacking the village every two days.”
The villagers were barely able to hold the line. Supplies and medical aid were desperately short. Once, this would have been a peaceful settlement where every home had a warm fire burning—but now the place was in ruins. Inside buildings patched with wooden boards, the wounded lay groaning. Those still able to wield weapons—whether knights or villagers—kept constant watch for the next assault.
Though her eyes followed Rusli’s explanation around the village, Sharie was really searching for just one person.
The report continued.
“Three days ago, the chieftain’s horse returned alone.”
The proud black stallion had come back wounded, refusing the touch of any but his master, neighing pitifully as it waited. The stablehand caring for it had been close to tears every day.
No one knew what had happened to Kaisa, and without the ability to speak to animals, there was no way to ask.
“Since then, the chieftain has been missing.”
Sharie already knew this, but her breath still caught unconsciously.
What happened to Kaisa?
She understood why Rusli had stayed—this was her home, the place she had been born and raised, and she wanted to protect it. But for Sharie, nothing was more pressing than his safety.
Sensing her thoughts, Rusli said,
“As for the chieftain’s rescue, you should speak to Lord Edwin…”
“Where is he now?” Annette interrupted.
Rusli frowned slightly.
“He’s surveying the Cedric Mountains. He usually returns late at night, so you’ll have to wait.”
“The lord is missing—we can’t afford to waste time. We should meet Edwin and begin planning the rescue immediately.”
Rusli’s face showed the weariness of someone already stretched thin.
“I understand, but we don’t have manpower to spare right now.”
Annette was about to argue, but stopped when she felt a tug on her sleeve.
“It’s fine, Annette. Let’s wait for Edwin and look around the village in the meantime.”
Sharie forced a smile to hide her impatience. Kaisa was all she could think about, but she knew she had to keep moving.
If it were him in my place…
She remembered what she had seen in their short time together—how Kaisa rose earlier than anyone to head to his office, how he corresponded regularly with inspectors and oversaw the running of Barhad without neglect.
He would be doing exactly this.
That thought was what kept her from drowning in anxiety.
“That building must be where the injured are gathered.”
Sharie’s steps slowed in front of one patched-up structure.
“Critical patients this way!”
The treatment was being led by a few priests from the temple, but even their divine power had limits.
“Oh no…”
Their strength was almost gone, yet more wounded kept arriving. The priests’ faces darkened as they realized how many were still waiting.
“We need a mage who can use healing magic.”
Unfortunately, the Mage Association’s conditions for sending a healer were strict, so they had turned to the guild instead. But guild mages specialized in offensive magic for monster-hunting contracts, not healing.
“I’m afraid healing magic isn’t my specialty,”
said Marie Burnett, the mage who had accompanied Sharie, scratching the back of her head.
“It’s the same for most guild mages.”
In the end, they decided to save divine and healing magic for only the gravely injured. The rest would receive basic treatment and pain-relieving herbs.
“Here, have them chew this herb.”
The priests handed over bundles of plants that dulled pain, though their effect weakened with repeated use. For the villagers, inexperienced in battle, the herbs worked well enough. But for seasoned knights…
“Urgh…”
One soldier gritted his teeth in pain, the herbs doing little to help. That was when—
“Let me help.”
A small, gentle hand covered his wound. Warm, soothing energy flowed into the torn flesh, and the soldier’s pained expression eased as he drifted into sleep. It was Sharie, making her rounds among the wounded.
“My lady… please, me too…”
gasped a watchman lying nearby, his face pale.
“Just a moment.”
Healing magic was second nature to her now. But for a wound this severe, the drain on her mana was quick and heavy. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow as Annette approached.
“Are you all right, Lady Sharie?”
Remembering the incident when Sharie had collapsed from mana exhaustion, Annette’s eyes were full of concern.
“I’m fine.”
If anything, that memory made Sharie more composed. She knew her limits now and had no intention of overextending herself. She would help as much as she could—no more, no less.
I should stop here.
Her body’s weakness was making itself felt, and dizziness was setting in.
“Annette, I think I’ll… rest for now.”
“Please do. I’ll stay and assist the priests.”
When she stepped outside, night had fully fallen. Stars dotted the black sky, and in the village square, a great bonfire blazed. People gathered for warmth and food distribution.
Her stomach rumbled—it seemed using so much magic on an empty stomach had taken its toll.
“Here.”
A steaming bowl of stew appeared before her. It was Rusli, who guided her to a spot by the fire.
“Sit here. It’s nothing fancy, but you’ll feel better with some warmth.”
“Thank you.”
Her gentle manner now felt strange compared to before. Sharie watched quietly as Rusli handed her a spoon.
The stew was rich and comforting, the potatoes soft and tender. Rusli stood silently beside her, as if keeping watch.
“Our village… we’ve always lived far from the capital, and from other races. So, we may seem a little… reserved toward outsiders.”
Sharie tilted her head, unsure where this was going. Rusli continued, a little awkwardly.
“That’s why… I didn’t expect someone from the rabbitfolk, a stranger, to help us so earnestly.”
Bowing her head, she murmured,
“Thank you.”
She left after that. Unlike in the castle, where courtesy toward the lord’s wife was a given, this was the first time Sharie had received such genuine gratitude from outside.
I’ve been accepted.
It was embarrassing, but it warmed her heart.
When she finished the stew, her body felt recharged. She was just getting to her feet when she spotted figures descending from the mountains.
