Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 43

After a week in his role as a guard, Walm was once again in the infirmary today. Most of the seriously wounded had returned to the ranks, and the focus of treatment was now on those with minor injuries. The Four Nation Alliance was keeping a considerable distance from the ring of fortifications, thoroughly reorganizing itself. Apart from a few scouts and spies, there were no new injuries.

Although it was not publicized, Ayane, a prisoner of war, had unusually become popular among the Highserk soldiers. It was inevitable, given that she healed comrades and subordinates who were on the brink of death from fatal injuries. Furthermore, as a young and beautiful girl, it was natural for the lonely soldiers to harbor feelings of love and envy towards her. Walm had resigned himself to this situation. Some even sent her gifts, and Walm, although exasperated, passed on those that were safe.

“Lord Walm, next is the treatment of a soldier who fell during work on the wall.”

A charming young bald soldier said to Walm. It was Moritz, a soldier who took care of Walm’s personal needs and was part of the escort team. Originally a staff attendant of the headquarters, he was valued for his loyalty and poison resistance skills, and now oversaw surveillance duties.

Walm felt awkward being addressed so formally by the experienced Moritz, but the knight and user of Demon Fire, Lord Walm, was too intimidating for him to address informally. Walm appreciated him as a man too valuable for the battlefield, with his amiability and attention to detail.

“Please put him on the treatment table.”

The soldier brought in on a stretcher had broken his left leg and left arm. It was a foolish accident, falling from the wall’s stairs, but they had a skilled healing mage now.

“Owwwww…”

The soldier groaned in pain, gritting his teeth. Maya handed the soldier a wooden gag and a cloth for his hand.

“It’s going to hurt.”

Maya, calling out to him, then repositioned his twisted leg into its correct place. The soldier let out a moan.

Ayane began to treat the broken leg, placing her hands over it. The soldier’s face, sweaty from the agony, started to relax. The arm was healed quicker than the leg, a testament to her remarkable skill. A simple fracture like this could be completely healed in less than five minutes. The soldier, after being treated, handed back the gag and cloth and got off the bed, thanking Ayane and Maya.

“I’m saved. I didn’t expect to recover so quickly.”

The soldier’s hand, which had been clenched during the surgery, remained tightly closed. Walm, having observed treatments for a week, sensed something amiss. Usually, those who had just finished surgery would relax, but why was this man still clenching his fist? Walm cautiously moved closer, scrutinizing the man.

The man noticed Walm’s approach. He forced a smile, but his eyes were not smiling. He slipped his hand to his waist, pulling out something. It was a kind of concealed weapon designed to be gripped tightly.

“Burst!!”

Walm, using wind attribute magic, accelerated in an instant as he kicked off the ground. He grabbed Ayane’s arm, switching their positions.

A high-pitched sound echoed in the treatment room as the concealed weapon was repelled by Walm’s iron armor. Walm, protecting Ayane behind him, drew his longsword and slashed upward, but the man skillfully dodged and leapt back.

“An assassin!!”

Moritz shouted. The assassin, instead of using the concealed weapon, extended his arm. Sensing a sudden surge of magical power, Walm braced himself.

“Release.”

A rod-shaped projectile shot from the assassin’s hand, propelled by compressed air. Realizing it was aimed at Ayane behind him, Walm cut it down with his longsword.

The assassin reached for his waist again, but Walm charged, piercing the assassin’s shoulder with his longsword and pinning him against the wall. The assassin tried to stab Walm with the concealed weapon with his free hand, but a scream and rigidness followed as Walm cauterized the wound. Walm then held down his throat and arm.

“Tie him up. Gag him, so he won’t bite off his tongue.”

Moritz and the other soldiers rushed in, albeit a bit late. The restrained assassin’s eyes widened, and he let out a muffled scream, becoming motionless.

“Did he just kill himself?”

Walm gasped at the sight of the motionless assassin with eyes wide open. Moritz pried open the assassin’s mouth, fanned with his hand, and began to smell.

“Ah, a poison primarily based on fire toxin. He must have hidden it in his back molar. A deadly mix of Red Scorpion and fire poison herb. I once tasted it during a poison test, and despite its stimulating flavor, I suffered from internal pain for a week.”

Moritz spoke with an almost ecstatic expression.

“You survived eating that?”

Skills were bending the laws of the world even outside of combat. Walm had no intention of ever trying it himself.

“A healer with recovery magic or a strong fire attribute could survive it. Oh, and it’s also applied to the concealed weapon.”

The assassin’s boldness and resolve in infiltrating the treatment room, feigning a fall from a high place, sent a chill down Walm’s spine. Looking back, Ayane was frozen in the corner of the room, and Maya stood in front of her like a wall.

“Are you both alright?”

At Walm’s question, Ayane nodded slightly.

“Why did they…?”

“It must be Libertoa or Felius who decided they couldn’t retrieve you, so it’d be better to have you dead.”

Walm didn’t mention Crest, but there was no need to slip that out.

“It’s a lie, right? I’m… I’m an ally to them.”

“Healing the incurable and pulling back those on the brink of death. You’re a military threat in itself. It’s a harsh way to put it, but if those people return to the battlefield and kill enemy soldiers, indirectly, it’s no different than killing people yourself. It’s only natural to be targeted. Well, it’s like farmers producing food for the troops, or ranches raising warhorses. Once you start, there’s no end. It’s war. No one is unrelated.”

At Moritz’s own reasoning, Ayane sat down.

“Is that so…”

“Let’s cancel today’s treatments. It’s not safe. Both of you are shaken.”

Walm, looking at the girl being tossed around by her abilities, felt a surge of sympathy but knew he shouldn’t. It was something he must not bend on. He couldn’t deviate from the relationship between a soldier and a prisoner of war. It was Walm himself who had torn her from her companions and brought her to this foreign battlefield where death loomed. To comfort the girl now and play the hypocrite was something he couldn’t forgive as a human being.