Ch.67Connected to the Past (3)

# Under the Dark Sky

Under a dark sky with drizzling rain, a khaki tent stood on the ground, disrupting the falling raindrops.

Inside the tent, four people huddled together, listening intently to a man’s story. It was a historic moment where a Founding Noble and future heads of great houses were joining forces.

“…If we break the dam like that, Duke Ruston will have no choice. He’ll have no option but to come out and kneel before us.”

Aselln Meoric placed his hand on his chin and questioned Netionpis’s plan.

“What if they hold out until the rain stops? If their side gets flooded, we won’t be able to march on the duke’s castle either.”

“No problem. We have Rusheon.”

“That’s right. Our supply lines are thoroughly managed, so you can rest assured.”

Rusheon Estern expressed his agreement. He was a born businessman, skilled at multiplying money and resources. Thanks to him, their side had never gone hungry during these times of war.

“Aselln, prepare a truth serum for the spy. Don’t worry about the potency.”

“Hmm, understood.”

“And Bartlant… form a strike team with a dozen or so capable knights and deploy them. If the duke is storing food and weapons at Mount Gelden…”

That’s when it happened. Bartlant’s eyes widened as he spoke in a stiff voice.

“I object, Netionpis.”

“What are you saying?”

In response to Netionpis’s question, Bartlant stood up abruptly and slammed his fist on the table with a thud. Though he controlled his strength enough not to break it, it was powerful enough to cause cracks.

Sparks of battle aura crackled in his eyes, which were filled with green light.

“What am I saying? That’s what I want to ask! Don’t you know what’s right? Maybe it’s laughable that someone who once led armies and killed people is saying this.”

“Bartlant?”

“But listen, what happens to the innocent people when the duke’s castle floods? What about the women and children who have nothing to do with this war, whose flesh will rot and skin will dry up…”

Bartlant’s passionate plea carried a power that could draw people in. It seemed like anyone would be pulled in by his passion.

If his opponent hadn’t been Netionpis… he would have undoubtedly followed him.

“The war will drag on.”

“Yes.”

“More people will suffer.”

“Kuh.”

“In the end, it’s just a matter of choice. Either increase the number of people suffering from war, or turn a blind eye to the people drowning in the flooded castle. It’s simply a binary choice.”

Even as Bartlant trembled, Aselln and Rusheon remained silent. It was an implicit sign of agreement.

“Bartlant, I’m the one in command.”

“I know.”

“Then follow orders. To end this miserable war.”

“…Ha.”

Bartlant’s sigh was filled with despair. He silently bowed his head, then trudged out of the tent.

As he turned his head, Bartlant’s face seemed to be streaked with tears. It was probably an illusion caused by the rain flowing down his cheeks.

“You’ve all… changed so much. Netionpis, all of you. Everyone.”

With just those words, Bartlant left to gather his men. It marked the end of his brief insubordination.

‘He reminds me of the young duke, which makes me feel sorry for him.’

Certainly, Bartlant’s sentiments were valid. Aselln and Rusheon were the type who pursued reason over emotion. Their talents in their respective fields were like starlight that couldn’t be hidden even by cloudy skies.

The special circumstances of war and their brilliant talents were enough to reshape their consciousness.

But Netionpis was different.

The boy from the mud wall’s southern window had been an unpolished genius. And in a short time, he had absorbed all the talented individuals gathered around him, making them his own.

Above all, war ultimately follows the logic of power. The difference between a fruit vendor in the marketplace and a noble of high standing was the difference between life and death.

The vulgar crawled flat to preserve their lives, while the stiff-headed nobles all had their heads cut off. An era had arrived where this was the norm.

Netionpis’s values were undergoing a dramatic change as he experienced equality that transcended social status in this time of war. All while freely wielding his own talents…

“Sigh.”

Silence dominated the space after Aselln and Rusheon had left. Now, only Netionpis remained inside the tent.

If he hadn’t spoken, she might have kept her mouth shut.

“Lorian.”

“Nes.”

A black robe with a large hood appeared like a shadow. The identity of the stranger who appeared suddenly without a sound was Lorian Feita.

“How much did you see?”

“Everything.”

“I see.”

It was a simple exchange. Netionpis didn’t turn to face Lorian. It was an intentional action.

He already knew what Lorian was going to say.

“Nes.”

“Speak.”

“Why aren’t you using me?”

“Just flooding the duke’s castle…”

“Nes!”

Lorian’s brief outburst contained anger and reproach.

The sound of Lorian’s hair falling as she pulled back her hood reached him clearly through the sound of rain.

Netionpis unconsciously bit his lip.

“If you use me, it would be much more efficient. You don’t need to bother breaking the dam. I’ll infiltrate alone and bring back the duke’s head. That’s all it takes!”

“The risk is too high. The security will be much tighter in this tense situation.”

“Do you think I care about that?”

Lorian countered his flimsy excuse and began folding her flower-like fingers one by one. As if counting items, she started listing the people she had sent away.

“Count Urs, Baron Aclanne, Mercenary Secunto, Lady Leanne, Marquess Rasten, Duke Servina, Viscount Epento, Chief Sacuntara, the First Prince and Second Princess…”

She stopped only after counting all ten fingers. Her lips twisted as if there were more names to mention, but she was desperately holding back.

They were all victims of Lorian Feita’s unique talent.

“All… people I’ve killed. You know that better than anyone. I don’t think Duke Ruston would be particularly more dangerous than any of them.”

Assassination. That was Lorian’s shining talent. It was an innate quality that even Netionpis would find difficult to imitate.

“Lorian.”

“If not that, then what? You, who always suggests the most efficient method, tell me. Tell me the real reason why you won’t use me.”

“The one in command…”

“Is you. But that doesn’t give you the right to silence me. Why won’t you send me? What’s the reason I shouldn’t kill Duke Ruston? Just tell me. Are you afraid I’ll catch some disease from the rain while infiltrating? If not that, then what?”

Lorian approached with steps unbefitting an assassin. She let out a small chuckle.

“Am I special to you?”

Lorian grabbed Netionpis’s collar and pulled him down. Under his tilted body, Lorian’s beautiful features, especially her reddish lips, were close.

Then those lips, ripe as apples, carried heat. It was a tone that walked a tightrope between the ambiguous boundary of anger and desire.

“Kiss me.”

“Lorian.”

“Now.”

“Don’t do this, Lorian.”

“If you can’t, then send me. Order me efficiently, as someone you don’t consider special, someone you don’t love.”

“Lorian!”

“Why? Calling my name so passionately. Nes, do you like me?”

“Lorian, please…”

“If you love me, send me. Grant the request of the woman you love. And trust her.”

“…”

Netionpis’s mouth clamped shut at Lorian’s illogical argument.

Indeed, infiltrating Duke Ruston’s castle was truly dangerous. Even for someone like Lorian, it would be difficult to guarantee clean success.

However, Lorian was using Netionpis’s own logic against him, sharply pointing out his hypocritical attitude of disregarding life for the sake of efficiency.

‘This is no joke… both the old man and Lorian Feita.’

At this point, she would still be much younger than me and Irefi, yet she has the composure of an adult.

Compared to her, Irefi and I were completely childish. Not just in our level of conversation, but in the way we expressed affection—it was on an entirely different level.

“Nes.”

“Lorian.”

The conflict between Lorian and Netionpis stood sharp like a large needle. In the staring contest where neither showed signs of backing down, Netionpis was the first to retreat.

“You could die.”

“I won’t.”

“That’s the kind of death flag men often raise.”

“I’m a woman, so it’s fine.”

“Sigh.”

Netionpis covered his eyes with his palm. It was as if he was trying to cool his intense gaze.

He spoke softly.

“Call Bartlant. The operation is canceled. We’ll keep the dam intact.”

“The idiot will be happy.”

“Lorian, when will you depart?”

“Right now.”

“That’s fast.”

“Wars should end quickly. If Duke Ruston’s castle falls, Astel can become the continent’s greatest warlord.”

“True.”

“You know that too, which is why you came up with such a hasty plan. They all probably noticed, except maybe Bartlant.”

Lorian’s eyes curved into a smile. Her fresh smile made her as beautiful as a black flower blooming alone on a battlefield. It seemed like if you touched her carelessly, deadly thorns would tear your heart to shreds.

Netionpis was one of the few people who could handle this sharp black flower.

“I’ll be going now.”

“Lorian.”

“What?”

“Be care—”

“I don’t need words like ‘be careful.'”

Step, step, stride, stride!

Lorian dramatically closed the distance. Netionpis was so surprised that he tried to step back. However, Lorian’s grip on his collar mercilessly blocked his retreat.

“Kiss.”

“Lorian! W-wait—”

The luscious lips visible when looking down, and the straight nose. It was impossible to prevent contact approaching diagonally from such close proximity.

Just as the lips of the two were about to meet.

Crack!

The world went pitch black. A world where senses had vanished was disconcerting. Vision was dark, and even hearing was impossible.

A rough anxiety swept over him, wondering if something had gone wrong outside.

Fortunately, liberation came soon. After a short while, the space where the senses were sealed cracked open, reviving the scenery.

Just as he was enjoying the sense of liberation from his freed senses, Lorian’s soft voice tickled his ear.

“Well then, I’ll be back. Nes.”

“…Oh, sure.”

Netionpis’s fingers were unconsciously touching his lips.

It was a kiss that he had suffered terribly during his days as a southern window boy. It should have been just a repulsive, ugly act.

Surely, it should have been… it must have been…

His cheeks flushed red and burned. Unable to find the reason, he felt doubt for the first time in a while. It had been a long time since he encountered a phenomenon that was difficult to define in his own language.

He thought about analyzing the unknown emotion and reflecting on the lingering feeling. Just as he sat down in the chair with a thud.

Swoosh!

The tent opened, and a large man ran in, dripping rainwater.

“Netionpis, I heard you canceled the operation? Good job. Even if it’s a bit harder, we should take a different path.”

“…Oh, yeah.”

Bartlant wasn’t unaware of the assassination order Lorian had received. He simply agreed readily because he trusted her.

However, from Netionpis’s perspective, who was overprotective of Lorian due to personal feelings, it was a response he couldn’t laugh at.

He was acutely aware that it was a hypocritical sentiment, which is why he couldn’t express it outwardly.

And a few days later.

Duke Ruston left this world.

The cause was suicide by poison. Next to the body was a suicide note soaked in blood.

It stated that he felt inflammation and self-loathing due to the war and decided to end his life.

The note also mentioned that he was leaving everything to his second son.

The duke’s second son was a greedy and tyrannical man. Inevitably, forces split around the firstborn son who despised him, and they began to consume themselves.

Later, when the chaotic political situation in the duke’s castle reached its peak, Bartlant’s forces broke through the gates like a battering ram.

It was an empty victory.

‘Lorian Feita is quite skilled.’

Infiltrating the duke’s castle alone, making the duke commit suicide, and slipping away unnoticed—how could that be an easy feat? She was truly a woman worthy of the title of the first emperor’s shadow blade.

‘The modern Duke Feita’s house lacked individuality… Did they conceal the fact that the first head of the family took on the role of an assassin, considering it vulgar?’

Only they would know the truth that wasn’t recorded in history.

After the collapse of Duke Ruston’s castle, the continent’s political situation took a dramatic turn.

Warlords who could read the flow of the times rode the wave of destiny. Forces begging to come under Astel’s wing arrived almost daily, and the tide turned in an instant.

Even amidst the war that brought forth numerous heroic figures, the stronghold of the Founding Nobles and the first heads of houses was unparalleled.

And so, another three years passed.

Finally, a morning arrived when the cloudy sky cleared and sunlight poured down.

It was the day of the founding of the Eld Empire.