Chapter 7

The ice kingdom, Theorin, located at the northernmost tip of the continent, had embarked on a long campaign to expand its territories in a bid to secure fertile soil. The culmination of these efforts led them into direct conflict with the Empire, which ultimately resulted in the kingdom’s defeat. As a result, amidst the backdrop of a brutal winter, the war tribute procession was about to commence.

“I can’t believe Theorin has been reduced to a vassal kingdom… What were all my efforts for? I executed the orders I received as if my life depended upon it, and yet…”

“My lady…” Marie lamented, as she struggled to hold back her tears. As Irene’s maid and childhood companion, Marie was the sole person Irene felt comfortable enough to share her feelings with. The usual stoic front that Irene put up in front of her knights easily crumbled before Marie.

Irene M. Voltern was not only known as the only female knight in the kingdom, she was also an outstanding commander that remained undefeated in battle. Her excellence was so great, even the revolutionary military power wasn’t able to keep up with the knights led by Irene.

‘They’ve never taken into consideration the fact that she’s a woman in their treatment of her before, but now simply because of her gender, they want to hand her over as a hostage? I mean… I knew that, save for a select few noble families, the rest were all rotten, but this is downright ridiculous!’ Marie gritted her teeth.

Her lady’s desperation was understandable. Could anyone truly fathom how much effort Irene had put in, and how much she’d given up? While Irene endured through awful and taxing circumstances, the central nobles went about their daily lives, with only trivial worries for their own wellbeing.

Now, they wanted to offer her lady up as a sacrifice. It was commonly known that hostages weren’t treated as humans, but as objects. There would be no respect or regard for Irene’s previous standing. The taking of a hostage was simply yet another means by which the victor could trample the pride of the defeated kingdom. In most cases, hostages were either killed or used as leverage for extorting more from the defeated kingdom.

Knowing that any perceived misbehavior on her part could be ascribed to the kingdom, giving the empire further grounds to trample on the kingdom’s pride, Irene had no choice but to abandon the self-pride she’d held onto that supported and helped her keep her head held high. Irene sourly muttered, “I’ve only taken charge of the knights for a year… Ultimately, it was bound to end like this.”

“Pardon?”

“Father always wanted to prevent such an outcome, so from a young age, he began to educate me like the other boys. I didn’t want to be considered useless, so naturally I poured my heart and soul into my training. I can’t begin to count the number of battles I’ve participated in since I turned fifteen, and yet…”

It had started when Irene was but five years of age—Count Voltern began to treat the child, who’d only just learned a sense of duty, like any other knight. Looking down at herself now, clothed in unfamiliar feminine attire, Irene couldn’t help but swallow bitterly. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d worn such clothing. Suddenly, realization hit her that, perhaps like many others, she too had secretly harbored the hope that one day she’d be rewarded for all the effort and work she’d put forth.

“It was thanks to your quick decisions that the prince was protected, and the country was prevented from falling into the greedy Duke’s hands…”

“Theorin has become a vassal state, and I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a hostage,” Irene interjected. She felt like everything she’d done had been in vain. With an unfocused gaze, she stared emptily at her upturned palm.

Though she wielded the sword countless times, her hands rarely developed calluses. As a result, her palms were riddled with scars and bruising caused by the sword. Now that she’d laid down her sword, scabs had begun to form as the scars healed. It seemed to be a hereditary trait, as Count Voltern also seldom developed calluses too. Nevertheless, Irene found it displeasing, as it made it appear as if she neglected her training. As her finger rubbed over the rough and hard wounds, Irene murmured, “If this too disappears, will I be able to become a normal person?”

Marie had never seen her lady this dejected before, and soon she was unable to contain her tears. She felt powerless to help Irene, who seemed to be slowly falling apart.