Chapter 56

In that situation, she appeared. Rosaline: an Imperial knight, who is strong enough to shatter the human weapons created by the Black Moon and is so loyal that she even sacrifices her life for the 2nd Prince Ricardis. She was the only demon of Illavenia in this state of affairs.

‘But isn’t this kind of weird...?’

The speed at which the rumors about her spread was unusual. It hasn’t even been a week, but it’s already out of Vista and spreading all over Illavenia. It’s impossible unless someone deliberately spreads them.

She was born in a country that denied her existence, so sympathy for her rose like a wave. The flow created through the mouths of many people is difficult to reverse.

However, Rosaline was unaware of the situation, so she must feel pretty stuffy inside. Cecil looked at her with a look of pity as if Rosaline was about to die. Rosaline was as expressionless as when she was sleeping. But under that masked face, various thoughts must be chaotically scattered.

‘How pitiful. Isn’t it too windy for this little girl to survive?’ Cecil was about to burst into tears, but she found Rosaline quite fascinating.

Then the eagle, which sat on the back of Rosaline’s chair, lightly rubbed Rosaline’s face with the flat part of its beak. Rosaline served some macarons for the eagle.

“These are macarons.”

“...?”

Count Drythorne doubted her ears. ‘Weren’t we talking about a tremendously important event that could shake her very life right now? Weren’t we?’Follow the latest novels at novelhall.com

As she watched Rosaline carefreely sharing macarons with the eagle, she eventually felt as if they were not. ‘Could it be that you have no idea about what we were just discussing?’

The eagle who ate the macarons nodded, intoxicated with the sweetness. Rosaline also nodded and made an “Umm...” sound. Those excited gestures seemed to answer Cecil’s thoughts. Rosaline let out a smile. She had tried macarons before, but these were baked better than the ones she had previously.

***

“38. And we’re 8...?”

Haqab frowned. He had just received the battle report from Attilak.

“There are 38 deaths on the side of the Knights of White Night, and it is correct to say that we have 8 survivors,” Haqab clarified.

This battle had a similar pattern. If Count Drythorne was the person who fought at that spot, he would have known even if no one had told him. One did not need to spend much effort to get her angry, and when one went too far, all that was left would be fear.

To be honest, even Haqab got a little tired of it. On the battlefield, fear is an effective weapon. Count Drythorne, like Haqab, was well aware of that fact. This method was not done simply because of her cruel nature but rather to use her means effectively.

A mad dog with reason. Therefore, the Count bit even more painfully. Naturally, she was the object most shunned by Baltan warriors. The severed heads separately collected had been placed to form letters, but Attilak did not reveal the exact details. Haqab got a feeling that it’d be some sort of swear word.

“That is so Count Drythorne.”

Haqab shook his head left and right. After that, Attilak’s report went in line with what he expected. Their group battled with Count Drythorne, and the 2nd Prince returned safely under Count Radwiell’s protection.

Haqab clenched his chin and tapped his temple.

‘Radwiell...’

Hearing that name, another person came to mind— the owner of that indifferent face.

Rosaline. She was the 2nd Prince’s escort knight, so she probably died? She was in a position where she would have fought the most dangerous battles. She was so close. He should’ve taken her away. However, Haqab soon erased that vague feeling when Attilak brought up the story of Rosaline as if he had read Haqab’s mind.

“The dark-haired knight? Rosaline? Rosaline Radwiell?”

“Yes, Your Highness. They say that a female knight with dark hair faced more than 30 raiders.”

Attilak closed his eyes tightly. This wasn’t like bragging about some back alley thug who fought one-on-one in 17 matches. This story was even more absurd. Anyone who has ever raised a sword in even a small number of battles and wars will know it well: if outnumbered, your chances of winning are infinitely lower. They say she had won the fight against the enemy that was not three times as many, but thirty-three times as many. Even if he had seen it with his own eyes, he would have had doubts.

When the raiders found her, no one could’ve imagined their eradication by a bleeding knight, already wounded here and there. Only one raider survived the battle. As he reported, Rosaline Radwiell wielded her bizarrely mutated black hands and moved with wind-like speed. Fortunately, she was so exhausted that she turned away without confirming the kill.

He said that even though the terrifying slayer had left the battlefield and left him lying there dying, the horror she left still weighed on his whole body.

The first thing those who entered the Black Moon did was kill their emotions, and they went through exceedingly dangerous training in which only five out of a hundred people survived. They were ready to give everything for the mission: all for the Black Moon and Crean Tidanion.

The people selected for this raid were a small number of elites. They would not hesitate to immediately commit suicide when captured. It was impossible to imagine how overwhelming the battle was to inspire fear in such people.