Chapter 74: Walking in the Rain
Boom boom boom…
Clouds are swirling as thunder roars, and the rain is pouring down like it’s auditioning for a waterfall competition.
With a morning draped in leaden skies, a gust of wind sweeps across the muddy fields, and the troops marching along the dirt path resemble a mighty river, flowing endlessly through the dim dawn light, with tails that are hard to spot.
Flags embroidered with golden crosses flap in the fierce wind, and the Golden Armored Knights swathed in cloaks trudge through the downpour, dragging mud with every step southward. The thunder of beast hooves and marching feet blend with the rain, creating a cacophony of splashes in the muck and puddles.
In the distance, a group of ragged refugees, drenched from head to toe, turns to gaze quietly at the shimmering golden troop. A skinny woman clutches a child’s hand, her hair plastered to her face, devoid of any expression—neither joy nor sorrow, just numbness.
I’m riding a huge, armored, and quite dashing Horned Horse, huddling under my hood, with Captain Gray’s leather suitcase slung behind my back, moving up front with the knights, keeping pace… somewhat.
“Whew—”
The giant beast, towering close to two and a half meters tall (almost three with its head), snorts loud enough to startle my nerves. Its massive body sways, making me grip the saddle tight and cling to the reins for dear life, my heart racing.
This Horned Horse, reportedly from the Aharel Oasis nestled in the Karakuzan Desert, belongs to a breed called Floris, developed over a thousand years. It’s one of the oldest horse species in the world, with a sleek head, long neck, slender legs, and delicate skin. Not to mention its elegant gait and boasting three spiraled black horns on its head, its sheer size and power outstrip any other beast out there. Due to its rarity and the high cost of training, it’s exclusively used by the Church’s First Knights Order.
Sitting atop such a colossal beast makes me feel like a toddler riding an elephant. Even though the special stirrups and steps designed to help me climb this giant should work, I still can’t reach the top stirrup. Isaac had to modify it for me, raising the stirrups on either side and swapping out the reins for longer ones, just so I could manage to saddle up.
But I still feel like a disaster waiting to happen…
However, at this moment, dignity was the least of my concerns. I had someone tie a rope on the saddle, with a hook fastening me to my waist, anchoring me to the beast’s back. The reason? Just a smidgen of comfort against the terrifying sensation of slipping off at any moment.
Finally, I could keep up with the group… without having to share a Horned Horse with Angel. And after a few days, my riding skills have improved significantly. I’m much less stiff and panicky than before, and while running is still a bit of a workout, just walking isn’t a problem at all.
Boom boom boom…
The overcast sky rumbles while angry thunder growls. Bright flashes of light streak across the sky like unknown monsters straying through the clouds, roaring their resentment.
A cold wind swirls in, lifting the cloak behind me dramatically, snapping it like a flag in battle. Raindrops as big as peas pelt my face-cold and soaking, cascading from my hair down my cheeks. I gradually loosen my grip on the saddle, pulling my dancing cloak around me tighter.
But even with a waterproof cloak, raindrops still find creative ways to seep through, soaking my leather black skirt and leaving me uncomfortably damp… Luckily, it’s leather and won’t let the water through.
Squish… squish…
My hooves squelch in the mud, making an unpleasant sound.
How long will it take to cross this mire…
I can’t help but look back and see the line of troops stretching like a dragon through the rain, fading into the distance… and while it looks massive, it’s only about fifteen hundred souls—that’s the absolute limit we can muster given our food shortages.
We march south along what barely qualifies as a road, and even here, I can spot a few scattered refugees. Their cloaks are filthy, faces gaunt, young and old alike wear that same lifeless expression.
I’ve seen their eyes, devoid of fear, sorrow, or even anger. They merely pull carts laden with junk, some even without carts, just shouldering tattered bags and using branches as walking sticks, trudging through the rain, brushing aside the knights’ procession as they head north.
“Sir Knight… where are you going… off to fight, are you?”
“Sir Knight… please, can you spare some food?”
“Sir Knight… is there any hope to the north, I heard there might be?”
Sometimes, a disaster-stricken soul will grab a knight and ask questions or beg for scraps. Ever since we entered the southern territories, these pleas have echoed on my journey.
But we’re powerless to help.
The knights’ rations are already scant, and under the best circumstances, barely enough to get by. The supply wagon, with a knight named Harlan strictly managing it, is trailing at the back, and even I only get meat jerky once a day—a portion that barely feeds one person, and mine is just enough for two. I can only expect warm, cooked food at the evening or during breaks—usually some watery porridge or soup.
In such dire conditions, all the knights can do is offer a little of their jerky when they see someone on the verge of starvation, but it’s hardly enough to save lives; it merely keeps them from collapsing right before our eyes.
When someone falls nearby, we acknowledge it in silence and perform our grisly task… retrieving the bodies, which amounts to simply throwing them down in some corner, covering them with their cloaks, and saying a prayer… there’s simply no time for burial.
And I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done that.
The first time was heartbreaking.
But the last? I covered the eyes of a blackened little girl who couldn’t have been more than ten, her tiny, skeletal form outlined under the makeshift canvas. Rain pattered down on the filthy tarp with a pitiful sound, her fragile existence laid bare beneath it, utterly still. Life is so fragile, I stared at her… I too had grown numb.
I recalled the words Grandma Bersa said to me at the end.
[There are many powerful forces in this world, and once they come, there’s no stopping them… not even the will to resist…]
It seems it wasn’t until this moment that I fully grasped the meaning behind those words.
But Grandma…
What am I supposed to do?
Tap tap… tap tap!
The sudden sound of hooves up ahead jolted me from my stupor. I looked up to see a knight galloping towards me on a Horned Horse, hooves pounding the ground, splashing mud everywhere. The knight’s face was obscured by a wide cloak, but as he drew closer, I could see urgency etched on his features… oh, right! He’s one of the scouts.
What’s going on…?
“What’s wrong!”
I waved my hands in the rain, shouting. The knight turned at the sound of my voice, recognized me, and quickly pulled on the reins. His Horned Horse let out a sharp neigh, its front hooves rising and crashing down as it eased its pace to come alongside me. In the howling wind and rain, he shouted back, “There’s a dip up ahead! The mountain road has collapsed!”
cr*p…
d*mn weather…
I cursed under my breath, wiped rain from my face, and asked, “Is it serious?!”
“The rubble’s blocked the way! We’ll have to take a detour… Where’s Lord Isaac?!”
“I haven’t seen him! Maybe he’s… back there!”
“We might need to detour around half the mountain! It’ll waste a lot of time! I spotted a village beyond that dip, and behind it is a hill forest—there might be a shortcut! But things seemed odd there; I need to report to Lord Isaac first!”
“What’s odd?”
“Too many dead bodies! They’re everywhere, and they don’t even stink! I even saw some charred remains! That’s not normal!”
Charred remains…
Just then, another hurried sound of hooves approached from behind. Following the noise, I spotted Isaac arriving with more than ten knights, galloping in from the left side of the troop.
“What’s going on!” he called out, demanding an explanation as the scouting knight reiterated the situation.
“I suspect we’ve run into mountain bandits! They might still be close by! Jason and Rick are guarding the village entrance! Lord Isaac, just to be safe, I suggest taking another ten men with me!”
“Dammit…”
Isaac swore, then rubbed his head, turning to the knights beside him and ordering, “Slow down the line behind us… get the supply carts ready; those b*stard bandits might try to swipe our food.”
After two knights sped off, he turned back, “Raylman, lead the way! We’ll check it out!”
“Got it!”
The scout turned around, and Isaac urged his beast forward, leading the group of knights behind him. I hastily pulled on the reins, clumsily maneuvering the creature’s head, shouting, “Wait for me!” As I couldn’t reach its belly, I just squeezed a bit, patting its back. I lifted my bum and sat back down a couple of times, and finally, this giant creature apprehensively understood my intent and bolted forward.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
The fierce wind roared by my ears as raindrops pelted my cheeks, and it stung a little.
I clutched the reins tightly, legs stiffening and squeezing hard while my backside wiggled a bit, bending forward so my chest nearly touched the Horned Horse’s back.
Tap tap! Tap tap!
The pounding hooves of my magnificent beast kicked up mud and water beneath us, making for quite the bumpy ride. I kept my mouth shut, eyes squinting against the rain, and my cloak flared out behind me like a flag. My hood had been swept away, leaving my wet black hair dancing in the wind like silk in a monsoon.
I won’t fall, I won’t plop into the mud…
I carefully controlled my hulking steed, swiftly closing the gap to Isaac’s group. As I approached him, he turned and exclaimed, “What are you doing here?!”
“I’m coming with you to check it out!”
Those burnt people…
They might not just be bandits.
“Then you better keep up! Short stuff, I’m not kidding! Your riding skills are absolutely atrocious!”
Isaac teased, kicking up his speed.
“If you call me ‘short stuff’ one more time, I’ll rain blows on your bald head… ew, ew!”
Ugh… I just swallowed a mouthful of mud!
“Hahahahaha—”
The bald guy laughed heartily, his hood blown off, and from the back, his shiny, egg-shaped head glistened as it got drenched, gleaming under the rain.
We sped along the ridge, and soon enough, the outline of a village came into view on the horizon.
