“Who are you?”
The muses surrounding them stopped, and the soldiers atop them adjusted their stances to aim their weapons.
As various javelins, maces, and bows were aimed at Lumel’s head, Lumel showed no sign of tension and instead focused on the approaching priests.
A dignified middle-aged man and a young-looking youth.
The two priests appeared outwardly like ordinary humans.
Fur cloaks with scale-like armor. Ordinary weapons.
They truly looked like unremarkable humans without any distinguishing features.
However, it was precisely this ordinariness that contrasted with the surrounding soldiers, allowing Lumel to recognize them as priests.
The events from just moments ago likely also played a role.
Lumel glanced at the mutilated head of the muse pierced by a javelin and then surveyed the encircling soldiers.
These two priests were formidable opponents, but these soldiers were no less impressive.
Each one was evidently a powerful warrior. Though their faces were hidden beneath helmets, the sheer presence they exuded was extraordinary.
‘This is troublesome.’
While fiddling with his spear shaft, Lumel thought this and tried to hide his frustration as he watched the approaching priests.
‘I didn’t expect them to advance here so quickly.’
The location where Lumel, the soldiers, and the priests now stood wasn’t far from the campsite.
At this rate, it would only take about a day’s travel to reach it.
Though Lumel couldn’t determine the speed of their advance, he knew what would happen if he let them pass: they’d arrive at the campsite before him and launch an attack.
It was something he wanted to avoid. Aslan had sent Lumel for the same reason—to prevent such an outcome.
Thus, Lumel had to detain them here.
The question was how.
How could he hold them here, and if not, how could he make them retreat?
If it were Angie, she could likely stop them simply by charging in, but this was Lumel.
Just a human who wielded a spear with exceptional skill.
So, he pondered.
His contemplation didn’t last long. There was only one way to delay them further right now.
“Lumel.”
The middle-aged priest halted upon hearing the voice, and Lumel looked up at the priest and spoke.
“General Lumel.”
Lumel’s strategy to keep them here was to align with their intentions and prolong the conversation as much as possible.
“So, you’re the famous woman.”
The middle-aged priest stroked his chin after introducing Lumel this way, while the youthful-looking priest beside him emitted a peculiar, raspy voice.
“A self-proclaimed general, are we?”
Was the youthful priest being hostile toward Lumel?
Or was he merely skeptical of someone claiming the title of general?
Whichever it was, there was only one attitude Lumel could adopt:
A demeanor befitting a general, exuding charisma.
The kind of bearing he had acquired by impersonating Gerald.
Recalling the blessed individuals he had encountered who maintained an attitude similar to the youthful priest, Lumel tilted his head and said,
“It depends on your perspective.”
“Perspective?”
This time, it was the middle-aged priest who responded. He suddenly looked at Lumel’s waist, prompting Lumel to follow his gaze and place his hand on the sword at his side.
Swish. The single-handed longsword drawn was unique.
It featured a parrying hook along the blade and a large crossguard designed for defense.
Yet, it was still a one-handed sword.
A longsword intended for use alongside magic.
According to Aslan’s casual explanation.
“The Emperor’s Sword…”
That was the name given to this renowned sword.
Upon seeing it, the middle-aged priest widened his eyes, and the young priest similarly opened his mouth in astonishment.
“The symbol of a general…”
As the young priest murmured, this sword indeed symbolized a general within the Northern Empire.
It was also the sword seized by the founder of the Holn family during their attacks on the Northern Empire’s plunderers.
While the middle-aged priest quietly observed Lumel after seeing the sword, the young priest nodded.
Like half of the blessed individuals who had joined Baulder’s forces, he clearly viewed the appearance of the Emperor’s Sword after such a long time as a matter of destiny.
As if reading Lumel’s thoughts, the young priest said,
“I may not know the truth, but I see that you might indeed be the real general.”
His softened attitude. Lumel exhaled silently, and the young priest continued.
“So, General Lumel, why are you here?”
He couldn’t outright say he had come to block them. While Lumel hesitated over how to respond, the young priest tilted his head and asked again.
“I’ve heard you’re Baulder’s general. Yet, you’re here, far from Baulder’s lands. So, I ask again, why are you here?”
Hearing this, Lumel closed her mouth and contemplated.
If they already knew she was Baulder’s general, a flimsy excuse wouldn’t work.
Their opponents were priests, beings wielding absolute superiority in combat.
Lumel knew nothing of their capabilities or the extent of their information. Aslan might, but there was no way Lumel could.
But even though Lumel knew little, she was certain of one thing: she couldn’t let them reach Baulder’s sphere of influence.
More specifically, she couldn’t let them reach Aslan.
Thus, while contemplating her options, Lumel glanced at Phey, who was pretending to look innocent nearby, seeking inspiration.
“General Lumel?”
It was just that the young priest wasn’t willing to wait.
Under the urging tone, Lumel subtly acted as if making a difficult decision, slowly closing and opening her eyes.
Then, feigning resolution, she looked at the young priest.
Her best option at the moment was to employ her usual empathetic ability.
Attempting to discern their true intentions through their expressions and tones, Lumel thought.
‘…There’s something.’
Both the young priest and the middle-aged one had shown notable reactions when she drew the Emperor’s Sword.
Some kind of intense emotional surge. Sensing this, Lumel began to seriously consider her approach.
Unbeknownst to Lumel herself, her empathic ability wasn’t something that could be learned through mere experience or knowledge.
To put it simply, it was a talent rooted in innate, instinctual perception.
In terms of purity, it approached the sensitivity of Tiamat’s sensory organs or Phey’s intuition.
And instinctively utilizing this ability, Lumel chose the course of action closest to the truth.
She read the emotions the two priests directed at the sword, the Emperor’s Sword.
Based on those emotions, she acted, leading them to the result they least desired.
Lumel extended her sword scabbard from her waist, along with her spear.
“…Hmm?”
The young priest tilted his head at the gesture, and the middle-aged priest remained silent. Lumel noted their expressions and pupil movements before speaking.
“His Majesty Baulder wishes to establish peace with both Krabrige and Leranda’s Knights.”
“I am his envoy.” Adding this, the young priest looked at Lumel, who adopted an expression of regret.
“What His Majesty offers you is the Golden Spear once wielded by one of the Ancient Gods, Law and Order, and… the Emperor’s Sword.”
As the young priest’s eyes widened, Lumel nodded while looking at him, preempting his next words.
“At the same time, His Majesty assures you the title of Duke, the position of General, and guarantees autonomy.”
An extravagant offer. Promises that were impossible to keep in reality. The young priest stroked his chin, smirking.
“…You’re wise.”
The smirk carried both his view and arrogance towards the great nation.
“I wouldn’t want to face both Habrissig and Krabrige either. If retaining our power with some land is considered cheap, then…”
“Yes.”
Responding naturally to Lumel’s deceit, the young priest smiled contentedly.
As if unable to break free from his own thoughts, admiring his own insight.
“Then, the non-threatening composition makes sense. You were seeking peace from the start, bringing only the minimal number of people necessary.”
Lumel grinned heartily at this statement, confirming the smile, the young priest nodded approvingly.
“If that’s the case, it’s truly remarkable audacity. Most would have been too frightened to even speak properly. Your remarkable audacity and loyalty are admirable. I envy Baulder for having such talent under his command.”
Concluding with his arbitrary assumptions.
Lumel felt a strange sense of familiarity in the way he blindly believed and fit everything into his preconceived notions but kept it hidden as she extended the Emperor’s Sword.
At this, avarice and longing shone in the young priest’s eyes.
Even without Lumel’s level of intuition, it was an emotion clear enough to perceive.
A reaction that practically declared success. Smiling brightly, Lumel approached.
‘Succeeded.’
Thinking she had succeeded, Lumel held the scabbard, intending to personally hand over the hilt, but had to stop mid-step due to the sudden movement of the middle-aged priest advancing towards the young priest.
Surprised by this abrupt action, the young priest turned to look at his companion, who stared down at Lumel with an indifferent expression.
“General Lumel, which house are you from?”
An unexpected question.
Confused, Lumel looked at him as the middle-aged priest gazed down at her with tightly shut lips.
His unreadable black eyes gleamed, and another question followed.
“Will you reveal your name, General Lumel?”
A query whose intent she couldn’t grasp.
The young priest interjected with a seemingly displeased tone.
“Sigurd, why do you ask? Her name is already—”
Sigurd, the middle-aged giant, ignored his companion and took a step closer to Lumel.
A movement that, even interpreted generously, was undeniably threatening. The young priest frowned and shouted.
“Sigurd! Do not threaten the general! We came here with good intentions, did we not?!”
Good intentions. Sigurd snorted derisively at these words, briefly turning his head to glance at his companion.
And in that moment, Lumel could read the emotion in his dark eyes.
It was hatred.
With hatred in his eyes, the middle-aged man spoke.
“Arne, when and where did we lose our general?”
Upon hearing this, Arne—the young priest—flinched.
Slowly furrowing his brow, he turned his head to look at Lumel.
Suspicion was gradually rising in Arne’s eyes.
Something was going wrong. As Lumel took a step back, the middle-aged man spoke.
“Why did we lose our general?”
“…Light brown hair, light brown eyes…”
“Who decapitated our general and threw him into the river? Who stole the Emperor’s Sword… Do you remember?”
As Arne looked at Lumel, the middle-aged man turned his head back to stare at her.
Hatred and certainty filled his eyes.
Listening to this hatred and certainty, Lumel recalled a memory.
The story of her ancestor’s great victory against the Northern Empire’s plunderers.
As Lumel remembered this,
the priest, who had lived through the humiliation of losing their general in a raid several generations ago, also recalled that disgraceful time.
And muttered bitterly.
“Holn.”
Looking at the Emperor’s Sword in her hand.
Reacting to this weren’t just Lumel and Phey.
Hatred rapidly welled up in the eyes of the soldiers encircling Lumel and Phey as well.
For all of them had been remnants of the army present at that time.
It was natural.
As if to confirm this inevitability, the soldiers began to transform.
Crack, crunch!
The sound of bones twisting and realigning.
The gradually revealed forms of beasts.
Seeing this, Lumel raised her spear, and Phey clicked her tongue while drawing her crimson longsword.
Among the sounds, the most distinctive undoubtedly came from the two priests.
Creeeak, BOOM!
Grind, crunch, crackle!
In the blink of an eye, two monsters stood in their place.
One resembling a giant bear, its skull-like head covered in bony plating, as if wearing a bone coat.
The other, a half-human, half-animal creature holding a unicorn horn as a lance, blending horse and deer features.
As these two monsters glared with hate-filled eyes,
ROAR!
they charged, roaring.
To tear apart the last daughter of Holn and exact their revenge.
