Elaine tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.
The inn's bed was constructed rather crudely, with a large frame made of rough wood, topped with a few planks and some straw. This bed, however, came with a layer of burlap, a cotton blanket, and a straw pillow, making it the inn's most luxurious accommodation.
The feeling of lying on this bed was worlds apart from the plush down-filled beds at the duke's residence. But Elaine didn't mind. She had been to all kinds of places, from cold, damp caves deep in the mountains to the blistering heat of the Flying Dragon Desert, where you could roast an egg on the groud. Any place was far better than the Duke's mansion, where she had to wear cumbersome, extravagant clothing and endure endless etiquette and social obligations.
Duke Murak did not inherit his title; he was born to a family of local gentry. He earned his nobility through distinguished military service during the war between the Empire and southern nations twenty years ago, gradually climbing to his current status through exceptional skill and cunning. Unlike other scions of noble families, Elaine did not grow up steeped in wealth and privilege. Her father's relentless pursuit of success and his early, dedicated educational methods shaped her into an independent and self-sufficient individual. Lacking her father's grand ambitions, she found the decadence of the upper class intolerable and preferred to focus her energies on tangible pursuits. To escape the wearisome identity of a duke's daughter, she took a job at the potion lab affiliated with the Magic Academy. Often going off on explorations and adventures, the satisfaction of discovering new things that no one before her had found made her feel fulfilled.
When her father arranged her marriage, she was unhappy. Under her father's strict guidance, she rarely entertained thoughts of romance, let alone marriage, and she despised her fiancé, whose eyes seemed only to see "power." However, she did not resist; she understood that such political marriages were common among the nobility and that this union was important to her father. Being a sensible and dutiful daughter, she loved her father dearly.
So, before the wedding date approached, she made the excuse of gathering herbs for research and set off on a journey across the continent. She wanted to live freely for what she believed were her last moments of autonomy, even contemplating venturing into the most dangerous regions. "If I die, so be it," she sometimes thought, feeling a touch of reckless abandon.
In the end, in the Lizard Marsh, she nearly lost her life. When she learned that her injuries were so severe that she could only lie in bed waiting for death, she looked at her somewhat flustered father and her indifferent fiancé and felt no sorrow. But when she saw the determined expression on the face of the person who insisted he would find a way to save her, she suddenly felt weak and thought that even if she died, it would be worth it.
When she later awoke from a long, death-like slumber to find herself miraculously restored, she learned from her father that this person had indeed found a miraculous remedy for her. She knew the wedding day was close, and her father would not allow her to travel alone again, yet she felt an overwhelming desire to see him. It was a simple and powerful longing. Quietly, she slipped away again and finally found him in Bracada, seemingly naturally accompanying him to this strange city.
These days had been filled with joy unlike any she had ever experienced. Everything here was new and exciting; every day brought an array of strange sights, all vibrant and orderly, as if she had stepped into a free and unrestrained new world. More importantly, he was by her side.
He could read the traces left by wild beasts on the ground from half a day ago, and he could predict the weather from the scent of the wind and the shape of the clouds. He knew how to prepare the bark of Red Smoke trees as a tasty seasoning, and which mushrooms could induce laughter until death. He even knew how to cook dog tail for a delectable meal and discovered that the one-eyed lizard had a surprisingly delightful flavor that contradicted its appearance. These intriguing topics never grew tiresome.
He was a simple man, as if he had suddenly came into this world from an isolated forest. He knew nothing of literature, poetry, or worshiping deities, and he was oblivious to many seemingly obvious questions. Sometimes, he displayed a childlike innocence, yet when needed, he could exhibit the utmost maturity, cleverness, and calm depth. Both of them seemed to have an unspoken agreement to avoid discussing the past, particularly his act of saving her. Within a day or two, their interactions felt so natural, as if they had known each other for years, that even the old thief recognized them as "lovers."
Despite their easy camaraderie, as time passed, the sense of intimacy between them grew increasingly palpable. It was only yesterday, as they nestled together, that she realized she truly liked him, and he liked her too. A feeling more intoxicating than any wine and sweeter than any honey enveloped her completely, leaving her utterly enraptured.
But today, she learned that she would leave this place tomorrow and return to the Empire.
Those things she had nearly forgotten, her father, the marriage arrangement, her fiancé, life in the royal capital, her responsibilities—all of these suddenly surged forward, as if they had been lying in ambush, throwing her completely off balance. Before beginning this journey, she had mentally prepared herself to return, but the new environment and her renewed outlook had quickly helped her forgetting all these things.
However, forgetting did not mean these things ceased to exist. The realization of their presence amid her happiness felt like a sudden plunge from a euphoric height.
For the first time in her life, she entertained the thought of completely abandoning her father and family obligations. Yet, this fleeting notion was quickly extinguished by a sense of panic. Her mother had died early; her father had raised her alone, never neglecting her education despite his busy schedule with work and social obligations. She loved her father dearly and understood the importance of this engagement to him. As a daughter, she had a responsibility to uphold it.
Yet, the desire to continue this carefree and sweet life burgeoned in her heart, making no concessions to her strong sense of duty or the weight of paternal love. Ultimately, she found herself unable to choose. Thus, she made what seemed like a completely absurd decision: to tell him everything and let him decide. If he didn't want her to return, she would forget everything and travel with him across the continent.
However, upon hearing of her impending marriage, he merely responded with an "oh," closing his eyes in the hay as he often did. This saddened her deeply, and after blowing out the lamp, she quietly shed tears.
Lying in bed, she couldn't fall to sleep; and from his breathing, she could tell he was awake too. When she heard the rustling of the straw and felt him rise, her heart raced, nearly leaping from her throat.
But he merely walked past her bed and quietly exited the room, his footsteps gradually fading away, seemingly leaving the inn.
She lacked even the energy for curiosity, slowly sitting up from the bed to gaze blankly at the star-filled sky outside.
The beauty of the highland night sky is unimaginable to those who have never seen it. Only when one understands that this beauty will endure through all the vicissitudes of life, can they truly grasp the insignificance of humanity, finding reason to endure all sorrow.
Elaine stared at the night sky, lost in thought, when suddenly a deafening explosion shattered the stillness. A brilliant burst of flames lit up the distant sky, casting an otherworldly glow over the entire city of Orford. For a brief moment, even the stars seemed to fade away.
She wasn't typically a sentimental person, but as she watched the magnificent flames dance in the night, she felt as if it represented a life—beautiful yet fleeting. Compared to the eternal night sky, it was insignificant, merely a fleeting spectacle. Yet in that brief moment, it was the most stunning sight.
The transience made it beautiful. She wondered if beauty was born from its brevity or if it was destined to be short-lived. Tears streamed down her face as she recalled her recent experiences.
This melancholy language was something her younger sister often spoke of, and she had frequently admonished her sister for indulging in such self-pity and theatrics. Yet here she was, feeling the weight of those emotions herself.
The explosion had awakened the entire city of Orford. The orcs began to emerge from their homes, peering into the night sky. It wasn't long before a half-orc lit a torch and reassured the others that it was merely a magical experiment conducted by the lord of the city, nothing to worry about. The townsfolk gradually settled back into their slumber.
As the city began to calm, the half-orc innkeeper approached the thieves' room with another half-orc and an arc, quickly making their way to her.
"Lady Murak, the mayor has urgent matters for you," the half-orc said respectfully.
The arc scooped her up onto his shoulder and sprinted toward the site of the explosion. The wind whipped at her face, making it hard to keep her eyes open.
She didn't like the smell of the arc; it reminded her of the events in the Lizard Marsh, a scent filled with death and fear, instilling in her a sense of ominous dread.
Upon arriving at the site of the explosion, she saw many orcs gathered in front of a stone building, torches illuminating the scene. A silver-haired elderly man stood there waiting for her.
"Mr. Theodorus, what are you doing here?" she asked, recognizing the old man. He had once stayed at her home when she was a child, a close friend of her father's. He was a remarkable and renowned scholar and adventurer, and she had learned magic under his guidance.
Theodorus's face darkened with a mix of surprise and gravity when he saw her. Wordlessly, he nodded and led her toward the stone building. Only then did she realize that the roof was completely gone, leaving only the four walls standing.
As they approached the entrance, she was hit by a strong metallic scent of blood. She instinctively halted, a sense of foreboding creeping over her, and began to back away.
Though she had seen her share of corpses and blood, she found herself unexpectedly nauseous, her stomach twisting.
"Miss Murak, please come here," Theodorus beckoned.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she stepped forward, but the smell of blood only intensified, seeming to penetrate deeper into her being.
After a moment of hesitation, she finally regained her composure and entered the roofless stone building.
The ground was stained with dried blood, a large pool covering much of the floor. In one corner lay a bloodied figure on a bed. The person's face was obscured by blood, yet she recognized him immediately; it was the man who had quietly passed by her bed just moments ago, sending her heart racing.
Her legs suddenly went weak, as if the tendons within her had been abruptly pulled away.
Theodorus quickly steadied her. He didn't need to ask anything; he could see the truth in her reaction.
Determined, she forced herself to stand again and rushed to the bedside, reaching out to use her healing magic on him. She wished desperately that she could sever her own hand to channel her magic more effectively.
His forehead was caved in, distorting his features. One of his hands was nearly impaled into his chest, the palm and clothing sunken into his flesh, congealed blood binding bone and muscle together in a horrific manner.
When she tried to check his pulse, she found his other hand mangled, resembling a roasted sweet potato squeezed too tightly. Fractured bones jutted against the skin, the blood dried, blurring the lines between skin and muscle.
Tears fell freely as her hands became stained with his blood, her body trembling violently as she struggled to control her emotions. She fought to keep from crying out.
Finally, summoning all her courage, she pressed her fingers to his wrist. Thankfully, despite its weakness, she felt a faint pulse.
"I've already tried to heal him, but his injuries are too severe, and the damage from his battle qi has weakened the spell's effect. He's holding on only by his life force," Theodorus said gravely beside her.
"How could this happen…" she finally broke down, her voice choked with tears.
Theodorus paused before responding, his tone heavy with an almost dismissive gravity. "It's just a mistake."