Under the Oak Tree Novel - Chapter 238

238 Side Story Chapter 44
A fine thread now connected Riftan and Maximilian after their wedding night. If he were to die in battle, that link would be severed. The years would slowly erase his face from her mind, leaving only the vague memory of the monster who had tormented her.

His expression grew bitter as he wiped the ale from his mouth with the back of his hand. Her disdain was clear in her refusal to relocate to Anatol. She may not even wish for him to return alive. A sharp pain, one he was accustomed to by now, twinged in his chest.

Hebaron was drinking in front of the fire, his brawny legs stretched out before him.

“Enough of this bleak talk,” he said, cutting into the conversation. “Let us rest and be merry for tonight at least. Dragon slaying and reinforcements can be discussed on the move, can they not? Time is all we have.”

“What are you proposing? That we indulge in drink?”

“This is my first taste of ale in nine months, so I’d like it if you didn’t spoil it for me with all this doom and gloom,” Hebaron said, grinning at Riftan’s sarcastic tone. He then yelled over his shoulder, “Oi! Any of you know how to tell a story? How’s a man supposed to enjoy a drink with no entertainment?”

“Entertainment?” Ursuline exclaimed. “We are in the midst of a campaign that will determine the fate of the Western Continent. How—”

Paying no mind to his comrade’s outburst, Hebaron pointed at one of the squires seated around the campfire. “Harman, tell us about your trip to the Southern Continent. You know, the time those three prostitutes robbed you blind and cast you onto the street stark naked.”

“I believe you have just told the entire story, Sir Hebaron,” Harman the squire mumbled.

…..
“It’s more amusing when you tell it. Go on, now. Who knows when you’ll get the chance to blow your own horn again?”

Harman, a young man of twenty, looked hesitant but soon rose to his feet at Hebaron’s insistence. He glanced at Riftan as if to seek permission, to which Riftan sighed and nodded. Soon, the squire launched into the exaggerated tale of his birth as a merchant’s son and his worldly travels.

Riftan wordlessly observed the soldiers being pulled into the young man’s tale, their fear and exhaustion forgotten. Hebaron had been correct; Harman was a talented storyteller. By the time he was recounting his fight with a hundred thieves, his audience was laughing and jeering.

“Who are you trying to fool? You couldn’t’ve fought off two!”

“Wait till the end, my friends, and you will see how I made hundreds of southern pagans run away sobbing for God with my brilliant wit.”

Riftan smirked. The one hundred thieves had multiplied to hundreds.

One of the knights in his audience snorted. “The southern pagans don’t worship a singular god. The swine believe humans become gods when they die.”

“Only those virtuous enough,” Harman corrected him. “The southerners believe in the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. One can be reborn as a king or a beggar depending on their deeds in a previous life. Those who commit atrocities are reborn as livestock, doomed to unspeakable suffering.”

Jeers erupted from the audience again, but some among them looked intrigued.

“Then, according to their beliefs, I’d be a king in my next life,” a knight quipped.

Laughter rumbled around the campfire.

“You’d be a donkey!”

“No, no, a pig! Eat like a pig, reborn as a pig!”

After quietly listening to the banter, Princess Agnes seemed to grow uncomfortable. “I think we are treading on dangerous ground.”

“It’s just men being men,” Hebaron retorted flatly.

The princess moved as if to give the burly knight a warning, but instead, she heaved a sigh and murmured, “Please be more watchful of your words when we meet with the Temple Knights. Simply talking about such matters could lead to an interrogation.”

Hebaron snorted loudly. “The Temple Knights would become the laughing stock of the continent if they put soldiers on trial for a jest.”

“Even so…”

Ruth, who was silently picking at a loaf of bread, paused to cut in. “You need not take it so seriously. It is merely a way for the men to cope with their fear of death.”

Princess Agnes gave Ruth a grim look and took a sip from her cup. “Very well. Do as you please.”

When the princess looked away as if to say she would overlook the matter, the soldiers began to discuss what form they would take in their next life. Such banter and laughter had not been heard in the camp in months. Watching them, Riftan thought to himself that a moment like this might never come again.

“If you could be anythin’, Captain, what would you be?” Hebaron slurred.

The knight now sounded moderately drunk. His tone slipped to a familiar way of speaking, reverting to a time when Riftan was not a commander of a knightly order.

Riftan furrowed his brow. Though he did not wish to ruin their fun, he could not think of a single thing. Although his background as a mixed-blood bastard had always been a source of insecurity, he felt no inclination to be reborn as a pure-blooded nobleman either. His hatred for them ran deep. In fact, he did not wish to be anything in particular. It was possible he was simply tired of living.

Riftan gazed blankly into the blazing campfire. A moment later, the word slipped out of his mouth.

“Hair.”

“What?” Hebaron said with an incredulous laugh. “Are ya drunk already?”

Bringing his cups to his lips, Riftan gave a bitter smile. “I might be.”

***

With Princess Agnes as their guide, the campaign party set off northeast. White vapor issued from Riftan’s mouth with every breath as he carefully led Talon up the frozen rock. Although the monster attacks dwindled the higher they climbed, the terrain grew that much more rugged. To make matters worse, the temperature plummeted.

When they stopped to rest, Ruth set out to survey their surroundings.

“The distribution of mana in this area is highly disproportionate,” he said when he returned. “There is no fire mana to be found anywhere in the vicinity. It’s as if something is sucking all the heat from this place.”

After gravely observing the frozen ground, Princess Agnes unfurled her fist. A small flame the size of a pumpkin seed flared above her palm. It flickered for a second before snuffing out like a candle in the wind. Biting her lip, the princess attempted to summon another flame several times, to no avail.

“As your mage said, something is absorbing the energy of the flame. This whole mountain might be under an enchantment.”

“That means we’re in the right place.”

“The rune is likely using fire mana to maintain the barrier,” the princess said, nodding. She stroked her chin with a pensive expression before adding, “Or, the dragon might be absorbing all the mana in this area to replenish its magic. Either way, the key to the location of the dragon’s lair is likely somewhere on this mountain.”

Above them, clouds were gathering in the north. Riftan furrowed his brow as he studied the sky. It would be impossible to lead their eight hundred or so men up such a high peak in these harsh conditions. Passing his gaze over the dozens of wagons and exhausted horses, he came to a decision.

“From here on, only I, Ruth, and thirty of the best knights will venture further. Your Highness, you should remain here with the rest of the party.”

“Hold on! Why is that?”

“Your magic is of no use here,” Riftan replied flatly. “I do not wish to weigh us down.”

Furious, the princess raised her chin, but soon seemed to acquiesce into quiet disgruntlement. She was well aware she would be of little help without her magic.

Riftan selected thirty high-ranking knights, including Hebaron, for the scout party and began the climb up the rocky mountain with the necessary equipment. Though Ruth kept slowing down the pace, Riftan could not leave him behind. It would be impossible to scout the mountainside without him.

“How much longer to the spot the princess told us about?” Gabel said.

Riftan looked up at the sky to gauge the remaining distance. “If we press on, we should be there by sunset.”

“It would be nice if we didn’t freeze to death before then.”

Ruth drew in his wolfskin cloak and hacked a dry cough. Noticing the mage’s blue lips, Riftan furrowed his brow. Ruth had always been able to keep up, even when he was a mercenary up north. He had assumed he would be able to handle this as well. Looking at the mage now, that assessment might have been wrong.

Noticing that the firestone he was clasping had run out of mana, Ruth cursed and flung it away. “Let us not tarry. Once we destroy the rune responsible for the barrier, the mana distribution will normalize as well.”

The knights darted worried glances at him before setting out once more. Eventually, the slope became noticeably gentle, and a field of gleaming snow opened out before them. Taking care not to slip, Riftan stepped onto the frozen snow.

Something came flying at his head. His instincts taking over, he drew his sword and rolled out of the way. The ground shuddered like an earthquake, and a dark shadow loomed over them.

Readying himself for combat, Riftan looked up in time to see a giant of glittering, silvery ice rising between the rocks.

“It’s a golem!” he shouted to the knights. “Everyone, out of the way!”

The giant swept a massive arm across the snow. The knights scattered, leaping out of the way. Riftan snuck closer, keeping flush against the side of a rock. He let loose a hook that latched onto the golem’s arm. The ice giant lurched and began to tilt to one side.

Taking the opportunity, the knights threw their own hook and chain contraptions at the monster. Soon, the thirty-kevette (approximately 9 meters) magical puppet lay tightly bound in chains of steel and drake scales.

Riftan promptly hopped onto the giant and swung his sword. The blade gleamed blue before burrowing deep into the creature’s skull. An instant later, white light began to stream from its massive body. There was no time to move away before the golem exploded like shattering glass.

Covering his face, Riftan dove to evade the shooting ice shards. The heavy impact left him dazed for a moment, and he lay sprawled over the frozen ground before getting to his feet. Panting, he waited for his darkened vision to adjust. He was in a snowfield shrouded in dense fog. The other knights were nowhere to be seen.

“Hebaron! Ruth!”

Hearing his voice echo hollowly in the air, Riftan furrowed his brow. Could this be magic at work?

Even if he had been caught in the blast, he could not have fallen far. After a quick scan of the surroundings, he searched his clothes for a flare. Unfortunately, the flint refused to produce a spark no matter how hard he struck it. In the end, he gave up on finding his men and set forth. It would likely be faster if he tracked down and eliminated what was causing this than wait for Ruth to come.

Using the sky as a compass, Riftan made his way up the slope. The brewing snowstorm soon struck, making the task all the more difficult. He swore under his breath as he searched the snowy mountain for a place to take shelter. A hazy outline of a rock face showed through the blizzard not too far away. Hoping to find a cave there, Riftan waded through the wind and snow. He sighed with relief when he saw an opening in the rock wall.

As soon as he stepped inside, an eerie chill coursed through him. He stared into the darkness, too stunned to move.

A woman dangled from the cave ceiling by a noose around her slender neck. Beneath her limp, black hair, her face was streaked with tears of blood.

Riftan staggered back. He had seen that face countless times in his nightmares. Horror-struck, he fled the cave.

He did not know how long he sprinted through the blizzard as if fleeing an evil spirit. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight crushing his back. Cold, damp fingers wrapped around his throat, and clammy hair clung sickeningly to his nape.

Riftan slowly looked over his shoulder to find the waxen face of a woman. He thrashed about, trying to throw her off. The corpse shattered and crumbled into white dust as it hit the ground.

He let out a sharp sob as he watched it disappear.

It’s magic that affects the mind.

That was the first thought that flashed through his head. He ran a shaky hand over his face and struggled to regain composure. It was nothing more than an illusion, a hoax to disconcert the human mind. Desperately repeating this to himself, he began to move. He no longer knew where he was heading.

The wind grew increasingly violent, veiling the surroundings in a snowy haze. Having lost all sense of direction, Riftan vacantly stared at the colorless world. He could no longer think of a reason to continue.

Have I not done enough? Have I not fought enough battles?

Fatigue pressed on his shoulders like a block of iron. No longer able to withstand its weight, he sank to the ground, icy snowflakes clinging to his face.

His breaths came ragged in the biting cold. Despite the chill that seeped all the way to his bones, a strange sense of listlessness washed over him. Was this futile death his fate? His vague thoughts scattered when he noticed a red light shining through the squall.

Riftan slowly blinked. When the mist lifted, he saw a woman standing in the wind, her hair blowing like flickering flames. A halo of light revealed a pale face with cheeks rosy from the cold. He groaned as something lurched in his chest. His whole body trembled with frustration, despair, and resignation. It was always her. If one were to peer into the deepest depths of his heart, there she would be.

…..
Why is it that you are the only one capable of tormenting me so?

Would her presence remain in him forever, like a stuck thorn? He felt his heart being crushed.

The woman approached and touched his frozen cheek with soft, pale fingers. A smile played on her lips while he stared sorrowfully back at her. As it always did in his dreams, her hair fluttered in the wind and tickled his face. His lips twitched.

If I were to die, I should like to return as your hair.

To have no other purpose but to cascade down your back, and every time the wind blows, brush against your lips, your cheeks…

Looking up at her soft smile, he closed his eyes.

***

“Can you hear me?”

Riftan squinted and rubbed his throbbing forehead. Ruth’s ghostly white face swam in his hazy vision and gradually came into focus.

Riftan turned his head and saw the crackling fire. “Was the barrier destroyed?”

Ruth slowly nodded. “The rune was inside the golem’s body. Picking it apart was no easy feat.”

Sitting up, Riftan assessed the conditions of the other knights one by one. Fortunately, all appeared to be unharmed.

“Things could have gone horribly wrong,” Ruth said, handing Riftan a cup of warmed wine. “I think the golem was meant to cast a powerful illusion spell in the event of its destruction. If I hadn’t been there, all of you would have been trapped in it and frozen to death.”

After warming himself with the wine, Riftan loosened the swaddled blanket and picked up his sword. He threw on a thick cloak and walked toward the earth wall Ruth had summoned to block the wind. Past the barrier, dawn was breaking above the snowy field.

Riftan squinted into the light. Tiny ice fragments, presumably the remains of the golem, glittered like diamonds all over the snow-covered slope.

Hebaron quietly walked up next to him and muttered as if to himself, “The final battle is imminent.”

Riftan was busy eyeing the silvery snowfield as though searching for something. Hebaron thumped his large hand on his shoulder with a grin.

“Let’s hurry back to camp, Captain. We need to defeat this dragon as soon as possible so we can go home.”

“Home…”

While Riftan turned the word over in his head, Hebaron set about ordering the others to ready themselves to return to camp.

Once again, Riftan turned his attention to the landscape. Deep footprints formed behind him as he took a few steps out into the snow. He silently stared down at the trail when he realized he had something clutched in his hand.

Unclenching his fist, he did not immediately recognize the object. It took him a while to realize that it was the crude crown he had fashioned from a horseshoe many years ago. He had never been able to give it to her. The blackened circlet crumbled into white dust before his eyes.

He looked down with a faraway gaze before bending to scatter the remnants of the illusion over the snow. With it, he bid farewell to the fantasies he had enshrined in his heart.

No longer will I lose myself in dreams, Riftan silently mouthed.

She did not exist in places like this. She existed solely in reality.

Riftan felt something blaze in his chest. He brushed his fingers against his cold lips. The icy kiss they had shared within the illusion seemed to linger. From now on, he would stop seeking solace in fiction. He recalled instead their real kiss, one smeared with sweat and tears. The living Maximilian had tasted achingly sweet, warm, and pitiful. He stared at his empty hand, then slowly clenched it into a fist.

There was no need for illusions now. If he survived, he would strive to get to know the real woman.

Even if it rips my heart into a thousand pieces.

A sudden gust stirred a flurry of snowflakes. Riftan watched the forsaken landscape for a while before returning to the knights waiting for him.

End of Season 1 Side Story.