TOPWL 212

“Fine. Keep that in mind. For the deep regard you have toward your friend, I will look after Markel myself, so you had better keep today’s conversation a secret.”

Yudit spoke in a gentle coaxing tone.

“You seem very drunk, so you had better return now. I will have the remaining wine sent to your quarters through a servant.”

“Than-thank you.”

Darion bobbed his head again and again as he gave thanks. He rose from his seat and staggered out of the dining hall. Yudit watched Darion’s unsteady back with a cold gaze.

***

“Is there still no contact?”

Yudit hit the desk with his fist as he asked. Because of that uncharacteristic outburst, people around him glanced at him in alarm. In the end, one of the lowest-ranked Centurions stepped ahead and opened his mouth.

“Not yet. But soon……”

“Already four days have passed. More than enough time for some kind of contact!”

Veins stood out over his clenched fist. Yudit bit his lip. The Saintra domain had a river as its water source. Since it did not fully cut across, they dug several channels, and the infiltration was to be carried out through those channels. When a large army approached, defenses would tighten, so they had selected about fifty elites for the infiltration, and once they succeeded, they were supposed to send a carrier pigeon. Yet the time for arrival had long since passed, and still no pigeon had come.

“Has our operation been exposed?”

“That is impossible.”

Markel spoke.

“Wasn’t that channel one that was rarely used from the beginning. The chance of discovery is nearly nonexistent.”

Yudit stared at Markel with a frigid look and spoke.

“You seem very certain of that fact.”

“…Because it was Darion’s plan. Of course I am certain.”

At Markel’s words, Yudit turned his gaze. He drew in a breath, then dropped his head and spoke.

“It is my fault.”

Yudit hit Darion’s cheek fiercely. Smack! Darion’s head snapped aside.

“You killed fifty men. Do you think a mere apology is enough?”

Darion’s face went pale. He immediately knelt before Yudit.

“Please kill me. I will repay even with my life.”

“I will kill you. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Yudit rose and drew his sword. People panicked and tried to restrain him.

“The facts are not even clear yet. Calm yourself!”

At that moment, Bagon, who was restraining Yudit, spoke with a bewildered look.

“Commander, your fever is high.”

“What are you talking about? I am fine.”

“You have acted different from usual… When did it begin. Did you eat something wrong…?”

“I have eaten nothing these past days.”

Yudit shoved Bagon aside in annoyance. His bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait already made his state look poor.

“These cursed bastards. I will kill them all. All of them, all of them…”

As Yudit murmured quickly, he suddenly began to cough violently. His whole body shook from the force of the coughing, and he collapsed right there. Another violent fit broke out, and he spouted blood like a fountain. His eyes fluttered, and he lost consciousness. From his arms, a small medicine bottle rolled onto the floor.

“Commander!”

People rushed toward him, but Shane shouted harshly.

“Do not come near!”

They flinched. Blood foam still poured from Yudit’s mouth. Shane lifted Yudit and saw the medicine bottle on the ground.

“What is this bottle?”

Bagon failed to hide his dismay as he spoke.

“Some days ago he received a gift of fine herbs… I brewed them for him.”

“Do not lose it under any circumstance. And call a physician at once!”

With Yudit in his arms, Shane ran through the corridor. The others murmured as they looked at the bloodstains left where Yudit had fallen. Only Darion remained kneeling in despair.

***

Shane laid Yudit carefully on the bed and asked.

“Are you all right?”

Yudit slowly opened his eyes. Bagon, Shane, and the medic he had ordered to keep silent days earlier stood there. Yudit scowled and wiped his mouth.

“I only bit my tongue a little.”

“I will treat you.”

The medic briskly pulled out a box. He sprayed disinfectant on gauze and pressed it to the tongue, and Yudit scowled at the taste.

“Fortunately it is only a light tear. You will be fine soon.”

Bagon quickly brought water. Yudit rinsed his mouth and spat out all the remaining blood. The medic applied medicine to the torn tongue and then withdrew quietly.

“Were we exposed?”

“It should be fine. Your acting was lacking, but once you spat blood the atmosphere turned grave.”

“Good.”

Yudit brushed his chest with relief. His acting never improved no matter how much he tried. Would it improve a little if he practiced daily like swordsmanship? While he let out a sigh of relief, Shane brought clothes. After he changed out of garments soaked with blood, he felt alive again.

At that moment someone knocked on the door. Everyone lowered their voices and turned toward it.

“It is Darius.”

Bagon checked outside, let in Darius who was a guard, and locked the door.

“We have captured Darion and Markel along with about ten others.”

“You did well.”

Darius bowed his head. Yudit looked around at those near him. From the moment he saw the madweed among the herb pile, all of this had been planned. He deliberately adopted Darion’s plan that had come from Markel, and he pretended to eat the madweed. Then he captured Darion and Markel, which made it hard for Markel to link with other spies.

“What will you do now?”

Bagon asked with curiosity. He had been the one whose eyes had shone the brightest when Yudit had told him the plan. He seemed to especially enjoy plotting things like this. Yudit straightened the bedding and smirked.

“I will fall sick in bed.”

“What?”

“I think it will be perfect if I collapse for about three days and then die… what do you think?”

“I think that is quite a good plan.”

Yudit faced the chuckling Bagon with a satisfied smile.

***

Three days passed. Darion, who had neither eaten nor drunk properly during the past days, had grown visibly gaunt. He had not been denied rations of food and water, but because he believed he had brought the commander to such a state, nothing went down his throat.

They said Yudit was gravely ill. They said he had collapsed and had not regained consciousness. The cause was the madweed. That madweed killed eight out of ten. Even sturdy men dropped like flies, so how could the frail Yudit endure it. Darion felt his insides burn pitch-black.

At that moment, the door opened, and someone came in. It was the soldier in charge of rations. He tossed in two chunks of black bread hard as stone and a single canteen, then turned away. Darion rushed to grip the bars and asked.

“Excuse me, the commander. Is the commander all right?”

The soldier cast a scornful glance at Darion and spoke.

“He is still hovering at death’s door.”

“Is there… no sign of recovery?”

“None. But is that so important? No matter what happens to the commander, you will die.”

Thud, the door closed. Inside the cell, only Darion and Markel and some rats remained again. Darion lowered his head in despair. He had accepted death already when he went to war. But the pain of betraying the one who had trusted him weighed unbearably.

From the dark, a hand snatched up the bread and the water. The rats squeaked and ran about busily in hope of crumbs.

“Damn vermin.”

Markel stomped the ground while standing with a crooked posture. From the moment they entered the cell, Markel had poured out endless complaints.

“If you won’t eat, give me the bread.”

Even with bread already in his grasp, Markel shamelessly held out his hand toward Darion. Darion, who had no appetite, handed his bread to Markel. Markel snatched it and dropped heavily to the ground.

“Markel.”

“What?”

“Tell me. Was it really you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you really… put madweed in the prince’s bundle of herbs?”