Courage

Night hung heavy in the sky.

Somewhere near the edge of Mahal's city walls.

Snow, debris, and withered weeds were piled at the base of the wall, rustling softly in the night wind.

Over toward the Temple of Art, burning embers still drifted into the night sky, casting a dim red glow across half the horizon.

Balu stopped at the base of the wall.

Using both hands, he cleared away the debris and dead grass to reveal an opening roughly a person's width across and barely tall enough to crawl through crouched over.

“Balu, is this the secret passage you were talking about?”

Rosie stood before the hole with Vera on her back.

Balu panted heavily. Though the arrow in his rear had already been pulled out, the open wound had plagued him the entire way here.

Hearing Rosie's question, he grinned. “This is a passage made by smugglers. I used to help them haul goods through here. Heh.”

Rosie fell silent for a moment, glancing down at the hole and then back toward the distant firelight.

Well, crawling through a dirt tunnel was probably just an indispensable part of adventuring in another world.

She lowered Vera from her back and handed her to Balu to hold before crouching down. Bracing one hand against the edge of the hole, she ducked her head and shoulders inside.

The interior of the passage was even narrower than it appeared from the outside, its earthen walls embedded with jagged gravel.

She bent her waist, crawling forward on hands and knees.

The tunnel wasn't deep—barely over a meter long—and within a few pushes, she reached the exit.

Poking half her body out of the opening, she confirmed there was no danger outside before squirming the rest of the way through.

“Push her through.”

Balu called back from inside, turning Vera sideways to push her into the opening.

Rosie caught her by the shoulders and arms, carefully pulling her out of the tunnel.

Finally came Balu.

Crouching down, he pulled his broad shoulders in as far as they would go and squeezed in sideways.

His massive frame was a tight fit for the passage, requiring a great deal of struggling before he finally popped out of the hole.

Rosie hoisted Vera back onto her shoulders.

She raised her head, gazing out at the night-shrouded wilderness beyond the city walls.

Moonlight bathed the withered grass and bushes scattered across the snow, outlining them in a hazy silver-gray.

“Let's go. We need to put as much distance between us and Mahal as possible.”

Balu didn't move immediately.

He turned around, gazing toward the direction of the Temple of War in Mahal.

“I left... I wonder how my brothers are doing.”

That they had managed to escape so easily was entirely thanks to Balu's beastkin brothers.

While Rosie had been holding off the Count's guards, several green-skinned beastkin had charged out.

They held carpentry hammers, felling axes, and thick wooden clubs.

Without formation or protective gear, relying purely on raw blooded courage, they swung their crude tools at the Count's guards.

Caught off guard, several soldiers were smashed to the ground in quick succession.

Before the guards could reorganize their lines, one of the beastkin turned around and roared at Balu:

“Boss! Run! Get out of here!”

Balu had paused for a single second before grabbing Vera and running.

Rosie took the opportunity to disengage from combat as well.

Sliding into the panicked crowd, the two had made good their escape.

But those green-skinned beastkin had stayed behind.

Rosie fell silent for a moment.

“They'll be fine. The God of War will protect them.”

Balu shook his head.

“The God of War doesn't protect cowards, and my brothers don't need protection. They are brave warriors.”

Rosie glanced at Balu, his silhouette broad and stocky under the moonlight.

“They fought against overwhelming odds without backing down. That alone proves their bravery.”

Balu nodded slowly. “You're right. They proved it.”

His voice regained some of its energy.

“We are all warriors of the God of War.”

Rosie didn't respond.

Carrying Vera on her back, she turned and walked ahead, her boots crunching against the snow.

Balu limped behind her.

They ventured deeper into the night, leaving the burning embers of Mahal behind on the horizon.

At that very moment.

Inside the Count's manor in Mahal.

Eliza entered a spacious room carrying a beautifully crafted wooden box.

A deep red carpet covered the floor, and in the center stood a four-poster bed draped in a velvet coverlet.

The candles on the sconces had been burning for some time, wax trickling slowly down their edges.

A faint scent of cosmetics lingered in the air.

Eliza walked over to a round table in the middle of the room and placed the wooden box onto it.

She opened the lid.

The box was lined with dark velvet, and resting in the center of the fabric was an ashen head.

Its single eye shifted slightly, coming to a rest on Eliza's face.

Eliza looked down at the head in the box, a barely perceptible curve of satisfaction playing on her lips.

“My dear Elizabeth, I have obtained what you wanted,” she spoke to the empty air of the room.

A hidden door opened along one of the inner walls.

A figure stepped out from behind the secret door.

It was Countess Elizabeth of Stratholme.

“My dear Eliza, you got it?”

Her pace quickened as she walked over to the round table.

Her gaze landed on the head inside the box.

The solitary eye looked back at her; two women and a head stared at each other in the candlelight for a quiet moment.

Eliza reached out a finger, gently nudging the head in the box. “Thanks to that vampire hunter, we've obtained the ultimate source of power.”

Elizabeth raised her head, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “Wonderful. Eternal life is within reach.”

The single eye shifted slightly, watching the two people discussing it.

As if suddenly recalling a minor detail, Elizabeth asked, “By the way, were those people 'taken care of'?”

Eliza drew back her finger. “Nikus is dead, and the vampire hunter won't be living much longer either. As for the remaining girl and the beastkin, they escaped.”

“A beastkin and a girl?” Elizabeth repeated.

“Just an adventurer and a beastkin laborer. Nikus's death has already been pinned on them anyway. Let them run.”

Eliza closed the lid.

“Killing everyone would only leave behind obvious clues. Framing them diverts the attention of the Norman royal family, giving us time to claim this power.”

Elizabeth's gaze lingered on Eliza's face before her lips curved into a soft arch.

“Eliza, you're still as wicked as the day I met you.”

Eliza smiled as well. She reached out, resting her hand gently over the back of Elizabeth's, her eyes softening under the warm candlelight.

“If I weren't wicked, how could you ever love me?”

Elizabeth held Eliza's hand tightly.

Their shadows drew close in the flickering glow, intertwining into a single silhouette against the wall.