Aya Ran Away - Chapter 17

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 17
Like a newsboy crying extras, such proclamations echoed through every alleyway of Levar’s capital.
Word had come that the King of Argarithe—Levar’s mortal enemy, the ancient rival spoken of for a thousand years—had died suddenly.
“The old fox of Argarithe clutched at his heart, coughed blood, and perished!”
The news came wrapped with another revelation: the skilled king’s throne had passed to an untested boy.
If Levar was the great power of the east, Argarithe was the great power of the west.
Between the two neighboring kingdoms, conflict—great and small—flared without end.
Ragas, the port city that Nahal had reclaimed not long ago, was merely one example among many.
Though the two nations had never formally declared all-out war, the banners of Levar and Argarithe stood on opposite sides of every battlefield across the continent.
They fought proxy wars under the guise of supporting their allies.
In such circumstances, the people of Levar watched closely to see what the young King of Argarithe would do.
And the boy king of Argarithe, remarkably bold, dispatched a State Letter to Levar.
It was an extraordinary proposal: to cast aside ancient grudges and seek mutual prosperity.
The State Letter was delivered through Siprot, which had long maintained neutrality and balance between the two kingdoms.
The envoys from Siprot did not shirk from this glorious errand.
Argarithe proposed talks to Levar.
By official record, there was no history of ambassadors from either Levar or Argarithe setting foot on the other’s soil for roughly three hundred years.
For this reason, the boy king of Argarithe designated Siprot as the site of their first summit.
When this extraordinary and remarkable State Letter reached the royal palace, the response from Levar’s king, Imrabel, was measured.
“The boy plays at scheming.”
He spoke thus, mocking the King of Argarithe.
The Siprot envoys had expected the king’s refusal at that moment.
Yet to their astonishment, as the ‘King’ finished reading the State Letter, a faint smile crossed his face.
The Siprot envoys felt their bodies shudder.
The ‘King’s’ smile flashed like a well-honed axe blade.
They felt a chill creep down their spines.
The King of Argarithe had written the letter in the most impeccable formal style.
All the circumstances made clear that Argarithe had been the first to bow and submit.
At the very end of this lengthy correspondence, the King of Argarithe appended a single request.
It was that Nahal grace the talks with his presence.
* * *
The ‘King’ agreed readily.
All the people of Levar who heard the news were shocked.
An enemy kingdom summoning the nation’s hero—surely the request was made with foul intent.
No king in his right mind would consent to such a thing.
“This is madness!”
One of Nahal’s subordinates leaped from his seat, crying out in protest.
Nahal, who had been reading the Royal Decree aloud, made no immediate reply; but when others rose to join the opposition, he heaved a heavy sigh.
“We do not know what schemes Argarithe harbors. The General cannot possibly go to such a place.”
“……It is surely a trap.”
Nahal tilted his head slightly.
There was no flaw in what his men said.
The conflict with Argarithe was not yet resolved, and despite the king’s State Letter, there had been no withdrawal from the contested territories.
Of course, reports from each region indicated that the opposing forces had agreed to temporary armistice negotiations, entering a brief period of calm.
Yet without knowing Argarithe’s true intentions, they could not hastily seize the hand that was offered.
There was much to deliberate, yet the king—contrary to his custom—accepted their proposal with surprising ease.
Moreover, he sent word agreeing even to their unreasonable demands.
He was a hero in Levar; in Argarithe, they called him a butcher.
To send such a man to the negotiating table.
It was dangerous.
Most people in Levar, including Nahal’s own subordinates, believed the king had consented to these talks in order to eliminate Nahal.
Could the king ask for a better opportunity?
This was a chance to finally finish a hyena-like creature who returned alive from every battlefield, who turned the tide to victory even when driven into a trap.
The king would seize the pretext of peace while not letting slip this chance to rid himself of the thorn that was Nahal.
“Even if you return safely, the danger will not have passed.”
Bardal, standing nearby, spoke with unusual formality of address.
He was right.
Even if he survived, they could pin the charge of plotting treason with Argarithe upon him.
If the king issued such a judgment, there would be no path to clear his name.
At the sight of his subordinates pouring out their concerns, Nahal’s brow furrowed.
“But can one refuse a king’s command?”
At Nahal’s question, everyone seated fell silent.
He was right.
No matter how senseless the order, there was a duty to obey it.
After some discussion, nothing changed.
Nahal had no intention of avoiding the task assigned to him.
From the moment he learned his name appeared on the State Letter, Nahal used traveling merchants and mercenaries who moved freely across borders to gather information about Argarithe’s new king.
The new King of Argarithe was the sole heir of his predecessor.
Because of this, he was extremely cautious about exposure to the outside world.
Moreover, he had spent a long period in recuperation under the pretext of being sickly, so little was known about him.
This meant Nahal received equal parts affirmative and negative answers to his concerns.
“I will attend the summit. I’ll take only one or two of you with me, so narrow down the candidates and report back.”
Nahal spoke and rose from his seat.
He heard his subordinates calling after him, trying to stop him, but he did not pause.
When he opened the door and stepped outside, the night air rolled in like a wave, engulfing him.
To hide his troubled mood, Nahal hummed a familiar song.
As if responding to that melody, a memory from not long ago surfaced.
* * *
“I truly… never expected you would come to visit.”
Yesili spoke these words as she entered the reception room prepared in the Temple.
Nahal, who had been sitting, rose and offered a light bow of respect.
She regarded him with the eyes of someone observing something strange, then greeted him with proper courtesy.
“To receive such a distinguished person here—I almost feel as though I’m committing a discourtesy.”
Yesili spoke with a smile.
“I didn’t come to concern myself with tedious formalities. Please, sit.”
Even as he said this, Nahal observed her with a careful gaze.
Searching through old memories, comparing his benefactor with the woman before him was not easy.
Yet somehow, the thought that she was not the one kept dominating his mind.
That day’s song had been real.
But whether then or now, he could not feel from this woman before him that sudden, brilliant sensation he remembered.
“You’ve come to satisfy your curiosity. Tell me—do I resemble the benefactor you were searching for?”
“I cannot clearly recall her face….”
Nahal, who had been about to say something, furrowed his brow.
“Are you unwell?”
At Yesili’s question, Nahal nodded.
That was it.
The reason searching for his benefactor had proven so difficult was that there were flaws not only in the Temple’s records, but in Nahal’s own memory as well.
Nahal could not clearly remember his benefactor’s face.
He certainly remembered the song, the gentle words, the warmth of her touch—but whenever he tried to recall her appearance, his head ached as though it might shatter.
It was a pain like touching somewhere he should not touch.
Because of this, he could not even determine from memory whether his benefactor had been a woman or a man.
He could only assume, based on the tone of voice and timbre, that she had likely been a woman.
Since then, to be safe, he had searched for priestesses regardless.
“How long have you been living in the Temple?”
“I have no precise memory, but I believe I’ve lived here since infancy, from around the time I turned one year old.”
Nahal nodded quietly.
He had been assuming his benefactor was even younger than he had been at that time.
“Is it possible that….”
He who knew no fear on the battlefield felt his hands trembling before the delicate priestess, who was barely half his size.
“Did you ever offer blessings and prayers to soldiers when you were a child?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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