Aya Ran Away - Chapter 7

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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 7
Pearls strung along each wing, each one serving as an eye.
Behind the human head sat the enormous head of a bull, a man’s head cradled within the beast’s gaping jaw.
Every so often the bull’s eyes—those layered over the head—would twitch, and each time they snapped open, they looked not like an ox’s eyes at all, but like those of a goat.
Vertical pupils flashed with an alien gleam.
No matter how you looked at it, this was no human being.
Below that head, Evil Spirits bowed and clung to the king’s limbs and wings in writhing masses.
Had this been a true human, those countless Evil Spirits would have drained away every last fragment of the soul long ago, leaving only a withered husk to rot.
So the ‘king’ was not human.
Each time Aya found herself face to face with something not human, something other, a violent terror seized her.
What frightened her most was that only her eyes perceived it this way.
“It has been so long since I inquired after your welfare. Have you been well?”
Even the voice asking was not that of a single person.
It resonated like many voices speaking in unison.
“This humble servant begs leave to say that the princess has remained in peace beneath Your Majesty’s grace.”
The Nursemaid answered with practiced swiftness.
“In two days’ time, a Meritorious Service Ceremony shall be held.”
Aya’s ears pricked up at once.
Perhaps the Nahal she had encountered today would be the ceremony’s honored guest.
“Let the princess prepare herself and attend.”
“I shall obey, Your Majesty.”
The Nursemaid bowed low with reverence.
The king continued.
“Furthermore, I am told the princess’s health has been poor. That she troubles the throne with frequent ailments is a grave disloyalty—henceforth, guard yourself that no such reports reach these ears again.”
It was spoken as though in concern for his daughter, yet no human emotion could possibly remain in that king.
Familial affection held no meaning for the ‘king’—it was a concept wholly foreign to its nature.
And yet there was reason that this ‘king’ acknowledged Aya as a princess, summoned her each time to ask after her health, and kept her within the palace.
The ‘king’ desired something of her.
For that purpose alone, she was kept under watch so she could not flee.
“I shall station a physician at the Separate Palace—call upon them as you have need.”
The unprecedented gesture drew an audible gasp from the Nursemaid.
“We are overwhelmed by such boundless mercy, Your Majesty—words cannot suffice for our gratitude.”
She answered in a flurry, her voice wavering in a way wholly unlike her usual composure.
Aya, too, bent her head deeply in silent thanks.
Then she lifted it again to look up at the ‘king’.
Every eye adorning its wings blazed, and all of them turned their gaze down upon her.
As Aya rose from her seat, the eyes within the bull’s gaping mouth opened wide.
Hundreds of eyes—those of Evil Spirits and all—fixed upon her at once.
‘What could it possibly want?’
The strange intensity of their attention, its meaning—Aya could make no sense of it.
* * *
Two days could seem both brief and endless.
Uncertain though she was whether she would truly see Nahal, the anticipation had kept Aya awake and restless for nearly the whole span, her eyes scarcely closing.
From her elevated seat, positioned lower than the throne yet still above the other royal attendants, Aya pressed one hand softly against her racing heart.
The thought of encountering Nahal so soon set her nerves ablaze.
Creak.
The heavy wooden doors swung open with a groan, and at once soft gasps rippled through the hall.
Nahal and the other warriors entered the Hall.
Beneath the sunlight streaming through the windows, his hair gleamed like a golden crown.
The characteristic dark skin of the Northern Region made his fair hair shine with striking harmony.
A snatch of song came to her mind unbidden—one sung outside the palace walls in his honor.
‘…I wonder if he’s heard it.’
Some said that any man must secretly take pleasure in songs praising his name, but Nahal seemed like the sort who would find no joy in such things.
Aya smiled softly behind her veil, amused by the idle thought.
From the moment he crossed the threshold, she did not let a single movement of his escape her notice.
The sharp fall of his feet upon the crimson carpet, the blade at his side as he ascended the steps, the fluid grace of his prostration as he bowed his head low—all of it she held within her gaze.
As Nahal drew nearer to the throne, Aya found herself able to study him with ever greater clarity.
Without thinking, she craned her neck forward for a better view.
His face was carved as though by a master sculptor—flawless, without a single flaw to be found.
The gathered courtiers murmured softly among themselves.
Among those from the upper families, some cleared their throats and fanned their flushed faces with paper fans.
“Imrabel, Supreme Commander of Levar and our King, now enters!”
With the attendant’s sonorous voice, the King walked into the hall.
Aya felt an unpleasant chill wash over her in waves.
Everyone rose at once and paid proper obeisance to the King.
Aya lowered her head, striving not to look at him.
As the King raised his hand, the attendant beside him raised his voice once more.
“Nahal of the Poros Family, son of Kathran, hear now. Your deeds on the field of battle are not trifling; the King commends you and all those under your command for their service. By this decree, you are appointed Legion Commander of mighty Levar. You shall approach this office with loyal hearts alone. Follow no word save the King’s will, and draw your sword for the nation’s sake and none other…….”
The announcement of Nahal’s appointment as Legion Commander set the hall into murmuring.
High-ranking officials from the Northern Region had appeared from time to time, but never before had one been appointed to supreme military command.
The Northern Region, ungoverned by the great Twelve Great Houses, had long endured countless forms of discrimination, both known and hidden, throughout Levar.
The fact that it received the most migrants, along with the distinctive skin tone of northerners themselves, had become all-too-common fuel for ignorant prejudice.
For this reason, the promotion was extraordinary indeed.
When the murmuring showed no sign of subsiding, the King’s brow furrowed.
The attendant at the King’s side struck the shaft of his staff against the floor—rap, rap—and only then did the noise finally fade.
She noticed several members of the Council of Elders exchanging looks with furrowed brows and covered mouths.
The attendant’s proclamation continued at length after that, but Aya heard none of it.
She saw only Nahal.
Kneeling there with his head bowed, he looked less like a man than like a divine messenger descended from the heavens.
Behind his back, a radiance seemed to pour down from on high, bathing him in brilliant light.
Watching the Evil Spirits that emanated from the King recoil in his presence, withering before they could draw near, Aya trembled slightly.
When she first witnessed this, she had nearly cried out.
It was far more than merely remaining untouched by such entities.
Nahal was the only person who could repel Evil Spirits.
Aya knew this instinctively.
And there was more.
That power seemed to radiate outward from him, spreading to all those around him.
‘Does he know what he is capable of?’
The question suddenly gripped her.
Whether he could see Evil Spirits as she could, whether he dispelled them with conscious intent or by some inborn nature—she could not say with certainty.
Yet her mind inclined toward the latter answer.
His gaze had never once turned toward an Evil Spirit.
He was simply a strong man.
One who held his heart entirely within his own keeping, leaving no crack through which any Evil Spirit could wedge itself.
She gazed at him, entranced, her eyes vacant with wonder.
‘Do others see him as I do?’
The vivid light stung her eyes.
There beside the King—the one who always kindled fear in her—Aya suddenly found even that dread had fallen away.
With Nahal near, standing even in the presence of ‘the King’ felt no longer terrible.
“Raise your head.”
The attendant spoke.
Without hesitation, he lifted his gaze.
Beneath long lashes, golden eyes gleamed as if light itself had been cut and forged into them.
‘Ah.’
Aya caught her breath.
Not a trace of cloudiness resided in those pupils.
His gaze was always honest and true.
She could read the emotion dwelling in his eyes with ease.
Within weariness, hope was glimmering.

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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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