Aya Ran Away - Chapter 8

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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 8
Aya could not fathom what longing Nahal harbored behind those eyes that glittered like stars.
It was merely curious to her that he could preserve such delicate sentiment after trampling through countless battlefields where blood and flesh flew in all directions.
Such mundane thoughts circled her mind.
“……Your humble servant greets the King.”
Nahal knelt and bowed his head.
“I am overwhelmed by such undeserved grace. I shall repay the King’s will with loyalty.”
As the King raised his hand, the Attendant spoke.
“We welcome the valiant blade that will bring victory to Rebar.”
Thunderous applause erupted all at once.
Aya, who had been watching Nahal all this while, lifted her gaze and glanced at the ‘King.’
Even facing Nahal, the ‘King’ said nothing.
It was not merely a matter of royal protocol or decorum.
The massive bull-headed creature seemed ill at ease.
From a distance, Aya could feel its fierce, snorting breath.
Its wings fluttered, and its hanging eyes trembled as though they might make a clicking sound.
Aya knew it was unlikely, and yet perhaps it was possible—a suspicion took hold of her.
The ‘King’ might be afraid of Nahal.
Though she wondered whether so vast and covetous a being could truly fear anything, the thought would not leave her.
Aya believed it had something to do with Nahal’s Malevolent Spirit Repulsion.
The King’s Attendant concluded the ceremony and blessed the King and Nahal.
Once more, applause like thunder burst forth.
Some among the crowd offered prayers for the King’s longevity and well-being.
The round-faced Attendant hurried down the steps and approached Nahal.
“The King has prepared a banquet.”
Nahal nodded.
The Attendant gestured to the palace attendants who stood like walls, summoning them to escort Nahal and his retinue to the banquet hall.
As he departed from the chamber, young attendants scattered flowers over Nahal’s head as the common folk outside had done, blessing him as he went.
“May the gods of Rebar watch over your head!”
“May the gods bless you!”
Seeing a satisfied smile settle on the plump-cheeked face, Aya rolled her eyes, wondering if even this had been orchestrated by the King’s Attendant.
She did not know the Attendant well, but one thing was clear—he had utterly failed to discern the mind of his master.
The ‘King’s’ eyes were burning fiercely upon the Attendant.
As Nahal departed, Malevolent Spirits that had sprouted from the King’s shadow writhed and crawled toward the Attendant.
‘I’ll need to shake them off before they take hold.’
Aya swallowed a sigh inwardly and thought.
She wondered if their paths would cross again.
Contemplating the spreading rumors about herself, her head began to throb.
From the shadows, Aya turned her gaze back to Nahal.
She watched his receding form as he walked out into the welcoming light.
Several noble personages approached Nahal.
Surrounded by the crowd, his expression was lost to view.
Aya wondered if perhaps Nahal too wore a joyful face among them.
She stood quietly leaning on her cane, watching him as if enchanted.
She observed in silence the figure she held in fondness and longing.
* * *
“Come to your senses.”
A quiet voice beside her fell like cold water.
The moment her eyes blinked open, reality rushed back.
Aya turned her gaze toward the owner of that voice, emerging from the memory of the past.
The one whose eyes held reproach was Chifor, Aya’s half-sister.
Aya was attending a palace tea gathering that Chifor was hosting.
“Honestly, how do you always manage to embarrass me like this?”
At Chifor’s quiet rebuke, Aya’s eyes went vacant.
The noble young ladies around them let out low, stifled laughs.
“Forgive her, Princess. Princess Aya must have been tired.”
Someone interjected with mock concern and a veiled sneer.
“This girl would be hopeless if I didn’t look after her.”
Chifor murmured.
The young ladies beside her praised Chifor’s warm heart for cherishing her wayward sister.
This flawless princess with not a single blemish delighted in managing her deficient half-sister like a pet monkey.
Which is to say: whenever boredom struck, she’d summon Aya, think to herself ‘At least I’m better than that,’ and draw comfort from the comparison.
Each time Aya’s shortcomings became apparent, Chifor’s delight was unmistakable, and by way of reward, she’d send her off with sweets pressed into her hands.
The other young ladies gathered here were not so different from Chifor.
Their behavior was petty, yet Aya found herself oddly pitying them—so much so that she’d often willingly perform for them at these gatherings in exchange for a few fruits and confections.
‘Pitiful creatures,’ she thought.
Aya clicked her tongue inwardly.
They possessed no true desires.
Their ordinary dreams and hopes had long since been castrated away, leaving only the scars where they’d been severed.
Their condition was so wretched that even a Malevolent Spirit could not cling to them.
Though all of them possessed noble birth, beautiful faces, and healthy bodies, none could entertain even a single wish or dream.
Had their station been slightly lower, they might have known freedom; had they possessed even a single flaw, the burden would have been lighter.
But they were excessively noble, entirely flawless in appearance.
Women condemned to live as dolls, moving only at the will of their houses.
‘Wretched things,’ she mused.
Aya pitied them, and yet…
“On such a fine day, unable even to remove your veil… truly, I feel for you.”
…they pitied her in return.
The difference was only one of degree; they despised each other with equal measure.
Aya shook her head lightly.
The exchange of hollow sympathies ended, and idle gossip took its place.
It was precisely for this moment that Aya had come to this gathering.
She had not endured and sat through all those tedious hours merely to receive some worthless pity.
“Being made commander is not all fortune, it seems.”
Someone’s remark broke the ice, and news of Nahal came pouring forth.
The intelligence that emerged in this room about Nahal was far more detailed and reliable than anything Yesili brought back.
It was only natural—coming as it did from the lips of the highborn.
“His first appointment is to Ragas, of all places.”
Aya’s ears could scarcely believe themselves.
‘Ragas? Did they say Ragas?’
Ragas.
Once the most prosperous seaport for maritime trade in all of Rebar, yet a place laden with conflict both historical and geographical—a city where armed clashes had been unceasing for more than a century.
Then one day, through the negligence of those in power, the Magical Formation that had been carved into the harbor was destroyed; Monsters poured forth, and an enemy nation seized the opportunity to claim part of the port.
Cleverly done—they’d even managed to plant their flag of conquest in the very heart of that Monster-infested pit.
In the aftermath, the Ragas Command had hastily evacuated the civilians and now barely held the inner perimeter.
‘And yet.’
Now Nahal, scarcely installed as commander, had been ordered to reclaim it.
“My goodness.”
Someone asked in surprise.
“Was he not appointed as legion commander?”
“From what I hear, he’s been assigned to the Ragas Command.”
Even to Aya, who knew nothing of such matters, this seemed an utterly senseless and inexplicable appointment.
“Why would they send a man with only land-warfare experience out to sea?”
“Who can say.”
“And they say the situation has become exceedingly difficult?”
As the conversation continued, Aya’s face grew noticeably paler.
‘A prestigious commander dismissed, and in his place they’ve thrust this newcomer? That newcomer is Nahal?’
Most of the soldiers imprisoned in Ragas were native to the city.
They would never willingly obey this brash young upstart who’d supplanted their respected commander.
Moreover, there were still people in some quarters who cursed Nahal for his origins.
Even among commoners, many dismissed him for being from the Northern Region; the highborn scarcely needed to be mentioned.
But setting aside all these trivial matters, the true horror was this: sending him into a battle he’d never experienced before, with no preparation whatsoever. It was as good as ordering him to his death.
“How dreadful it all is,” one murmured.
“Do you suppose he’s earned someone’s displeasure?”
‘Ah, yes.’
He’d earned someone’s profound displeasure.
There was no need to think twice.
This was the King’s doing.

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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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