The boy enveloped Grace to an almost embarrassing degree. Even as they tumbled down in a tangled mess, he somehow held her so desperately tight that she didn't lose consciousness.
Before long, the spinning world stopped. She summoned all her strength and rose from where she lay. But Andrew was slumped over. Grace quickly checked his pulse.
Please, please.
"Ha…."
The moment she felt a clear pulse under her fingertips, a long sigh escaped her. But her relief was short-lived.
Grrrrr.
At the bloodthirsty beast's growl coming from behind, the hairs all over her body stood on end. Grace held her breath and turned around. Between the black silhouettes of gnarled trees, the beast's eyes gleamed horrifyingly.
Grace quickly stood up and faced the creature. Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
Then, along with the sound of someone coming down the slope, a shout was heard.
"Step back!!!"
When she took a step back, the creature took a step forward. Beneath the moonlight, its sinister teeth looked as though they would tear her apart at any moment. There was still distance between them, but for the four-legged creature, it would be mere moments.
She felt Andrew's body at her heels. If she stepped back, the boy would undoubtedly die.
Grace glanced around for weapons. She couldn't find her sword, but she saw arrows instead. She kept her eyes on the werewolf and slowly lowered her body. In response, the creature also lowered its stance.
Her heart pounded as if it would burst, and her breathing grew ragged. Grace quickly grabbed her bow and arrow and rose. Then, recalling her teacher's lessons, she nocked the arrow as swift as lightning.
The moment her arrowhead pointed toward the werewolf, the creature charged. She wanted to release the bowstring right away at the beast closing in with every passing second, but Grace gritted her teeth and endured.
Her teacher's voice echoed in her mind.
'Hunting is all about timing.'
A little more.
Come a little closer.
And finally, the moment the creature entered her range, Grace's arrow flew, slicing through the air.
The arrow struck its foreleg, but it wasn't enough to kill the massive werewolf. The beast twisted in pain, then charged ferociously as if enraged.
Even seeing that, Grace calmly nocked her next arrow. The creature's sharp teeth were right before her, yet she didn't retreat. She had nowhere to retreat to. This time, she aimed for its neck.
With less than three meters between them, Grace fired her second arrow. Unfortunately, rather than its neck, the arrow struck its back.
Grace didn't give up and nocked another arrow. But her right arm trembled as she tried to pull the stiff bowstring in succession. The werewolf's stench carried on the wind seemed to paralyze her nose. The sound of the beast's claws scraping against the dry ground approached terrifyingly. As inevitable death came to mind, the vision of her parents' charred carriage flickered like a mirage.
'No, get a hold of yourself!'
Even so, she couldn't stop her right hand from beginning to shake noticeably. Should she release the bowstring now? It was precisely then, as despair surged—
An unbelievable warmth enveloped her as a very large, solid body pressed against her from behind. A large hand covered her right hand, which had barely been holding the bowstring drawn, and pulled the string she hadn't been able to draw fully all the way back.
The mirage of the charred carriage vanished, and she saw the nape of the leaping creature's neck align in a straight line with her arrowhead. Grace shouted quickly.
"Release!"
Walter trusted Grace's aim and released the bowstring.
Twang—!
The arrow flew like a shot and pierced through the inside of the werewolf's gaping maw. The beast's massive body crashed right before their eyes, and Walter blocked Grace's front with his body.
The breath she had been holding burst out. After catching her breath for a long while, she raised her head to find Walter looking down at her. Behind him, the bright yellow moon revealed its overwhelming presence, but Grace couldn't take her eyes off the man staring down at her.
With an expression that revealed nothing of what he was thinking, he remained silent for a moment before wordlessly turning her around. Then he pressed his hand firmly against her back before pulling it away.
"……?"
"It seems the gargoyle claw fortunately only pierced your cloak."
And without giving her time to respond, he rolled up her left sleeve. Blood had welled on her forearm where the stiff bowstring had passed.
Only upon seeing her own injury did Grace recall Andrew. When she hurriedly turned around, two knights who had followed Walter were examining Andrew.
"You brat, get up!"
Despite the rough words, the hands lifting their comrade were careful.
"Is he alright?"
When Grace quickly approached and asked, Sirius, who had gathered his younger brother's arrows, answered.
"Do not worry. This much is nothing."
"He lost consciousness, though……"
"Thank you."
"……"
The moment the werewolf appeared, Sirius had sensed his younger brother's death. If Grace had retreated, Andrew would have died.
But surprisingly, Grace had not retreated. She stood as if guarding Andrew's front, facing a beast several times her size with nothing but arrows. Even veteran knights would find their knees weakening when facing a massive beast approaching with every passing moment, yet the slender lady ultimately held her ground and fired her bow at the right time.
Many knights witnessed that sight. None harbored doubts about how the Lady of Taylor knew how to handle a bow. What mattered was that she had protected Andrew and killed the werewolf.
Sirius bowed respectfully to Grace once more, then lifted Andrew onto his own back himself. The lady would also have trouble climbing this slope, but Sirius glanced at the man standing behind her and thought:
He'll handle it.
Meanwhile, Grace was worried about the limp Andrew, yet also preoccupied with the practical concern of how to climb up. As if sensing her dilemma, a low voice came from behind her.
"Can you climb up?"
Just by standing behind her, Walter blocked the wind. Grace bit her lip and let out a small sigh. As she fretted over what to do, moonlight shone on Andrew's back as he was carried by his brother. In that moment, Grace made a very small resolution.
Meanwhile, Walter had been pondering how to bring the lady, who had no major wounds but was surely covered in bruises, back up the slope when he froze the next moment. Grace had turned her body and slightly spread both arms toward him as if asking to be carried.
"……"
Walter narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head. Grace bit her lip for a moment before speaking softly.
"Didn't you say you had no intention of merely pretending to do anything?"
She must have been planning this for a very long time. Otherwise, she couldn't possibly ask for such a thing so calmly.
Walter shook his head slightly but ultimately lowered his body. Slender arms wrapped around his neck without hesitation. At the abruptly close distance, Walter momentarily held his breath and supported Grace's thigh with his left forearm. A burning warmth transmitted from their touching bodies.
"Hold on tight."
"Thank you."
A whisper flowing into his ear sent shivers down his spine. Walter soothed his constantly fluttering heart and began climbing the rugged slope as smoothly as if it were flat land. The wind blowing from above struck his face sharply, but his strong frame didn't waver in the slightest.
Held in Walter's arms, Grace gazed down at the slope receding below. It was a dizzying situation, yet she felt nothing but comfort. Because she was certain this man would never let her fall.
She slowly turned her head to look up above the slope.
Five hundred knights who had grown stronger than anyone in the empire through ten years of facing death were looking at her. Needless to say, their eyes were filled with respect and goodwill toward the valiant lady.
This wasn't part of the plan, but…….
Grace turned her head to hide her face. Her pink lips gradually curved upward.
* * *
Word arrived at the ducal castle that the Duke of Richmond, Walter Richmond, was returning. In the duke's magnificent office, an enraged shout erupted.
"Are you saying it seems to have failed again!!!"
An impressive middle-aged gentleman with an upturned, hook-shaped beard struck his desk several times as if his anger wouldn't subside.
"Over the past ten years, how many assassins have we sent?! How much money have we spent on their lives……!"
When he couldn't calm his agitation with his flushed face, a woman who had been drinking tea on the side clicked her tongue and rose from her seat.
"Dear, stop. It isn't over yet."
"Only by eliminating him will the dukedom return to this Henry Rinko!!! He won't die!!! How can I remain still?!"
"The duke was thirteen when he went to the Wall of Death with his knights. Ten years have passed since then."
"……"
"The etiquette of noble society, common sense, the dignity befitting a duke."
The woman put weight behind every word she spoke. Then she shrugged and stroked her hair with one hand.
"He failed to properly learn a single one of them. He couldn't even show his face in high society. He's only struggled each day to survive, so who remains by his side?"
Count Henry Rinko pricked up his ears at his wife's words and his eyes gleamed.
"I see……"
"So even if the duke returns, who would lend him their strength? If you exclude the knights who only know how to wield blades, he has no power whatsoever. What matters is who the true master is who has protected this Ducal Castle of Richmond."