Chapter Nine: Count Dynab

"Your Highness?" The captain of the knights stared at her, his face a mask of shock, disbelief, and astonishment—everything but joy.

But after a moment, he managed to force a hint of rejoicing onto his features, saying, "Your Highness, I am so relieved you are unharmed. If anything had happened to you, I would have no way to answer to the lord, or to the king."

"Why?" Olina's voice was low and hoarse, a faint red aura swirling about her like a beast on the verge of madness.

The knights' horses began to grow restless; animals always sensed danger more keenly than men.

At the captain's feet, a frail old man lay in a pool of blood, and a ragged boy clung to the corpse, crying out again and again.

Olina recognized the old man. To keep the village children from starving, he had dragged his aged body into the city of Count Larkib, spending five days in the sewers this autumn—waiting for her to come, just for a scrap of food.

Rage burned within her like a consuming fire, threatening to rob her of reason.

The captain, noticing the change in her, grew inwardly wary, glancing at the weeping boy and the old man's body. "Your Highness, are you speaking of these two lowborns? They got what they deserved. How dare they defy a knight?"

"And how did they defy you?" Olina asked.

The captain pointed his sword at the boy sobbing over the corpse. "This brat dared look me in the eye. A mere peasant, daring to resist a knight—such insolence is a capital offense. If you do not believe me, Your Highness, ask those around us."

Olina slowly turned her gaze to the surrounding knights, who sat high in their saddles and nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, the peasant did defy the captain," they said.

Their eyes did not waver; they spoke with utter sincerity. To them, it was simply the truth—there was neither deception nor need for it.

How strange.

Olina next turned her gaze upon the trembling villagers kneeling on the ground. "Is this true? Do not be afraid. I will see justice done for you."

Yet the ragged villagers only trembled harder, making no reply.

The captain frowned, snapping, "Her Highness is speaking to you!"

He disliked—no, despised—this so-called Princess of the Lowborn, but that did not mean these peasants could ignore a knight's question.

At last, one villager stammered, "Y-yes, it's true. It was the broom—he talked back to the knight, sir..."

With the first to speak, others followed—a second, a third… Each confessed: yes, the lowborn had defied the knight and was therefore killed.

Though their voices trembled with fear, there was no falsehood in them.

The knights had not lied. The villagers had not lied.

How strange...

"One look, and a man can be killed..." Olina's face grew blank, the red glow fading from her eyes, her aura slowly calming.

Seeing this, the captain exhaled in relief.

Though he did not believe the poisoned princess could overcome them—dozens of knights—even if she was hailed as the most gifted knight in a century, he still felt uneasy.

"Your Highness, since you are unharmed, we shall take our leave," he said, tugging at his reins. But after only two steps, a furious voice rang out behind him.

"It was him! He killed Grandpa Chief!" The boy, face streaked with tears and fury, pointed at the captain.

"You filthy brat." A flash of anger crossed the captain's eyes. He turned and swung his sword.

He had always made an example of those who challenged a knight's authority, teaching them what could and could not be done.

But in the next instant, his body froze as if plunged into icy water—a mortal sense of danger surged from behind, as though a dragon stood at his back.

"Kill!" Olina's voice lashed out, thick with murderous rage. Blood-red energy and a deep, dark scarlet gleam ignited in her eyes.

In a heartbeat, the knights' auras joined to form an invisible barrier—they had never dropped their guard.

Bang!

The barrier shuddered, and Olina was hurled backwards, crashing ten meters away into the mud, her silver armor and golden hair sullied with filth.

"Thank the gods she's poisoned," the captain sighed in relief—only for every face present to freeze in shock the next second.

From where the princess had fallen, streams of blood-red energy surged, her murderous wrath battering at their minds like a demon crawling from the abyss.

Rage!

Everyone felt it, even as if it were their own.

The great horses snorted and tossed, nearly breaking loose, while the knights struggled to hold their reins.

"Fallen to darkness?!" The captain stiffened, then, without a flicker of hesitation, leveled his sword at Olina.

"The princess has become a demon. For the safety of the realm—attack!"

"But Captain, she is the princess," one knight hesitated, and most others looked uncertain as well.

No matter what, she was royalty. To attack royalty was a capital crime.

While all wavered, a cloaked figure darted to the princess's side.

"You fool!" Emeya saw the red energy and her face changed.

If she didn't know Olina so well, she would have suspected her of being a hidden cultist—such overwhelming negative energy rivaled that of any cult priest.

Emeya rummaged in her pocket, finally pulling out a glass vial containing a black pill.

"Take this." She tipped the pill into Olina's mouth, who was on the verge of losing control.

The pill melted instantly into a puddle of black liquid, flowing down Olina's throat.

At once, the seething red energy vanished, the scarlet in Olina's eyes receded, and Emeya breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Emeya, why...?" Olina's pale, wan face was filled with frustration.

She did not know why this state overtook her, but she knew it brought her strength—the power to kill these knights. Yet Emeya had stopped her, just when she was so close to regaining her strength.

"Why?" Emeya's beautiful features twisted in annoyance. She grabbed Olina's cheeks with both hands, stretching them into a circle.

"Do you even know what you were about to do? If I weren't here, you wouldn't be yourself anymore!"

"Mmm...but, but..." Olina's words came out muffled.

"But what?" Emeya caught the tears brimming in Olina's eyes, then glanced at the corpse lying in blood, understanding what had happened.

It was nothing new—Olina always stood up for the commoners, but this time, she hadn't made it in time.

"Regardless of how you feel, just hold it in for now. This isn't your concern yet—not until the poison is cleared from your body."

Without waiting for a reply, Emeya rose and stepped forward, fixing the captain with a cold stare. "Her Highness is injured because of your insolence, but in her mercy, she will forgive your crimes if you leave at once."

"Pointy ears, I suspect you of being a cultist. Come with us," the captain replied, showing no intent to leave, his sword pointed at Emeya.

'So it was them! I knew it!' Emeya thought. She had wondered why Olina was poisoned that day—they'd eaten nothing suspicious.

To save money, all their food had come from their own stores, except the juice provided by the knightly order as they passed through.

It had only been a suspicion, for she couldn't imagine why the order would poison them. Olina might be naïve, a princess with no retinue, her lands impoverished, forced to hunt monsters for coin, but she was still a princess—a king's acknowledged daughter.

If this were discovered, with proof, it would be a crime punishable by the slaughter of an entire family.

Now, however, the truth was clear enough. She didn't know the reason, but the knights' strange attitude said everything. Someone wanted Olina dead—the most likely candidate was Count Daina.

"Miss Emeya, what's happening?" a voice sounded in her mind, speaking a foreign tongue. Emeya's tense expression eased.

She turned to see several figures in odd garb, armed with what she knew as firearms, scattered a hundred paces away, as if preparing to encircle them.

'Why are there eight of them now?' she wondered. There had only ever been five of these suspected higher humans—where had the extra ones come from? Had they been shadowing them all along, undetected? Or was it some spell—stealth, or teleportation?

Suppressing her confusion, Emeya pleaded, "These knights want to take us away. Can you help?"

"Of course. We promised to see you safely back to your lands," came the reply.

Far away, Qin Le watched the knights and their auras, as well as the transparent barrier, through his binoculars.

"Shall we kill them for you?"

"They’re Count Daina's knights. Killing them all would make things messier. Just scare them off—kill a few," Emeya replied. She wished she could slaughter them all, but could not. The thousands of commoners in Olina’s fief still depended on Daina’s city to survive; now was not the time to break with the Count.

Even as they spoke, the knights noticed the mysterious newcomers.

"Black hair?" the captain frowned. "What clowns are these?"

Ffft!

Suddenly, a faint whistling—something struck the barrier, making it tremble.

"What was that?"

Before he could finish, more objects struck the barrier, making it shudder violently, until at last it shattered with a resounding crack.

All the knights groaned, feeling as though their chests had been struck by a hammer.

Before they could recover from the disruption, a bullet flew from hundreds of meters away, piercing straight through the captain’s skull.

His gaze locked on the azure sky above, and then descended into endless darkness.

The silver helmet soared into the air, spraying blood as the noble knight tumbled from his horse, collapsing beside the old chief.

Blood seeped out, mingling with that of the elder.

So even noble knights could die; their blood was just as red.

The sudden shift left everyone stunned, unable to comprehend how the captain had died. For a long moment, silence reigned.

Then Emeya's voice broke the stillness: "Leave now. Do not make me repeat myself."

"One."

Her words rang out as another bullet sang through the air—a knight toppled from his horse, his head shattered as before.

"Two."

Ffft!

A third knight fell. At last, panic set in. The knights, faces twisted with terror, yanked their reins and scattered, fleeing the village.

Emeya let out a long breath and collapsed to the ground.

Behind her, hurried footsteps approached, and armed soldiers poured into the village, quickly bringing the handful of households under control.

Olina gazed at the captain's corpse, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief. "Emeya, why can a knight take an innocent life over a mere glance?"

Emeya did not answer, only sat limply on the ground.

"Emeya?"

Olina staggered to her side, finding the elf clutching her chest, trembling, her face contorted in pain.

"Emeya, what's wrong?!"

"It hurts." Emeya's delicate brows knit, her face a mask of agony.

"Where does it hurt?" Olina asked anxiously.

"My... my heart!" With that, Emeya spun and tackled Olina to the ground, straddling her and gripping her shoulders tightly.

"I went through hell to borrow that lifesaving medicine from the Church of Night, and I had to use it on you, you fool! Pay me back! Spit it out, now!"

"Uh?" Olina stared at her, bewildered.

...

Daina City, in a lavishly appointed room at the heart of the grand castle.

A man, richly dressed with a neatly trimmed mustache, lounged in a chair, swirling a glass of wine as he eyed the knight kneeling before him. "So, you failed."

The knight stammered anxiously, "My lord, it truly wasn't our fault. The princess was poisoned, and there was no way she could have escaped a dozen assassins. But somehow, she turned up unharmed at that peasant village, and brought a group of strange, black-haired humans with her. They killed the captain."

The Count's hand stilled, wine glass poised. "What did you say?"

"The captain was killed," the knight repeated.

"No—the line before that."

"The princess brought a group of strange, black-haired humans, and they killed the captain. They were uncanny, my lord. We saw nothing of their attack—suddenly, our men were dead." Recalling the scene, the knight shuddered.

It had been deeply unsettling. He could not fathom how the captain and his comrades had died.

"Black-haired humans..." mused the Count. "And their eyes? Were they black as well?"

"I couldn't see. We were at least two hundred paces away," the knight replied—then paled as a thought struck him. "My lord, could they be the legendary—"

"There's no such thing as higher humans," the Count interrupted coldly. "Just tales invented by some ancient kingdom. Go now, and tell no one of this—not a soul, especially not about the black-haired ones."

"Yes, my lord." The knight rose and left.

As the doors closed behind him, the Count drained the last of his wine.

"Inform the Crown Prince—there’s been a change. The ninth princess is still alive."

In the shadowed corner, something seemed to stir.