Children of the Holy Emperor

Having escaped the cliff, they ran towards Aslan’s hut. Regardless of their intention to flee, they reasoned it would be best to bring along basic weapons and food. Above all, since all the bandits they were with had been knocked out, it would take some time before news of their escape reached Jerome.

Food rations and flour, flintstones, and various medicinal herbs. Even as he stuffed a few traps and weapons into his bag, Aslan’s mind was in turmoil. Sooner or later, Jerome’s subordinates would probably block off all paths leading down the mountain. Since they are likely in collusion with the village guards, entering Flanders was not an option.

Should they head towards Carthago then? Despite the longer detour through the mountain path, if they could get across safely, it might be the best choice. However, if the checkpoint guards discovered that they had come from Flanders, they would be treated as spies. Although currently at peace, Carthago and Flanders are still at war.

‘…Is Asein Republic the only choice after all?’

No, the immediate priority was to survive from Jerome. They would seek refuge deep within the western mountains, where the search teams wouldn’t reach.

How long would it take for a gap to form in the guards? A week? A month? Or would they have to wait for an entire season?

As Aslan busied himself with preparations, Bart, who had been quietly observing, offered some advice.

“You won’t need that much. No matter how you look at it, the escape won’t take more than three days. It’s best to keep ourselves as light as possible.”

“……?”

Aslan paused and looked at Bart with a hardened expression. Thoughts began to resurface in his chaotic mind, particularly Bart’s words that he had previously ignored.

– It seems like we don’t have much time, how about descending the mountain now?

– …you’ll be flustered soon, so it’s best to rest and save your strength.

Did he know in advance that this would happen?

Perceiving the doubt in Aslan’s gaze, Bart added with a smirk while scanning the outside of the hut. “I may not know this place well, but judging from the current chaos, I can hazard a guess. It seems like a punitive force will be mobilized soon.”

…What? Why would he suddenly say something like that?

However, without any further explanation, Bart left the hut saying, “We’ve wasted too much time. We need to leave now.”

Aslan, after removing some grain sacks and the heavy traps, hurriedly tied up his bag and followed Bart.

Though they hadn’t known each other for long, Bart’s words hadn’t been nonsense so far. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep in mind the possibility of a punitive force and escape as far as possible.

However, when Bart mentioned the punitive force, a familiar face came to Aslan’s mind. It was Max, the old blacksmith, with whom he had formed a shallow bond since coming here. Max was a quiet old man who drank and had a kind demeanor. Aslan wanted to save him, at least.

“I may not know much about Max’s past, but here, he’s just a blacksmith.”

Would the impending punitive force take that into account?

Considering the innocent Seymour and Gustav, who were confined in the previous bandit group, were brutally killed by Rohan’s punitive force, it was highly likely Max wouldn’t survive if left here.

There were countless reasons why they couldn’t take him.

Jerome might have already released his men into the mountains under the guise of catching spies. Given that situation, running away with an extra burden was practically impossible.

Max was slow and couldn’t climb the rugged mountains. He was an old man who knew nothing but alcohol, and there was a chance he might already be drunk and fallen asleep in the blacksmith shop.

Jerome’s men were in their prime, experts at fighting and pillaging.

On the other hand, what about their own side? A handicapped half-man and a prisoner shackled with heavy cuffs. Even though the prisoner turned out to be stronger than expected.

Instead of giving a response, Bart looked into Aslan’s eyes and asked, “…Won’t you regret it?”

“……”

Aslan hesitated. He knew that depending on his answer, both he and Bart could be in danger. Logically, he had basically declared that he was ready to die. But Aslan had developed an inexplicable trust in Bart. He had this strange belief that if he really wanted to, Bart would somehow help.

Moreover, if it was completely impossible, wouldn’t Bart have told him so?

Aslan once told Bart that even if he were to die soon, he wanted to live honorably while he was alive. If they left an innocent, weak, and good-hearted old man and ran away, he would probably regret it for the rest of his life.

Looking straight into Bart’s eyes, he nodded strongly, “Yes, I won’t regret it.”

For a moment, a faint smile appeared on Bart’s face, as if recalling an old memory.

Thud. With a light tap on Aslan’s head, Bart turned around without another word.

Unfortunately, when they hurriedly arrived at the blacksmith’s workshop, old Max was completely drunk.

Hiccup. Seeing the old man, who couldn’t even recognize his visitors with his eyes half-open, a look of defeat appeared on Aslan’s face.

‘…Was I wrong after all?’

However, Bart walked past him with long strides, and placed one hand on the swaying old man’s head. Soon, a bright light seeped out from his hand, wrapping around old Max’s entire body.

Whooosh.

“Uh… Mom?”

Old Max’s eyes, which had been bloodshot, suddenly returned to normal, and widened in surprise.

“Huh? My hangover is suddenly gone? Huh? My back? My chronic knee arthritis?”

Ignoring the old man who was still confused, Bart started walking toward the path leading to the mountain. Aslan, who had been following him, quickly pulled on old Max’s arm and spoke urgently.

“I’ll explain later, for now, just follow us. We don’t have much time.”

“Hold on, let me grab my liquor bottle……”

Although the old man was flustered, Aslan ignored his words and pulled his arm strongly. This wasn’t the time to accommodate the old man’s drinking habits.

Fortunately, sensing the tense atmosphere, the old man seemed to realize the seriousness of the situation and followed them without any further objections. Seeing that his pace was not slow, it seemed his claims of no longer having chronic arthritis weren’t unfounded.

Bart occasionally stopped to gaze at the empty air, then quickly determined a direction and walked briskly. His stride was unhesitant, unusual for someone who hadn’t been in the flower village for very long. They managed to enter the deep forest without encountering any mountain bandits, making their way down a secluded path.

Beep!

The sound of a horn echoed from behind. It was the emergency horn, rung in the flower village whenever there was a major incident. It seemed their escape had been discovered.

Immediately, the entire village was in uproar.

Shouts. Murmurs. Another horn.

The group held their breath and moved away from the village at a fast pace. After some time walking along a small path, one of the search party members burst from the bushes with a sword. It was their first encounter with an enemy.

“Aha! You were here! But where…”

However, he couldn’t finish his sentence. Bart, as if he knew of his arrival beforehand, swung his fist without even looking at him.

Thump. The bandit, with a clean hit to his nose, fell powerlessly and disappeared into the shrubs.

Bart stopped again and stared into the void. This time, he changed his course, walking down a path that wasn’t really a path. It seemed as if he was gauging something as he moved forward, but Aslan couldn’t fathom what he was seeing with those eyes.

Not long after, they encountered another search team consisting of two people. This time, the battle ended before the men could open their mouths. This was because Bart, who suddenly darted out, took them down with swift punches.

Thump, thwack. His movements were extremely efficient, not wasting a single moment.

Old Max’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Eh? So, what did that guy used to do?”

Well, he used to be a priest and a demon worshipper, and also an apothecary, but I don’t even know anymore.

Bart changed his direction once more.

From then on, they didn’t encounter a single bandit and were able to climb the mountain until late in the evening. Considering that the search parties should have spread across the entire mountain, it was almost miraculous.

They tore through their rations and walked without rest. Occasionally, the tired old Max would start to drag his legs, but every time that happened, Bart would approach and pour his divine power into him, rejuvenating him.

“Oh! My old ailment, gout?”

The old man’s face brightened instantly. His usually hunched back was now straightened.

Somehow, he seemed a bit younger. It must be my imagination, right?

Bart also shared his divine power with Aslan a few times, and Aslan felt the tension in his muscles relax and a surge of energy course through his body. Aslan broke into a cold sweat. Is this what divine power can do? There’s no trade-off, it seems like a scam.

In the distance, they saw small torches moving around the foot of the mountain. The search had intensified with the setting of the sun. Fortunately, they had enough distance, and as soon as they crossed one mountain ridge, they couldn’t see the torches anymore. Soon, everything was shrouded in darkness.

They walked a little more along the dark mountain path led by Bart. It was deep into the mountains, a place even Aslan had never been before. Just like a lie, a small cave appeared, and only then did Bart stop. His face was etched with unmistakable fatigue.

“We should rest here for today.”

Aslan quickly prepared a camp. He gathered nearby leaves and dry moss, spread them out, and laid down the thin blanket they had brought. The three of them huddled on the blanket. The night in the mountains was chilly, but being pursued, they couldn’t afford to light a fire.

Thankfully, thanks to the generously bestowed divine power, Aslan and old Max felt healthier than they had in a long time. Aslan didn’t hesitate to wrap the only thick blanket they had around Bart. Bart seemed utterly exhausted despite having energetically beat up the bandits all day, and his exhausted body still looked frail. Without a word, he wrapped himself in the blanket and closed his eyes, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

“…What on earth is happening? And what’s this about a punitive force all of a sudden?”

Just in case Bart might wake up, the old man lowered his voice and murmured. Aslan had followed Bart’s words without much thought, and thus he had nothing particularly to say to him.

“I don’t really know either. Hasn’t there been a rumor lately that Archduke Asein is organizing a punitive force?”

However, old man Max tilted his head in confusion.

“Wasn’t that just some nonsense Rodrigo was spouting off by himself initially? About a month ago, he was going around blabbering about the Asein’s punitive force and spies or something, and then suddenly, everyone in the flower village started talking about it. But was there any truth to that rumor?”

Rodrigo started this talk?

Aslan furrowed his eyebrows and fell deep into thought at the unexpected words from the old man.

Rodrigo was a refugee from Ortana, and reportedly, he was one of the bandits who joined Jerome’s gang after establishing himself in the flower village. He was more active than anyone else in wreaking havoc under Asein’s rule recently, but why would such a person worry about a punitive force?

If Asein’s punitive force was really just a baseless rumor, then where did the punitive force Bart mentioned come from?

Aslan turned to look at the person who might have all the answers, but he was sound asleep, not even making a sound with his breathing. The boy scratched his head.

“Well, do you think I know? Anyway, if we keep going this way, we should cross over to the Carthago border. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to pass through the checkpoint, but if we succeed, we can completely break away from the bandits.”

“…I see.”

The old man nodded his head.

“So, we’re finally leaving this place.”

“…..”

In the dark cave, Aslan couldn’t see old Max’s expression, but he felt a slight lump in his chest at the hint of regret in the old man’s voice.

In order to conserve body heat, the boy and the old man sat a little closer together and soon fell asleep side by side.