Chapter 15: The Traitor

Huston spotted a soldier crouched behind a patch of tall grass, a pile of stones serving as makeshift cover in front of him.

He smirked, drawing back his steel longbow. Deep Blue calculated the perfect shot—an arrow threading through a narrow gap between the rocks, straight into the man's skull.

The bowstring sang.

A sharp whistle sliced through the air.

The soldier jerked once and collapsed, lifeless.

Another enemy huddled behind cover—but his head was barely peeking out.

Huston adjusted his aim.

A single arrow burst through his skull, spraying red and white into the wind.

By the time Huston had felled four enemies, the remaining nine were too terrified to move, hiding in the blind spots of the terrain. None dared to breathe.

"The intel said this place was abandoned! Who the hell is this sniper?!" one of them snarled, cursing the scout who had gathered intelligence.

But it was too late for regrets—Huston had already trapped them in a deadly chokehold.

They could not move.

But Huston could.

While Emil held the frontline, Huston silently repositioned—Deep Blue highlighting the next optimal sniping spot.

From his new vantage point, he loosed another arrow.

Another soldier fell.

"He's over there! Careful!" One of them spotted Huston's location—only to be immediately silenced, an arrow piercing through his throat mid-warning.

The knight leading the group realized the fight was lost.

His only chance—retreat.

Summoning all his strength, he exploded into motion, dashing at full speed away from the battlefield.

Fool.

Huston calmly nocked three arrows at once.

With a single release, the arrows sealed every possible escape route—a flawless execution.

The knight's eyes widened in despair as one arrow punched through his heart. He crashed to the ground, dead before he even understood how.

Seeing their commander fall, Emil charged.

With Huston covering him from behind, Emil tore through the remaining fighters like a wolf among sheep, his sword carving through flesh and armor with brutal efficiency.

By the end, only two survivors remained—disarmed, trembling, kneeling in surrender.

Huston lowered his bow, his expression cold and merciless.

"I ask. You answer."

"Y-Yes! Of course!" The two survivors shook with fear, their eyes locked on the steel longbow, the weapon that had slaughtered their entire force.

This man—he was death incarnate.

"Who are you?"

The one on the left hesitated. "We are soldiers under Lord Simon of Behrad."

"Your mission?" Huston's tone remained flat. "And don't tell me you were here to attend the wedding."

The man on the right swallowed hard. "We… We came to raid Pumpkin Farm. No one ever guards this place during winter, so we planned to steal supplies."

Lies.

Huston said nothing—just drew his sword and cleaved him in half.

Blood painted the snow.

He turned to the last survivor.

"Your turn."

The remaining soldier was too terrified to even wipe the blood off his face.

"I-I swear, I'll tell you everything!" He stammered, his voice trembling.

"We weren't sent to raid the farm—our real mission was to ambush Baron Buck's castle on the day of the wedding! Our orders were to infiltrate the outskirts, wait for the perfect moment, and then strike when the Baron was most vulnerable!"

Huston's eyes narrowed.

"And?"

"And…" the man hesitated, then spilled the final piece of the puzzle.

"There's… there's a traitor inside the castle. Someone from within is helping us."

Huston and Emil exchanged a knowing glance.

The situation was far worse than they had imagined.

Emil pressed for more details, but the soldier knew nothing else.

Without hesitation, Huston ended his life.

Emil's jaw tightened, his voice dark with fury. "So Simon refuses to back down—even after the Duke of Tulip intervened. He must have truly lost his mind."

"If they're confident that the Baron will die, then that means Simon's sorcerer ally is making their move," Huston deduced. "Only magic could guarantee the death of a Grand Knight."

They had no choice.

"We must ride for the castle immediately!"

But time was not on their side.

The wedding was in four days—but the journey to the castle took seven.

They needed to move without rest.

The two knights rode hard, eating in the saddle, stopping only for the briefest moments of rest.

For three days, they pushed their horses to the limit.

By the time they reached the edge of the mountains, their steeds collapsed, unable to go any farther.

They had no choice but to continue on foot.

By dawn on the fourth day, they emerged from the Emerald Mountains.

The castle town stood in the distance, alive with celebration.

Banners fluttered in the crisp morning air, and laughter filled the streets.

The people had no idea that an invasion was imminent.

"Emil! Come drink with us!" A drunken guard called out, raising a goblet of wine.

Emil's expression darkened.

"Who ordered you to drink?" he snapped.

The guard blinked, confused. "Butler Iven said we could! He even supplied us with good wine—said it was a special day and that we should celebrate."

Emil stiffened.

"Iven."

Huston's eyes sharpened. "That butler has been with the Baron for years. Always quiet. Always in the background."

"And yet today," Emil growled, "he takes it upon himself to get the castle guards drunk—on the eve of an attack?"

Huston nodded grimly. "A butler has no authority over the guards. If he's interfering with military discipline, then he's either a fool… or a traitor."

Emil gritted his teeth. "The rules are clear—guards on duty never drink. Iven knows that. Which means… he's working with the enemy."

And if there was one traitor… there could be more.

With no time to lose, Huston and Emil stormed toward the castle gates.

If they didn't act now—

Baron Buck would die.

And the war would begin.

When Huston and Emil reached the castle gates, they immediately noticed something was wrong.

Even the guards at the entrance reeked of alcohol.

When questioned, their answers were all the same.

"Butler Iven gave us the wine."

Inside the castle walls, the wedding banquet had already begun.

This was the bride's farewell feast, a final celebration held by Baron Buck to express gratitude to the guests before sending Melissa to House Tulip.

Yet, from the Tulip side, only a single butler had been sent as a representative.

The grand courtyard was filled with long banquet tables, each overflowing with decadent dishes and fine wine.

In the center, an open space had been cleared, where a group of dancers performed in flowing silks, spinning gracefully beneath the glow of hanging lanterns.

At the highest platform, Baron Buck sat alongside Melissa, a cup of wine in his hand. He was engaged in lively conversation, exchanging laughs with House Tulip's envoy—completely unaware of the danger looming over him.

Melissa, however, did not share in the festivities.

She sat motionless, untouched food before her, her gaze lost in sorrow.

Then—

A commotion.

Heads turned toward the courtyard's entrance.

There, standing in the flickering torchlight, dust-covered and battle-worn, were Huston and Emil.

Their arrival sent a ripple through the crowd.

Melissa's eyes immediately found Emil.

The moment she saw him, the melancholy vanished from her face, replaced by a flicker of hope, a glimmer of warmth.

Her voice rose above the music, trembling yet full of longing.

"Emil!"

The sound of her voice was like an arrow piercing the night.

The entire courtyard fell silent.

Baron Buck's smile vanished the moment he saw Emil's grim expression.

His eyes darkened, and his voice cut through the stillness like a blade.

"Why have you returned?"

Emil strode to the platform, then dropped to one knee.

"Forgive my intrusion, my Lord," he said, his voice firm despite his exhaustion.

"Three days ago, Huston and I eliminated a raiding party from Behrad at Pumpkin Farm. From the prisoners we captured, we learned that an assassination attempt is planned for tonight."

The air in the courtyard grew tense.

Emil met the Baron's gaze, unwavering.

"My Lord, they plan to kill you. And there is a traitor inside the castle. We rode without rest for three days to bring you this warning—you must act now."