Chapter Ninety-Four: Bone-Piercing Cold

I will kill him. I will kill him. Hang him. Burn him. No—bind him fast. I will tear him limb from limb. I will have his corpse strung up on the city gate for the crows to peck out his eyes.

Lord Bonfret’s eyes were bloodshot. The muscles of his face twitched as he roared in fury at Adric and Rul inside the tent. The handsome face of this noble knight had been twisted into something dreadful. His eyes bulged, he panted hard, the flesh of his cheeks standing rigid. Both fists were clenched. Red marks still lingered on his wrists where sinew ropes had bound him. Agitated as a mad dog, he paced back and forth through the tent.

That bastard. That vile, low-born wretch. That bastard who tried to murder me. I will kill him. I want him dead.

Seeing Adric’s expression growing more and more impatient, the scar on his face twitching, Rul beside him felt a surge of alarm. If this pretty boy kept shouting like this, the overbearing general might well draw his sword and split the fellow open on the spot.

The fat man hurried forward and embraced the rampaging Bonfret, laughing loudly. “Sir, Sir Bonfret, calm yourself. It is better to understand the matter clearly before we speak…”

“What is there not to understand?” Bonfret shrieked, his voice sounding like that of a frightened girl. “That bastard! He dared bind me and lock me up—he even dared shove me alone onto the battlefield. It was murder. He meant to kill me…”

Adric gave a heavy snort and stood up, his hand resting on the hilt at his waist. The motion instantly startled Bonfret, who hurried backward several steps and pointed at Adric, crying, “You—what do you think you are doing, Adric? Do not forget your position. You are an imperial soldier. I—I am the imperial observer envoy. You and your men dare to lay hands on me—”

Adric, barely restraining the urge to strike him down with one blow, did not even look at the pretty fool. He strode straight out of the tent.

Rul came over and patted Bonfret’s shoulder. The terrified Bonfret flinched hard, but when he saw the smile on Rul’s face, he seemed instantly revived. “General Rul, you must bear witness for me. These men of the Thirteenth Legion—they tried to harm me. These lowborn bastards are trying to murder me…”

Rul’s smile was genial, his eyes nearly narrowed shut, and it put Bonfret somewhat at ease.

“Well now, honored Sir Bonfret, I suggest you do not shout so loudly just yet. After all, we are still in the Thirteenth Legion’s camp.” Rul gave what sounded like a kindly reminder, then lowered his voice. “You see, although you have indeed suffered some discourtesy—oh, do not glare so, please. Very well, I admit that such treatment is a most dishonorable insult to any nobleman.”

“But?” Bonfret asked.

“Ah, yes. But misfortune always has a brighter side, does it not?”

“What bright side?” Bonfret said angrily. “General Rul, are you mocking me too?”

“Of course not.” Rul shook his head emphatically, then smiled. “As far as I know, you did indeed go personally to the battlefield and face Hasting of Odin alone.”

“I was bound and dragged there.” The memory of yesterday made Bonfret’s legs tremble, and the humiliation of having soiled himself on the spot only deepened the shame and fury in his heart. He cried out in disgrace, “That man meant to have me killed.”

“Wait, now, no need to rush.” The fat man smiled with excellent temper. “I understand your anger at having been bound and sent to the battlefield. But think about it: others do not know you were forced there. And no matter what, the fact before us is this: on the battlefield, Sir Bonfret faced Hasting of Odin in a duel, and Hasting was wounded and fled.”

“That man was not me,” Bonfret said, his voice much smaller now.

“But others do not know that. Especially the Odinites do not know.” The fat man grinned, cunning as ever. “You see, standing alone against Hasting on the battlefield—that is an immense honor. And after all, the Crown Prince sent you to the front for precisely that reason.”

He looked at Bonfret and lowered his voice to a whisper. “So then—the one who confronted Hasting was Bonfret. And if it was Bonfret, then there is no need to say anything more. Countless soldiers heard it with their own ears.”

Bonfret was tempted.

“So that fellow cannot be killed for the time being,” Rul said with a smile. “At the very least, you should wait until this military merit has firmly settled upon your head. Before that, he can be counted as a witness as well. Besides, he is only a common soldier. Once the greater situation is settled, there will be plenty of time to deal with him. Are you afraid he can fly away?”

Rul left the tent. Outside, Adric had just finished giving orders to several adjutants. Seeing the fat man emerge, Adric gave a cold laugh. “Have you soothed the child?”

“Ha. He is indeed just a child—a spoiled boy, nothing more.” The fat man curled his lip. “But this child happens to be at the side of the Crown Prince, hm, even in his bedchamber, so to speak. A few comforting lies cost us nothing.”

Adric said nothing, only smiled coldly.

The fat man sighed. “I know you pride yourself on your dignity. Leave these matters to me. In any case, in everyone’s eyes, I am merely a runaway rabbit, and this selling—damn it, this ass-selling rabbit, there’s no difference.”

Adric studied him for a long moment, then suddenly stepped forward and gave his shoulder a hard pat. In a grave voice, he said, “You are an outstanding soldier, General Rul.”

Then he sighed. “I’m going to see that boy. His condition is not quite right.”

Rul hissed softly as he rubbed the shoulder that had been slapped, watching Adric depart. Then he called out from behind him, “Hey, Adric.”

“What?”

“You…” The fat man hesitated, then quickly caught up a few steps and lowered his voice. “Do not think I cannot tell. That boy—he is…”

A sharp light flashed in Adric’s eyes. He fixed Rul with a stare. “You know as well?”

The fat man sighed. “To be honest, our ages are not far apart. I did not witness what happened back then, but I have ears. I have heard things.”

“Then please keep your mouth shut.” Adric cut him off sternly at once. “The men who knew these matters are nearly all dead. I do not know exactly what you know, or how much you know, but no matter how much it is, bury it in your stomach. This is not a request. It is a warning.”

Inside the tent, Xia stood alone, lost in thought. Shalba and Kato had just left. Kevin’s body had already been buried, and those among the personal guard who had been close to him had wept bitterly.

But Xia had not shed a single tear. Even when Shalba and Kato, worried that something was wrong with him, came to look in on him, Xia remained calm and still. It was as if the one who had screamed like a madman at the camp gate today had never been him at all.

He sat upon the bed, a piece of coarse cloth in hand, wiping again and again at his firefork. He polished it with such focus that he did not even notice Adric enter. Only when Adric had stood directly before him did Xia finally look up.

“Sit down,” Adric said, pressing a hand to Xia’s shoulder and glancing at the bandages wrapped around him. “How are your wounds?”

Xia gave a crooked grin. “I’m not dying.”

That rustic grin was as hearty and good-natured as ever. Not a trace of sorrow could be found in his eyes. Adric sighed, then glanced at the firefork in Xia’s hands. His expression changed slightly. He turned his head away and looked elsewhere. “You…”

“I’m fine, General,” Xia said suddenly, taking the initiative with an easy tone.

“Hmm?” Adric seemed somewhat surprised.

“I really am fine.” Xia’s tone was serious. “This is war. People are bound to die in war. I understand that. Only this time, death fell upon Kevin. And next time, perhaps it will be my turn. Things always happen. So…”

His voice was far too calm, so calm it was almost cold, and it made Adric’s brow knit. “Is that truly what you think?”

“It is.” Xia’s expression was frank. “When I saw Kevin die today, I was very angry. I even wanted to take a weapon and charge out of the camp gate to kill every Odinite I could find. But now, I am not angry anymore.”

At that, Xia even smiled a little. The smile was easy and bright, but the faint, unusual coldness in his eyes made Adric wary.

“My foster father once told me something—hm, though that old bastard was no good himself, some of his words still made sense. He said that when there are things you can do nothing about, indulging in sorrow, anger, or frenzy is all the conduct of cowards.” Xia exhaled, as if breathing out the knot in his chest. He narrowed his eyes and smiled. “So I am not without anger, nor without grief—I simply refuse to let myself dwell in it. I choose to act.”

“Act? Act how?” Adric looked at Xia with some confusion.

Xia frowned. His expression was grave and earnest as he answered softly, “Kill people. Kill Odinites. That is my plan. I will do it step by step—until one day I have killed them all.”

“But…”

“I know it is difficult.” Xia gave a mocking smile. “As for the Odinites, yes, there are many of them. But I can kill a little today, a little tomorrow, slowly if need be. Keep killing until I can no longer kill. Having something to do is far better than wasting time in sorrow.”

A little today. A little tomorrow. Kill until he could no longer kill.

Adric drew in a deep breath. The coldness in Xia’s words, so thorough it seemed rooted to the bone, struck him with a sense of shock.