NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 121: Swept Along The Waves
"Well, well, I truly regret dragging you so deep into this wilderness. But please, for the sake of justice, bear with me," Blitz Orse Louisse, the 'Prodigal Prince,' declared, sipping his mediocre tea as if it were a rare delicacy.
Across the small, makeshift table sat Mizetta, known as the 'Saint of Healing.' She couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the prince's ability to speak such insincere words with a straight face.
There was no trace of regret in his demeanor, and it was doubtful that Blitz himself believed in the nebulous concept of justice. He didn't want Mizetta to respect him; he simply wanted to keep her here, in this treacherous land.
"Ah," Mizetta responded, nodding absently as she took a small sip of her tea. The brew was distinctly unpleasant, though she couldn't say who had prepared it.
She found herself oddly satisfied by her newfound ability to discern good tea from bad. It was, of course, a form of escapism.
If she could, she would vanish from this man's presence immediately.
Dealing with the second prince of the Louisse Kingdom was overwhelming for Mizetta, who had once been a mere village girl. Even Victor, the Marquis Leopold's nephew, would be intimidated by such a figure. How could she possibly enjoy a casual tea with him?
Blitz continued to chatter about trivial matters, a perpetual smile on his face that betrayed none of his true intentions. He spoke of popular confectioneries in the capital, the best taverns in various noble territories, and even speculated about a power struggle within a prominent noble family.
Mizetta longed to drain her teacup and excuse herself, but such a move would be against etiquette. The wait was excruciating.
As she endured Blitz's endless prattle, a sudden shout erupted from outside the tent.
"Oh dear, it seems we might have... suffered a defeat," Blitz remarked, his grin widening.
It was a cold, reptilian smile, devoid of warmth or humanity.
Blitz's ominous words proved true.
The first to return to the camp were scouts and messengers, escorted by a small squad. The Knight Commander of the Tiant Domain received their report, but he found it hard to believe and berated the scouts harshly.
Then the main force arrived.
Out of 263 men, 13 were dead, 60 were wounded, and 6 were missing, including their leader, Volte Claus.
Before questioning the retreating knights, Mizetta quickly gathered the injured in one place, sorting the critically wounded from the less severe cases, and began treating the most urgent injuries.
Some had their sides gouged out, others had limbs nearly severed, and some had shoulders shattered to pieces.
These injuries seemed neither caused by beasts nor by swords. It was as if iron rods had been fired at them with tremendous force.
"It's the work of a ballista, a large mounted crossbow that shoots spear-like bolts. We had to leave behind those who took a direct hit; they couldn't be saved," muttered Jack Frigate, who had approached Mizetta unnoticed.
Focused on her healing, Mizetta only absorbed Jack's words as information, not reacting to him directly. She needed to assess the type of magic to use, considering the patients' weakened conditions.
"We entered the beastmen's territory and were met by a girl who claimed to be the Lion King's sister. She and Volte exchanged heated words before the beastmen fled. We pursued them and found a fort. The enemy holed up inside, and we launched an all-out assault. I thought my sword could break through the wall, but it didn't. We were bombarded by ballistae from the fort's outer wall, leading to our retreat," Jack explained.
Mizetta continued her urgent care, stopping the bleeding, healing broken bones, and mending torn flesh where possible. One patient after another, she moved through the injured, working with tireless precision.
"For now, the critical injuries have been treated. This is only temporary, so please remain still. I'll tend to the less serious wounds next. Form a line and come to me one by one," Mizetta instructed, her focus unwavering.
With an unusually loud voice, Mizetta transformed the center of the camp into a makeshift infirmary. She couldn't help but wonder if she was overstepping her bounds, but then again, wasn't this precisely why Prince Blitz had kept her here?
Given so many injured in front of her, there was only one course of action.
This was how things had become for her.
Discovered by the Count Muller’s family, betrothed to Eckhart Muller, and used by Leopold Illyrius, she had been thrust into the role of the 'Saint of Healing.' Desperately—yes, truly desperately—she had fulfilled that role. Those years had shaped her into who she was now.
There were sixty lightly injured men. Initially, Mizetta directed each to show their wounds, but soon enough, they started presenting their injuries without prompting. The knights were serious; their lives depended on her.
Of course, it took some time.
Yet, healing sixty patients in a "reasonable amount of time" was abnormal—something Mizetta had come to understand.
She had learned this through battles with demons in the Escard region and during healing sessions in noble houses, where she was often cornered by hired healers. "There’s no way you can perform such healing. It’s beyond the scope of healing magic. How does your magic sustain itself?"
—How should I know?
She had never desired this life. Learning the etiquette of the nobility to avoid offending high-ranking individuals during healing, being summoned and carted to castles and mansions, healing people whose values she couldn't comprehend... She hadn’t learned healing magic for this.
“Phew…”
At some point, Mizetta had finished her work, exhaling softly. She still had magic left, so she could return to the critically injured.
"Are you alright, Sister Mizetta?"
Jack Frigate, usually confident and boisterous, looked at her with uncharacteristic seriousness.
Why was he worried? He had witnessed her exhaustive healing in Escard. He had seen her heal his severed arm and still have magic left.
So, his concern wasn't about her magic.
Jack was worried about what lay ahead.
A skilled young swordsman like him must have seen something on the battlefield.
But whatever future Jack feared for Mizetta, she knew she had no choice. She had resigned herself to it more than anyone.
She was swept along by the current and had ended up here.
And she would be swept along again to wherever it took her next.
As she half-listened to the praises and gratitude of the Tiant Domain knights, Mizetta steeled herself quietly, almost as if it were someone else's concern.
As always.
