Chapter 20

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 20

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I headed straight for the kennels as soon as I reached the village. Hunting dogs had an exceptionally keen sense of smell, so I figured they could sniff out Claude.

Thankfully, after I explained the situation, the owner readily lent me the dogs. Trained to obey only his commands, they even accompanied us all the way to the landslide site.

"I'm truly grateful. I'll make sure to repay this kindness."

I put the hunting dogs to work in the rescue operation right away. Even Sir Jillian, who usually nagged me endlessly, followed my lead without complaint this time. He must have judged my approach as the right one.

Fortunately, the rain stopped soon after. But the problem was that the sun was beginning to set.

Winter days were short, and the evening after the rain cleared was bitterly cold. It wasn't ideal for rescue work.

"My lady, how about we call it a day and resume at first light tomorrow?"

"It's too cold. And after all this rain, if we stop now, they might freeze to death."

"......Understood."

Sir Jillian nodded reluctantly. He probably figured that the Agris Marquis dying near the ducal territory wouldn't sit well with the Bellomon Duke either.

I'll save him for sure.

I'll find him and bring him back to Amelia. That's the promise I made.

With that resolve, I followed behind the hunting dogs.

The dogs sniffed at the wet soil and scratched at it with their front paws, over and over. But most of the time, it was a false alarm.

By dawn, the ground will be frozen solid...

The rain had just stopped. I didn't need to see it to know how quickly the soaked earth would ice over.

My hope that Claude was safe unharmed had shifted to just praying he was alive, even if injured.

That was when my fading hope began to dim completely.

"Woof!"

A brown hunting dog leading the pack barked loudly. It barked at me as if urging me to come, then started digging furiously at a mound piled high with dirt and broken branches.

"Looks like it found something!"

The owner's excited shout pulled me back from the brink of collapse.

Sir Jillian, the soldiers, and I rushed over with shovels and rescue gear.

As we dug where the dog was scratching, a mangled carriage emerged. The windows were all shattered, testament to the crash's brutality.

I peered through the hole the dog had dug into the carriage interior. But there was no sign of Claude anywhere—just piles of dirt that had poured in through the broken windows.

He couldn't have been thrown outside.

Claude's sturdy build wouldn't fit through those small windows.

"Move faster! Hurry!"

"Yes, sir!"

Meanwhile, Sir Jillian barked orders at the soldiers. They resumed shoveling, but thick tree roots and layers of dirt slowed them down terribly.

At this rate, we'll never make it.

Removing the massive log blocking the door wasn't easy. If we kept at it like this, the creeping cold would claim us all.

Unable to bear it any longer, I shrugged off my outer coat.

"What are you doing?"

Sir Jillian stared at me like I'd lost my mind, stripping in this freezing night. But I ignored him and kept going.

I shed the thick garment to slim down my frame, then draped it over the broken window frame.

With a swimmer's dive, I threw myself through the window into the carriage.

My slight build slipped inside with ease.

"My lady, what in the world—!"

Sir Jillian shouted in horror. The knights nearby looked just as stunned.

I brushed the dog hair off my clothes and spoke up.

"Do you know how long it'll take to clear the dirt from the door?"

The real issue wasn't the dirt. A huge tree branch swept down by the rain was blocking the entrance too.

"We don't have time. If someone's gotta do it, it might as well be me."

The burly soldiers couldn't squeeze through this tiny window.

I held out my hand to a still-dazed soldier.

"Hand me a shovel."

"......Pardon?"

"Now."

I snatched the shovel from the soldier. As he backed away, one of the hunting dogs prowling nearby leaped through the window to join me.

"Woof!"

The dog scratched at the dirt-caked floor with its front paws.

"The floor, huh?"

I started scooping away the dirt furiously with the shovel. That's when the floor began to echo hollowly.

"Over here! It's here!"

A voice—definitely human—rang out. I signaled the soldiers resuming their work to stop. The dirt muffled sounds, so we needed quiet to hear.

"Are you okay?"

I shouted as loud as I could, hoping it reached Claude. The reply came immediately.

"Yes! I'm fine!"

"Just hold on a bit longer!"

Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness.

I swallowed my rising tears and dug faster. With Claude confirmed alive, Sir Jillian urged the soldiers on too.

Moving my frozen-stiff hands quickly wasn't easy. My body, unused to hard labor, screamed for a break.

But I couldn't stop now.

After about ten minutes of digging, the carriage floor finally started to show.

"Woof! Woof!"

The hunting dog pawed at the thin layer of dirt on the floor. A small hatch with a handle appeared.

"Woof!"

As if to say this is it, the dog barked again.

I gripped the handle with my trembling hands and pulled.

And finally.

"Found you!"

I saw Claude.

Claude stared at his rescuer, who had arrived with the light piercing the darkness.

Was it because he'd been in the dark so long? The woman before him seemed dazzlingly radiant.

Claude blinked repeatedly to clear his vision. Only then did her face come fully into focus.

Tears clung to her long lashes.

"Why are you crying?"

At his question, her lashes quivered. A tear from the corner of her eye trickled down her dirt-streaked cheek.

She roughly wiped away the tear wetting her cheek and spoke.

"Amelia's waiting for you."

"......!"

"She believes her uncle will definitely come find her. We need to get out of here and head to the orphanage—now."

"Then you..."

Claude couldn't finish. But guessing the rest wasn't hard.

"Yes. That's right."

"......"

"I'm Lucella Lilfrey."

Lucella Lilfrey. The name from the letter that told him Amelia's whereabouts.

"Our Amelia is really there..."

"Yes. At Vusnie Orphanage, waiting for her uncle to come."

Claude shot to his feet. But against his will, his legs kept buckling, making it hard to stand.

Lucella hurriedly supported him.

"......Good heavens."

The hem of Claude's right pant leg was soaked dark with blood. She'd thought only his forehead was cut. He must have injured himself while squeezing into the tight space.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"I didn't even realize I was hurt."

Lucella retrieved her outer coat from the broken window and draped it over Claude to preserve his body heat.

She slung his arm over her shoulder and started walking. Her legs trembled not just from shoveling in the cold, but from his heavy weight. Still, they had to move forward.

"We've rescued the marquis! Everyone, pick up the pace!"

"Yes, sir."

With Claude safely out, Sir Jillian and the soldiers redoubled their efforts.

Soon, the massive log blocking the entrance was cleared, and the jammed door swung open.

The waiting physicians wrapped Claude in a thick blanket and examined his wounds. The rescue was finally complete.

"His temperature's a bit low, but no danger to his life. The cuts on his forehead and leg aren't severe either."

"Good. Take him straight to the ducal residence."

Lucella boarded the carriage with the physicians supporting Claude. The patient-laden carriage sped down the road faster than ever.

"I'm fine—please take me to Vusnie Orphanage."

"Pardon?"

"Didn't you say Amelia's waiting? I can get treated after seeing my niece."

"No."

Lucella looked firmly at Claude, bundled tight in the blanket. In the dim light before, she hadn't seen clearly, but now she noticed blood from his forehead had soaked half his face. His lips were blue from the cold too.

"Even a tough guy like you won't last long in that state."

"I can hold out."

But Claude was resolute.

"Let me see Amelia first."

Those seated beside him exchanged glances. His stubbornness was unwavering.

Should she tell the coachman to change course? As she pondered, Lucella spoke up.

"You planning to make Amelia faint?"

"What do you mean?"

"Showing up to a seven-year-old covered in blood like that. Ever think how she'll react?"

"Ah......"

Claude turned to gaze out the window.

His reflection in the glass was a bloody mess. Prolonged exposure to the cold had left his face ghostly pale as well.