The Fall and Fury of Noren

Let us rewind time by two minutes.

Noren sat steadily upon the saddle, the horse moving with a light, quick step, as a gentle breeze swept aside the golden strands from her forehead. The admiring gazes of the pedestrians lining the street filled her with an undeniable sense of comfort.

A sudden urge to gallop seized her. Although riding a horse at full speed within the city limits was a breach of traffic rules and risked colliding with pedestrians, this particular street was sparsely populated, allowing for a brief, exhilarating burst of speed.

Drawing out her riding crop, she cracked it with a sound like a thunderclap, causing the bay horse to neigh sharply.

The hooves flew, and the surrounding scenery began to recede at an accelerated pace. The gentle whisper of the breeze transformed into a powerful, forceful gust.

A single street vanished in the blink of an eye.

‘That’s enough,’ Noren thought to herself, then shouted, “Whoa—!”

This command was met with a pained whinny from the horse and a sharp, brittle *CRACK!* of breaking bone.

A violent sensation of weightlessness surged through Noren’s entire body, as if a venomous serpent named ‘gravity’ had suddenly lunged out and seized her by the neck.

‘What a lame horse!’

In the instant she was thrown backward, Noren glimpsed the blue sky and white clouds. The sounds around her slowed and distorted, the wings of birds in the sky flapped ever more sluggishly, the sunlight dimmed, and the air took on a pale gray hue.

‘My heightened perception wouldn’t last much longer.’

Noren twisted her cervical spine, desperate to ascertain her current predicament, but accelerated reaction was not time stagnation; the feeling of weightlessness persisted.

‘Easy, easy, take it slow…’

She could only manage to pull her left foot free from the stirrup first, then attempted her right.

‘Damn it! It’s caught.’ She cursed inwardly.

At the moment her foot became snagged, the birds flapped their wings and soared high, and the wind in her ears swiftly intensified once more.

With a resounding *THUD*, a long plume of dust billowed upward, stretching for thirty feet.

The citizens were dumbstruck by the sudden spectacle unfolding before their eyes.

A robust, broad-hipped woman was the first to react, unleashing a piercing shriek: “Ah—!”

She then began running and screaming frantically, “Help! Someone, quick! Someone’s been crushed to death by a horse!”

The smoke gradually dispersed.

Noren spat out a mouthful of dust, “Pah, pah, pah! Who’s cursing me?!”

Half of her body was pinned beneath the horse, which was continuously letting out pained whinnies and kicking its still-mobile legs.

*Thump, thump, thump…* The hooves of the suffering, panicked bay horse repeatedly struck Noren’s pinned body, further exasperating her.

“Stop kicking!” Noren yelled.

The bay horse, unable to comprehend human speech, continued its frantic struggle.

The crowd wished to help, but the sheer size of the horse’s body rendered everyone helpless.

Noren’s entire body ached. She managed to pull out a hand, finding its back completely bruised purple, a condition mitigated only by the protection of her bloodstone membrane (TL Note: A protective layer or ability, likely magical, that enhances durability and resilience.).

She wiped the dust from her face, then gathered a mouthful of saliva, turning her head to spit the dust aside before attempting to move her ankle.

‘I can move. My physical conditioning is superior even to Captain America’s, truly a medieval Spider-Man.’

Noren tried to extract her stuck right foot from the stirrup.

However, with her body pinned beneath the horse, she couldn’t possibly get free without lifting it.

Taking a deep breath, her heart pounded faster, her muscles engorged and bulged, the bloodstone membrane reinforcing her joints. She pressed her hands against the horse’s body, her fingers digging into its fur.

“Hoooo—yah—!” Noren gritted her molars, veins bulging on her forehead.

“Get off me!”

*CRASH!* The fallen bay horse was violently flung several feet into the air before crashing heavily to the ground, rolling twice, and finally foaming at the mouth.

Noren staggered to her feet, but no sooner had she found her balance than another wave of dizziness struck, sending her sprawling back to the ground.

Once the dizziness subsided, she managed to stand with the aid of a woman who helped steady her.

She rotated her neck, eliciting soft *clack-clack* sounds, then rotated her waist, finding no issue there. It was her back, however—

“Hiss…” Presuming her entire back was a mass of purplish-black bruises, she couldn’t help but regret, ‘Why didn’t I just find a stablehand to properly examine this horse first?’

Noren resolved that from now on, she would always be more cautious.

As the pain slightly receded, fury surged within her, twisting her lips into a cruel smile: “Ogmund, you bastard! You’d better run fast, because when I get my hands on you, I’ll make sure you know what it means to wish for death, what it means to suffer the Ten Tortures of the Manchu Qing Dynasty (TL Note: A series of brutal torture methods historically associated with the Qing Dynasty in China, often used to describe extreme suffering)! You’ll regret the day God let you roll out of your mother’s backside.”

Noren—Stress +50 (Enraged)

****

“Ah… ah… achoo!” A plump man, dressed as a merchant, sat in his carriage. He wiped away his snot and nonchalantly smeared it onto the coachman’s back, then feigned politeness as he asked, “How much further are we from Opava?”

“A day’s journey, but there seems to be a village ahead. Shall we rest there for the night?” the coachman inquired.

“Rest my ass! No… wait!” Ogmund’s eyes lit up as he spotted something significant. “Do you see that bearded man up ahead?”

The coachman nodded in affirmation.

“What about the girl next to that bearded man?”

“I see her too.”

The胖man slapped his palm. “Good, we’ll rest for the night.”

Freya had just finished consulting with the blacksmith about cultivating medicinal herbs when she saw a four-wheeled carriage halt. A round, plump head poked out from within.

“Excuse me—may we rest here for the night? My caravan is exhausted, and if you could prepare some food, I would gladly pay you.”

The plump head emerging from the carriage spoke thus.

****

Returning the focus to the accident scene in Hradec, the wrecked horse now lay to one side, while the authorities responsible for dealing with the incident had yet to arrive.

The person involved stood silently nearby, perhaps mourning the ‘new vehicle’ she had just acquired.

Noren stood in the middle of the road, her fists cracking as she clenched them. After standing rooted for some time, she finally remembered the fallen bay horse.

Having a draft horse at home, Noren possessed some experience in horse care and knew that a broken leg was a fatal injury for a horse, leaving virtually no hope of recovery.

She stroked the bay horse’s mane, her expression filled with pity: “Don’t worry, it will be quick. You won’t suffer for long.”

*Swish*

A flash of sword light, and spurting blood splattered all over her.

Biting her lower lip with her pearly teeth, she lowered her head, her long hair obscuring her face save for her elegant chin. The chilling aura emanating from her caused the onlookers to instinctively recoil.

The guards arrived tardily. They looked at Noren, who stood silently with her sword, then at the slain horse… exchanging glances, none daring to speak.

A quick-witted guard had a sudden idea and hurried back to inform the mayor. The remaining guards formed a protective circle around Noren.

The Old Saddler and his apprentice rushed over, falling to their knees in trepidation, prostrating themselves before the sword-wielding girl.

Noren cast a faint glance at the pair, her red lips parting slightly: “Remove the tack and keep it safe.”

“Yes, milady,” the grandfather and grandson replied, cold sweat trickling down their brows.

‘A riding horse just died like that… I won’t be fooled again!’ Noren replayed the entire horse-buying incident in her mind, no longer dwelling on it. Everyone makes foolish mistakes sometimes; this was a lesson learned. Next time… there wouldn’t be a next time!