The Price of Departure and a Vow of Ambition

Noren swiftly retrieved her parcel from the living quarters and dashed out of the main castle keep. Even as she descended the long wooden ladder outside the keep, Igor made no move to pursue her.She stood at the foot of the ladder, glancing back at the small entrance to the keep, a hint of regret in her voice. “It seems I’ve missed the chance to make the acquaintance of a bishop.”

Just then, Tolke arrived, leading Hafdan and several others, their faces etched with anxiety. Fully armed, their appearance drew the curious glances of the servants scattered throughout the castle courtyard.

“Battle!” Wiz bellowed, his excitement palpable as he thumped the edge of his shield with his sword, producing dull thuds. The warrior, eager for a fight, was already itching to spill blood.

“There’s no need for battle. We’re leaving.” Noren lowered her gaze, dismissing the idea with a languid wave of her hand, her enthusiasm clearly waned.

“Ah~” Wiz let out a disgruntled cry of disappointment, much like a high school student learning their monthly holiday had been canceled.

“What do you mean, ‘Ah’?” Hafdan delivered a sharp chop to his younger brother Wiz’s head, chastising him. “Do you truly believe castle guards are as easily dealt with as common bandits? Come on, let’s go!”

“Oh~” Wiz rubbed his head, realizing he’d been so hasty that he’d forgotten his helmet. He nodded in firm agreement. Indeed, battle without a helmet would be a swift path to an untimely demise.

The group hastily prepared their gear, but as they moved to lead their horses from the stable, they were abruptly stopped.

Their obstruction came from the stableman himself, who was peeling an egg with casual indifference. “No one is permitted to take so much as a single horse from these stables without Sir Kovan’s explicit orders!” he declared. The stableman’s demeanor was utterly flippant, devoid of even a hint of respect due to a noble. After peeling the egg, he swallowed the tender white in one gulp, chewed a few times, and then gulped it down. With an arrogant expression, he rubbed three fingers together at Noren, and when he smiled, she could distinctly see yolk lodged between his teeth.

Noren ignored the stableman’s blatant gesture for a bribe. Her gaze drifted to a servant dressed as a farmer, who was busy harnessing a brown draught horse nearby. With an impassive face, she pointed to him. “What about him, then?”

The stableman’s grin widened, becoming even more insolent. He propped his hands on his hips, chin jutting out. “Oh, him? I know him!”

“Thwack!” A crisp, oddly satisfying thud echoed. The stableman’s eyes rolled back, revealing a startling expanse of white, and his body writhed like a boneless serpent before he simply collapsed, falling into an instant, deep slumber on the ground. Hafdan tossed aside the wooden stick he’d casually picked up. “Why waste words on such a presumptuous wretch?”

The group quickly led out their horses, fitting them with yokes and bridles. Some boarded carriages, while others mounted their warhorses, all rushing frantically towards the castle gates.

****

Once more, their path was blocked, this time by the guards stationed at the city gate. “Good day, esteemed lady. Why the hasty departure?” The guard remembered the golden-haired young woman and was puzzled by her swift exit after only a night’s stay. He had also keenly observed that Sir Kovan was conspicuously absent from her farewell. The guard, with his vivid imagination, speculated that the golden-haired noblewoman might have been spurned by Sir Kovan, who, in his pique, had then expelled her from the castle.

“Move aside.” Noren was in no mood for idle chatter. The stableman had already thoroughly disgusted her, and she had no desire to waste further breath arguing with the gate guards.

Another guard, distinguished by his bulbous nose, harbored the same suspicions. He knew precisely how to treat nobles who had been ignominiously cast out. The bulbous-nosed guard shook his head. “Esteemed lady, I regret to inform you that we cannot permit your departure until you have thoroughly explained the bloodstains on your attire.” He had noticed the bloodstains on Noren’s armor, a convenient pretext for an inspection. Even if the golden-haired noblewoman later complained to the “Handsome” Count, he wouldn’t lack a plausible excuse.

As Noren’s brow furrowed, Tolke spurred his horse forward. He presented his peeling, sunburnt nose to the two guards. “Nosebleed. May we proceed now?”

The two guards exchanged glances. The first one to speak reiterated, “How are we to know the bloodstains on her clothes are truly yours? We must insist, lady, that you dismount so we may thoroughly—inspect~ inspect~.” By the end of his words, both guards wore lecherous grins, and one of them even slid his hands up and down in the air, outlining a voluptuous figure.

“You!” Tolke roared, his hand already on his sword, ready to cleave the two men apart.

“Tolke.” Noren’s voice was calm, like a still pond, as she called out to him. She had no desire for further conflict; their immediate priority was to depart swiftly.

“Give them five silver coins.” Noren decided to mitigate the trouble with money. These guards couldn’t possibly be stopping them merely to fulfill their duties; like the stableman before, they were clearly motivated solely by greed.

Tolke inhaled deeply, suppressing his fury. He grudgingly pulled five silver coins from his purse and tossed them to one of the guards. “Now, let us pass.”

The guard weighed the silver coins in his hand, then bit one to test its authenticity—they were indeed good, full-weight coins. Yet, he did not immediately grant passage. Instead, he stared at the coins for a long moment. After a considerable pause, the guard suddenly bared a wide, predatory grin. “There are two of us,” he said, his eyes, alight with avarice, fixed on Noren. “You’ll need to give my brother here another five denarii silver coins.”

“Clang!” Tolke, incandescent with rage, drew his short sword and pointed its tip at the two avaricious guards.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Seeing Tolke draw his blade, the guards’ nerves tautened. They fumbled to pocket the coins and raised their spears, aiming them at Tolke. The bulbous-nosed guard beside him, belatedly reacting, also raised his spear, directing its sharp, flat metal head towards Tolke’s white warhorse, which let out a startled neigh.

“Tolke, give it to them!” Noren called out again. Their most pressing concern was to escape the castle grounds before Sir Kovan could have a change of heart, rather than to squabble with two greedy wretches.

“Noren!” Tolke cried, his right hand gripping his sword, his left tugging the reins to control his agitated white warhorse. After their intimate conversation last night (and note, it was *not* a negative distance!), he found it increasingly unbearable to witness Noren being offended, particularly by such avaricious and despicable individuals!

“Give it to them!” Noren’s voice carried a new weight. Every second they lingered now increased their peril. Whether it was an insult or a few silver coins, there would always be an opportunity to reclaim their dignity later.

Tolke, too, realized his actions were being swayed by anger. Suppressing the fiery indignation within him, he grabbed another handful of silver coins and flung them over. “Take them!”

The bulbous-nosed guard clapped his hands together, catching the thrown coins. After a quick count, his face blossomed into a wide grin. “A fat lamb indeed…” He winked at his fellow guard, but the other man shook his head, signaling for him to stop. Though the bulbous-nosed guard still wore a disgruntled expression, his greed hadn’t entirely clouded his judgment. If they continued their extortion, even as guards protecting the Count’s castle, this noblewoman would surely find a way to punish them. Once the bulbous-nosed guard had reasoned this out, he nodded to his comrade, and their opinions aligned. The guards lowered their blocking spears, their deferential tone subtly laced with menace. “It is our duty to guard the Count’s castle and to scrutinize suspicious individuals entering and exiting.” “We humbly ask that you do *not* take *offense*!” Though the two guards bowed, their eyes gleamed with a cold, sharp light, their obsequious words forming a stark contrast to their arrogant expressions.

Noren’s right hand instinctively brushed her sword hilt, two veins throbbing on the back of her hand as she ground her teeth. She withdrew her hand, inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and without another word, led her caravan away, following the winding mountain road that ascended the castle hill.

****

When Noren finally emerged from her surge of anger, they were already traversing a wide, tree-lined road, leaving Olomouc Castle and its surrounding villages far behind. The grey warhorse beneath her seemed rather pleased, deliberately splashing its hooves into the occasional puddles on the road, sending mud flying and staining her boots. Unlike her cheerful steed, Noren felt anything but happy. Her initial purpose in leading the caravan to Olomouc had been to forge good relations with the local nobility. She had planned to leave a profound impression on the nobles of Olomouc County with her exclusive mead, hoping to at least become a familiar face. Instead, she had only managed to befriend the knightly family of Osbrück, failed to even meet their family’s bishop, and ultimately clashed with the “Handsome” Count’s household knights. Alas, this expedition was a failure. From now on, she resolved, it would be better to simply focus on managing her own fief and village! But before that…

Noren’s knuckles suddenly cracked with a sharp snap, her silver teeth grinding together. Beneath her fiercely arched golden brows, her green eyes blazed with emerald fire. ‘But before that, I need to deal with a few people, or my heart won’t find peace!’ she thought. ‘The “Handsome” Otta, the “Lazy” Jaromir, and those two castle gate guards! The “Handsome” Otta… a rotten tree produces rotten fruit! Is being a Count so impressive? Knights, stablemen, gate guards—each one of them believes that merely invoking the Count’s name grants them license to act with impunity. The household knights, arrogant and brutal, defy the traditions of dueling simply because they serve the Count; the stableman abuses his petty authority, bolstered by his role in caring for the Count’s horses; the gate guards, initially humble and polite in Sir Kovan’s presence, transformed into vile, greedy wretches in his absence. To indulge your subordinates so brazenly… if I don’t disfigure that “handsome” face of yours until it’s uglier than a leper’s, I’ve lived this life in vain! As for Jaromir, that living beast who spread the plague! I’ll find a guide and make a trip to Prague, the ducal capital. That wretch Jaromir has clung to life for far too long; it’s time he returned to God’s embrace.’

‘But… who should I deal with first? The “Lazy” Jaromir, or the “Handsome” Otta?’ Noren’s golden brows furrowed deeply as she twisted a small golden braid in her fingers. Soon, her brows relaxed, and her porcelain-white fingers released the braid. She had decided! First, she would deal with the “Handsome” Count, then kill the “Lazy” Jaromir. Tackling the Count first would be good for gaining infiltration experience. After that, she would proceed to Prague, the ducal capital. Surely, a night raid on a Count in his own domain would be simpler than assassinating a Duke’s bishop brother in the capital. A spark of insight flashed through Noren’s mind! She felt as though she had grasped a profound truth! ‘Hmph~ If I can assassinate the Archbishop in the capital, Prague, wouldn’t that imply I possess the capability to kill the King of the Duchy? After killing the King, and then eliminating all adult males of the Přemyslid family, the Duchy would undoubtedly descend into chaos! I could then lead my soldiers to Prague and install a child king…’ ‘Hmph~ Wouldn’t that make me a Cao Cao? What happened to being a Mendel?’

“Slap, slap!” The golden-haired maiden lightly patted her fair, delicate cheeks, urging herself to wake up. ‘Wake up, Noren! You have no soldiers; you are merely a humble Norse shieldmaiden!’ With this thought, her mood calmed, yet a smile she couldn’t suppress played on her lips. For she had glimpsed the grand path to her future! The exquisitely beautiful golden-haired maiden gazed up at the brilliant sun, her green eyes burning with fierce ambition. ‘Just you wait, you Přemyslid scum! In less than ten years, Bohemia will be crushed beneath my heel!’