Saving My Sweetheart

Chapter 2

Ditrian wiped away the rain dripping down his face, squinted into the distance, and hopped back on his horse.

“It seems we’ve reached the black wall of the city. I'll be right back once I have confirmation.”

“Your Majesty, it’s dangerous!”

Heedless of his men’s concerns, he rode on. Even in the rain, he maintained a skillful, steady balance, and water splashed in all directions as his great white stallion galloped ahead. Ditrian’s face brightened as the black wall loomed close.

They had finally reached the Holy Empire’s capital one month after departing Genos. It had been a grueling journey, walking endlessly in the relentless pouring rain. Even with layers of waterproof clothing, they had all been soaked like rats by nightfall. Thankfully, not a single member of their party had faltered under such harsh conditions, save for Barnes, whose stumble and resultant broken leg did not occur until the end.

We did it. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was surely not the outcome the empire had hoped for—they might have expected the delegation to fail along the arduous journey. However, they had emerged unscathed. Ditrian felt the same way Barnes had before he’d fallen two days earlier. A smile crept over his face. He quickly turned his horse and galloped back to his companions, bursting to share the news with everyone.

“We’re nearly there! Everyone, just a bit more!”

Ditrian encouraged the members of his party, then headed to the back of the caravan. He knocked on the door.

“It’s me, Enoch. I’m coming in,” he called, opening the door to see the young man huddled under a blanket.

“Your Majesty…” he croaked, moving his head.

“Don’t get up,” Ditrian ordered gently.

The boy was the youngest member of the delegation. Despite his youth, he had endured the long, arduous journey well. However, an unexpected skirmish with monsters lurking in the wilderness had injured him.

“I’m sorry,” Enoch whispered hoarsely. “All because of me—”

“Don’t be sorry,” the king interrupted, carefully closing the door. He removed his raincoat, checked it wasn’t dripping, then put it aside. Then, he sat beside the boy. “Where’s Barnes?”

“He—” Enoch coughed. “He just left.”

“On that leg of his?” he clucked in disapproval, and the boy chuckled softly.

“He says that a broken leg will heal faster if he uses it.”

“He’s incorrigible.”

Ditrian cautiously placed a hand over Enoch’s clammy forehead.

“Your fever seems to have gone down.”

“I believe it’s because of the medicine you gave me, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll get you even better medicine soon,” he promised. “We’ve almost arrived.”

“Really?” A bit of life returned to Enoch’s exhausted eyes, and Ditrian nodded. “Thank you. I’ll beat this illness and be on my feet again. I just need a little more ti—” He coughed again, and Ditrian frowned when he saw that it had worsened.

Enoch coughed for a long time afterward, then finally fell asleep, losing consciousness like the life had drained from him. Eventually, the caravan’s door creaked open, and Barnes climbed in, leaning heavily on his crutches.

“Damned rain,” he muttered, gruffly shrugging off his coat as he sat across from Ditrian. “I went to find some medicine for the kid’s cough, Your Majesty.”

Barnes took a bunch of vials out of his pocket, and Ditrian raised a brow.

“Why did you bring medicine for his stomach?”

“I didn’t know what was good, so I brought them all,” he replied, shrugging. “If we mix it all together, something’s bound to work.”

“You’ll bring him to his death before you get rid of that cough.”

“Well then,” Barnes chuckled, “it seems you came just in time, Your Majesty.”

Ditrian grinned and sorted through the vials, finding cough medicine. He opened the stopper but paused when he saw the bloodstains on Enoch’s clothes.

“He… actually started coughing blood earlier,” Barnes admitted, his expression clouding. His face was tense and anxious, unlike his usual self. He ruffled his hair in frustration as he spoke, “I couldn’t wait any longer when I saw the blood. So I went searching. I keep thinking of my late nephew whenever I look at him—they’re the same age. Damn it…”

“Enoch is different from your nephew. Don’t worry yourself unnecessarily.”

“You never know… I never, ever thought my nephew would suffer such a senseless death…” he hissed, biting his bottom lip.

“We’re almost at the capital. I’ll call for a physician as soon as we enter. If needed, we can also enlist the priests’ help.”

“Those blasted priests would never help us,” Barnes said, but Ditrian chuckled.

“Did you forget? I’m going to become Josephina’s son-in-law in two days. It’s the least they can do for us, so don’t fret.”

Barnes looked consternated. He had forgotten for a moment because of Enoch, but the one suffering the most among them was still the king. After all, he had to accept Josephina’s daughter as his bride.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” he murmured. “I need to sew my damned mouth shut.”

“If you have the strength to do that, take care of Enoch instead.”

Ditrian patted his shoulder and then went back outside. The rain was still pouring down, and he stood, staring at the sky, before firmly stepping into a puddle. The black wall of the city began to emerge as the delegation from Genos slowly advanced.

* * *

“Isn’t this going too far? How many hours have we been waiting?”

What Ditrian feared had happened—the Holy Empire was deliberately refusing them entry. They had been standing out in the pouring rain for over half a day in front of the tightly shut gate. He glared at it grimly.

“What about a physician, Your Highness?” Barnes asked. “Have they not sent one yet? If we can’t enter, then can’t they send us a physician…?”

Instead of replying, Ditrian ground his teeth.

“We can’t have one? Why not? Why the hell not?”

Barnes threw his crutches in frustration and stomped his bandaged leg.

“Stop! That will only make things worse!” Enoch cried.

“What can be worse than someone dying out here?”

Ditrian whirled around at Barnes’ outburst, ignoring the commotion as he paced. He was so angry, he felt as if he might explode. He had expected the empire to be uncooperative to an extent, as they always were, but he’d informed them that one of their members was ill and on the brink of death. To go this far… What had they possibly done wrong?

What is the saint thinking? He was enraged. Isn’t she worried about her daughter?

Ditrian simply could not understand her actions. He was set to marry her daughter two days from now, so why was she provoking him so needlessly? Perhaps she intended to cancel the marriage. What would she do if he lost his senses and ended up killing Leticia? A hollow laugh escaped him, and his shoulders slumped weakly in the rain.

As if… I could harm her… Josephina knew that Ditrian wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her daughter. If he did, then Genos would be wiped off the map. He closed his eyes tightly, and the rain dripped down beneath his black lashes as if they were tears. Right now, all he could do was endure.

* * *

The delegation from Genos remained outside their gates, but the Holy Empire remained silent. Enoch’s condition was steadily growing worse, his fever spiking and his bloody coughs more frequent.

Finally, the rain ceased its assault after a full day, and a clear blue sky revealed itself. The thick gate opened with a mighty creak, and Ditrian briskly moved forward when he saw a carriage emerge from within. It stopped, and one of the knights fell on his hands and knees in front of the door, from which a priest in pristine white robes with a haughty expression descended, stepping on the knight’s back.

“Hear ye, King Ditrian! I bring word from Her Holiness!”

Ditrian knelt, bending one knee before the priest. He didn’t care that his pants and his hands were planted in the mud. Choosing to bow his head calmly suppressed the murderous hatred and rage deep inside of him.

“The Holy Empire has completed all preparations to receive the delegation from the Kingdom of Genos!” the priest screeched. “However, your preparations were sorely lacking!”

“I apologize,” Ditrian murmured.

“This marriage is a sacred union that will bind our two nations together. Therefore, many have expressed opposition! However, Her Holiness has graciously decided to grant you one more chance! The marriage will proceed as planned. King Ditrian must enter at once!”

Ditrian whipped his head up.

“You are allowing us to enter?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

“The only one who may enter is the king!”

Ditrian was momentarily struck speechless before asking, his voice trembling, “Am I supposed to abandon my men and enter by myself?”

“Indeed! They cannot enter, as they are afflicted with a foul disease,” the priest impatiently snapped. “That illness may contaminate the whole of our great land. No one, except King Ditrian, may enter the palace!”

“I cannot,” he said desperately, shaking his head. “A king cannot abandon his people.”

“You are not abandoning them! After the wedding ceremony, you may return with them back to your homeland.”

“One of my men is too sick. He cannot endure until then. If no one else may enter, then at least allow him—”

“Do you dare defy Her Holiness’s orders?” the priest bellowed. His face scrunched into a hideous glare as he pointed at the king’s men. “Must they pay the price for your defiance before you return to your senses?!”

At that moment, Ditrian realized what he had to do, and he swiftly prostrated himself on the ground, slamming his forehead on the dirt.

“They are blameless,” he declared. “It is all because of my own deficiency.”

His forehead was muddied, his torn skin stinging against the rocks. He lowered himself further, and the damp smell of the earth filled his lungs.

“I will bear all the consequences of my negligence after the ceremony myself. I will accept whatever punishment Her Holiness deems appropriate… most willingly…” he begged.

Ditrian closed his eyes, calming his breaths. He felt his eyes grow hot. Seven years ago, another person had lain prostrate and begged before these very gates—his father. Had his father felt the same emotions?

“I shall accept most willingly, but I cannot move from this spot before a physician is sent. Please have mercy just this once…” he continued.

“It’s like talking to a rock!” the priest snapped before whisking himself back into the carriage, stepping on the knight’s back once more to hoist himself up.

Ditrian remained prostrate, even as the priest continued to grumble.

“I will inform Her Holiness immediately that the King of Genos refuses the marriage! To the palace!”

The massive gate opened once more, and the carriage rolled inside. Once the gate closed with a resounding clang, Ditrian slowly raised himself. He wiped the mud off his forehead and saw that his sleeve was stained with blood. He gazed down at it with an inscrutable expression before standing up. A gust of wind blew, causing his black hair to sway slightly.

“Your Majesty!” He turned, hearing Barnes’ outraged shout. The knight dashed forward to grab the hem of his clothes. “Your Majesty, please allow me to go after those bastards and kill them all. Please!”

“Lower your voice, Barnes,” Ditrian whispered harshly, grabbing him by the scruff. Blood trickled down his face. “Do you intend to get everyone killed? We need to save Enoch first.”

Barnes burst into tears like a distraught child. Ditrian left him sobbing on the floor and swiftly headed back to the rest of his men.

“Yulken!” he called.

“Your Majesty, we must first treat your wounds!”

“There’s no time for that. Choose your three fastest men quickly. They must go to a nearby village and find a physician. They must be cautious, and move discreetly to avoid being discovered by the empire’s guards.”

Yulken nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How’s Enoch?”

“He… is still unconscious.”

Ditrian clenched his fists. The sky was painfully blue, almost blinding. They had told him the sky had been equally clear on that fateful day seven years ago.

“We will save Enoch, no matter what,” he declared. Right now, he had to do what he could.

Leticia opened her eyes on her wedding day, knowing everything that would happen in the future.