63. The Shooting Star of Baloch
If there was one thing Bianca knew well, it was cunning men who enjoyed using sly words.
‘What kind of men do you prefer?’
The man who pretended to be sly but actually made her stop crying.
‘This is your home.’
The man who, while making such statements, laid bare his raw emotions so naturally that she couldn’t even put up her guard.
She had spent enough time in high society to be thoroughly accustomed to its games, but she had never met a man like Jillian before.
As far as Bianca knew, cunning men were always lechers to the end, and those with transparent hearts were fools to the end.
Jillian, however, constantly shifted his behaviour before she could even get a grasp on him.
Perhaps that was why she had crumbled so easily.
Because every sly remark, every smug expression, and every desperate tone he used all pointed in the same direction.
She had melted too easily, never even daring to anticipate the end.
Thanks to Jillian, Bianca had developed quite an immunity to seemingly ‘clever’ speech. She could now see through it without much effort.
“You may leave now. Even if you have a truly interesting story, I’m too tired to hear it today.”
Looking away would be a rookie move. Bianca held his gaze directly as she finished speaking.
The man, who had been pleading for a crime he hadn’t committed just moments ago, met her stare without even blinking.
As expected—something was off.
“It seems I made a mistake because there were just too many things I wanted to tell you.”
“…”
“Then, I look forward to seeing you next time.”
The air in the parlor, which had turned cold in an instant, softened slightly at the innocent tone of his voice.
Bianca gave him a slight nod as a farewell.
After the man left, Julie, who had been standing behind her, approached and knelt down.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Julie blinked and slightly parted her lips.
“In your heart?”
“What?”
The way she carefully asked about her mood was much smoother than before.
Bianca, without realizing it, burst into laughter.
“I can’t believe you’re asking like this! You’ve really improved, Julie!”
“Did you think I was a fool, my lady?”
“Of course not.”
“Then please answer. What was bothering you?”
“It’s best to be wary of those who speak too smoothly. You might let your guard down and be ensnared.”
“Is that so?”
“Julie, the most dangerous person you’ll meet isn’t the one wielding a sword—it’s the one who offers unexpected kindness.”
A person with a sword at least shows hostility. But a smooth tongue makes one drop their guard before they even realize it.
“Do you know what weapon noblewomen wield in high society?”
Bianca looked down at Julie and, as she had once done with Deborah, whispered gently.
“It’s beautiful, sweet words. They may sound pleasant, but if you let your guard down, you’ll pay a hefty price.”
“That’s difficult… I’ll just stay in the North forever.”
“Me too. But, Julie, high society exists everywhere, and it’s always the same.”
“Not in the North.”
“…What?”
“There’s no such thing as high society in Baloch.”
Julie lifted her hand and fluttered it like a fan, covering her mouth in imitation of a gossiping noblewoman.
“No high society?”
Bianca blinked in surprise.
Julie answered firmly.
“Who could possibly hold a social gathering when the Duchess of Baloch has forbidden it?”
“The Duchess?”
“Yes. She scolded the ladies, asking if they had nothing better to do than flutter their fans and exchange glances while all the knights were dedicating themselves to the Wave.”
“When?”
“Hmm…”
Julie furrowed her brow, counting on her fingers.
“I’m not sure… a long time ago.”
“A long time ago.”
“That’s why there’s no high society in Baloch.”
“What about banquets?”
“Of course, there aren’t any. That’s why everyone is so excited. The Duke announced that he’ll be holding a wedding, after all. The Duke’s wedding! Can you imagine how grand it will be?”
Julie, her cheeks flushed, clenched her fists in excitement.
She truly looked delighted, but Bianca couldn’t bring herself to smile along.
“But this isn’t the first wedding for a Duke, though?”
Even as she said it, she felt foolish. It was a given. But Julie shattered her doubt in an instant.
“The House of Baloch has never once held a wedding.”
“What?”
***
A deep, resonant vibration struck, sending chills down their spine.
The Grace Worms, after failing to break through the fortress, raised their impossibly long bodies high into the sky before slamming them down again.
It was a crude method, but undeniably effective.
Boom.
With each heavy impact, cracks began to form in the seventh fortress.
Boom.
One after another, they struck in a steady rhythm.
It was a spectacle—both magnificent and utterly terrifying.
If despair had a physical form, this would be it.
Creatures of unimaginable size, leisurely and methodically hammering down a fortress, breaking it piece by piece.
No matter how hard they tried, it was impossible to have hopeful thoughts.
“**** it, this is unreal.”
Raymond rubbed his stiff face, unsure if he was frozen in shock or fear.
Jillian and the others were the only ones left to stop the Grace Worms—just six in total.
The knights had stubbornly insisted on staying, but their presence would have only led to pointless deaths.
“Why not just prepare dinner for them instead?”
Jillian’s remark, devoid of any consideration, had finally convinced the knights to leave, their shoulders drooping, retreating to the second fortress.
Now, they were gone.
And the moment they left, the Grace Worms revealed their true monstrous form, ramming into the seventh fortress with full force.
“God, look at that thing.”
“It’s not just its looks. The smell is unbearable.”
Even Killian, who rarely showed emotion, pinched his nose and grimaced.
“Now this is what I call a real fight.”
“Stop showing off.”
Raymond rolled his eyes as Killian shrugged and loaded a bundle of oil-soaked cloth onto the catapult.
The hastily made oil bombs, gathered from all the remaining cloth in the fortress, were crude. But no one laughed at their appearance.
They were the result of desperate efforts to fight off the ever-present tension.
Killian placed the oil bombs in position, aiming at a Grace Worm striking the fortress.
Behind him stood Elizabeth, holding a flaming arrow.
Oil had been poured everywhere. If they lit a fire recklessly, they would all burn together.
So, they planned to launch the oil bombs first and then ignite them mid-air with flaming arrows. The difficulty of execution was no joke.
However, if they could eliminate even one Grace Worm, it had to be done. There were a total of fourteen Grace Worms.
Jillian didn’t seem particularly hopeful, but the captains could not just stand by.
Losing Sylas Baloch had been enough. They would never let their master face such a fate again.
Each arrowhead had a small bundle of oil-soaked cloth attached.
If the flames went out mid-flight, it would be a disaster, so they ensured the arrows carried enough fuel to stay alight.
Sparks scattered from the burning arrowhead, but Elizabeth did not blink as she drew her bowstring.
“Is it not time yet? Are we only shooting once? Elizabeth’s eyes are probably burning!”
Raymond’s anxious voice broke the tense silence when Killian didn’t give the signal.
But Killian held his ground. The wind direction was unfavorable.
They were positioned at the Fourth Fortress, and the distance to the Seventh Fortress was vast.
The oil bombs were heavy, not only because of the cloth but also due to the oil soaking them.
If the wind caused them to drop prematurely, it would be a waste. They had to ride the wind perfectly.
Then, at last, the wind shifted.
“Fire!”
Killian shouted at the perfect moment.
Raymond’s sword cut through the air, releasing the oil bomb high into the sky.
Following immediately, Elizabeth’s flaming arrow struck, igniting it like a shooting star.
“Ha…”
The long streak of fire was both majestic and beautiful.
Thud!
A direct hit.
The Grace Worm flared up, burning spectacularly.
“Kwaaaaah!”
The monster, which had been relentlessly ramming the fortress, twisted in agony.
Boom! Boom!
Its massive, flailing body struck the fortress repeatedly, its thick outer membrane fluttering like a tattered flag.
The cracks in the walls deepened, and finally, the fortress began to collapse.
The captains, instead of despairing at the sight, were exhilarated.
“Did you see that?”
“It worked.”
They exchanged looks of exhilaration.
‘Just wait here.’
The duke had always been a distant figure, leaving them behind.
Treating them like children needing protection, he had fought off scattered monsters at the rear.
Their relationship had been entirely one-sided—lord and knight, but never equals.
They had accepted it as inevitable.
Monsters were beyond human capability, after all.
They had thought there was no other way.
But they had been wrong.
Something surged in their chests—whether it was frustration or newfound exhilaration, they couldn’t tell.
One thing was certain.
Never again would they leave their master to fight alone.
“Reload!”
Raymond shouted, snapping Killian back to focus. In no time, they prepared another round. The air was thick with the stench of oil, the ground slick and treacherous.
But at this moment, nowhere in the world felt more glorious.
“Fire!”
Another explosion brightened the vast darkness.
***
“I want to go with you.”
Creta followed behind Jillian, who walked at a leisurely pace.
“No.”
“I know I won’t be of much help. But please, take me with you.”
“What’s the point if you won’t be of any help?”
Unlike the heavy hearted Creta, Jillian’s tone was lighthearted, almost cheerful.
“…”
“What’s the point?”
Creta swallowed the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.
He could not let his master go alone a second time.
They reached the gate of the Fifth Fortress.
Jillian, stepping through the wide-open doors, lightly pushed Creta back.
“I’ll be back. Just wait.”
“Your Grace.”
“Don’t be anxious.”
“Please, let me go with you. I beg you.”
“Have you forgotten, Creta? Baloch Dukes have never once told a lie.”
Creta’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Sylas Baloch never promised to return.’
In the moment he hesitated, the massive gates closed before him.
Boom.
Jillian Baloch had departed.
