Lisbel's Justified Fury
Lisbel's anger was justified.
Hendrick von Hautman watched Lisbel scream in her broken, emaciated body and understood that it was perfectly right.
*If I had known this would befall her...*
The sunken frame, the whip scars peeking between the ragged monastic robes, the dry ash-colored hair and eyes stripped of light—all of it laid bare the torment she had endured here. Late regret swallowed his whole body. But right now he had to stay cold.
“See, can you even refuse this?”
Hendrick threw it carelessly, concealing the sudden emotion that surged through him. Lisbel stared at the artifact rolling toward her knees. A hazy projection flickered into view from the impact on the floor, and her eyes widened.
“Ah… Mother?”
“Living as the mother of a heretic must be terribly difficult. Don’t you agree?”
The figure lying in the projection was Elysia Belloc, Lisbel’s mother.
She lay unconscious, face gaunt with illness, far thinner than the woman who had always told her daughter she was well. No trace of her former gentle smile remained.
“Ah… why is Mother…?”
“Cumulative mental strain deepened the illness. I heard the Empire’s physicians could do nothing.”
“Ah, no… Mother…”
The instant Lisbel saw her mother’s face, her fury snapped and dissolved.
She had clung to the faintest hope: that one day she would clear her name, escape this hell, and live quietly with her mother in a distant village.
But if her mother was gone, what then?
What reason did she have left to live?
The only reason she had endured three years of hell was her mother’s desperate plea: *Please, do not break*. The single thread that had kept her alive through every miserable day was now unraveling.
“But there is a way to save your mother.”
Lisbel stared at the floor, silent tears falling, then slowly lifted her head. The last shreds of pride she had clung to in her ruin meant nothing.
“Finish the excavation safely, decipher every inscription, and I will grant you exile from the Empire. You have heard of the Caltea Republic?”
“The highest medical standards on the continent…”
“Yes. I have already arranged for physicians to treat her. If you agree to the excavation, I will send you there immediately.”
Hendrick von Hautman had always been like this—practical, ruthless, willing to destroy anything to achieve the result he wanted. Lisbel had known it for a long time. Only in the past had that cold arrow never been aimed at her.
“I have a question.”
Perhaps the moment he opened the Sanctuary gates, she had lost every choice she possessed.
“What is it?”
“The Empire’s greatest scholars could not decipher it. The chance I will fail is high. Then what happens?”
“After you attempt to decipher it, we can negotiate again.”
“If I obey this command and begin my mother’s treatment as promised… I beg you to fulfill it.”
“I will.”
A heavy silence pressed between them.
“Then…”
“But,”
Before Hendrick could finish, Lisbel cut him off, her voice shaking.
“Using me as a shield for dungeon creation and monster raids was a pitiful reward, was it not?”
“What?”
“The reward I mentioned is only the treatment for my mother and my exile. Is crushing one person’s life not worth more than this?”
She had never wanted to participate in the inscription excavation. None of it mattered to her when the Empire and the Emperor had shattered everything she loved.
But her mother’s life was at stake. What she said now was not negotiation; it was a desperate gamble to lose as little as possible.
Hendrick watched her in silence, as if daring her to demand more. Lisbel clenched her fists until the knuckles bled white to stop herself from flinching.
“Since you have taken what mattered most to me, I will accept the reward.”
A dark sorrow flashed across Lisbel’s eyes. What she had lost was not academic honor or scholarly achievement. It was the sweet future she had burned everything for, with the man she loved.
“Tell me what you want.”
Just as the old emotion, once thought dead, began to rise again, Hendrick’s cold voice dragged her back to reality.
Lisbel drew a deep breath and laid out her conditions in a rush.
“I want you to allow me to observe the imperial ruins, record all research, and of course decipher the inscriptions. And I demand a substantial compensation for being falsely accused of heresy and suffering for three years. At the very least, enough to prepare a luxurious mansion in the center of the Caltea Republic and sufficient funds to settle there properly.”
Ironically, the one who had taught her this art of negotiation sat right in front of her.
*Remember this. When you hold even a sliver of advantage on the board, crush the opponent until they have no breath left.*
She had never imagined that advice would one day be aimed at her.
She did not hold the advantage now. She knew it better than anyone, yet she forced herself to appear dignified.
Would he be astonished by this absurd demand? Or would he use cowardly blackmail to keep her locked here forever?
If it had been the Hendrick she once knew, he would never have treated her with such cruelty. But that Hendrick was gone.
Even after she listed every condition, Hendrick’s handsome face remained unchanged.
The silence stretched until Lisbel’s breathing grew ragged, and Hendrick finally spoke, his lips parting.
“I will consult the Emperor.”
It was not a full yes, but it was close enough to acceptable.
The imperial ruins had never been publicly opened or documented since the Empire’s founding, so access might be difficult. Compensation for the three years of suffering, however, seemed likely to be accepted.
“Then I will prepare to leave.”
Lisbel stood, trembling body steadying itself. She met Hendrick’s eyes for the last time and offered a formal farewell before turning away without looking back.
The chill of the northern mountains, freezing like flesh-eating wind, swept the barren grounds behind the grim Sanctuary.
Hendrick walked to the courtyard where his knights waited.
“Uweueup! Uweup, um…”
A pitiful moan echoed across the snow. The high priest who had once smiled with glee while whipping Lisbel now knelt in the snow, white robes stained crimson, gagging desperately behind a bit.
“I have heard rumors that the temple has run rampant lately…”
The Barboska Empire had been founded by violently conquering monster-held lands. Here, divine protection was a hollow lie.
The people trusted only their own strength and wisdom. The temple had been pushed to the margins and turned into a puppet of the Empire.
Yet a low-ranking priest had dared strike the Empire’s most important prisoner. How could this be tolerated?
“Uweup, uuuuuh!”
“Save me? Lisbel Belloc said the same thing countless times. Did you listen?”
Lisbel Belloc had been no ordinary criminal. She was the genius who alone had deciphered ancient texts hidden in history and the Empire’s greatest treasure. Her knowledge was boundless; she had to be preserved intact for the Empire’s sake.
Escaping the heresy mark only to be locked in a luxurious prison called the Sanctuary had been like letting a dog tear at its master’s property. It was a direct challenge to the Empire’s authority.
“A letter from the Grand Archbishop just arrived. Abuse of an unpermitted criminal within the Sanctuary violates the temple’s will and must be punished under imperial law.”
With Hendrick’s flat voice, the knights seized the priest’s right arm and forced it to the ground. The arrogant hand that had raised the whip now lay limp in the snow.
Hendrick slowly drew his sword. The priest thrashed, unable to scream, but no cleric could withstand a knight’s strength.
Whoosh.
The sharp sound of steel slicing air preceded the vertical plunge of Hendrick’s longsword. A wet crunch. The blade pierced the back of the priest’s hand. He howled in agony and thrashed wildly.
“May the gods forgive your sins in hell.”
Slash.
Blood sprayed across the white snow in a grotesque arc, matching the bloody prints carved into the floor of the Sanctuary’s punishment room and the identical wound on Lisbel’s back.
“I depart for the excavation soon. Prepare.”
“Yes, Sir High Lieutenant!”
Hendrick turned away from the writhing priest and looked up at the highest spire of the Sanctuary. His fingertips, still rough with the dirt he had wiped from his cheek, trembled. The heart he had kept calm was now pounding wildly.
In the dim window of the innermost chamber on the highest floor, a faint figure had watched. The moment their eyes met Hendrick’s, the vision vanished like a mirage.
Hendrick’s gaze chased the fleeing shadow. Something unquenchable burned in his eyes. Inside his clenched jaw, the sound of teeth grinding echoed like thunder through the darkness.
* * *