IIAD | Chapter 1.1

“Hold it in, Marquis. I know exactly what you’re thinking right now, but you can’t do that.”

Even while looking down at the battlefield soaked in blood, Raymond, the butler, remained utterly composed as he offered his advice. His voice was so calm that it felt completely detached from the clashing of swords in his ears and the thick scent of blood filling his nose.

Marquis Baran Taltamio clenched the leather reins in his fist and glared at his butler.

“And how would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Your eyes are practically on fire.”

Baran forcefully held himself back from lunging forward, suppressing the urge to abandon reason. His chest heaved, and his bright blue eyes, now bloodshot, were wide with intensity.

‘How am I supposed to just watch when the most precious thing to me is on the brink of death right in front of my eyes?’

“Hey. I said no.”

Raymond, realizing exactly what reckless impulse was running through Baran’s mind, swiftly stretched out an arm to block his path, as if to physically cut off his train of thought.

“Think about what’s more important.”

He was right. Baran Taltamio, the infamous “Hound of the Duke,” could not afford to recklessly overturn the tides of battle. At the very least, not if he wanted to preserve the trust he’d spent the last seven years painstakingly building.

He muttered to himself like a mantra, ‘It’ll be fine.’ But no matter how many times he repeated it, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the gruesome battle unfolding in the shallow valley below.

The outcome was obvious. A ragged group of fewer than ten people, with several women among them, was being surrounded by more than a dozen elite knights of Duke Sasabaran. Not only were they vastly outnumbered, but they also had to protect their non-combatant members while fighting.

The group had formed a tight circle, as if shielding the woman with long, flowing red hair at the center. A well-known face.

That woman was none other than Princess Suri, the closest aide of Prince Ansalate. She was returning home in secret after failing negotiations with an allied merchant guild.

If information about her movements had even reached Baran, it meant that somewhere among her trusted companions, there was likely a spy planted by the duke.

‘There are spies everywhere.’

A bitter smirk tugged at Baran’s lips.

His tense thighs pressed against the horse’s flanks, betraying his anxiety. Horses were easily spooked creatures—if the rider wasn’t steady, they would quickly pick up on the nervous energy and froth at the mouth in distress.

He absentmindedly patted the powerful steed’s neck, though his piercing gaze remained locked onto the battlefield.

At the front of the group, a man swung his sword without hesitation, cutting down knight after knight. In the blink of an eye, two of Sasabaran’s men had already collapsed—one struck in the armpit, the other in the vulnerable gap at the neck of his armor.

A man renowned throughout the kingdom for his swordsmanship.

Of course, Baran knew him well.

The princess’s lowborn, beast-blooded knight.

‘Nika.’

His dry lips formed the name.

His beloved Nika.

Nika’s silver blade sliced effortlessly through knights, cleaving their torsos and severing their throats. Bathed in fresh blood, he looked even more beautiful—an almost surreal sight.

Baran had no desire to be some crazed madman who found ecstasy in the spectacle of bloodshed. And yet, Nika made him that way.

Raymond’s uneasy gaze drilled into the side of his face, but Baran paid it no mind. His entire being was focused solely on Nika.

Despite being outnumbered, Nika was holding his ground, moving with such skill that it bordered on acrobatics. One by one, more enemies fell to his blade.

But even a beast-blooded warrior couldn’t fight forever without wearing down.

And then—it happened.

A knight’s sword sliced deep into Nika’s shoulder.

The moment the blade struck, Baran’s fragile composure shattered.

Nika’s arm hadn’t been severed, but the wound was deep. Too deep. A bright red surge of blood gushed from the exposed cut, spilling down his side.

Baran’s face went deathly pale. His lips parted, spitting out an incoherent string of curses that were more prayer than profanity.

“You can’t go.”

Raymond, seeing Baran on the verge of charging in, immediately grabbed hold of his arms and legs.

Baran’s wild red hair whipped around his face, and between the strands, his fierce blue eyes burned with uncontrollable fury.

“Let go! Those bastards dared to lay a hand on Nika—!”

“You are the Marquis, my lord!”

Raymond tightened his grip, wrestling against Baran’s violent struggles. In the process, he took several blows to the jaw from Baran’s flailing fists.

His expression darkened. There was no way this could end well.

“Please, snap out of it! That hideous Nika you adore so much is your enemy. The knights getting slaughtered over there are your actual allies! I’m not even telling you to help them—just don’t ruin everything at the last moment!”

“Allies, my ass! They can choke on it for all I care!”

Baran bit at his fingernails, his anxiety laid bare for all to see. What more could Raymond, a mere butler, possibly say?

“What a pitiful unrequited love story!”

Raymond sneered, glancing at Baran’s distorted profile. He spoke loudly, making sure his words stung. He meant to provoke, but it was useless. His words barely grazed Baran’s ears before disappearing into the wind.

Following Baran’s gaze, Raymond eventually found the knight protecting the princess. Not that he needed to squint or search too hard—the man was impossible to miss.

Amidst the chaos, black hair tangled in the wind stuck to the left cheek of a man whose skin was marred by rough, scale-like scars.

Raymond instinctively grimaced. That grotesque mark.

A lowborn, beast-blooded bastard who had already sworn his life to the princess—a fact known throughout the entire kingdom. He was infamous not just for his birth but also for his unrelenting, uptight, and infuriatingly rigid sense of duty.

Raymond turned back to his master.

It was truly an incomprehensible love.

The fact that the man in question was male was the least of the reasons Raymond found it absurd. Compared to Baran—young, noble, handsome— Lord Nika, the disgraced knight, was so pitifully beneath him that it was almost laughable.

Raymond sighed deeply, but Baran didn’t hear.

Tense and coiled like a drawn bowstring, Baran was busy assessing the situation.

Helping Nika while turning his back on the knights of the duke would, without a doubt, be considered treason.

And in this war-ravaged country, treason meant death.

He had to be careful.

‘But you expect me to just sit and watch? As if punishment or death matter more to me than this?’

The raging fire in his heart, which had been crackling like a restless bonfire, suddenly quieted.

As if all unnecessary thoughts had been burned away like damp wood, leaving behind nothing but unshakable resolve.

A gust of dry dust swept across the battlefield, momentarily obscuring everything.

And when the dust finally settled, revealing the battlefield once more, things were not as they had been.

“What the hell? Why are they all running away, leaving Nika behind?”

Baran’s face twisted in shock.

“They swore loyalty to him, were ready to die by his side, and now they’re just abandoning him?! Why?!”

“Maybe because it’s the smart thing to do.”

A calm response came from beside him.

Baran snapped his head toward Raymond so fast that it made an audible whip sound.

His sharp brows arched into a menacing frown, his fists trembled with barely contained fury.

“Did you just call that ‘smart’?”

“Take off your rose-tinted glasses and think, my lord. Princess Suri is the most important figure here. From their perspective, as long as she gets away on horseback, the battle is over—even if it means sacrificing one of their own. It’s a knight-for-queen strategy.”

“Goddamn chess! I don’t give a damn about tactics! The point is, Nika is in danger!”

Baran’s teeth clenched so tightly that a grinding noise slipped through.

Raymond smirked dryly.

“Indeed. It seems both sides have the makings of a tragic protagonist.”

Nika’s publicly known devotion was a frequent subject of gossip in high society.

Whenever his gaze so much as brushed against the hem of the princess’s dress, the sheer depth of longing in his expression was enough to make onlookers click their tongues in pity.

‘What a sight, Nika. The princess you swore to love, the one you vowed to protect—she’s leaving you behind. Just like that.’

Nika slashed through the bellies of two charging knights before stealing a glance at the princess and her party, now fleeing without him.

His dark eyes, filled with both relief and resignation, held a love too deep to measure.

He was a man hopelessly consumed by love.

And Baran, who was in love with that very man, naturally found the whole situation unbearable. He was forced to witness two mismatched, one-sided loves—one belonging to Nika and the other to himself.

“Judging by his personality, he must have insisted on staying behind. A foolish decision. No matter how strong his beast blood makes him, there’s no surviving this overwhelming disadvantage.”

“I agree, Raymond.”

”…What did you just say?”

“I said… I’m sorry.”

Raymond immediately sensed something was wrong. He spun around just in time to see Baran kicking his horse into a full gallop, charging down the steep slope straight into the chaos below.

By the time Raymond’s mouth fell open in shock, Baran’s white horse was already racing into the battlefield, hooves churning the dust as Baran’s fiery red hair billowed wildly in the wind.

“Marquis! For heaven’s sake, are you trying to ruin everything?!”

Raymond’s belated warning fell on deaf ears.

Blinded by love, Baran had no room in his head for reason.

With an exasperated sigh, Raymond had no choice but to follow, signaling for the Marquis’s knights to charge down after their reckless master.

Baran didn’t slow down.

He swung his sword with the full momentum of his horse, cleaving through flesh and bone in a single strike.

The human body, fragile as it was, split apart with terrifying ease.

Nika, still in the thick of battle, turned wide, bewildered eyes toward the sudden ally who had appeared at his side.

Another knight lunging at Nika suddenly collapsed, his sword slipping from his grasp. A fresh wound split cleanly through the center of his throat.

As blood sprayed into the air, a flash of bright red hair whipped through the chaos.

Nika’s gaze landed on Baran’s exposed face.

And when his pitch-black eyes locked onto Baran’s piercing blue ones, the marquis did something utterly infuriating—

He grinned.

Like a smug housecat, his sharp eyes curved into an insufferable smirk.

Nika’s face twisted into a scowl.

“The Ruthless Marquis…?”

The knights who had attacked Nika were already dead, their bodies littering the blood-soaked ground.

The fight was over.