The Great Wish - Chapter 38: You Are My Destiny (2)

The bearded man was dreaming of laundering his identity and becoming a merchant leader. However, his ambitious plan was going off track from the very start.

The marauders’ vanguard was supposed to approach the Imperial envoy from the opposite direction. Before the main attack, they had set up camp under a large rock for some rest.

They were unaware that they were the ones being tracked. Excited by the rare opportunity for a hunt and enjoying the cool shade, the marauders were relaxed, not thinking anyone would dare attack a group of nearly fifty Red Turbans.

‘…Ugh!’

‘Hmm?’

When the sound came, it was already too late for the marauder who had been dozing off.

A hand grabbed his hair, and his body was flipped as his neck snapped backward. He couldn’t even scream before a sharp blade slashed across his throat, killing him instantly.

Blood poured out, quickly absorbed by the fine desert sand.

Having swiftly dispatched one of the marauders, Martin rotated his wrist, changing the direction of his sword. He then stabbed behind him without looking.

‘Gah…’

A marauder who had been about to attack Martin from behind was impaled in the stomach, coughing up blood. Martin twisted the sword deeper before yanking it out. The dying marauder collapsed beside Martin, his eyes bloodshot as the veins burst.

Martin coldly looked down at the convulsing marauder, who soon died, and moved on to his next target.

It didn’t take long for Martin and the other five members of Kaligo to wipe out the fifty marauders. It wasn’t a fight; it was a massacre.

The marauders, caught off guard during their rest, stood no chance. Kaligo had calculated their movements, blocked their escape routes, and closed in on all sides for the ambush.

Not only was there a significant difference in skill, but the Kaligo members wore armor made from Desert Ghost shells. Even when struck by the marauders’ blades, the armor’s rebound force deflected the blows.

“Should we capture a few?”

“Just the leader. Kill the rest.”

“Yes, Kuhn.”

Martin could see Kuhn’s determination to wipe out the Red Turban Marauders. He shook the blood off his sword and glanced at the sky, estimating the time.

‘It’s almost noon.’

He wondered if Kuhn would be able to arrive at the right moment.

***

The lead guide halted the group. It was nearly noon. Verota turned his horse around and approached the envoy delegation.

Everyone was cloaked from head to toe to shield themselves from the sun and sand, but it was easy to spot who the princess was—the one riding the white horse with the horn.

“Your Highness, we will rest here for a while.”

“Here?”

Sienna looked around. It was the middle of the open desert, with no shelter in sight.

“The sun is at its peak. If we continue, we’ll quickly lose our strength. It’s best to rest until the shadows start to lengthen.”

“How far are we from the rest stop you mentioned earlier?”

“Uh, well… we should arrive before sunset, but… I can’t say for sure. The path sometimes changes depending on the circumstances.”

“Understood.”

The group split into two, each setting up tents. The laborers were busy moving about.

While supervising the laborers, Verota heard someone calling him. He turned to see Hysilo beckoning him with a slight flick of his hand. Clenching his teeth, Verota approached Hysilo.

“What is it, sir?”

At Hysilo’s gesture, one of the laborers brought over a shiny black fabric.

“I thought I’d lend them this.”

It was a special material for covering tents, excellent at absorbing sunlight and blocking heat. It was a rare and expensive item, known only to a select few.

“I’ll deliver it for you.”

“No, I’ll do it myself. You just translate. It’s all about building relationships—give a little, take a little, and get to know each other, isn’t that right?”

‘Of course, that’s what this is about.’

Verota sighed inwardly. He should have known Hysilo wouldn’t stay quiet for long. It was clear he was using this as an excuse to make advances.

“Lord Hysilo, this mission is extremely important—”

“I know, I know. Don’t fuss. I’ll handle it. Stop nitpicking everything.”

Hysilo’s commanding tone left Verota no choice but to comply, though it irritated him. Hysilo was the son of the tribal chief and the leader of this operation.

The laborers finished setting up the tent for the Silver King first and then started working on the knights’ tents and those for the horses and other workers.

Sienna sat on a chair inside the tent, looking out at the endless desert. The sunlight was so hot it felt like it could burn her skin, but inside the shade, it was cool.

‘I heard this is the rainy season, but it’s so dry. Does it really rain in this desert?’

She wondered what Kuhn was doing in this harsh land. Had Levan reached him yet? Did he know that she had come to the desert? What was his reaction when he heard the news?

“What’s going on?”

Lost in thought, Sienna turned toward the direction of Gilbert’s voice.

The temporary tent for resting had its entrance completely open, so she could clearly see the knights standing in front of two men. One was Verota, the other a member of the guide party.

She recalled briefly meeting the gaze of the man with the purple turban when they had first set out. His haughty expression suggested he wasn’t of low status.

Verota spoke.

“We have brought an item that will help make your rest more comfortable, Your Highness. It’s our duty to ensure the comfort of esteemed guests.”

Though they were only a few steps away, with Gilbert standing between them, it was clear that Verota was speaking to Sienna.

“Sir Gilbert, let them enter.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Gilbert moved to Sienna’s side. The two men in turbans stepped past the knights and entered.

“Please, have a seat.”

The two men sat down on chairs brought by the knights. After exchanging a few formal pleasantries, Verota got to the point.

“Your Highness, although I am not fully qualified, I have taken on the responsibility of serving as your guide and interpreter. This man, despite his high standing, has humbly joined the guide party to ensure everything goes smoothly. He wishes to offer his greetings to you.”

Sienna glanced briefly at both men’s faces. Verota was praising his companion, who sat there with a smug expression. Sienna disliked this kind of introduction—using someone else’s mouth to boast about oneself.

“What do you mean by ‘not fully qualified’? Your status?”

“Huh? Ah… yes.”

“A person qualified for the job should handle it. There’s no need to lower yourself,” Sienna said.

Verota was caught off guard by her unexpected comment. While he stood there speechless, Hysilo nudged him lightly with his elbow. Verota quickly introduced Hysilo.

“Your Highness, this is Lord Hysilo, a Military Commander. His rank is equivalent to that of a duke or marquis in other countries.”

Though Hysilo didn’t understand the imperial language, he recognized his name and smiled, bowing his head slightly.

“It is an honor to greet such esteemed guests. I am Hysilo,” Verota translated for him.

“It must be daunting to travel through such an unfamiliar desert, but have no fear. I’ve crossed these sands more times than I can count. Just trust me, and I’ll guide you safely,” Hysilo said through Verota’s translation.

“Thank you for your kind words. Though I would prefer to reach the capital as quickly as possible, even if it means pushing the pace a little,” Sienna replied.

“They say the desert paths are remade every day. I’ll do my best,” Hysilo responded with a growing enthusiasm.

As they exchanged pleasantries through Verota, Hysilo’s expression became more animated. The clear voice of the woman intrigued him. It wasn’t high-pitched, nor was it deep—it was clear and firm, without being delicate. He imagined that a voice like hers must belong to a great beauty.

Sienna still had her hood up, and with the shadow cast by the tent, her face was difficult to see.

“But now that we’ve exchanged greetings, wouldn’t it be proper to converse face-to-face? Would you honor us by showing your beautiful countenance?” Hysilo requested with a grin.

There was a brief pause as Verota hesitated, unsure how to convey Hysilo’s rather blunt request.

“What’s the holdup?” Hysilo pressed.

Verota reluctantly translated Hysilo’s words, softening the phrasing.

“He wishes to speak openly and sincerely, face-to-face, Your Highness.”

Even with Verota’s efforts to tone it down, Hysilo’s intention was clear. His sly smile only made his intentions more obvious. Gilbert’s brow furrowed in anger, and he stepped forward.

“How dare you speak so brazenly—”

Sienna raised her hand to stop him.

“I do not know the customs of the desert, but the laws of the Empire are strict. Insolence is not tolerated.”

Verota translated Sienna’s words word for word, and Hysilo smirked.

“The same goes for the desert,” Hysilo responded.

“No, it seems the desert is far more lenient. In the Empire, a mere guide wouldn’t dare sit face-to-face with an envoy, let alone hold his head so high,” Sienna retorted.

Verota translated this response exactly as Sienna had said it, and Hysilo’s expression twisted with frustration.

However, Hysilo quickly hid his embarrassment behind a loud, hearty laugh.

“There must have been some misunderstanding in the translation. I am no mere guide—I am a Military Commander,” Hysilo declared proudly.

“I am not here as a princess of the Empire, but as an envoy. This is a matter of rank, not status,” Sienna replied.

Sienna’s words made it clear that the issue was not about status, but rather about protocol and rank. Hysilo’s face flushed with anger, and Verota, who had secretly enjoyed watching Hysilo being put in his place, suddenly felt a pang of anxiety. What if Hysilo lost his temper?

Thankfully, Hysilo wasn’t foolish enough to escalate things. He stood abruptly, placing the black fabric he had brought on the chair.

“It seems the heat of the desert has taken its toll on you. I came with good intentions, but it seems only misunderstandings have arisen. I brought this for you. If you use it to cover your tent, it will block much of the heat. It’s a rare and valuable item,” Hysilo said before storming out of the tent.

After Verota translated Hysilo’s final words, he offered his apologies on Hysilo’s behalf and left as well.

Gilbert scowled.

“What’s with that arrogant man?”

“Your Highness, didn’t Marquis Rad receive the title of Military Commander in the Confederation?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Even without fully understanding the hierarchy of the desert, Gilbert knew that Hysilo’s rank couldn’t possibly be higher than that of Marquis Rad, who had been granted the title of Military Commander and was the Confederation’s diplomatic representative.

‘Marquis Raad always treated Her Highness with the utmost respect.’

For Hysilo to boast about his rank in front of the future emperor was akin to a fish trying to teach a bird how to swim.

Sienna pointed to the black cloth on the chair with her eyes and spoke.

“Isn’t that the same material we have?”

“Huh? Oh… yes! I remember we packed one when we left the ship.”

Levan had made sure the ship was stocked with everything they would need for traveling in the desert.

“Return it. We don’t need it.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

As Gilbert picked up the black cloth, a sly smile crossed his face. He couldn’t wait to toss it back at the arrogant man’s feet, satisfied at the thought of wiping that smug look off his face.

***