One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 87

“He starts seeing things when he drinks. Last time, he thought I was a monster and attacked me.”

“We were all so drunk we couldn’t even defend ourselves properly. When Niar drinks, he suddenly becomes unbelievably strong. And if you try to tell him he attacked you, he won’t believe it—he just ignores you.”

Aileen watched the knights sigh in unison, then reached out and snatched the cup from Niar’s hands.

“Sir Aileen! Why are you taking that from me?!”

“Drink some juice instead. Think of it as a thank-you gift—for saving your life.”

Though the comment hit a sore spot, when Aileen brought up how she had helped him before, Niar shut his mouth and sulked, his cheeks puffed out in protest.

The atmosphere around the camp grew more relaxed, thanks to the Sel Knights, who were busy teasing Niar and Nurse. Soon, Aileen saw the Sel Knights, Lil, and the Khan Knights all mingling and chatting comfortably.

She also began to grow closer to the other knights, sharing stories from the past and tales of the knighthood. Only Piel and Niar kept their distance.

All of this was setting the stage for the battle to come.

Knights from different orders needed to unite and fight side by side. While dealing with monsters hadn’t been too difficult—they never stood much of a chance—this time, their enemies weren’t beasts.

They were people.

Specifically, northern immigrants worn down by war.

To cooperate with knights, they had never fought alongside before, everyone had to let down their guard. Maybe it was because Carlisle had been the first to suggest this gathering, but whatever the reason, it clearly played a big role in why the Sel Knights were so enthusiastic.

Aileen slowly looked around, her eyes reflecting the glow of the bright red flames, taking in the figures seated nearby. It had been a long time since her last battle. These were new companions. The unfamiliarity made her feel strange—her stomach felt a little unsettled.

And that odd feeling reached its peak when her eyes met Carlisle’s.

How long had he been watching her?

His dark, deep blue eyes were fixed directly on hers—as though searching for something. She didn’t flinch or look away in surprise. Instead, she met his gaze and held it.

Eventually, it was Aileen who broke eye contact. There was something hollow in his stare. Maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe it was only her imagination—thinking he’d been looking at her, when really, he could’ve just been lost in thought.

With that in mind, Aileen took a small sip from her cup.

After a night filled with silent determination, morning arrived.

Carlisle, Piel, Aileen, and other commanders, barons, and knights of the castle gathered for a strategy meeting. The knight who had spoken to Aileen with veiled intent on the first day was there as well.

He greeted her casually, as if nothing had happened.

Aileen didn’t respond.

“The northerners launched a previous attack, but it was much lighter than usual,” one knight explained. “Almost like they were testing us—or giving us a dose of medicine. Now that I think about it, it was too weak to be called a real attack. It felt more like a scouting mission.”

Another knight who had been stationed at the castle added, “We didn’t receive any warning before we set out. The battle must have taken place while we were already on the move.”

But what did that mean?

Were the enemies already close by, ready to strike at any moment?

Or was this a new strategy from Santinu, the leader of the Northern Barbarian Alliance? A show of force meant to hint at something more aggressive?

Since Santinu had taken over as chieftain of the alliance, their movements had become harder to predict. Each passing day made their intentions more unclear.

The Northern Alliance wasn’t just a single tribe—it was a union of several. Not everything came down to Santinu alone.

And the Empire couldn’t afford to act recklessly either. The influence of the shamanic tribes—especially the one led by Granny Gibita—was significant. They were no small threat.

And now, Empress Edys had placed her hopes on Santinu.

Aileen wondered if all these unexpected developments were truly Santinu’s doing—or if he had acted against the wishes of the other tribes. He was still too young, lacking the authority to make decisions unilaterally.

In this mission, Carlisle and Aileen had been secretly instructed by Empress Edys to uncover Santinu’s true intentions. Of course, if they couldn’t meet him face-to-face, it would be difficult to fulfill that goal.

“How are the castle troops?” Carlisle finally spoke, having quietly observed the discussion until now.

The baron replied in a firm, confident voice, as if he’d been waiting for the question.

“The numbers are the same as last time, but the strength is different. Everyone in the Imperial City underwent special training. When they heard there might be a swordsmanship competition, they trained harder than ever.”

“Thank you for your efforts.”

Carlisle’s response was brief, but his sincerity was evident. The baron bowed deeply in response, honored by the recognition.

“So, what’s the strategy for this operation?”

This time, it was Piel who answered the baron’s question.

“I believe the tribe coming from that side will be the Furat tribe. They’re used to the rugged terrain in the mountains and are skilled in hit-and-run tactics. They’ll be even more aggressive now that they know our commander is here.”

Among the northern tribes, the Furat tribe was responsible for the Hanilom Mountain region. The Sel Knights—including Carlisle—had provided support in those areas before, so they were familiar with the Furat’s combat style.

The same would apply to everyone else as well.

“What if it’s not just the Furat tribe?” someone asked, the concern evident in their voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Piel replied firmly. “We’re ready to fight any tribe that shows up.”

It was clearly Piel of the Sel Order speaking. The other knights, including the baron, nodded with confidence.

“By the way,” one of them added, “I heard you were attacked by a lot of monsters on the way here?”

As the topic shifted, Piel shook his head with a sigh, looking dazed.

“Yeah. Even rare ones showed up. The surprise attack was no joke.”

“That’s strange. There weren’t any monster attacks here,” someone pointed out.

It was definitely odd. The last ambush had happened not far from the castle.

And knowing the nature of these monsters, it would have been easy for them to attack the castle as well—but they didn’t.

At this point, wasn’t it as if they were openly declaring their intentions—desperately demanding attention for their ambitions? These snake-like northern immigrants.

Aileen muttered bitterly to herself.

“They definitely did it on purpose. They used sorcery.”

“That’s exactly it.”

In response to Piel’s calm agreement, the baron finally opened his mouth. His narrowed eyes showed a faint hint of concern, revealing how seriously he was taking the situation.

“Then how did they know to send the monsters? I thought their movements were kept secret,” he asked quietly.

The baron rubbed his chin—finally voicing the same question that had been bothering Aileen all along.

The route to the Hanilom Mountains had been kept confidential, precisely because of the unpredictable movements of the northern tribes—and because there were already suspicions surrounding the Marquis of Hessiden.

Only a few people had known the plan: some knight commanders, Duke Levart, and a few select nobles. Yet somehow, the monsters had been waiting.

Considering that the attack came from a location far from the monsters’ usual territory, the only logical explanation was that they already knew the route.

Then who was it?

Who told the Marquis of Hessiden and his allies—those who were purposefully excluded?

There was a chance the culprit was among the knights who had just set out. But this time, they had been especially cautious about leaking the plan, keeping it tightly contained until after the expedition began.

After their departure, the knights learned the route they would be taking. Still, it would’ve been difficult to leak that information in real time—unless someone had access to magic tools.

Of course, it wasn’t impossible that the Marquis of Hessiden had used such tools in secret cooperation with the northern immigrants. But even so, gathering and releasing so many monsters in such a short period seemed beyond belief.

No matter how advanced the foreigners’ magic was, teleportation wasn’t something they could do. Perhaps in ancient times, when magic was more common, it might have been possible—but not anymore.

Setting aside all those unlikely theories, the idea that someone in a leadership position was colluding with the Marquis of Hessiden was taken more seriously.

“Maybe even demons will join the fight this time.”

Someone muttered the remark with a dry, bitter laugh.

A faint light flashed from the communication port; a device just slightly bigger than a grown man’s fist. At the same time, a voice—loud and full of urgency—came through.

“Hello!”

It was Haller, disguised as Boris.

His voice was clearly strained, but the Marquis of Hessiden ignored it and go straight to the point.

“Has the schedule been set?”

“Yes! We’re leaving in two days!”

“Lower your voice.”

Haller quickly adjusted his tone and continued, now speaking in a quieter, hurried whisper.

“Ah—yes, sorry. First, we’ll send a reconnaissance party to monitor enemy movement. The final battle plan will likely be decided today at the earliest, or by tomorrow at the latest.”

“This time, you must not fail,” the Marquis warned. “And don’t forget to report any changes in the schedule. Your role is crucial.”

Haller squared his shoulders and replied with resolve.

“Of course. I’ll succeed. They won’t be coming back alive.”

His eyes gleamed with the fire of revenge.

As soon as the call with Haller ended, the Marquis turned to another man sitting by the communication chair.

“You called, Marquis?”

This man had been the one to report Carlisle’s party movements to the Marquis of Hessiden during the last operation.

Even though the Marquis had placed Haller directly at the scene, he didn’t fully trust him. So, he used this second man to verify and cross-check information.

Unlike Haller, who was a noble descendant of Count Petter, this man was in a weaker position—someone the Marquis could easily manipulate through pressure and fear.

To make matters even more complex, the Marquis played a double game.

“What’s the update on Carlisle’s side? Have they finalized their battle plan yet?”

The man asked, though he was aware the Marquis had just received a report from Haller. Still, the Marquis feigned ignorance and brushed him off.

“Apparently, they haven’t decided on tactics yet. Don’t worry—I’ll share the details with you once I receive them.”

His voice gave no hint of deception.

“The northern immigrants are already fully prepared. All that’s left is for us to give them the exact schedule.”

“…Okay, but—”

The man hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. Something about the Marquis’s words unsettled him.

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