Chapter 78

“Carissa, take a bath and change into clean clothes. I’ll take you somewhere,” Rafael said.

Carissa looked up and asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there. Everyone else, please leave. I need to bathe and change clothes as well,” Rafael said.

Carissa and the generals complied and exited the tent.

In such cold weather, taking a bath required a lot of hot water. Fortunately, Ilyrian had an ample supply of firewood. Even in the camp outside Tower City, getting a hot drink had been challenging; taking a bath was a luxury.

Since Carissa now held an official position, Rafael had assigned a criminal slave to attend to her.

The criminal slave, a woman about forty years old and smelling terribly, was called Thirteen. She had once run a small business in Heartshire City. Due to a business dispute, she had smashed a vase over a competitor’s head. The competitor didn’t die but suffered a mental disability. She was sentenced to twelve years of exile as a slave in the military camp. Eleven years had passed, leaving her with only one year remaining before her release.

Thirteen prepared hot water for Carissa and brought a bucket. She produced her stash of soap pods to wash Carissa’s hair, as Carissa needed help cleaning it properly.

Thirteen spent a long time washing Carissa’s hair to remove the blood, though the soap pods made it rather frizzy. Carissa’s face was also cleaned, revealing her delicate features, although her skin had lost some of its former smoothness. Her cheeks were red from scrubbing, almost raw as she’d tried to remove scabs and bloodstains.

Carissa changed back into her original clothes, draped a black cloak over them, and tied her damp hair into a high ponytail. In the martial world, high ponytails were generally preferred over intricate hairstyles for their practicality in combat.

After bathing, Carissa wiped down her Rose Spear, removing all the bloodstains and carefully straightening the red ribbons. As she traced the rose patterns on the spear, her heart was heavy with sorrow.

Carissa had a sinking feeling about where Rafael was taking her. She feared it might be the place in Ilyrian where her father and brothers had died. She only knew her father had died on the Southern Frontier battlefield; the exact location remained unknown.

When she returned home from the Pathfinders' Guild and asked her mother about the place where her family had died, her mother had been too distressed to speak and had broken down in tears.

After a while, Dylan came to fetch her on Rafael’s orders. Carissa took her Rose Spear and stepped outside. There she saw a young, handsome man in a black cloak standing in the snowy courtyard.

He was tall and imposing, with a refined appearance. His skin was fair and slightly rosy, though the skin around his eyes and nose was rougher. His eyes were bright, and his features bore some resemblance to King Salvador, although he possessed a fiercer aura from his battles—an aura the king lacked.

Carissa could hardly believe this was Rafael, the Hell Monarch. She recognized him by his eyes; his previous beard had hidden the weathered look of his face and protected his skin.

No wonder they said he was the kingdom’s most handsome man!

Even though Carissa had little interest in romance, her breath caught slightly when their eyes met.

Dylan led two horses over, one of which was Carissa's own, Lightning.

Carissa quickly approached Rafael and bowed. “Hello, Marshal.”

Rafael glanced at her. “This is good.”

“Yes, it’s quite good,” Carissa replied.

Not wearing wooden armor and not being on the battlefield meant that a temporary peace was indeed pleasant. She walked over to Lightning and stroked its head. Despite the harsh conditions, Lightning was still in robust condition, its powerful muscles a testament to its strength.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you somewhere,” Rafael said, mounting his horse. His saddle had a bag attached; its contents were unknown.

Carissa mounted her horse as well, and they rode off together.