SIDE: Carion (1)
… The moment I regained consciousness, I knew with absolute clarity that my right arm was no longer usable.
How long had I been out?
Someone was calling my name desperately. When I turned my head toward the voice, a subordinate with a tear-streaked, crumpled face was peering down at me.
“Ah, thank goodness! I thought you might never wake up…!”
“… Don’t kill me off on your own. More importantly, what happened to the merchant escort mission?”
“No need to worry. We drew all the monsters to us, so the caravan safely made its way to the city.”
“I see. Then the mission was a success… Is this the abandoned village we were heading to?”
“Yes.”
In the middle of the battle with the monsters, I had lost far too much blood.
It seemed I had passed out before we even reached the village.
“The others?”
“Everyone’s safe. A few got injured, but compared to you, Vice-Commander, it’s nothing!”
“I see…”
With that, the conversation ended. My subordinate hurriedly said, “I’ll let the others know you’ve woken up,” and left the room.
The door shut, and silence filled the space. Outside the window, the wind howled faintly.
Left alone, I recalled the conversation from earlier, and a wry smile rose to my lips.
(To a subordinate who was so worried about me… the first thing I asked about was the mission’s outcome. Honestly, I’m appalled at myself…)
The first thing I asked after waking up was the success or failure of the mission.
The second was the state of our situation.
And only after that, finally, the safety of my subordinates.
It wasn’t that I felt ashamed of that nature.
As a mercenary, the success of the mission you’ve accepted must come before anything else.
If we fail, the name of the Black Iron Claws would fall into the dirt, and all the trust we’ve built up would crumble away.
But, if the one lying here were not me, but that man…
That man would have first asked about his subordinates.
That was the kind of man he was. That’s precisely why the previous Commander named him as the next leader.
… Personally, I believe that kind of softness has no place in an organization.
And yet, at the same time, I think the previous Commander’s judgment was absolutely correct.
It is because that man is our current Commander that the Black Iron Claws have gained such renown.
If I had become Commander instead, those who followed him would likely have split away, and the Black Iron Claws would have collapsed.
But back then, I couldn’t accept the previous Commander’s decision, and I clashed with that man again and again.
Those clashes have since become a rift, a crack that now divides us.
… We were both too young back then.
We didn’t know how to compromise, nor could we acknowledge each other.
And now, that rift has grown so deep it can no longer be mended.
Even now, I can feel that we both keep a certain distance from each other in our hearts.
… It’s all in the past.
Thinking about it now won’t change anything.
I lowered my gaze.
My right arm was wrapped thickly in bandages.
Dark red stains seeped through in places, and the faint, dry scent of iron tickled my nose.
I slowly tried to lift it.
But from the elbow down, it felt as heavy as lead. More than that, no matter how much I focused, my wrist and fingers didn’t move at all.
Next, I tried putting strength into my fingertips.
But, it felt like someone else’s hand. There was no sensation.
The moment I forced more strength into it, a sharp pain shot through me.
A groan slipped out before I could stop it, and my arm fell back onto the bed.
(… As I thought. It’s no good. This… the tendon is severed.)
I looked down at my arm and let out a small breath.
Truthfully, from the moment I woke up, I already knew, instinctively, that my right arm was finished.
After facing that many monsters, it was only to be expected.
If anything, the fact that I was still alive could be called fortunate.
I tried to sit up next.
Every muscle in my body screamed in protest.
I nearly collapsed back onto the bed, but my throat was burning with thirst.
That’s when I noticed a canteen by my pillow. My subordinate must have left it there.
I tried to take it with my left hand, but I couldn’t muster the strength.
So I reached out with the other hand, and realized, without thinking, I was trying to use my right hand as I always had.
Even though I had only just understood, minutes ago, that the tendon was severed.
Was it really possible… that I had already forgotten?
In that stunned moment, the battle with the monsters flashed through my mind.
Fangs sinking in, flesh tearing, bones cracking, the sounds still lingered in my ears.
“…!”
As I stared at my unmoving fingers, something slowly spread through my chest, like a stain.
… That’s right. I understood it logically.
That my right arm was no longer usable.
And yet, I hadn’t truly accepted it as reality.
The moment I tried once more to force my hand to close, intense pain shot through me.
A cry escaped me, and the next instant, I reflexively knocked the canteen away with the back of my hand, sending it crashing to the floor.
Water splashed out from its mouth.
The sound of it hitting the floor rang out louder than expected, snapping me back to my senses.
“V-Vice-Commander! Are you alright!?”
Hurried footsteps sounded beyond the door, and without pause, my subordinate burst into the room.
I steadied my breathing and immediately composed myself.
“… I just knocked it over by accident. It’s nothing.”
“I see… Oh, right, there’s some kind of commotion outside the village! Maybe someone who went to the city brought help. I’ll go check it out.”
“Understood. And if I need anything, I’ll call. Focus on keeping watch around the village rather than worrying about me.”
“… Yes, sir.”
My subordinate picked up the canteen, set it back by my pillow, and rushed out of the room again.
In the silent room, I let myself fall back heavily onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
But, my unmoving right arm kept creeping into the edge of my vision.
(… What am I doing? If I can’t use my arm, then as Vice-Commander… as a mercenary… I won’t be able to go on living like this.)
Why hadn’t I told him?
If I truly cared about the organization, if I were acting rationally…
I should reveal my injury as soon as possible and begin selecting the next Vice-Commander of the Black Iron Claws.
(There’s no way I can hide this injury forever. And yet, I…)
I, who had always prided myself on cold, rational judgment…
now found myself turning away from reality, postponing the inevitable.
A self-mocking sigh escaped me.
“… So I had this kind of weakness in me after all. I have no right to criticize that man anymore…”
What do you think about this chapter?
