Savior! Redemption in Another World! - Chapter 12

Looking around, I’ve lost even the clearing from which I was running from, being utterly and truly, lost.

What was rule number one for being lost again?

Right. Stay put.

I can do that, I can stay put. Roughly.

Walking toward a larger cliff-face, I place my palms on the wall and begin to channel more and more earth mana, hollowing out a small cave-like structure for myself.

It’s about ten feet deep, smooth on all sides, and even has a little bench/bed for me to sit and sleep on. I’ll also set up a little firepit and collect some wood to burn.

That way, hopefully, someone will see the smoke and come find me. It’s not like someone would just attack a child right? Well, that one lady would, but the chances are slim that there are more people out there like her.

This is gonna be a nice and easy woodland vacation for at most a day, where I’ll get rescued, go on home, and continue my early life training.

Oh God, did I just set off a flag?

///

— Point of View: Stephaine Razorhog —

My husband is a pig. An insidious, perverse, borderline deranged human being. But I thought that, at the very least, he would care for his own children.

I didn’t want to marry him, it was a political marriage between my family and his. I understood this, and he understood this, at first.

One day, one very strange and cold day, Damien was out in the back collecting firewood. Then, without any warning or really any impact, he collapsed.

I came out and helped him up, it would look bad if the head of the house died before I birthed an heir, and brought him into the living room. He was unconscious for three days, even through a doctor’s visit and multiple casts of healing magic up to Dux tier.

He then suddenly awoke, an almost completely different person. He knew his own name, he knew his title, that I was his life and the territory in which encompassed our fief, but otherwise, he was a completely different person.

He turned from a well-mannered, well-tempered, duty-bound husband to a disgusting, perverse, pig.

The worst of it came when our first daughter came. We named her after one of the Five Heroes of Old, Teresa Goldheart, yet that was when I discovered something that nearly made me wretch.

At first, Damien looked upon our daughter with scorn, almost hate. When confronted, he ranted to me about a ‘mission from God’ that he received and that one of our children would be some sort of monster.

It’s utter nonsense, especially since he is not a man who even comes close to following the teachings of God. He was barely a follower before the accident and now is far from it.

After he somehow confirmed our daughter was not part of his strange schizophrenic scheme, his gaze twisted. As she grew older and older, it turned from a gaze of scorn to a gaze of something more than a father’s love.

But I can’t divorce him or even run. I have no place to return to and no way to fight against him. There’s a reason he’s solely responsible for the protection of our village.

So, for the last fifteen years, I’ve put up and dealt with him. For the last fifteen years, I held out some sort of hope, some sense that one day the man who I was fine marrying would return. Even if he didn’t return, he would at least care for the children he sowed.

But, yesterday, those hopes were crushed. Crushed harder than when he knocked up another noble, crushed further than when he denied teaching our eldest son any swordsmanship or magic so that they may take after him, completely and utterly crushed.

Antonio, our youngest, age three as of yesterday, is gone.

I pleaded, begged for Damien to go into the forest to find him. Eventually, he caved and went in, yet came out empty-handed.

Simply stating “He must have stepped into a Fae portal.”

Nonsense. Nonsense and bullshit. You have to specifically seek out a Fae portal, and then you must hope the portal is filled with natural mana, to finally step on it and be transported to another random portal.

They’re truly things of mystery, with some scholars claiming them to be hoaxes and that those who claim to have passed through them to be paid off.

The worst was the look in his eyes. Not one of worry, or even one of longing.

This was the look of a man who was relieved. Relieved that his genius, magically gifted child, had died in our forest due to his negligence.

That’s enough. I’ve had enough.

Terrance is a fine heir, and he’s even been secretly studying swordsmanship and magic after seeing his brother’s talent.

Teresa is an adult in a few months and can rule the fief on her own, a well-studied scholar already. She won’t miss her bastard of a father, and neither will anyone within this house. After Terrance is of age, she will be free to leave as requested.

I can cover up the disappearance of my youngest son, by tying it to the death of my late husband, Damien Razorhog.

Tragically, they both died whilst playing in the forest, to an ambush of assassins.

Walking into the basement, I open the communication parchment with my master and begin to write.

‘The genius son of mine in which I was going to entrust to you is gone. Killed by Damien’s negligence. If you want me to return to the fold, I have one simple request. Kill Damien Razorhog, and make it look like the work of Empire assassins. That is my only requirement.’

Almost instantly, the parchment was filled with a return response.

‘Of course darling. Consider the pig to be roasted. It will be such a joy to have you back within the Breakers. Very sorry about the young one, he is a dearly missed mage already.’

Finally, freedom has never been closer.

///

One week later, I can say with all of the weight in my heart that Antonio is dead.

Even if by some fluke he survived in the forest, after not turning up for a week he must be long dead by now. He may have been able to use magic, but we stopped him from learning any spells, and he’s just a three-year-old boy.

However, today, Damien has taken nearly all day to return from his morning clearing outside of the village, deeper into the forest and trails. It appears master has come a week early, that or by some miracle, there was a beast capable of taking him down.

‘Knock knock knock’

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on the door. No one ever knocks on the door, the servants and political allies simply come in, whilst there aren’t really any villagers that don’t go up to Damien whilst he’s out hunting.

Walking over to the door, I dismiss the servants and answer it myself.

“Good evening,” I say, opening the door to see two guards, on their shoulders was the embroidery of our neighbor’s territory, the Caldari’s I believe.

“Good evening Lady Razorhog,” The higher-ranked soldier says, as they both bow. A look of sorrow filled their face. Standing behind the two, are four more soldiers holding a closed casket. “May we come in? There is, much to discuss.”

Perfect. As expected of master, everything hopefully has gone well. Strangely, however, there appears to be two caskets….