The Final Task of the Forsaken Saint: A Command to Marry the Barbarian Count - Chapter 23

I had been told that venturing beyond the castle walls was occasionally permitted to improve the soldiers’ surveillance skills, so I took the opportunity to leap gracefully over the wall. One of the sentinels on duty finally noticed me this time.

Impressive, I thought, giving a small wave of acknowledgment before accelerating. This trip would be a quick one, after all. I planned to be back by nightfall.

Carbuncus was a day and a half’s journey on foot. A fast horse leaving at midday might reach it by evening, but flying allowed me to travel in a straight line and cut the journey down to just a few hours. With my magic, I’d reach it well before noon.
To me, this was nothing more than a picnic.

Even better, I was aided mid-flight by the spirits who gathered around me, speeding up my journey and bringing me to Carbuncus even faster than expected.

With a burst of magic, I sent a Thunderhart—a monstrous stag with lightning-charged antlers—crashing to the ground. Its body rolled over the forest floor, defeated. The shock from its antlers numbed my hand for a moment as I waved away the tingle.

Villagers emerged from the trees, eyes wide, tools still clutched in their hands from cutting lumber when they’d been ambushed.

“A girl just dropped from the sky and took down that ghostly stag…” one of the older men whispered.

“Could she be a spirit?” another asked in awe.

“No, just a mage,” I corrected, recalling that Rostorc locals didn’t exactly embrace magic users. Yet the men didn’t seem to hear me, instead sinking to their knees in reverence.
This… was new.

Before I could process their reaction, I remembered the Thunderhart at my feet.

“Um, do you need this carcass?” I asked.

“You’re offering it to us? Truly? Bless you, my lady!” one of the older men exclaimed.

It turned out their village was the closest to the Deathshade Forest, right where Dirk’s villa was located. Buoyed by gratitude, the men loaded the Thunderhart onto a cart and even offered me a ride. Their practiced ease at handling the enormous stag suggested they’d had some experience with similar creatures, albeit not often.

“We sometimes trap Horned Boars for meat—they’re a precious resource,” one of them explained.

Right, Horned Boar territory extended through this area. I admired their resilience. In conversation, I learned the younger villagers were responsible for watching for monsters, though some had been injured during confrontations.

“Once you’re inside the village, the beasts don’t usually follow,” one man said. “But with the Deathshade Forest acting up, we’ve had to be cautious. Still, winter’s approaching, and we need firewood, so we can’t avoid venturing out. And if our fields get wrecked, we’re in trouble.”

“The soil is poor,” added another, “so we only harvest enough to sustain ourselves. The lord is supposed to visit for a hunt soon, but until then, it’s tough.”

Their voices were heavy with exhaustion. It was survival, plain and simple—stressful enough to erode the spirit. But they endured because they believed the lord would save them.
It was admirable.

As we traveled, their deference to me shifted from “spirit” to “one who communes with the spirits.” It seemed Carbuncus had a different perspective on magic than the Rostorc center.

The village itself was modest, marked by a sturdy stone wall with a bell at its entrance to repel monsters. When rung, the sound kept creatures at bay. The stonework was carved with runes that formed a protective barrier when infused with magic. Though different in design, it reminded me of battlefield magic.

“Looks like they do use magic here,” I mused, slightly amused. Stepping down from the cart, one of the men hesitantly approached me.

“May I ask, what brings someone like you to Carbuncus? You don’t seem like an adventurer looking for trouble.”

“Oh, I’m Rubel de Carbuncus, the new bride of Lord Dirk of Rostorc. I came to deal with reports of a powerful beast from the Deathshade Forest.”

“W-what?”

Their stunned expressions made me rub my cheek sheepishly. I figured word had spread about a new lord, but they probably weren’t expecting a young girl to fill that role. I was about to explain further when their reaction surprised me—they jumped back as if they’d seen a ghost.

“You mean—you’re the Holy Maiden who defeated the wyverns?!”
“Yes, with the red hair and the youthful look—the one beloved by spirits and skilled in magic! Didn’t she behead a wyvern like it was a mere rodent?”

“Right! We got that message from the lord! We were told to prepare for her arrival!”

The awe in their eyes was almost blinding. A few were teary-eyed, overwhelmed with emotion. I took a step back, flustered by the intensity.

“Quick! Notify the village chief!”

“We must start the feast preparations! A grand welcome!”

Wait, what? I didn’t come for a party—I came for the Deathshade Forest!

“That’s not necessary! I just need information about the monster’s appearance and sightings—”

“Ah, of course, but Lord Dirk instructed us to keep the villa ready. Shall we take you there?”

Oh. That caught my attention. The villa—Dirk’s gift to me.

My own home. The first place I could truly call mine.

I glanced at the sky. It was clouding over, but there was still daylight. If I ran out of time, I could return tomorrow.

“Yes, please!” I replied, excitement bubbling up.

The villa, nestled deeper into the forest, was no mere house but a fortress. Solid stone walls and narrow windows spoke more of defense than luxury.

“Are you sure this isn’t a fort?” I asked, half-joking.

“No, no, the actual fort is closer to the Deathshade Forest. This is indeed the lord’s villa. He visited monthly,” an older man said with a chuckle.

Murmuring a small praise for Rostorc’s dedication, I took the key that had been left in the village chief’s care. As I pushed open the door, stale air brushed my cheek, but the interior was a surprise: warm, inviting, and furnished.

It felt like someone had lived here—a place where Dirk had once come to relax.

Warmth rose within me, spreading through my chest. Dirk had prepared this for me. A home—my home.

I barely had time to savor the feeling before a young man burst into the entrance, breathless.

“There’s fresh monster activity in the forest! It’s close to the village now!”

“What?” the older man exclaimed, worry deepening his voice.

The newcomer scanned the room and stopped at me. “Is it true? Is the Holy Maiden here—the one who took down the wyverns? We need your help.”

I shook off the sentimental fog clouding my mind. Right, there were two reasons I came here today. A touch of frustration surfaced. Dirk had prepared the home for me, but he hadn’t briefed me on this. The villagers didn’t deserve more sleepless nights; they needed help now.

I set down my bag and hoisted my staff over my shoulder.

“I’ll check it out. It’s a chimera, right?”

“Yes, but it seems it was driven this way by the dragons deeper in the forest,” the man said, doubt clouding his expression as he looked at me. Was this girl really up to it?

“Lead the way,” I said, undeterred.

And so, with the young villager guiding me, I made my way into the Deathshade Forest.