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Olga looked at the man wearing the violet eagle cloak. Judging by the behavior of those around him, it was clear that he was the emperor.
‘I have the emperor right in front of me, yet I can't even move a finger.’
Olga's body was growing cold. Blood poured out, soaking the ground, and his eyes flickered like candle flames.
“Did you think such a crude night raid would succeed?”
Yanchinus prodded Olga's side wound with his sword.
“G-geuuugh.”
Olga howled like a beast, feeling as if his entrails were being torn apart.
The knights grabbed and bound Olga’s arms so that Yanchinus could take a step closer.
Olga was practically a corpse. No matter how great a warrior, they could not fight with a torn body, and anyone died when they bled out.
“Do you speak our language?” Yanchinus asked, shaking off the blood from his blade. Olga could only wheeze.
Olga mustered his strength to try to get back on his feet, but the knight beside him seized the moment to punch his face.
Crack!
Olga’s nose broke. He was on the brink of passing out as blood trickled down his throat with each breath.
“Is Urich alive? Or is he dead?”
Yanchinus asked regardless of whether Olga understood or not. At the mention of Urich, Olga reacted and lifted his head.
‘Am I going to burn to death?’
He had fought...
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