The Worn-Out Dog
There was no mercy in the command, and it was not as surprising as one might think. This, too, was something she had expected to a degree.
Now that she bore the false accusation of poisoning the king, anyone but a fool could guess it would not end with mere deposition. If deposition had been the only goal from the beginning, there would have been no need to orchestrate such an elaborate scheme.
“Considering my affection for my wife, I am showing you mercy, so do not resent it. The standard would be to hang you by the neck in the public square, but in recognition of your past contributions, I am granting you the chance to die honorably by your own hand.”
“I do not consider dying under false accusations a particularly honorable death.”
“False accusations? How amusing. Wasn’t it you who prepared this banquet? Moreover, with the young maid’s testimony that she acted on your orders, it is rather pathetic to claim you are wronged. If you feel so unjustly treated, I would have given you time to prepare a petition. I could allow you the chance to pour your grievances onto a single sheet of paper, but who would believe it?”
The meaning was clear: now that things had come to this, stop groveling and die quietly. Even that was wrapped in the guise of generosity, presented with such meticulous care that she realized pleading her innocence would be pointless.
In any case, there were only two choices. To have her neck hung from the spire and displayed before the world, or to take her own life in front of the husband she had loved with desperate passion, his mistress, and the disciple who had become the knight protecting that husband. There was no path to survival.
Rather than the injustice of the false charges, what now filled her with rage was her husband’s utterly cruel attitude.
“Why go this far?”
She had once been his most favored knight. To make him king, she had willingly drenched both hands in the blood of countless innocents. Like a moth hurling itself into flame, knowing full well it was the wrong path, she had lived for him with a loyalty close to religious faith—the belief that the road her lord walked was justice itself.
“You ordered me to become queen, and so I did, doing everything in my power to fill any shortcomings. At the very least, I can take pride in the fact that my existence never once held Your Majesty back. That is why I cannot understand. Why suddenly push me away, treat me with coldness, and drive me to my death? Did you truly have to cast me aside in this manner?”
He was a man harsh toward traitors yet infinitely generous to his own. The reason he could succeed in rebellion as a bastard son and seize the throne was thanks to his nature of caring devotedly for those who belonged to him.
His insight in taking a female mercenary orphan as his knight without prejudice, his fair-mindedness that never judged people by their origins. He was a man who believed capable people should receive treatment befitting their abilities regardless of status or conditions, and who looked after those living in hardship.
That was why she had entrusted her life to him without hesitation. Because he seemed warm and affectionate. A good man. Someone worthy of respect.
“Lerusha, I know how hard you worked for me.”
It was the tone of the affectionate prince from long ago, stripped of formal address. Yet cruel words spilled from his lips.
“If I had not met you, I would not be who I am today. You were my most trustworthy and loyal dog, after all. But a dog exists for its master’s convenience.”
The cold answer, so at odds with his gentle tone, made his irritation at having to explain it at all blatantly obvious.
“I needed a queen who could adequately hold the position in name only. The originally designated queen, Lady Orldette, suffered from health problems that caused quite a headache. Once Lady Orldette returned, I could not place a noble daughter in a role meant to be easily discarded, could I? You, with no risk of backlash, were simply the perfect fit, Lerusha.”
“...A substitute?”
“You were already a dog that had served its purpose. There were plenty of talented individuals to replace you, and the affection you disguised as loyalty—now that it only looked at me—had become an annoyance in that seat.”
His affectionate gaze turned to Lady Orldette beside him.
“My lovely wife could not bear your existence. She even suggested choosing any noble lady as a concubine instead. Simply having a lowly woman by my side upset her stomach, and she feared catching some disease.”
“......”
“I, too, must behave properly now that I sit in this position. As king, I cannot keep just anything by my side. Your presence has become excessively bothersome, and I no longer need you. Does this explanation suffice?”
Had he changed, or had he deceived her from the very beginning?
Whichever it was, the fact that she had worshipped such trash like a god remained unchanged. Nausea rose within her at the realization that she had sold herself so cheaply to a man not worth the sacrifice of her life.
The kind, beautiful prince from her memories was no longer by her side. The years spent chasing an illusion that had never existed were rotting and festering.
She wished she had never asked. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss, and this was one such moment. At least then she could have carried those beautiful memories as comfort into the grave. Facing death now, she would not have to be crushed beneath the agony and regret of her entire life being denied.
“A thing that has served its purpose must be discarded. What else would it become but garbage if kept?”
The thing that has served its purpose. The words he had tossed out so carelessly pierced her like a dagger.
“Lerusha, that’s a pretty name.”
“I like those eyes of yours. Rough, yet strong. Neat eyes that reveal a resolute will. Do you know how beautiful the color of your eyes is?”
“You are so lovely. At least to me, you are.”
“Lerusha, before you are my knight, I wish for you to stay by my side as my woman.”
“I love you.”
From the tail end of that affection, everything began to crumble. The memories she had recalled as happy ones transformed into regret and despair. What she had believed were proofs of love became fragments of a violated life, stabbing into her heart. A wretchedness as if every inch of her body was being branded with worthlessness.
The heart that had once burned hot at the sight of him now froze cold. Instead of fierce heat, a piercing chill carved out her entire chest.
“Your Majesty, now that I think about it, ordering her to take her own life seems far too harsh. I feel truly sorry for Her Majesty the Queen.”
The single remark from her husband’s mistress, who had remained silent until now, was mockery dressed in the guise of compassion.
“Orldette, she is not a person noble enough to warrant your pity.”
“Even so, taking one’s own life is no easy matter. Your Highness, would it not be better to show mercy and allow another to claim her life? Though she was a queen of severely lacking qualities, did she not labor for two years to guide the royal family?”
In the pity offered like charity, an arrogant sneer was unmistakable. With her head held rigidly high, her watery eyes overflowed with open contempt, as though regarding an insect crawling across the floor. Despite her lofty reputation, this moment revealed that she, like Joslyn, was a person whose exterior and interior were worlds apart.
“Fortunately, there happens to be someone here perfectly suited to take her life.”
At Lady Orldette’s whisper, Joslyn shifted his gaze toward Mathias.
Ah! A short exclamation escaped as Joslyn’s lips curved upward.
“The lady has quite a sharp mind. Mathias, come closer.”
At Joslyn’s command, Mathias—who had been standing silently, suppressing his presence—stepped forward.
Even as his master fell into such distress, Mathias showed no great disturbance. He remained expressionless as always. Joslyn’s eyes gleamed as he looked back and forth between Mathias and Lerusha.
“Mathias, you shall take the queen’s life.”
“......”
“You cannot possibly believe that the queen who dared attempt to poison the king would be dealt with through mere deposition. Left as she is, her fate is to have her neck hung from the top of the spire anyway. As her disciple, should you not show your master this final mercy? Being cleanly killed by you would be better for your master than a miserable death at someone else’s hands.”
Mathias stood before the seated Lerusha. Then he slowly bent his knees, bringing his eyes level with hers.
“Master.”
“......”
“You have lived your life in vain.”
Mathias blinked slowly, then exhaled a long, pent-up breath.
For some reason, the eyes that met hers were damp.
She felt a pain as though her heart were being crushed. His sword had pierced her heart before she even realized it.
“Cough.”
Lerusha groaned shortly as she coughed up blood. A burning pain like fire spread from the wound throughout her body. The thick, metallic stench of blood made her mind drift, and soon her body began to grow coldly heavy.
Her staggering form collapsed, but broad shoulders caught her gently as she fell.
He wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with a touch that was strangely tender. Then, just as he had done before, he softly wrapped his hand around hers and laced their fingers together.
“Master.”
“......”
“Though this life has ended so pitifully.”
“......”
“In the next life, I hope you do not live one filled with regret.”
His gentle voice sounded like a priest offering prayers for the departed. It was incredibly kind and warm. At the same time, it felt strange, as though he were sincerely wishing her blessings in the afterlife.
“You must remember this touch, this warmth, Master.”
Strength flowed into the hand gripping hers. Even as she died, it seemed to urge her not to forget the sensation of their clasped hands or the cool temperature lower than average body heat.
He pressed his lips to her forehead as her eyes closed. And so she surrendered herself to her fading consciousness.