Chapter 110: On the Other Side of the Abyss (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 110: On the Other Side of the Abyss (5)
Marquis Evan Brissen’s eyes widened.
Franz’s words were even more shocking than Calian’s entrance with Demirea.
“The Holy Knights? Are you saying the First Prince actually brought those bastards into the palace?”
Franz, much like Calian, hated repeating himself. In fact, he found the very act of speaking to be a chore. So, rather than confirm the marquis’s question, he changed the subject.
“Is Brissen strong?”
Is Brissen strong?
Evan’s expression was one of utter bewilderment. “You know Brissen’s strength better than anyone. Why ask such an obvious question?”
“I’m just curious if you’re strong.”
“We are strong,” Evan declared, his eyes filled with pride. “Not only do we possess military might, but isn’t Brissen the most influential house among the nobility of Kairis?”
At that, a corner of Franz’s mouth twisted into a smirk.
“Because you act like jackals.”
Silike, Lennon, Gray, Alan’s knight Pierce, Calian’s aura, the alliance between Calian and Siegfried… Evan had been lying low, hemmed in by one obstacle after another.
“Watching from the sidelines, backing out, revising plans, then retreating again. You’ve done nothing but repeat that cycle, never once taking a real step forward. You’re not a lion, let alone a griffin—you’re just a pack of jackals. That’s all I see.”
Neither Franz nor Evan considered the other family. Theirs was a relationship of convenience, nothing more. Franz spoke as a prince, and Evan listened as a marquis.
Evan frowned at the prince’s unexpectedly harsh evaluation. He opened his mouth to voice his displeasure, but Franz cut him off in a low voice.
“My younger brother thinks more than he breathes.”
Franz turned to face Evan, his gaze openly contemptuous. “Because that’s the only way he can survive.”
“That is…”
“Is my brother Randel any different? The fact that you even have to ask if I’m telling the truth proves you’ve been looking down on him, thinking he does nothing but stare at flowers all day.”
Evan shut his mouth.
Franz was right.
A mere descendant of Tensil who spent his days tending to flowers and reading books—that was all Randel was in Evan’s eyes. Being the eldest son meant nothing in Kairis. Therefore, Evan had dismissed Randel, Tensil, and the entire faction of nobles supporting them as inconsequential.
“And yet, you try to challenge those two with nothing but petty tricks.”
“Your Highness, your words are too…”
“I guarantee it. If you keep this up, Brissen won’t be able to touch Randel, let alone my younger brother. Instead of wasting time on gambling dens and plotting with useless margraves, shouldn’t you be focused on how to make me the Crown Prince?”
A dangerous glint entered Franz’s usually languid, half-lidded eyes. He looked at Evan as if he were ready to draw his sword. “So now… I suggest you get your act together.”
Of course, only until we drag Randel down.
With that hidden meaning, Franz intended to set Evan straight. Just as Calian had said, Franz couldn’t remain in his brother’s shadow forever; he had to properly wield the sword named Evan Brissen against Randel.
Evan’s eyes sharpened. He knew Franz was right—at this point, he couldn’t touch either of the other princes. Still, hearing such a lecture from Franz, a man he’d always dismissed as a troublemaker, stung his pride. He could no longer afford to sit idly by. Things had come to this, and he had no choice but to commit his full power to the cause.
“I understand what you mean, Your Highness.”
Hearing Evan’s response, Franz felt a flicker of relief that the man understood at least that much. He had no idea how intelligently Evan would act, but it would surely be an improvement.
By the time Franz finished his exchange with Evan and they parted ways, the ball was over. Franz returned to Chermil Palace.
There, he saw a servant standing blankly before the entrance. It was none other than Yan, that peculiar servant whom even Calian claimed to have no idea why he was always standing there.
Yan offered Franz a greeting, his expression far from pleased. Franz walked past him, then stopped abruptly.
“You.”
He didn’t use the name “Siegfried,” meaning he was addressing the servant, Yan. In turn, Yan replied with a slightly more polite attitude than he had that morning.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Call that maid. Not you.”
Franz was a man of few words, and Yan was a man of slow wits. It was only natural that a look screaming, Speak so I can actually understand you, damn it, crossed the servant’s face.
His irritation plain, Franz spoke again, clearly regretting he’d started the conversation.
“Tell the maid named Hina to come out. And you, get lost.”
“Is our Prince hurt?” Yan blurted out.
Which bastard dared to touch our flower-like Prince?
Before those exact words could escape Yan’s mouth, Franz cut in.
“My younger brother barks so well that now his servant thinks he can, too.”
Then, as if he couldn’t care less whether Yan understood, he stalked past him and entered the palace.
* * *
They didn’t speak for long.
The act of Chase cutting his hair, of Calian seeking him out—it was enough. Words were unnecessary.
Calian poured everything out to Chase: his guilt, his memories of their final day, everything he had experienced since.
And even Bern.
He laid it all bare.
Chase accepted it all in silence.
Ironically, the only person who could fully understand why Calian could no longer be Bern was Chase himself.
Chase loosened his embrace. The moment he stepped out of those arms, Bern became Calian once more.
He accepted it: they could see each other’s faces, but they could never be brothers again.
Calian spoke, his voice fading.
“Later.”
When everything is over.
Then.
When it’s finally okay for Calian to have a place to return to.
When he can let his guard down and believe he has a home to go back to.
When that time comes.
“Later…”
The words that should have followed caught in his throat.
Calian was not a good liar.
Understanding this, too, Chase smiled faintly. “You should head back now, Prince Calian.”
His words were a gentle dismissal, a reminder that it was getting late. And with that, he sent Calian on his way.
* * *
Hina, who had been waiting outside without knowing why, let the cat in her arms scamper into Chermil Palace. It was clearly headed for the fourth floor, so there was no reason to stop it.
Where did he go all by himself to be this late?
Feeling a bit bored, she had taken over waiting for Calian from Yan.
A long time passed. Just as she was suppressing a yawn, she heard the soft patter of footsteps and saw Calian walking toward her from the darkness. And then she noticed.
Ah…
Perhaps the power of blessing didn’t work on swollen eyes, or perhaps they were simply too swollen for any healing to help. Either way, Calian’s eyes were completely puffy.
Seeing him like this for the first time, Hina hurried over to him. A look of relief washed over Calian’s face.
“Hina.”
But his relief quickly soured into embarrassment. This was the last thing he’d wanted her to see.
“Why are you out here? You’ll catch a cold. Go on inside.”
Calian was exceptionally gentle with Hina. Hina knew it wasn’t romantic interest, and she often found it amusing how Calian, though younger than her, acted like an older brother.
Despite the turmoil clear on his face, he worried about her first, lowering his head as he tried to walk past. Hina blocked his path and quickly signed:
—If you go inside, it’ll be trouble. Your eyes, Prince, look like a toad’s.
—Yan will worry again.
Understanding all of her signs except for the word “toad,” Calian nodded and stopped. Hina took him by the arm, led him to the shore of the lake beside Chermil Palace, and sat him down on a rock.
She stared at him for a moment with her large eyes, then signed:
—Are you done crying?
Calian shook his head while saying, “Yes.” Actions were more honest than words. Hina smiled.
—Let’s go inside in a little while.
Hina covered Calian’s eyes with her small hand. With her other, she gently patted his back. Finally, she was getting to act like a proper older sister.
Hina was the warmest light in the world.
Beneath her palm, which held a peaceful warmth, fresh tears began to fall.
With no hands free to sign, Hina simply continued to pat Calian’s back in silence. She asked nothing, only offered her quiet comfort.
From a window of Chermil Palace a short distance away, a soft meow sounded for a moment before fading into the night.
* * *
The festival celebrating King Lemain’s birthday—an event where major incidents always occurred, yet the guest of honor himself never seemed to get involved—finally came to an end.
Although it was Lemain’s birthday, a glance at Calian’s face suggested he had aged several years in the king’s stead. Alan clicked his tongue.
“Practicing filial piety?”
When Calian stared blankly, failing to understand, Suleiman chimed in with an explanation.
“He means your hardships are written all over your face, Your Highness!”
Suleiman laughed, proud of himself for deciphering his master’s words, but then grimaced and clutched his chest. A laceration the length of a forearm, which hadn’t been there the day before, marred his broad chest.
Alan clicked his tongue at Suleiman. “Because of you two, I feel like I’m going to age all over again.”
Calian couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a soft laugh.
That morning, Calian, having composed himself, was eating breakfast with Yan when Arsen had visited to say he needed Hina for a moment. Unaware of what had happened, Calian had accompanied Hina to the Wilhelm Pavilion, planning to visit Alan while he was there.
And there, he saw it.
The marble floor of the training ground was shattered, with Suleiman sprawled across the fragments. Beside him, Teilan sat looking perfectly unscathed.
It was a great relief that Yan, who had a meeting, hadn't come along.
“This much doesn’t even tickle!” Suleiman had boomed, right before passing out.
In the end, Alan had to step in to move Suleiman’s massive body.
A long time ago, Suleiman had once pointed his sword at Teilan and nearly died. Ever since, he had been eagerly awaiting a rematch—even though he knew he would lose.
Apparently, Suleiman had found the alcohol at the ball lacking and had ended up drinking the night away in Alan’s office. On his way home that morning, he ran into Teilan and requested a duel as the perfect cure for his hangover.
This was the result.
Looking at the half-destroyed training ground, Calian let out a deep sigh. He turned to Suleiman, who had just woken up.
“I’ll be charging you for the repairs.”
“But of course!” Suleiman laughed. “I will pay you back handsomely, treatment costs included.”
He had fought to his heart’s content and lost without regrets, which was likely why he was smiling.
Calian watched him for a moment before speaking. “With something other than money.”
At those words, a look of embarrassment crossed Suleiman’s face.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of demanding Siegfried’s sword instead of its shield. Demirea’s name alone is more than enough for that.”
“Then what do you wish for me to pay you back with?”
Calian lowered his eyes, considering his words for a moment. Then, having made his decision, he looked at Suleiman and answered.
“I will obtain His Majesty’s permission, so please lend me your mansion.”
“Are you referring to the Siegfried mansion in Kairisis?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask what you intend to use it for?” Suleiman asked, a hint of doubt on his face.
Calian smiled. “I want to hide my knights in your mansion. The Duke of Siegfried’s estate has a training ground where knights reside, does it not?”
The knight order Aizen had created was, naturally, in Aizen’s territory. To smuggle them into Kairisis, what better place could there be than the vast Siegfried mansion?
“By your knights… do you mean the ones who will replace the Royal Guards, Karen and Raon?”
“That is correct.”
“You are asking for quite a lot for the price of a marble floor.”
“I think it’s a fair price.”
Suleiman, who now found himself hiding the prince’s private army as payment for destroying a training ground, grinned.