Chapter 115: Don't Touch (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 115: Don't Touch (4)
“—I am a great warrior of the Great Desert!”
The man ran.
He ran, repeating the same words over and over like a mantra.
The festival celebrating the King’s Birthday had ended just the day before. Naturally, light drew crowds, and the man had to avoid their eyes at all costs. He slipped into the darkness of the alleys, forcing his legs to move without rest.
He had long since stopped thinking about how far he had come or how much further he had to go. He focused every ounce of his being on two things: moving his legs and breathing. In his current state, even that was overwhelming.
“Pant, pant! Gasp!”
His right arm had been severed and was gone. He wanted to clutch the wound, but his left hand was missing as well.
The man gritted his teeth.
Still, should he consider it a blessing that he could at least do that?
Offering himself a brief, hollow comfort, the man forced strength back into his legs. He had to keep running. He had to keep pushing forward, even as the sensation in his limbs slowly faded.
Crash!
But before long, the man collapsed, tumbling hard onto the ground.
He tried to stand, but his legs refused to move. He tried to turn his head to look at them, but even that simple act was becoming too difficult. The gradual paralysis spreading through his body was likely from the deep wound on his back.
The healing power they used only worked on themselves, and the man couldn't wield it nearly as well as Harnan.
He gritted his teeth once more.
Or rather, he tried to.
“Cough!”
A thick, congealed lump of blood surged up his throat. Unable to spit it out, it choked off his breath. He needed to turn his head to vomit, but he couldn’t.
I have to tell them… I have to… let them know.
He couldn’t shake the thick killing intent that had seeped into the moonlight. He couldn’t erase the image of those red eyes, which looked as if they would wring his neck at any moment. He couldn’t forget that horrifying face, that smile, which hadn’t so much as twitched while shedding so much blood.
That was why he had to run further.
He had to run and inform the one who had sent them.
If not now…
They had to send more warriors.
They had to kill him immediately, even if it meant sending every last one of them.
If he was left alive, the entire plan would fall apart.
That…
…must… be told…
* * *
Calian’s hand dropped.
His blue-grey eyes quietly closed.
Everyone gathered there saw it, yet no one spoke. A silence so profound fell over the room that even the sound of an eyelid blinking would have been deafening.
Suleiman and his wife, Serie, were away and would not return until the next day. In their absence, the 3rd Prince had arrived looking as if he were on the verge of death. Yet, there was only one reason why no one in the vast Siegfried estate panicked.
“Yuran.”
It was because they placed their absolute trust in the young woman standing before them.
“Yes, Young Duchess.”
At Demirea’s calm voice, Yuran, the knight who had accompanied Calian to Roselita, answered.
Checking Calian’s faint breathing, Demirea staunched the bleeding with a towel handed to her by the butler.
“Hina, that maid, must come. And…”
Demirea paused, recalling the single sentence Calian had managed to convey.
—Call my brother.
Why would he look for him in a situation like this?
“…Bring the 2nd Prince.”
Not Lemain, but Franz?
Since Calian’s intention was so clear, Demirea let out a short sigh and raised her head. She stared at Yuran and added, “You must not convey the details to anyone other than my brother.”
Not to Lemain, of course, and not even to Alan.
Having received his instructions, Yuran bowed slightly without question and withdrew. He quickly selected a few knights to escort Franz and departed.
As if there was no need to watch him any longer, Demirea had Calian carried inside and laid on a bed. A trail of blood stretched all the way from the training grounds, down the mansion’s corridors, and into the bedroom.
Gush!
A mouthful of blood erupted from Calian as he was laid down. Demirea turned his head to the side to let it drain, and the head butler spoke in a low voice.
“Since he has embarked on the Path of the Sword, it won’t be poison.”
“Indeed. It must be his mana and aura.”
Calian was no longer susceptible to poison. He must have pushed his aura and mana far beyond their limits.
Demirea dismissed the servants. She then removed the prince’s cumbersome jacket and lifted his shirt to inspect the wound.
It was deep.
It was immediately obvious that the wound had gaped open because he had moved recklessly after being slashed. Frowning slightly, Demirea applied pressure again.
This is the work of a Sword Master.
It was a wound that would be impossible to inflict unless the opponent was also an aura user. There was no telling if the attacker was dead or still alive, waiting to target Calian again. Therefore, another matter was just as important as keeping Calian alive right now.
“Ronansite.”
Calling for the chief knight commander of the Siegfried family, Demirea delivered her instructions rapidly.
“Prepare for an attack.”
“Understood.”
Ronansite nodded and gave a brief reply, but Demirea wasn’t finished.
“Do not close the main gates.”
It was a contradictory command. She was telling him to prepare for an enemy that could strike at any moment while leaving the gates wide open.
Yet, just like Yuran, Sir Ronansite showed no doubt and simply nodded. He obeyed, knowing there had to be a reason. Demirea lowered her voice even further as she gave the next order.
“Jane, follow the trail of blood and find out everything you can. Dekar, erase every trace Jane uncovers. If there are any corpses, bring them to the mansion, and do not leave behind a single drop of blood.”
“Yes, Young Duchess.”
After the two knights gave their brief replies and left, Demirea turned to the head butler.
“Ensure absolute secrecy.”
“Understood, Young Duchess.”
Having handled all immediate measures, Demirea turned her gaze back to Calian. His body was cold. The towel covering his wound was already soaked crimson.
“I will bring medicine and bandages.”
“No need. Touching it carelessly will only interfere with the power of blessing and the healer.”
Shaking her head at the head butler’s words, Demirea took a fresh towel and pressed it against the wound. Then, looking down at Calian, she spoke words that would receive no answer.
“If you came here confident that you wouldn’t die, then hold on.”
The Siegfried mansion was located far from the center of the capital. No matter where Calian had been, going to the royal palace would have been faster. Had he gone there, he would have been safe immediately and could have received Hina’s healing.
He had abandoned all of that to come here. And he had called for Franz.
He did not want this to be known.
That was why Demirea ordered the gates to remain open. She had the traces erased and everyone silenced.
That was the role of Demirea, who had resolved to be his shield.
* * *
The cat was asleep, and Franz was awake.
It was too early to go to bed just because the cat was sleeping, so Franz sat quietly on the sofa in his darkened room, doing nothing, thinking of nothing.
Because of this, he immediately heard the quiet voices conversing far down the corridor.
“No, I don’t think now is a good time.”
“He said he wished to be alone, so please go back.”
Only the voice of his attendant, Relic, was audible, but his tone made it clear he was speaking to Hina.
Assuming she had come for the cat, Franz glanced down at his lap. For some reason, the creature was fast asleep there again. Picking it up would only wake it, so Franz decided to pretend he hadn’t heard anything and let it be.
But Relic’s voice continued.
“I cannot easily go inside either, so what can I do?”
“Tomorrow, I will…”
Click.
Finally, Franz’s door opened.
Relic stopped mid-sentence. Thinking Franz had come out because of the noise, he quickly bowed and apologized.
“I am sorry, Your Highness.”
He then gestured for Hina to leave.
Seeing this, Franz spoke, his characteristically low voice echoing softly down the corridor.
“Come and get it.”
At those words, Hina bowed slightly to Relic, entered Franz’s room, and closed the door.
“What is it?” Franz asked her.
Hina stared at him for a brief moment before he spoke again.
“I asked what’s wrong. You’re not here for the cat.”
There was no way she would be so persistent just to retrieve a cat.
Nodding, Hina instinctively started to use sign language but then pulled out her notebook instead. She figured there would be too many words Franz wouldn’t understand.
—Prince Calian is looking for Prince Franz.
The moonlight was bright, allowing Franz to read the words as she wrote.
—He is outside right now.
After reading that, Franz walked back into his room. Hina raised her notebook again to add more, intending to convey that Calian was injured and they had to slip out secretly.
“Meow!”
The cat was suddenly placed in Hina’s arms. She wondered why he was returning it when Calian was waiting, but Franz’s explanation followed.
“You came to get the cat.”
She understood he was playing along with her excuse. Franz added another brief remark.
“Go on out. I’m coming.”
Sending Hina on her way, Franz picked up his sword.
Then, he slipped out of Chermil Palace through the window.
* * *
Thud.
Setting a basket of tangerines down in Calian’s room, Alan asked Yan, who was standing nearby.
“He’s been training all this time?”
“He said he had been slacking lately and hasn’t come out since he entered the training ground. I will deliver the fruit to the Prince when he returns,” Yan replied with a shrug.
Alan stared at Yan’s face for a moment before nodding.
“…Do so.”
Without another word, he walked out.
As Alan’s footsteps faded, the smile on Yan’s face slowly vanished. His clenched fists had turned stark white. Collapsing onto the sofa, a curse filled with self-reproach and despair escaped his lips.
* * *
Standing before Calian, Franz said nothing.
Demirea knew the relationship between Randel and Calian was poor, and she was unaware of the one between Chase and Calian. Therefore, it was indeed Franz whom Calian had asked her to call.
He also knew why.
Standing beside Calian, Franz quietly closed his eyes.
“My little brother…”
As the Crown Prince of another nation, Chase could not easily get involved. Furthermore, Chase didn’t know how the current Calian—the one who supposedly “desired the position of Crown Prince”—thought. The only person who could truly understand what Calian was thinking and what choice he would make was Franz. Knowing this, Calian had called for him.
“You trust me too much.”
His words weren’t directed at anyone, so neither Hina nor Demirea said a word. Hina was busy pouring her healing magic into Calian’s wound, while Demirea simply watched.
Demirea’s shield was already raised; it was up to Franz to act within it.
Quietly opening his eyes, Franz sat in the chair beside the bed and crossed his legs. Leaning back, he stared blankly at Calian’s deathly pale face.
After a long silence, he spoke.
“Young Duchess.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
A corner of Franz’s mouth curled up as he looked at Demirea, who had answered instantly.
“You can hold off Brissen, can’t you?”
“A defense without an attack?” Demirea asked in a low voice.
Calian didn’t know who was behind this. If he returned to the royal palace, would Lemain ever let him step outside again? Absolutely not. Alan’s protection would begin, and the enemies would simply bide their time, waiting for the next opportunity.
Waiting quietly for an enemy that might strike at any time was completely against Calian’s nature. He likely intended to avoid the palace and lie low until he uncovered who was behind the attack.
To those intoxicated by the festival, a black horse running through the darkness would have gone unnoticed. Claiming Calian wasn’t here wouldn't be difficult. The problem was what came next.
Franz nodded as he replied.
“Siegfried mistakes my little brother’s disappearance for Brissen’s doing, so you bring me in as a hostage. You can just say that until they return my brother, you won’t let me go back to Brissen either. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”
Calian was a prince. He was different from Arsen. He couldn’t simply vanish just because someone claimed he was “gone.” A stage had to be set, one grand enough to convince the mastermind behind the attack.
For instance, a confrontation between Siegfried and Brissen over the disappearance of the 3rd Prince.
That was why he had called Franz.
To clean up the mess and to play the hostage. Two birds with one stone.
Hearing Franz’s words, Demirea nodded.
“I will close the gates. Please make yourself comfortable.”
Then, she added with a slight smile, “Protecting is what we do best.”