Chapter 139: [Side Story] Kyrie
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 139: [Side Story] Kyrie
– Did I ever tell you?
– About what, my lord?
– The meaning of your name. It’s quite fitting, you know.
* * *
Tap. Tap.
Dark spots began to dot the earth, which had been left dry by the midday sun.
The droplets that tapped against the tip of his nose and forehead soon became a steady downpour. A pleasant, earthy scent rose from the parched soil before the rain quickly washed it away.
Though he already knew it was raining, he turned his hand over and glanced up at the sky. As if on cue, a single raindrop landed gently in his palm.
"It was so clear this morning. How strange."
"I told you so. I said it felt like it was going to rain."
Bern’s words were a mix of playful teasing and mild reproach, his mouth spread in a wide grin. He then extended his palm toward Chase—a silent demand for the money he was owed from their bet.
Seeing that triumphant look, Chase smiled back.
"I don't have it on me right now. I'll give it to you when we get inside."
"You'll just say you forgot again."
"When have I ever forgotten something like that?"
"Plenty of times."
They were bickering again.
Watching the brothers from behind, Kyrie smiled to himself.
It had all started with a sudden, random comment from Bern that morning.
‘Brother, do you think it will rain today?’
When Bern had posed the question the moment he saw Chase, the latter had casually replied that he didn't think so. At that, Bern immediately proposed a wager.
Chase had never once turned down a bet from his brother, and this time was no different. Seeing Chase nod, Bern flashed a meaningful grin, then turned to Kyrie.
‘Kyrie, you’re our witness. My brother definitely said it wouldn't rain.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Kyrie, the only knight who had sworn his oath not to Sir Bern, the knight, but to Bern, the Royal Brother, had dutifully replied.
It was always like this.
Bern would propose a bet, Chase would accept, and Kyrie would serve as the witness. And once the bet was settled, it would invariably end with them bickering just like this.
"I have no memory of ever forgetting money I owed you."
"You probably don't even know how many times you've said that."
The nobles could never imagine such a scene, not even in their wildest dreams.
The Royal Brother, Bern, grumbling at King Chase over a single silver coin.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Kyrie’s lips as he watched them. One was the King and the other his Royal Brother, but to each other, they were simply family. He loved that about them.
It was the same back when they weren't yet a King and a Royal Brother.
Yes. Even on the day Kyrie first met them, the two had been no different.
Bern, in particular, was exactly the same. His words had been a bit rougher and his eyes a bit fiercer back then, but he was still the same person.
At least, that was how it seemed to Kyrie.
* * *
The first time he met Bern was after a massive flood had struck Tensil. The disaster had hit just as spring was beginning to arrive.
Wheat was plentiful, but salt was scarce.
The wheat meant for nobles was already expensive; salt was even more so.
The bodies of the poor, unable to afford either, began to rot away.
Unable to endure it any longer, they fled across the border.
It was better to slip into Secritia than Kairis, which was teeming with soldiers. At least Secritia didn't execute refugees on sight.
Of course, that was only from the refugees' perspective.
Secritia couldn't simply accept everyone who crossed the border. They might carry infectious diseases, crime rates could rise, and above all, it was difficult to support the resettlement of so many people.
"So, what does Father say we should do?"
Unless he was in the presence of nobles or Devlan himself, Bern always referred to their father as ‘Father.’
It wasn't out of affection.
It was because if he didn't, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't snap and do something inhuman. That was how deeply he hated Devlan.
Chase was well aware of Bern's feelings but never said much about it—partly because his own relationship with Devlan was strained despite appearances, and partly because he knew his brother's temperament all too well.
"He said to observe first, then decide."
"Did Father leave the entire refugee issue to you, Brother?"
"Yes. That's why I intend to see the situation for myself before making a decision."
Devlan had handed the power of life and death over hundreds, perhaps thousands, of refugees to the Crown Prince, who had just turned nineteen. He had done so without any regard for the diplomatic friction it might cause between Tensil and Secritia.
"I'll just act as your guard," Bern said with a smirk.
It was his way of saying he wouldn't interfere in the first test Devlan had set for the Crown Prince. Chase, who had already shown his intention to solve the problem alongside Bern by saying ‘let us observe,’ simply nodded without another word.
And so, the Crown Prince and the Prince set foot in the area where those caught crossing the border were being held.
The number of refugees gathered in the wide, open field, which lacked even a single tent, was just as large as they had anticipated.
Without dismounting, Bern scanned the crowd, his gaze suddenly freezing. His sharp, light-purple eyes locked onto a single individual among the countless refugees.
"…That one."
It was the same expression Bern always wore when something piqued his interest, whether it was a problem posed by Chase, a formidable enemy, or a faction that needed to be eradicated.
"That's no refugee."
Looking at the boy with water-colored hair, Bern's lips curled into a wide arc.
* * *
He was one year younger than Chase.
Which meant he was one year older than Bern.
Of course, with royalty, age didn't dictate hierarchy.
"Eighteen, you say."
Deep curiosity swirled in Bern's light-purple eyes.
Why was he mixed in with the people of Tensil?
Why did he try to come to Secritia?
Why did he leave Kairis?
He was only eighteen, so why…
…did he reek so strongly of blood?
Just like me.
"Yes, my lord."
A pair of mismatched eyes stared straight back at Bern. Seeing them, Bern smirked again.
"This bastard's eyes are completely wild."
Just like mine.
That was Bern's first impression of Kyrie.
Much later, a drunken Bern would admit that was why he’d taken a liking to him.
Because his eyes were wild.
"Do you use a sword? Or your fists?"
"I use both."
"Is that so?"
With those words, a long silver sword was drawn from its scabbard and tossed in front of Kyrie. It was Bern's own blade. As Kyrie stared blankly at it, Bern spoke.
"Use it."
The surrounding knights momentarily grew tense.
They weren't worried about Bern.
Rather, their expressions questioned if he truly intended to cut down a young boy in front of so many refugees. Glancing at the knights, Bern grinned.
"Don't worry. This bastard isn't the type to die in a place like this."
Whoosh!
As if he had been waiting for those exact words, the moment Bern finished speaking, Kyrie's body shot forward like lightning. He snatched the sword from the ground and lunged straight at Bern.
Bern simply twisted his body, not even moving from his spot.
Kyrie's crude, self-taught swordsmanship failed to graze even a single thread of Bern's clothes. Then, Bern thrust his foot forward, kicking him square in the chest.
Crash!
And then, he said, "See?"
He grinned at Kyrie, who had been sent rolling across the ground.
* * *
"Your name."
"It's Kyrie."
Hearing this, Bern chuckled.
"What a grand name."
Kyrie was sitting in a chair across from Bern, who had ordered that he no longer had to kneel.
Despite having attacked a prince, he hadn't been arrested. Bern had provided him with water to wash, clean clothes, and food. Now, they sat face-to-face, resuming their conversation.
He had certainly washed up.
Yet, the faint stench of blood clinging to him refused to fade. It was too faint for the knights to notice, but not for Bern.
Even so, Bern didn't ask about it. He didn't ask why Kyrie had fled Kairis, either. Instead, he brought up something else.
"Kyrie. Do you want to become a knight?"
Two eyes of different colors.
For the first time, life returned to them.
A spark that could perhaps be called desire.
"A sword."
A sword, indeed.
Bern's eyes sharpened.
Kyrie did not avert his gaze. Facing those murderous eyes that even Devlan hesitated to look at directly, he spoke again.
"I will become a sword."
Whether that sword would be one that cut people down or one that protected them—Bern didn't ask such tedious questions. He wasn't the type to care about such things.
"Good."
"Then prove you can be one," Bern said with a grin.
"I will forge you."
* * *
– Aren't you curious? About what your name means.
– I am curious.
– The name is short, but the meaning is quite long.
– What could it mean to be so long, my lord?
– I'm not going to tell you. Ever.
– …Why won't you tell me?
– I said it was fitting. I never said it was good.
– I see.
– What? Aren't you curious why it's not good?
– Such things never turn out to be true anyway.
– Is that so?
Then, I wonder if my name won't turn out to be true either.
* * *
"Did you make another bet?"
"Ah, yes."
"Just a little while ago, you bet on whether it would rain."
Bern nodded at Kyrie, who was speaking in a slightly scolding tone.
"This one was a long-term bet. Made it about three years ago."
Since it was a long-term bet, the wager must have been quite large. Bern grinned, flipping a single gold coin he had proudly won from Chase.
"Easy money. Let's go get a drink."
Kyrie was the only one with whom Bern still spoke as he had in his days as a prince.
And Bern absolutely loved to drink.
Yet, he would always use Kyrie as an excuse, saying, ‘You like alcohol more than I do.’
They rarely went to taverns.
The moment Bern stepped through the door of one, the atmosphere would freeze solid. He had chosen that role for himself, so it couldn't be helped, but a drunken Bern had no patience for such a stiff environment.
When drunk, Bern wasn't such a harsh man.
Only Kyrie, who drank alongside him, knew that this was Bern's true self.
After dragging all kinds of alcohol from the royal palace's cellar, Bern left a single gold coin in the empty space and grinned.
"Brother won't scold me if I only take this much."
Then, they climbed to the top of the royal palace spire.
Secreta, the capital of Secritia.
It was the only place from which the entirety of the capital could be seen, and it was Bern's favorite spot.
Once they were up there, they drank until they were thoroughly intoxicated.
They didn't care about the type of alcohol. There were no side dishes. They didn't drink because something had happened; they drank simply because they were in a good mood, or because they were in a bad one.
Though they could have easily dispersed the alcohol with mana, they chose not to. Drunk out of his mind, Bern would always have to be carried down the spire on Kyrie's back.
"Aren't you curious what the bet was?" Bern asked, slurring his words from his perch on Kyrie's back.
"I am curious."
"Then you should ask."
Kyrie was usually like this. He rarely asked questions first. Bern always found that both frustrating and pitiful, though he never showed it.
"What was the bet, my lord?"
"On how tall you would grow."
‘Whether you’d grow tall enough to have to duck your head when passing through the door of the knight training hall. This morning, I saw you duck your head as you walked in. So, I won.’
At those muttered words, Kyrie let out a soft chuckle.
The King and the Royal Brother of a nation, betting a single silver coin on whether it would rain.
Betting a single gold coin on how tall their subordinate would grow.
A place where they would make such bets, only to end up bickering.
Secritia was that kind of kingdom.
For all eternity, it should have remained that kind of kingdom.
But it could not.
* * *
On the final day.
Atop the spire that Bern had loved so much.
‘…Kyrie.’
The word Chase let slip…
…was indeed someone's name,
but it was not merely a name.
Kyrie. It was…
…the final phrase of the prayer to Serenti,
pleading for the mercy of the sleeping god.
* * *
An unforgettable hero.
The last hero of Secritia. The hero who gave up everything for Chase. The hero who gave life to Kyrie, who had abandoned everything.
Bern.
Bern, who should have remained by the King's side, marched out of the castle gates.
They knew it was already too late. Everyone, including Bern, knew. They gripped their swords knowing this. They gripped their swords because they knew.
For they were all the King's swords.
– Franz Lu Rune Kairis demanded the Axis of Time.
– Secritia refused.
In the face of a sudden war, Secritia was both strong and fragile. Before the mages brought forth by the enemy—those pure white devils—its people burned their own lives away until the very end. With their bodies engulfed in flames, they dragged the mages into death with them.
Hell.
Yes. If hell existed, it was this place.
Franz's Valkan had turned Secritia into hell. They turned the Secritia where a King and his Royal Brother once bet a single silver coin into hell.
"Pull yourself together."
They said Teilan was dead.
Bern did not cry.
"Do not… stop."
Pushing aside Chase, who tried to stop him in tears, Bern stepped before the castle gates.
"To repay… your grace…"
A forty-eight-year-old knight had already died before him.
"…Though it is only this much…"
When Kyrie's blood-soaked words finally ceased, only then did Bern wail.
He wept as he looked at Kyrie, who had shielded him, his body pierced by arrows. He wept as he remembered the smile of the boy who had just been about to step onto the Path of the Sword. He wept because the memory of Kyrie's serious face, telling him to stop making bets, was so absurdly funny. He wept as he remembered the last cup of alcohol Kyrie always left behind so he could carry a drunken Bern down from the spire.
He wept out of sorrow for those eyes that had yearned so desperately to see his younger brother.
To leave like this. To leave just like this.
He wept because the life offered up in the name of loyalty was too precious.
He wept for the sorrow of that lost life.
He wept because he knew this was the end for everyone.
* * *
Therefore, O Serenti.
Please, grant us mercy.
With all of my life,
I shall repay your grace.
[Kyrie]