Chapter 179: My People (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 179: My People (1)
A delicate fragrance drifted up from the transparent, purple lavender tea.
Though he had never seen the flower itself, Franz imagined it would be the exact same color as the liquid in his cup.
“I prepared this because I thought it might help soothe your mind, Your Highness.”
Those were the words of Raul, the attendant, who had served the tea after hearing that Calian had left the palace without permission. Franz wasn’t sure how much a simple flower could calm a person’s mind, but he appreciated the gesture.
Perhaps it was the color, or perhaps it was the unexpectedly strong scent, but even the fragrance itself felt purple. Franz found himself staring down at the tea in his white cup for a long time.
To some, the sight of a flower—one that could no longer wither or bloom—staining something else with its essence might seem beautiful. But to him… well.
“What are you staring at? Drink up.”
No matter how much interest he feigned, Lemain’s intuition never seemed to improve. He couldn’t fathom why his second son wouldn’t touch the teacup and was merely curious why Franz was staring at it so intently.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Franz replied, and nothing more.
He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he couldn’t explain why he was staring, nor could he bring himself to drink it.
Fearing that looking at the tea any longer would prompt another command to drink, Franz quietly turned his head toward the window. In his mind, he could still hear the thundering hoofbeats of Raven from Chermil Palace.
...That crazy bastard.
He wasn’t, of course, referring to Lemain.
He was thinking of a certain madman who had ridden out of the palace on Raven’s back without a single word.
That crazy bastard would never have allowed a cup of flower tea to be placed before him. Regardless of its color or scent, he would have known exactly what Franz associated with such things.
And yet, just moments ago, that same man couldn’t bring himself to say the words, “I’m going to save Arsen.” Franz knew Calian had rushed out without even asking him to handle the aftermath, terrified that if he opened his mouth, that very promise would slip out.
Still, he had cleared the flowers from Franz’s presence.
Still, he had dashed off to save Arsen.
How could anyone stand atop such a massive contradiction without going mad? That man of unknown age who called himself ‘Calian’ was, without a doubt, a crazy bastard.
A crazy Calian.
“Even with Count Manasil accompanying him, I can’t help but worry.”
Lemain’s words drew Franz’s gaze back inside.
When Franz had first arrived, Lemain hadn’t seemed particularly surprised by his son’s casual attire. He had already guessed why Franz had come in such a hurry.
Lemain explained that he had been in a long discussion with Alan about expanding the Valkan’s numbers when he heard the sound of hooves through the open window. He had wondered who would be galloping through the palace grounds at this hour, only to note the sound stopping in front of Arpia Palace.
After a brief silence, Alan had suddenly risen to his feet. “I have somewhere to be with Prince Calian, so you’ll have to handle the rest yourself, Your Majesty,” he had declared, and with that, he’d simply walked out.
Shortly after, Franz had arrived.
“He will be fine.”
It was a blunt response, but it was the best Franz could offer. He had never comforted anyone in his life.
“Alan Manasil is a capable mage, after all.”
After a brief pause, Franz added this, a substitute for the words he truly meant: Alan Manasil is a capable father.
Alan would have recognized Calian as the rider in an instant. For him to rush over so quickly and stop before Arpia Palace without even entering—his intentions were obvious. Since Calian had summoned Alan to go with him, there was no way he would get hurt.
Even if the heavens collapsed and the earth split asunder, Alan was a man who would protect Calian no matter what.
“Yes. I know I am worrying needlessly.”
As Lemain spoke, a sudden realization crossed his face. He remembered that the person sitting before him was not Alan, nor Raul, nor Knight Commander Ren, but his second son. He worried that he might have said too much about Calian.
“Franz. Please don’t feel bitter, thinking that I favor the third prince.”
Once the words were out, they sounded like a cheap excuse.
Lemain paused, choosing his next words carefully to avoid any misunderstanding.
“A child who was once endlessly quiet suddenly changed overnight and has been causing all sorts of trouble. I often find myself at a loss for how to handle him, which is why I act this way.”
Franz gave a slight nod, saying nothing. Watching him, Lemain continued.
“And yet, humans are such contradictory creatures. I find myself rather pleased by it.”
Pleased that he was no longer silent, weak, cowardly, and always cowering.
Those words.
“Your Majesty.”
Interrupting Lemain, Franz quietly closed his eyes.
The fact that the old Calian had been so quiet was entirely his fault, but the sudden change was a burden they both shared. Even if Franz couldn’t tell him the truth, Lemain should not speak of it with pleasure. It was a statement born of ignorance, but even so, Lemain of all people should never say such a thing.
So, Franz spoke as if pleading.
“Please… don’t be pleased by it.”
Lemain stared at Franz for a moment.
Misinterpreting the words to mean Calian causes too much trouble for you to be pleased, Lemain nodded and replied, “Very well. I shall not think of it that way.”
Franz said nothing more on the matter. Instead, he opened his eyes, looked at Lemain, and said, “I rushed here, leaving my duties unfinished. May I have your permission to take my leave?”
Though it was an excuse to leave, it wasn’t a lie. Now that he had delivered the message to prevent knights from pursuing Calian, he had one more task. He needed to summon Hina and send her to the outer castle gate near the teleportation magic circle.
No matter how fast Raven was, it would take at least an hour at a full gallop to reach the circle.
There was no telling when “they”—the ones Chase had mentioned—would attack Arsen. If the timing was off, there was a high probability that either Arsen or Euria would be injured. These were enemies who had driven a man who was not only a prince but also a Sword Master to the brink of death. Arsen and Euria’s skills might not be enough to face them.
“Very well. You may go.”
Upon receiving permission, Franz stood, bowed politely, and walked out.
Left alone in the silent office, Lemain stared at the untouched purple tea for a long while before letting out a long, deep sigh.
He had only just realized that he had once again played the part of a dense fool.
* * *
The mage’s eyes filled with terror.
Calian, who had gone out of his way to wake the man, wore an expression as if he had just remembered something. He began to search the bodies of the man he had decapitated and the one Arsen had killed. There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in his face or his hands as he rifled through their clothes. He didn’t seem to care that warm, uncoagulated blood was still flowing, staining his pale hands.
The mage’s wounds had healed.
He still had mana. He still had a dagger. Yet, he couldn’t even think of making a move. He could only watch Calian in a daze.
“As expected,” Calian muttered after a moment. Just as he thought, there was nothing on the corpses.
Returning to the mage, Calian locked eyes with him and smiled again. A chilling voice, completely at odds with his flawless beauty, drifted out.
“I figured you wouldn’t know much, but I had them keep you alive just in case.”
A shiver ran down the mage’s spine.
He had met plenty of people who smiled deliberately to terrify their captives. But this was different.
The mage hadn’t even seen Calian fight. He had been knocked unconscious by Arsen and had woken up to this scene. Yet, he was utterly terrified.
Step.
Calian took another step closer.
The mage flinched, instinctively trying to back away, but he couldn’t move. Like a frog caught in the gaze of a viper, the moment he met those crimson eyes, his entire body froze.
The mage was a warrior of the Great Desert. Though his skills were nowhere near Calian’s, he could use magic and wield a sword. On top of that, he possessed a power that Calian could not use, yet the thought of fighting back didn’t even cross his mind.
Rustle.
The hem of Calian’s jacket brushed against the ground as his face drew closer. Bending his knees slightly to meet the mage’s gaze, Calian cast Silent and spoke.
“If you’re willing to speak first, I’m listening.”
Calian didn’t specify what he wanted to hear, urging the mage to volunteer any information that might be useful.
The mage did not answer, and Calian did not wait.
Swoosh!
Before the mage could react, the short dagger in Calian’s hand sliced through the air. An excruciating pain flared up, incomparably worse than the stab to his shoulder—an agony that tore through his mind.
An involuntary scream tore from his throat.
But Calian’s hand shot out, clamping over the mage’s mouth. The sheer force from those slender fingers was unbelievable, instantly stifling the sound. Calian placed the index finger of his other hand to his lips in a hushing gesture and murmured softly.
“Don’t scream. Just talk. It’s not a difficult concept.”
He loathed forcing secrets out of people. That was why he hadn’t laid a hand on the ones he had captured before. Even knowing it was a disadvantage, even knowing it would make things more dangerous, he had refused to do it.
“To be honest, I don’t enjoy this sort of thing. That’s why I just killed the last bastards who came for me. Because I didn’t want to do this.”
Because he had no desire to do it himself, nor did he want to order someone else to do it for him.
Squelch!
The blade bit once more into the edge of the wound that had just begun to heal. Watching the mage thrash wildly in his grip, Calian continued calmly.
“So, if you had quietly targeted only me, I would have waited quietly, too.”
And then, he twisted the blade.
He didn’t even give the mage time to gather his senses and offer a proper answer.
A dark red liquid—hard to tell if it was aura or blood—dripped from the short blade onto the ground.
“You shouldn’t have touched my people. You should have only come after me.”
A warrior of the Great Desert with healing powers.
And the Third Prince of Kairis, who knew better than anyone which parts of the body hurt the most when carved into.
It didn’t take long for the victor to be decided.