Chapter 195: I Said I'd Raise a Dog (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 195: I Said I'd Raise a Dog (2)
Scars.
Marks left behind as proof that a wound had fully healed.
Only one person in the world still knew it, but Bern’s hands and body had once been covered in them. Calian’s right palm also bore a long, thin scar—a wound Franz had deliberately left unhealed for reasons only he would ever know. Aside from that one mark, however, Calian’s body was pristine. Sispanian’s blessing had steadily demonstrated its healing power.
The same was true for Franz.
Although the blessing’s power didn’t affect the Seal of Oath, as it wasn’t a direct wound to his heart, the gash on his neck from Calian’s blade was healing rapidly. It wasn't fading before his very eyes, of course; without Hina’s help, it would take at least half a day to vanish completely.
“That’s not a pleasant wound to look at.”
Even with his shirt buttoned to the collar, it failed to conceal the long, red line on his pale neck. Franz’s face remained impassive as he replied, “Is any wound pleasant?”
The last time they had sat face-to-face for a proper conversation was the day he had stood between Randel and Hina in the rose garden—the day the nameless kitten, Lucy, had wandered in, shortly before he was wounded by Silike’s dagger. To be more precise, it was debatable whether they had ever had a proper conversation at all, but that was how Franz remembered it.
“Sometimes, a wound is necessary. You can’t say those are unpleasant to look at.”
Franz had absolutely no desire to agree with Randel, but the statement wasn’t wrong. He’d had similar thoughts himself while training with a sword, wondering if calluses would make his grip more comfortable.
However, the “necessary wounds” Randel spoke of were surely not the calluses of a swordsman.
He was talking about the wound from Silike’s dagger.
“If you had been awake back then, would you, like now…”
“I’ll say what I came to say, then I’ll leave,” Franz cut in, refusing to dwell on the matter.
Randel’s barren room was devoid of any scent. Franz had been reluctant to come, imagining it would be filled with the cloying smell of roses, but then he remembered Calian had already been here. The lack of scent meant Calian must have made a wager with Randel, with the meeting as his prize.
“You weren’t the one who sent word. How interesting.”
It was a strange thing to hear from a man who seemed oblivious to the very concept of interest.
“Does that bother you?” Franz retorted, his own grasp of the word being purely academic. “If you’d rather not, I’ll leave.”
He was dressed impeccably. His shirt was buttoned to his throat, his tie was perfectly knotted, and a platinum chain accessory connected the tips of his collar. Instead of the cardigan he usually wore at Chermil Palace, he wore a snug-fitting jacket.
Franz didn’t bother trying to figure out if the suffocating feeling came from his tight clothes or from staring into his own brother’s eyes. He simply picked up his teacup, took a sip, and set it down. The drink, which tasted of bitter chocolate melted into hot water, was unpleasant, but not nearly as repulsive as meeting Randel’s gaze.
“It wouldn’t have mattered either way.”
Whether Calian had come himself or sent Franz in his place made no difference. It meant that now that Randel had decided to step into Calian’s shadow, it didn’t matter if Franz, who had already joined him, came or if Calian himself appeared. Ultimately, to Randel, either visitor was just someone to have a brief conversation with.
Understanding this completely, Franz felt a pang of regret. It wasn't over Randel’s attitude, but because he’d hoped to use any reluctance on Randel’s part as an excuse to leave. Since Randel didn’t care, Franz had no way out.
“The Valkan has a healer,” Franz began, getting straight to the point. “I believe they need training from one of Tensil’s healers, so I’ve come to ask you a favor.”
Inwardly, he cursed two people: himself, for creating the reason for this visit, and Arsen.
Although he had lost the spar, he had won his bet with Calian. As a result, Calian had taught him one of Suleiman’s footwork techniques, a method for efficiently evading and counterattacking a swift opponent. Afterward, Calian had sent Yan to inform Randel he would visit shortly.
Then, a message had arrived from Arsen. He was on his way with urgent news for Calian.
“To make such a request of me… it seems your position wasn’t just for show after all.”
Thanks to Arsen, Franz was now stuck here, listening to things he’d rather not hear.
“You thought my joining the Valkan was just for show?”
Randel nodded, confirming he’d assumed Franz was just a Vice-Commander in name only, a figurehead.
He wasn’t entirely wrong. If not for Calian’s recent ‘tutelage,’ Franz would have thought the same.
Just as Franz was about to reply, Randel’s gaze drifted to the rose garden outside the window before settling back on him. His stare was a deep, unavoidable abyss that threatened to swallow Franz’s vibrant, light-green eyes.
“I assumed it was. How was I to know you would dare reap benefits from the third prince?” he said, despite never having paid Franz any real attention before.
“Well, then.”
Franz let out a short breath. He raised a hand to the knot of his tie, the suffocating feeling returning. He started to loosen it, but then took another deep breath and lowered his hand. He had no reason to show such weakness in front of Randel, so he forced himself to stop.
“Do you even remember what I did to Calian?”
“Is that worth remembering? I only spoke of what I know.”
“I’d have thought you’d at least remember you have no right to say such things, brother.” A corner of Franz’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Is that simple calculation really so difficult for you?”
He leaned forward slightly. “Then pick one. Either hide away and prune your rose branches, shutting out the world and pretending you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt. Or face me properly and cast your blame. You can’t have it both ways. That’s just greed.”
Seeing a fire ignite in the light-green eyes that had just escaped the abyss, Randel laughed quietly.
* * *
A dark gray marble floor, polished to a spotless sheen, reflected a sparkling crimson light.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, tap!
Cats are creatures compelled to chase anything that sparkles, and Lucy was no exception. She scurried eagerly toward the reflected light, ready to pounce. But just as her cute, cotton-ball paws were about to snatch it, the light vanished with a soft pop.
“Meow!”
Lucy, smart enough to know who the culprit was, let out a cry at the crimson eyes watching her from the sofa. As if to appease her, a new crimson light, slightly different in size and shape, materialized a short distance away.
This time, the light didn’t disappear, but that didn’t mean she could catch it. No matter how many times Lucy stood on her hind legs and swatted at it with her front paws, she couldn’t catch the formless sparkle.
“Mew!”
After several failed attempts, Lucy looked up at Calian with an aggrieved cry. Her annoyed expression, which bore a striking resemblance to someone in the room upstairs, seemed to say, Do you really have to stress me out like this?
Calian let out a soft laugh. “Lucy, are you upset because you can’t catch this?”
Lucy, who couldn’t understand his words, simply continued to chase the light as it appeared and disappeared around the room at Calian’s will.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, tap!
The result was always the same.
After the third attempt, Lucy puffed up her fur into a round ball and glared at him. Calian laughed again. A dark red aura, one that radiated a chilling energy, was nothing more than a fascinating toy to her.
“Most people would be too scared to even try catching it. I guess you just find it pretty.”
“Meow!”
He couldn’t quite decipher if the cry was a protest, a retort, or a warning, but it eased his mind nonetheless. Watching her chase the phantom light, Calian spoke to her again.
“You tried to catch the raindrops outside the window, too. What are you going to do if you keep liking things you can’t catch?”
“Meow!”
It was definitely a retort. Whether she was trying to say she’d been wronged, that her paws moved on their own, or that this was all his fault, she was clearly talking back.
Feeling a little guilty for teasing her, Calian took out a piece of dried beef and offered it to her. Lucy trotted over, took the treat in her mouth, and carried it to a far corner. She settled down happily, munching on the jerky with audible smacks.
Watching the tiny creature that brought him endless peace, Calian murmured, “I said I’d raise a dog, but here I am raising you.”
To be precise, Pea did eighty percent of the work, but no matter whose hands raised her, Lucy was Calian’s cat.
The amiable chat—a human voice followed by a feline reply—continued as Calian let time drift by.
After a while, Yan entered with a knock. Seeing the blue-haired mage following behind him, Calian smiled.
“Are you fully recovered?”
The bandages securing Arsen’s shoulder were gone. He nodded and replied, “Thanks to your concern, I recovered quickly, Your Highness.”
Calian simply smiled again, lest Arsen be hurt if he admitted he hadn’t worried at all.
Yan, who had stepped out for a moment, returned with black tea and a slice of cake piled high with bright red cherries—a stark contrast to Arsen’s hair—before quietly departing.
As Arsen cut into the cake, Calian spoke. “I heard you have something important to tell me.”
If this was about that ridiculous statue, he was fully prepared to break Arsen’s other arm.
“Yes, Your Highness. I do.”
Arsen did, in fact, intend to ask for permission for the statue someday, but thankfully, today was not that day.
“A knight from Knight Order Karen came to see me. He said that since your brother, the Vice-Commander, was away all day, he was to deliver this to me.”
Ah.
Of all the days for this to happen.
He remembered Franz saying he had things to do. He had probably intended to visit the knight order, but since it hadn't seemed urgent, they had sparred instead. And in that time, it seemed Secritia’s bird had come to call.
Calian’s expression turned strange as he looked at the papers Arsen pulled from his breast pocket.
Chase had sent that letter before he and Calian had discussed whether Arsen could be trusted. This meant that Chase, through his own reasoning, had already decided Arsen was trustworthy.
“However, Your Highness,” Arsen continued, “I didn’t mean to look, but I accidentally dropped the letter and saw a bit of the contents. Of course, I haven’t told anyone else.”
Chase had included Arsen in his circle of trust and instructed that the letter be delivered through him if Franz was absent. Franz had been absent because of Calian.
“I’d like to know what sort of relationship you have with the Crown Prince of Secritia for something like this to happen.”
And now, Arsen was questioning him about it. This was, ultimately, Calian’s own damn fault.