Chapter 251: Do Not Stop (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 251: Do Not Stop (5)
It wasn’t the darkness that slowed him.
It wasn’t that he had to step carefully because he couldn’t see.
“…Kyrie.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The wound was severe. Critical.
A single glance was enough to tell that a blade had been thrust in cleanly, then twisted as it was pulled out. It was a wound inflicted with the clear intent to kill.
Calian hadn’t uttered a single word of pain while Kyrie laid him down, helped him sit up just enough to wrap bandages tightly around his torso, and then hoisted him onto his back. He hadn’t even frowned.
Only his small, shallow breaths had briefly fallen silent.
That was why Kyrie walked as if he were taking his first steps. He moved as if a precious glass cup were balanced on his foot, terrified that the prince who couldn’t even admit his own agony might stop breathing again.
“Kyrie.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After Calian had left the royal palace, he had found the poison pouch placed in Franz’s hand. Faced with the evidence, the knight had babbled excuses, claiming he never intended to poison Franz. Kyrie, who had handed the knight over to the mages of the Wilhelm Pavilion before leaving, recounted everything he had learned as they moved down the corridor where Evan’s body lay.
He did it so Calian would have something to focus on besides the pain.
And so, Calian forced himself to think it all through. He sent another message to Demirea, then quietly slumped against Kyrie’s back.
“Sorry.”
“Yes.”
“Next time… I’ll get on your back drunk.”
Next time, I won’t be injured. You’ll just be carrying me because I’m drunk.
“Yes. Understood.”
His back grew damp with blood, only to dry in an instant.
Even injured so badly that the pain must have been unimaginable, Calian was still worried that Kyrie would fret over his clothes getting stained. He was the kind of person who cared about such small things.
“…I’m hungry.”
He said he was hungry.
Kyrie, having just descended one flight of stairs and started on the next, smiled softly, careful not to jostle his body. He smiled because it was such a Calian thing to say, because he was relieved that the prince seemed a little better than before, and because he knew those words were a substitute for a cry of pain.
“You will be back at the palace soon. Please bear with it a little longer.”
“Yeah…”
Answering weakly, Calian buried his face in Kyrie’s back. Feeling as though he were lying in the most comfortable place in the world, he too smiled silently.
“Lots of bananas.”
“Yes. I will let the Young Lord know.”
“Meat, too.”
“Yes.”
“Why of all things… did he give him… another poison pouch?”
The light, childish words were suddenly followed by a heavy topic. He couldn’t even form a full sentence, gasping for breath between words, yet he insisted on bringing it up. Kyrie answered without hesitation.
“Does it bother you?”
He really is so much trouble, Kyrie thought. I barely managed to save my fragile, damn older brother, and now he's going to drown in guilt again.
“I should have… punched him once… before he died.”
“You couldn’t even hit him?”
“Yeah.”
I let the bastard off too easily—the one who only gave him poison instead of teaching him swordsmanship.
If I told him I landed a punch, he might feel a little less guilty.
“Still, he will be better than before.”
“I wonder…”
Kyrie didn’t stop Calian from murmuring, his voice as faint and gritty as sand. He answered every word, thinking it was better than letting the prince suffer in silence.
“But… you don’t seem to hate him… anymore.”
Even though you hated him so much at first.
“It is because I have come to understand you, Your Highness.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sweet, Kyrie.”
Calian, once again praising a knight older than himself as if he were a child, let out a long, sleepy sigh.
As if trying to chase away the drowsiness, he spoke again.
“Right… if he has to learn… swordsmanship from scratch… he won’t even have time… to not be okay.”
“Do you intend to teach him everything?”
“Yeah.”
I have to teach him everything.
I have to teach him right away, so he doesn’t forget.
“There were two swords lying near Marquis Brissen’s body.”
“Yeah. I saw.”
“Did you know that beforehand? Is that why you trained with me like that?” Kyrie asked, recalling how Calian had suddenly started training with two swords a few months ago, but only in front of him.
“No. Just…”
Calian laughed, his voice sounding as if it were sinking underwater.
“In case… I lose it again.”
He raised his left arm and tapped Kyrie, as if remembering the limb he had once lost.
Kyrie simply nodded without a word.
The end of the dark staircase came into view.
*
Siegfried and Brissen.
The only Duke and Marquis families in Kairis. And the two greatest knightly houses.
Unlike the mansions of other nobles, which were clustered amicably along Einansha Street near the royal palace, the estates of these two families were situated far from the palace, on opposite sides with the palace between them.
The Siegfried Mansion had been personally granted by the Founding King Hatsuara, ensuring that Quetros, a knight of Sispanian, would have no trouble training his knight order in the capital. Consequently, it was built on a scale grand enough to satisfy Hatsuara’s tastes.
It might be difficult to understand why a king would help a duke raise a private army in the capital, but Hatsuara trusted Quetros implicitly and saw no reason not to. Indeed, since the knights of Siegfried had never once raised their swords against the royal family, it was hard to call Hatsuara’s blind trust foolish.
The Brissen Mansion, built much later, was erected under the pretext of keeping watch on Siegfried. Since a marquis could not own a larger estate than a duke, it was designed to be about three paces smaller than Siegfried’s. In short, Evan Brissen’s mansion was also massive.
The reason there had been no major clashes, despite the military forces of both families residing within the capital, was that Siegfried, the larger of the two, was an ‘elephant’—a gentle herbivore that caused no trouble as long as it was left alone.
However…
—The confrontation between Siegfried and Brissen!
An unprecedented event was now about to unfold.
The knights of the two families, who had always kept each other at arm’s length but never directly clashed, were about to draw their swords.
Yet, the sight was truly bizarre.
The knights of Siegfried stood with their backs to Evan Brissen’s mansion, blocking the path of Lennon Brissen’s private soldiers. It created a strange scene where Siegfried appeared to be defending the Brissen estate from Lennon Brissen himself. Could there be any sight stranger?
Of course, if one knew the truth, the fact that there wasn’t a single living soul inside the mansion they were protecting was even stranger.
“I have come to see my father! Why are the elephants blocking my path?”
“Show proper respect to the ducal house, Viscount Brissen.”
“Isn’t it basic courtesy to first let me confirm Marquis Brissen’s safety?”
In the dead of night, Demirea—the successor of Siegfried—and Lennon, whom Evan Brissen had recently tried to position as his own successor, had begun their standoff.
As the royal palace, which must have heard of the volatile situation, showed no reaction, the uninvolved nobles shut their gates. They kept their senses sharp, trying to gauge which side to align with once dawn broke.
“Confirming the Marquis’s safety does not fall under courtesy. Furthermore, your words make it sound as if Siegfried is detaining Marquis Evan Brissen. Watch your tongue.”
“If this isn’t detaining him, then what is it!”
“We have not detained him.”
We haven’t detained him.
We killed him.
Lennon shouted again at Ronansite, the Chief Knight Commander of Siegfried, who could not yet reveal the truth.
“I will speak with the Young Duchess myself! Call her out!”
“The Young Duchess holds a rank equivalent to a count. Mind your manners, Viscount.”
It was truly a situation where Lennon had come to his own father’s house, only for a neighbor to show up and say, ‘We’ll let you in if you greet us properly.’
Ronansite, who unfortunately had to play the role of the neighbor, chuckled to himself.
I suppose I’m not much different from a bandit demanding a toll.
Though he was well aware of this, Ronansite had no choice. The search of the vast mansion was not yet complete, and he had no other pretext to stall Lennon.
“If you tell me why the knights of Siegfried are here, I might consider showing some respect.”
“We were out for training and stopped to take a brief rest.”
“Of all places, in front of my father’s dark, unlit house?”
“Yes. It seems that when we settled down, it just happened to be in front of the dark Brissen Mansion.”
At the moment, only Lennon’s private soldiers held magic lamps. The knights standing guard and those searching the mansion were all accustomed to seeing in the dark. Thanks to this, the fact that Siegfried’s knights had already entered the dark estate and were thoroughly scouring it remained hidden.
“Do you think even Siegfried will be safe once word of this gets out?”
“It is you, Viscount, who approached and committed a discourtesy against a knight order resting in front of a mansion.”
Fortunately, his opponent was Lennon.
Though he had once run the Brissen Trading Company, he was no Melfir Polun. Lennon was a fool who merely employed a manager and pocketed the profits. Facing such a man, Ronansite held the upper hand in the argument, even if Siegfried was the one being unreasonable.
As the war of words dragged on…
—Clank.
The sound of heavy metal striking metal rang out.
The sound was loud and rhythmic, causing both Ronansite and Lennon to fall silent and turn their heads toward it.
The knights lined up behind Ronansite stepped aside in perfect unison, clearing a path.
The sound of a heavy sword clinking against armor with every step. It was a sound that Yan had once felt was born of a heavy sense of responsibility.
—Step, step.
—Clank, clank.
The steady, rhythmic, and unhesitating footsteps carried an overwhelming pressure.
With a silver sword at her waist and clad in pitch-black chainmail that reached her thighs, Demirea walked forward without a moment’s hesitation. She stood with her back to Ronansite, facing Lennon Brissen.
And she spoke.
“Marquis Brissen is dead.”
Silence fell.
*
He had wiped away the blood out of concern for Kyrie.
This time, he used mana out of concern for Raven.
Raven had been badly startled once before, and Calian feared that if he returned injured again, the horse would refuse to leave his side. Figuring there was no point in saving his remaining mana anyway, he cast a spell.
“The child is currently being moved to the Siegfried Mansion. The Young Duchess deemed it best not to let the outside world know for now,” said Yuran, a knight of Siegfried.
Calian, who had climbed down from Kyrie’s back and was now leaning against Raven, nodded slowly.
He wanted to say thank you, or that he understood and Yuran could leave, but the words wouldn’t come. He simply remained silent.
“Since the Young Duchess is drawing all the attention, no one will come this way.”
They were on a low hill behind the Brissen Mansion.
Calian had left Raven in a secluded spot where they could safely retreat. Since he had chosen a place where private soldiers were unlikely to patrol, the chances of being found were slim.
“Still, wouldn’t it be better if we escorted you to the royal palace?”
“It is fine,” Calian replied briefly.
Kyrie added an explanation. “It wouldn’t look good if Siegfried’s knights were spotted near the palace. Besides, someone has likely been sent by now. I can escort him safely until they arrive.”
Not Alan, not Valkan, and not any knights who couldn’t be fully trusted.
He meant someone would be coming specifically for Calian, who would be in the greatest danger if he remained outside while Siegfried and Brissen pointed their swords at each other.
Nodding in understanding, Yuran offered a polite bow and descended the hill.
A moment later, Kyrie turned to Calian and reached out to help him mount Raven. Then, his expression suddenly hardened. He stepped in front of Calian, shielding him.
Footsteps.
In this place where they thought no one would come, the sound of footsteps began to echo.
“Please wait here a moment.”
Kyrie’s hand drifted slowly to the hilt of his sword. Leaning against Raven with his eyes closed, Calian felt no need to worry. Kyrie was here.
As the footsteps drew closer, Kyrie’s eyes narrowed.
Fifteen people… and one more.
There was no sound of hooves.
Instead, there were the footsteps of fifteen people, presumably knights, and one other person.
As Kyrie listened intently, his tense expression flickered with surprise.
Could it be?
Soon, he released his grip on his sword, turned to Calian, and spoke.
“Your Highness.”
“Did they come from the palace?”
Calian smiled faintly.
He thought he could finally return, get some rest, and have some bananas and meat.
“Yes. It seems so.”
“They managed to find us… even all the way out here.”
“However…”
Uncharacteristically, Kyrie trailed off.
—Step, step.
The footsteps drew closer.
Opening his eyes, Calian turned his head toward the sound. His brow furrowed.
“Why…”
If you wake up after collapsing, you should stay in bed and sleep.
That guy. That nemesis. That damn bastard. That jerk.
Swallowing a multitude of choice words, Calian spoke with the utmost patience.
“Why… did he… come all the way here?”
Calian had given Alan the names of a few Valkan knights to retrieve him. And indeed, those exact knights now stood before him. So far, so good.
The problem was the person standing at the very front. A certain Pea—who had slipped out of the palace even more boldly than they had, using his brilliant brain to deduce exactly where his younger brother would have hidden his horse.
The patient, his face ashen from his recent heart failure, smirked at the critically wounded patient, who, with an equally pale face, wore an expression that screamed, I barely saved that bastard’s life, maybe I should just kill him now and live in peace.
“Since my younger brother hadn’t returned, I thought perhaps he had died.”
“Yes… it seems I will be soon.”
Barely managing to reply, Calian blinked slowly.
He stared at the pale, ghostly figure who had crawled back from the brink of death only to come looking for him.
“Damn Pea… looking so green…”
Having confirmed his brother was alive and well, Calian delivered one last, satisfying curse, and then—
—Thud.
Finally lost consciousness.