Chapter 253: Do Not Stop (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 253: Do Not Stop (7)
Franz understood the order not to leave the royal palace.
After all, no one knew if he would ever stand again, let alone why he had collapsed in the first place. Even after learning about the poison pouch, the information was limited. He knew it was the wisest decision that could have been made under the circumstances.
But Franz had opened his eyes, and the situation had changed.
“What is this?” Lennon asked, holding the poison pouch as he faced Franz.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen it?”
“Yes. I do not know what it is.”
Franz gave a slight nod. “You still don’t get it.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
Lennon’s face was still a mask of complete incomprehension.
He wasn’t worth the breath it would take to feel frustrated. Thus, with an exceptionally benevolent heart, Franz offered a lengthy explanation.
“The Brissen family is the evidence. I don’t understand why you’re playing dumb in front of the one person who knows exactly how your family hides its secrets—and precisely where to dig for proof.”
The person who knew Brissen best.
Was that not Franz himself?
“Prince Franz. I am hurt.”
Lennon, failing to grasp the significance of Franz’s Valkan uniform or why he had appeared as the Valkan Vice-Commander instead of a prince, forced an awkward smile.
‘No matter how much he struggles, he has no hope of aiming for the crown prince’s seat without us.’
Naturally, Lennon was still clinging to this delusion.
He began to utter the exact cliché Franz had expected, yet desperately hoped he wouldn’t hear.
“Regardless of what happened to Her Majesty the Queen, Brissen is still Your Highness’s maternal family. We share the same blood. So—”
“Ah.”
Franz cut him off with a quiet sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly lifted his lids.
Having heard the very words he’d wanted to avoid, a bright, serene smile spread across his face.
“Those words are a bit…”
Franz’s hand moved toward his sword.
Standing beside him, Demirea felt a sudden surge of killing intent and whipped her head toward him.
The deceased Evan was clearly involved, but it wasn’t yet confirmed if Lennon’s guilt could be proven. Killing him here on a whim would complicate matters. She intended to stop him.
“…annoying.”
But she could not stop Franz’s hand.
Franz gripped his dark, ink-colored sword.
And then—
Crack!
He swung the sword—still sheathed—and smashed the scabbard directly into Lennon’s jaw.
Lennon, still kneeling, had his jaw shattered with a sickening crunch. Franz struck with such force that Lennon’s considerable frame was lifted from the ground before he crashed down and rolled away.
As he did, Franz reviewed the lesson Calian had taught him: ‘Don’t hold back.’ He also cleanly erased the memory of a certain round, light-green object from the minds of the five specific knights present, then gestured with his chin toward them.
It was a silent command to clean up his ‘relative,’ who was now unconscious and foaming at the mouth.
The knights, already accustomed to Franz’s taciturn nature, moved quickly to drag Lennon away.
“Are you alright?” Demirea asked, standing beside him.
She seemed utterly unconcerned with whom Franz had just struck or what he had used. With a calm expression, she merely watched Lennon’s private soldiers being apprehended by the reinforced Valkan knights, and Lennon himself sprawled on the ground nearby.
“About what?” Franz replied, unsure if she meant his pale complexion, his emotional state, or the unexpected turn of events.
“You came all this way just to hear something you didn’t need to.”
“I didn’t come for nothing. I came to take responsibility, so it doesn’t matter. I was expecting those words. I’m used to them.”
Calian had taught him well.
He had taught him what it meant to take responsibility.
The kid probably hadn’t expected him to interpret it this way, but Franz had learned the lesson nonetheless.
“Do you mean you are taking responsibility on Prince Calian’s behalf?”
“My little brother has no need to take responsibility for this. Besides, isn’t it better for me to handle it than His Majesty or Count Manasil?”
“I don’t know if Prince Calian would agree, but you are not wrong.”
Evan had handed the poison pouch to Franz.
Even knowing that, Lemain and Alan were in positions where they had to conduct an official investigation, trace the poison’s source, and identify accomplices before they could act. They were men bound by process, and rightly so.
But Franz was different.
He was someone who could burn down a mansion on a whim or mobilize troops on mere suspicion. If things went well, great. If a problem arose, Lemain or Alan could take responsibility for him. That was how Franz understood and applied Calian’s lesson on ‘responsibility.’
As a result of that lesson, the House of Marquis Brissen was currently burning brightly. As a bonus, he had arrested Lennon. And punched him.
Demirea glanced back at the furiously burning mansion. “Did you happen to bring mana bombs? You couldn’t have brought the Valkan mages, yet the fire caught remarkably well.”
“No. I brought a crazy mage who has no salary left to be docked, so he doesn’t mind causing trouble.”
Franz chuckled, thinking of the man meticulously burning the dreary old mansion to the ground. He’d done it so Franz wouldn’t have to live in a house stained with blood, and could instead build a new home perfectly suited to his tastes.
‘I am not helping the Vice-Commander, who is Your Highness’s older brother. I am helping Your Highness, who is trying to help the Vice-Commander, who is your older brother.’
He remembered the truly crazy mage humming those bizarre words—which had taken even Franz a moment to parse—while promising to lead an additional thirty-five knights to reinforce the fifteen Franz had rushed ahead with.
“Ah. I see.”
Demirea, understanding he was asking her to play along, nodded. Then, staring at the ice mage’s flames—flames that would not die until everything was ash—she spoke as if suddenly remembering something.
“There is one thing I should tell you.”
Franz turned to her wordlessly. Taking it as a cue to continue, Demirea spoke.
“We found Viscount Lennon Brissen’s daughter in the Marquis’s mansion.”
“…Is she the child the Marquis was raising as his successor?”
“Yes, that is our assumption. We suspect she was taken in and raised at the mansion in exchange for the Brissen Trading Company and the title of Viscount.”
The position of Marquis Brissen, the one Lennon had coveted.
But it was a position Franz had intended to temporarily entrust to Gray before taking it himself. That was why he had come personally—to ensure it would never fall into Lennon’s hands.
“I didn’t know there was already a designated successor.”
“I found it surprising as well. However, she is still a young child, so I’ve temporarily moved her to the Siegfried mansion without informing the Viscount. If her existence were known, she might be executed along with him, so I hid her on my own authority. My brother and I have a soft spot for children.”
“You tell me such things so easily, Young Duchess.”
“Right now, you are not the Prince but the Valkan Vice-Commander, are you not?” she replied nonchalantly, glancing at his uniform. “You can simply let it slide as something that has nothing to do with you.”
Franz let out a dry laugh and gestured with his chin for her to continue.
“I plan to keep her existence a secret and protect her so she won’t be associated with Brissen. You need not worry. However, I thought it better for you to know now rather than hearing it suddenly from the Viscount or the new Margrave of Brissen.”
Franz did not reply for a moment.
Then, the corner of his mouth curled into a slight smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
That was his only response.
*
The second son had collapsed.
The third son had left the palace.
The third son had returned, injured.
The second son had gone out in his stead.
Faced with a situation where he had three sons, yet only two ever seemed to be in the palace at once, King Lemain let out a long, weary sigh as he looked at Calian lying in the Wilhelm Pavilion’s treatment room.
“I am fine, so you do not need to worry.”
“…I see.”
Calian had regained consciousness the moment he arrived at the palace.
It likely wasn’t because his condition had improved, but for another reason entirely. One could easily guess it was due to the pain, as well as the many things weighing on his mind.
Having visited Calian before Hina could arrive, Lemain ended up leaving the room without managing a single word of comfort.
Alan, who had been waiting outside, spoke quietly to the king.
“I will go in for a moment. Would you mind waiting?”
“Very well.”
Alan, who had just made the King of Kyris wait, bowed his head and entered the room.
He had intended to be angry. He had intended to scold him.
He had planned to demand why he’d been so stubborn instead of going together. He had wanted to ask what in the world he was doing getting his stomach pierced by that clumsy bastard, or to chide him for refusing his help only to return in such a pathetic state.
“Master.”
And yet, he couldn’t say a single word.
It wasn’t because Calian welcomed him, nor because he smiled so beautifully. He simply couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“I’m back.”
Hearing those words, even the great Alan Manasil could not think of a suitable reply. He simply sat beside him and gently stroked his hair.
“Shall I put you to sleep?”
Since Alan was the only mage in the palace capable of putting a Sword Master to sleep, it was the only question he asked after a long silence.
Calian shook his head.
Having seen that pale, ghostly state—the very state that would surely provoke a nagging from ‘the pea’—he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.
“Is Sir Hertz here, by any chance?”
“I asked him to look after the Second Prince’s escort, and it seems he intends to see him all the way to Serenti. He went out with him and hasn’t returned.”
“…I thought so. My brother was wearing the Valkan uniform. He’ll arrest Lennon Brissen and bring him back. If Sir Hertz is with him, they’ll burn the Brissen mansion to the ground. We need to search Viscount Lennon Brissen’s estate immediately and find all the evidence. We have to send word for Gray Brissen to come to the capital at once. And as for my brother Randel or the capital…”
Listening intently, Alan nodded and cut him off.
“His Majesty has already dispatched someone to the Margrave of Brissen. He will proceed with the appointment of the new Margrave immediately and ensure the nobles’ private soldiers are monitored, so leave that to him. I will order an immediate search of the Brissen Viscount’s estate. I have already given instructions to thoroughly investigate the Marquisate, and Valkan will verify that there are no issues with Prince Randel or the capital. I will personally root out anyone in the palace harboring ulterior motives, so do not worry.”
“Yes. And Siegfried will send a knight order soon. If I cannot wake up, please look after them, Master.”
“I will.”
“And even if I sleep for a long time, please wake me up once a day. The situation…”
Calian, who had been speaking so resolutely, trailed off.
He looked at Alan, who was staring at him intently, and offered a bright smile.
“No, actually. Just let me sleep. Please take care of the rest. Instead, could you pass a message to my brother?”
“What message shall I deliver?”
Alan nodded slowly at the words that followed. Then, as if telling him it was time to rest, he stroked Calian’s hair once more.
“Are you that worried about everyone else?” he asked, referring to Calian’s insistence on staying awake to wrap everything up.
Calian nodded, his face looking much more relaxed. “It became a habit. I always had to do everything alone. I’m trying to fix it.”
“…Yes. It will get better in time.”
Alan caressed his head a few more times, as if soothing him.
“Did it not hurt?” he asked with a gentle smile, finally bringing up the hardest question.
Calian stared at Alan for a long moment before smiling back. After another long silence, he gave a slow reply.
“It hurts a little.”
Pat, pat. Alan gently patted the shoulder of his son, who had returned after suffering so much.
Calian’s eyes slowly drifted shut.
A low incantation flowed from Alan’s lips.
[Abundant]
*
The Marquis’s mansion was burned to the ground.
Franz had arrested Lennon without concrete evidence and escorted him to the palace. If Calian woke up, he could explain; if not, Franz would just find the proof himself.
He didn’t know if Lennon could even speak with a shattered jaw, but it didn’t matter. In the end, he would do nothing but nod at whatever he was asked before standing atop the Lenisita leaves in the square.
Franz, who had caused quite a scene the moment he awoke, returned safely to the palace. Whatever tomorrow might bring, for now, he was back.
Only after arriving did Arsen see Calian’s condition, his face turning the exact color of his own eyes. Yan and Kyrie, their faces already the same shade, did their best to reassure him, while Relic, who had just recovered his own color, served tea to calm everyone’s nerves.
Having confirmed through Hina that there were once again three princes in the palace—and that the number wouldn’t drop to two overnight—Lemain finally regained his composure. He and the Archmage set to work cleaning up the mess his sons had made.
Hina had to remain to treat Calian.
Arsen and Kyrie were guarding Hina.
And Franz, who had caused today’s massive incident, was to be escorted by the two of them until the palace’s safety was fully secured.
This left Arsen guarding the two princes, who lay on opposite sides of the treatment room. He moved Hina—who had fallen asleep from exhaustion—to a small cot. After carefully checking that the unconscious Calian was still breathing, he drew the curtain and spoke.
“The Vice-Commander—the Prince’s older brother—might end up taking the fall for this instead of the Prince. Are you aware?”
Franz spoke in a low voice. “Mage.”
“I am a Vice-Commander, Vice-Commander.”
“I am a Prince.”
Having shed his uniform and returned to being royalty, Franz was no longer backing down.
“…Yes. Please, go ahead.”
“Mage. Didn’t you know this happened because of me, not my little brother? I would have thought you’d consider it only right that I take the fall.”
He had already smelled the overwhelming scent of blood on Calian. He couldn’t begin to imagine how many corpses must have been inside that mansion.
No matter that Brissen had started the fight, Calian could not have handled such an ordeal without consequence.
“Since when did you care about such things? Your relationship as brothers is surprisingly…”
Arsen, who was about to tease him about their surprisingly good relationship, fell silent. It wasn’t because of Franz’s pale face, but because he remembered why Lennon’s jaw was shattered and realized he shouldn’t push his luck.
Yet Franz, who had understood the unspoken words perfectly, replied, “We can’t possibly have a good relationship.”
The message Calian had sent through Alan before losing consciousness replayed in his mind:
—No matter who was in that mansion, you did nothing wrong, Brother. If this is the path you desire, do not stop. Do not turn back. Keep living your life.
It was amusing.
Silike had always said those same words to him. But this was different. It felt different, and that was what made it so amusing.
—And, I learned swordsmanship.
The successor of the Marquisate.
A position that already belonged to someone else. And Franz, who hated taking what belonged to others.
Calian had known Demirea would tell him about the child, and he had known Franz would worry about it. He had also known exactly where that worry would lead.
‘Living in the Brissen Marquis’s mansion while raising a cat.’
Calian had known Franz would contemplate giving up the dream he had finally managed to harbor. He had known everything.
Even though Calian hated getting blood on his hands.
Even though he had been hurt so badly while shedding it.
He had still gone out of his way to leave such a message before he fell asleep.
“But now I understand why my little brother is trying so hard to keep me alive.”
Franz now knew the reason—the very reason Calian himself had said he didn’t fully understand.
The dense killing intent that hinted at how many lives he had taken.
The lesson not to think during a fight. A swordsmanship designed only to end a life without causing unnecessary pain. Alan’s story that the kid had only ever protected others. Chase’s words that the only time Calian had dirtied his hands was when he eliminated the healer of Tensil. And Devlan.
Having finally pieced together how that royal brother of his from Secritia must have lived, Franz continued.
“The words my little brother must have spent his entire life refusing to hear.”
The request he must have received most often.
The words he must have rejected time and time again.
“…Because I was the one who said them.”
He finally realized that for Calian, this was the first time he was able to not ignore, reject, or turn a blind eye to those words.
He thought of Lucy and the grey kitten.
He finally, truly understood that the words he had spoken that day carried a weight for Calian as heavy as a cat’s.
A soft chuckle escaped the lips of a man who thought he could never again give his heart to anyone.