Chapter 27: I Mean No Harm (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 27: I Mean No Harm (6)
They walked a short distance from the tavern until they reached a secluded, deserted spot. Though the moon was bright, the sky was overcast. It was late, and with the magic lamps already extinguished, the area was shrouded in darkness.
Only then did Calian stop. The two figures who had been quietly following him came to a halt as well.
Calian turned, studying them for a moment before untying the strings of the hooded robe that concealed his identity. His black hair spilled free, cascading over his shoulders.
Flutter!
He draped his robe over the shoulders of the girl, Hina.
After tying the strings with calm, steady hands, Calian shifted his gaze to Kyrie. The boy was in no better shape, his worn-out shirt drenched in blood and sweat.
Calian clicked his tongue, shrugging off his own jacket and handing it to him.
Then, noticing the ear peeking through Hina’s long silver hair, he asked in a casual tone, “Did you cut it yourself, or did someone else do it?”
The tip of Hina’s ear bore a scar, as if it had been sliced by something sharp in an attempt to hide its pointed shape.
It was a scar Kyrie did not have.
Though they were siblings, they looked quite different. Calian recalled something Kyrie had once mumbled while drunk: he had no memory of their parents but had been told he took after their father, while his sister took after their mother.
The two were half-elves.
At Calian’s question, Hina’s shoulders flinched. Kyrie immediately stepped forward, positioning himself between her and the prince in a protective stance.
His voice was wary. “I am grateful for your help, but…”
Calian quickly lowered his head.
The memory of Kyrie from that day, his fading voice, echoed in his ears once more.
—To repay your kindness… though this is all I have…
A dizzying mix of relief, sorrow, gratitude, and regret washed over him—a flood of emotions so overwhelming that tears welled in his eyes and fell to the ground.
“Huu…”
Calian took a long, deep breath to calm his racing heart, wiped his eyes, and looked up.
“Siblings. Half-elves. I heard it from the man back there.”
He hadn't heard it clearly, but the man had seemed to know, so it wasn't a complete lie. Having fabricated a plausible excuse, Calian continued, “So don’t be so guarded. I mean no harm.”
As if on cue, a sudden gust of wind swept through the alley.
The wind scattered the clouds, allowing a sliver of moonlight to shine down, revealing his red eyes.
Only then did Kyrie get a clear look at Calian’s face. He hurriedly bowed, and Hina, standing beside him, followed suit without knowing why.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I failed to recognize you and dared to doubt your intentions.”
Startled by his words, Hina bowed even deeper.
“I am Kyrie, and this is my sister, Hina. We are orphans who lost our parents at a young age, so we do not remember our family name.”
But Kyrie was not someone who needed to bow to him. Calian said softly, “I see,” and gently took them by the shoulders, pulling them up.
“So, about your ear. Did you cut it yourself, or did someone else? If someone else did it, I’ll at least pay them back for that.”
Formalities weren't what mattered to Calian right now.
Hina shook her head and touched her ear, indicating she had done it herself.
She must have done it to pass as human. Though rare in Kairisis, the trafficking of elven slaves was still rampant in provincial cities during this period.
“Have you always been unable to speak? Or is that something else I need to pay someone back for?”
A soft chuckle escaped Hina as she shook her head again. She had imagined a prince would be an unapproachable figure, but she could feel his genuine concern.
“She has been unable to speak since birth, Your Highness,” Kyrie explained.
“Anything else? Nothing else I need to pay back?” Calian asked, recalling the tattered state of Hina’s clothes.
Fortunately, Hina shook her head. She then pointed to Kyrie, indicating that thanks to her brother, she had remained safe.
“I see.”
—My sister chose death by her own hand.
A beautiful, penniless half-elf girl.
He hadn’t needed to ask why she had taken her own life. He had read everything in Kyrie’s guilt-ridden expression.
After Hina’s death, Kyrie had slaughtered everyone in that gambling den. He fled immediately, eventually making his way to Secritia.
“I’m so glad.”
That history would not repeat itself—he was truly, deeply glad.
“I saw you in Astrisha yesterday.”
Kyrie looked surprised. It was natural for a commoner to recognize a prince, but it was highly unusual for a prince to remember a random face in a crowd.
“You were watching the knights.”
Kyrie’s eyes widened further. It was exactly as he said.
“Yes, that is correct. I was there.”
He had stepped outside briefly because his master had wanted to see him. He had only stood there for a fleeting moment before heading back in, yet Calian had noticed him in that short time.
“Do you want to be a knight?”
Calian had asked the Kyrie of his past life the exact same question.
—Kyrie. Do you wish to become a knight?
Kyrie, who had fled Kairis with his wings clipped by a reality that forbade him from learning the sword, having lost his only family, had looked straight into Bern’s eyes and answered:
—A sword. I will become a sword.
He remembered the fierce determination in those eyes as they uttered such a dramatic declaration.
The seventeen-year-old Kyrie, possessing those very same eyes, gave his answer.
“No, Your Highness. I do not wish to be a knight. I want to be a sword.”
It was the exact same answer.
A satisfied smile touched Calian’s lips as he asked another question. “Do you two know my name?”
“Yes. You are the Third Prince, Prince Calian. We know.”
Calian nodded slightly and handed the five gold coins he had just reclaimed to Hina. Her eyes went wide as she received the small fortune.
Calian asked her, “Do you know how to clean?”
Hina nodded vigorously.
“Good. For the next five days, sleep in a nice place, buy some proper clothes, eat well, and enjoy yourselves. Kyrie, get those wounds treated. If you run out of money, just put it on the tab of a man named Alan Manasil at the Mage Association. He’ll take care of it.”
Hina nodded again.
Kyrie looked utterly dumbfounded by the surreal turn of events. Not only had a prince rescued them from a gambling den, but he was now handing them a small fortune. But Calian hadn’t come all this way just to offer charity.
Calian continued, “In five days, come to the royal palace. Come and find me. Don’t confuse me with the other princes. There’s a real bastard among them who drinks like a fish, so you’ll be in big trouble if you get us mixed up.”
Perhaps the notorious reputation of the drunkard prince had reached even outside the palace walls, because Hina let out a silent giggle. Then her eyes widened as she fully processed his instruction to come to the royal palace.
“For now, you’ll stay at the palace. I can’t promise it will be easy; you’ll have to work. But it will be better than this. When you arrive, look for a boy named Yan who looks a bit like a cute puppy. Just do whatever he tells you. I… might be a bit busy around then, so I may not be able to see you right away.”
It was difficult to find a way for the mute Hina to live independently without Kyrie. He could have sent her to Alan’s estate, but he figured Kyrie would be anxious about that. After all, Alan was still a man in his prime. It was far safer to bring her into the palace as a maid. If she ended up hating it, he could always let her leave later.
“Do you understand everything?”
Nod, nod.
“Good. Which prince am I?”
She held up three fingers.
“Do you dislike the idea of working in the palace?”
Shake, shake.
“And in how many days should you come?”
She spread five fingers wide.
“Yes, perfect.”
Nod, nod.
Seeing her nod so enthusiastically he worried her neck might snap, Calian almost reached out to pat her head. He caught himself just in time, remembering that although she was shorter than him, Hina was actually two years his senior.
Having finished speaking with Hina, Calian turned around.
He drew the sword he had prepared for Kyrie from Raven’s saddle and handed it to him.
“Take it.”
Kyrie accepted the sword in a daze. It felt perfectly weighted, balanced for a swing. Seeing this, Calian smiled with satisfaction.
That’s it. Kyrie is only truly Kyrie when he holds a sword.
“You won’t become a knight right away. You’ll have to act as my shield first. If you still want to learn the sword under those terms, come find me.”
Kyrie looked down at the blade in his hand, then up at Calian.
“Because I will make you the greatest sword.”
A sword that serves the prince.
It was a position the current Kyrie could not even dare to dream of. He could hardly believe his ears.
“Why… why would you offer us something so great?”
“Because I need a good sword,” Calian replied simply.
It did not take Kyrie long to make up his mind. Someone who recognized his worth had appeared before him; what was there to hesitate about?
He knelt before Calian, his voice filled with earnest devotion.
“I will go. If you will permit it, I will become Your Highness’s sword.”
“Yes. I came all this way to find that very sword.”
Calian smiled and helped Kyrie to his feet.
And with this, he thought, I have repaid your kindness.
*
Fortunately, Calian managed to enter Teinansha Street before sunrise, but he was in terrible shape. He had ridden all the way back practically draped over Raven’s back.
Whether they had woken early or had yet to sleep, a few figures in mage robes were wandering the street. They flinched in surprise at the sight of a person slumped over a pitch-black horse and quickly backed away.
Each time they did, Raven’s hooves clopped louder. The horse seemed to be reliving the attention it had received during their grand procession. Still draped over its back, Calian muttered in a weak voice, “Raven, we are in no state to look cool right now. It’s embarrassing, so stop showing off.”
Now that everything was over, the tension seeped from his body, and the pain rushed back in.
Due to his heart condition, his mana was already poorly managed and nearly depleted. Scraping together the dregs of his power to manifest his aura had pushed him past his limit, even with the medicine. Consequently, he had no choice but to use Raven’s back as a bed.
It was a massive relief that Raven was so intelligent. If the horse hadn’t been capable of finding its own way back to the royal capital, Calian might not have made it in time.
Before long, they arrived at the Mage Association Alan had mentioned. As Calian stumbled into the building, the mages welcomed him warmly. Euria, the president of the Mage Association, came out personally to guide him to a room.
It was a small study and reception room, its walls lined with bookshelves packed with magical texts. A decorative knife resting on the desk immediately caught his eye, as it looked remarkably similar to the one Calian carried.
“Master.”
Alan was sitting on the sofa.
He had stayed awake, waiting for him. Seeing Alan there filled Calian with such relief that he had to blink back a sudden prickle of tears.
Alan’s jaw dropped when he saw Calian’s haggard appearance. “Did you get into a fight? And where on earth did you lose your clothes?”
Calian burst out laughing. “I didn’t fight. As for the clothes… well, things happened.”
Since he had only used threats and bluffs at the gambling den rather than actually fighting, this wasn’t a lie either.
Alan’s nose wrinkled at the faint, unpleasant odor of the gambling den clinging to Calian. He snapped his fingers. Instantly, a cool breeze wrapped around Calian, leaving him feeling clean and refreshed. Realizing it was Clean magic, Calian smiled gratefully.
“Thank you.”
Calian slumped into the seat opposite Alan. Closing the book in his hands, Alan asked, “Is your business finished?”
“Yes, for now. I think I’ll have to come back in a month.”
Alan nodded, a silent promise to bring him out again when the time came.
He then released the book he was holding into midair. To Calian’s fascination, the book fluttered like a bird and slotted itself neatly onto the bookshelf. As Calian watched, spellbound, Alan explained, “It’s a spell cast over the entire building. It allows us to return items to their proper places. Mages don’t particularly enjoy moving around, you see.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“Casting the spell on the building was likely far more troublesome, but such irony is typical of mages, so just accept it for what it is.”
Calian chuckled. Then, looking at the object that had caught his eye, he asked, “But there’s also an object here that doesn’t seem very mage-like. A knife, of all things.”
Alan stared at the knife for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a strange, heavy tone.
“Yes. There is a knife. Though it is something that shouldn’t be here.”
Alan smiled bitterly. Calian looked back at him, his expression questioning.
Though it sat there like a simple ornament, it was actually a treasure that Association President Euria cherished more than life itself. It had been crafted by Sispanian herself—a magical warning device that manifested a replica of any weapon hidden on a visitor’s person.
Thus, the presence of the decorative knife on the desk meant that Calian was currently carrying a knife.
Alan’s eyes grew quiet and deep. “As people age, many things change. Curiosity, however, is one thing that rarely fades.”
Confusion flickered across Calian’s face once more. Alan did not elaborate, instead beginning to manipulate his mana as he spoke.
“As I mentioned, the objects in this room move according to my will. It is merely a matter of knowing how to project that will, so moving them as I please is quite simple.”
Unable to fathom why Alan was saying this, Calian was about to suggest that his master get some sleep, but the words died in his throat.
“It would be wonderful if a person’s inner thoughts could also be moved and uncovered at will.”
He saw the decorative knife rise silently into the air.
“But since that is the one thing we cannot control…”
“Master.”
The knife slowly turned to point toward Calian.
Seeing the blade—far too sharp to be a mere ornament—aimed directly at him, Calian’s eyes narrowed.
“…I thought I might try to pry it open like this.”
Calian assumed it was a joke. But Alan did not stop.
Swoosh!
The knife shot toward Calian’s neck with lightning speed. A surge of mortal danger sent Calian’s hand moving on pure instinct.
Clang!
The piercing screech of metal on metal rang out.
Then, absolute silence fell over the room.
Alan stared.
He looked at the knife Calian had drawn in a split second, now held firmly in his hand. He looked at the other knife, deflected and now embedded deep in the wall. Finally, he looked at Calian’s eyes, which were honed as sharp as a blade.
Calian stared back at Alan in silence, and Alan quietly met his gaze.
Breaking the suffocating tension, Alan’s voice finally drifted through the room.
“An explanation. I require one.”
Calian closed his eyes for a brief moment.