Chapter 278: Himolica Tastes Good (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 278: Himolica Tastes Good (1)
Meat.
By the time they left the elf city and crossed its borders, evening had fallen. They had no sooner arrived at a spot where hunting was permitted than Calian vanished, only to return a short while later dragging a wild boar the size of a small mountain. He wore a bright, utterly innocent smile.
Franz, thinking that Calian’s expression resembled that of a hero who had finally vanquished the Demon King after long trials, slowly closed his eyes and opened them again.
I am a prince, and he is my younger brother.
He is definitely a prince, too, but…
“Why…” Franz muttered, forcing down a dozen troubled thoughts that were too difficult to voice.
It’s not my fault he’s like this. It’s Chase’s fault.
If you’re going to kick a kid out, you should at least send him off properly. What on earth did you do to him that he ended up catching chickens, slaughtering boars, guzzling alcohol, and tumbling down cliffs all by himself? No wonder he turned out like this.
Forget grilled cod or snakes—Franz now had a long list of things he needed to say to Chase the moment they met. A deep, heavy sigh escaped his lips.
Whether he was aware of Franz’s inner turmoil or not, Calian watched as the meat sizzled merrily on a wide griddle that had been produced from one of the mages’ pockets. Holding a cup of tea handed to him by a knight, Calian waited for the meat to cook. He looked several times more excited than he had on the day he was finally allowed a meal after the long, grueling fast forced upon him by his stomach injury.
A soft hum escaped Calian’s lips. Hearing it, Franz spoke quietly from beside him.
“It seems my dear brother has forgotten where he is.”
A song.
Of course, there was no one around to hear it, and even if they did, they wouldn’t recognize it as a song from Secritia. Still, it was rather odd for a prince of Kairis to be humming a tune with a plate of meat in front of him. Having slipped so naturally into Bern’s old habit, Calian simply smiled brightly and nodded.
“Yes. I won’t forget.”
He remembered Bern on that last day, filled with nothing but regrets.
He had already said his farewells to the Bern of that day.
And then Franz had brought up what Calian had tried to bury quietly in his heart, unable to share with anyone. He had laid to rest a man whose name and age Calian didn't even know, sending him off to the distant sea. Franz had done this so Calian wouldn't have to grieve again, so he wouldn't have to endure the forced consolation of mourning the Secritian prince’s end a second time.
“I guess I’ve recovered enough to live,” Calian said.
He remembered the blue flames.
Calian had watched the blue lights scattered by the Valkan mages, along with the single blue flame Franz had sent up. Leaning against Raven, who slept with his legs tucked beneath him, Calian had stared endlessly at the light fading beyond the horizon.
Until the moon waned.
Until the sun rose behind him, illuminating the deep blue sea once more.
He had stared at the sea for a very long time.
And naturally, he said nothing to Franz about the Sinasta that had been cast upon the waves. It wasn't something to thank him for, nor was it something to praise or scold him for.
So, he said nothing.
He only told him that he had recovered enough to live.
“I see.”
“Yes.”
Calian had let him know that he was no longer having nightmares and had returned to his usual self. Franz understood.
“Did the chicken-eating elf leave?” Franz asked, not pressing the matter. He showed no particular reaction to Calian’s words and simply changed the subject.
Calian nodded. “Yes. She said she would head to the Siegfried territory first. An elf’s feet are the fastest in the forest, after all.”
There was likely no special reason for her haste.
She had probably just rushed ahead to eat some proper meat.
“I see.”
“You’re only asking about Siona now, even though she’s been gone all day.”
“…I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking about so deeply?”
“A name for the horse.”
“Have you decided?”
Franz nodded.
Calian looked at Franz, mentally flipping through an ancient Secritian dictionary. Knowing his brother’s personality, he was sure Franz would try to name the horse in that language again.
“…Flower.”
Sure enough. Calian’s expression turned quite surprised.
Of all things, Franz chose that.
“May I ask why?”
“No.”
“Alright.”
If he didn’t want to say, there was no point in pressing.
Turning his head, Calian looked at the silver-white horse tethered in the distance. After quietly staring at the well-tamed, gentle beast, he spoke again.
“It’s Estina.”
“I suppose that’s what I’ll call it, then.”
To call a warhorse a flower.
“Yes.”
The absurdity of naming a warhorse something so delicate made Raven’s master shake his head.
“Your Highnesses, please eat.”
The knight who had brought them tea earlier returned and handed them each a plate.
Because they were traveling light, and because the mages’ pockets couldn’t fit anything as large as a table, the two princes ate with their plates in their hands. Of course, neither of them complained.
Watching Franz begin to eat the wild boar meat without a word, Calian asked, “Did the food we brought from the elf city not suit your taste?”
“No.”
“But you’re eating this instead.”
“Didn’t you say we were going to eat cod?”
The road to Secritia was long. Franz had no intention of being picky about his food for the entire journey.
Seeing his younger brother nod with an expression that clearly said, Oh, look how much my older brother has grown, Franz’s face twisted in annoyance. He asked, “Why are you going there?”
“To meet a snake.”
“I’m asking why you want to meet him.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“No.”
“Sure.”
With a face that showed he didn’t believe a word, Calian pointed at Franz’s sword.
“Secritian swordsmanship is stronger than Kairis’s. As your younger brother, how could I let my fragile older brother go alone? I have to act as your escort.”
An attendant, an escort, and a loyal watchdog all in one.
His ever-proactive younger brother continued.
“Besides, Devlan won’t expect me to go.”
“What do you plan to do when you get there?”
“I’m going to start thinking about that now. What to do when we meet.”
“…It would be better if you didn’t cross paths with him.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“No.”
“Sure.”
Replying in a light tone, Calian smiled faintly. “It’ll be fine. I’m not going alone, after all.”
If I have another nightmare, he’ll wake me up again.
If he has another nightmare, I’ll have to wake him up again.
Whether Franz understood the unspoken meaning behind his words or not, he simply nodded in silence.
“Finish your meal before it gets cold. If you’re going to eat, eat it all. Brother Chase is taller than you, you know.”
And Franz began eating again, though not because he cared about Calian’s last remark.
*
The dead of night.
He couldn’t fall asleep.
He had indigestion.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
To be precise, Franz couldn’t digest a single thing. If he had actually fallen ill, the power of blessing would have cured him automatically. However, the blessing simply ignored an issue caused by stuffing himself with meat just to grow taller.
Even after finishing the strong mint tea Needlen brought him, his chest still felt tight. Thus, he called out to Calian, who was sitting opposite Raven, chatting away.
Despite having emptied three plates of the same meat, joined the Valkan mages to devour cookies packed with fruit jam, and even shared a mountain of dried apple chips with Raven, Calian was perfectly fine. He stood up without complaint and followed Franz.
Hummmm!
For brothers like them, a good fight was the best cure for an upset stomach.
Although his own digestion was perfectly fine, Calian had no intention of turning down a spar. A red flame flickered at his fingertips.
Red aura.
The unique aura, which glowed red from converting mana, transformed into two longswords.
Franz, pondering which of his two swords to use—since he hadn’t lightened their weight yet and couldn’t wield both at once—drew his newly acquired blade, Sinasta. The sword shimmered with a refreshing light that held a chilling, sharp energy.
Clang!
Like starlight, like moonlight.
Three swords, two red and one blue, clashed and intertwined.
Because to use the sword of Brissen, one also had to know how to block it.
Clang! Clang!
Franz repeatedly blocked and tore through the blooming red flowers of Calian’s swordsmanship.
After parrying a strike from the right, Franz bent at the waist to dodge a second attack sweeping in from the left. Then, kicking off the ground, he leaped into the air and thrust his sword toward Calian’s shoulder.
Clank! Clang!
Instead of melting into the shadows, Calian met Franz’s attacks at a moderate pace, bringing his two swords together. After deflecting the retreating blue-silver blade upward, he split his swords again and thrust from both sides.
Clash!
Swiftly swinging his sword to block both attacks, Franz spun and aimed a powerful strike at Calian’s flank.
Whoosh!
The sound of tearing air followed.
Holding his right sword in a reverse grip to block the incoming strike, Calian swung his left arm to bat Franz’s sword away. Gritting his teeth, Franz regained control of his deflected weapon, twisted his body in the opposite direction, and swung again. This time, Calian’s left sword blocked the attack, while the blade in his right hand lunged toward Franz’s neck.
Clang! Clang!
No echo shook the forest.
A translucent barrier, spread wide around them, muffled the sounds.
Inside, the two heard nothing but the continuous, sharp screech of metal.
Clang! Clank! Clatter!
Franz’s light green eyes gleamed sharply.
Meeting that gaze, Calian’s crimson eyes were filled with a cold chill.
“…Thrusting at the shoulder and slashing at the flank won’t kill anyone.”
A soft, youthful voice reached Franz’s ears.
At the same time, with a sudden flash, a red sword plunged down from above.
Clang!
Franz raised his sword, supporting it with both hands to block the falling blade, and quickly moved his feet. The second sword, flying toward where he had just been standing, was recalled.
“Especially if your sword is light. You can never kill that way.”
It was something Franz surely knew, but it was also a necessary reminder.
So far, Franz had not once aimed for Calian’s heart or neck. He had continuously targeted only his arms, legs, shoulders, and abdomen.
Clang! Clang!
Two red swords flew in—from top to bottom, from right to left. As Franz parried the first and tried to retreat from the second, a third attack flew toward him.
Dispelling the sword that had bounced back from the parry and instantly recreating it, Calian lunged, aiming straight for Franz’s heart.
One to the heart, one to the neck.
Which to dodge, and which to block?
Thud! Clang!
Completing his split-second calculation, Franz reversed his grip and blocked his heart with the flat of his blade. Then, ducking his head, he swung his sword upward.
Clang!
Calian’s fourth attack followed immediately.
Before he could even register the chill of the light, sharp blade, a stinging sensation pricked his neck. Only then did Franz realize that a follow-up strike, almost too fast to see, had grazed his throat.
Realizing that Calian’s sword had grazed his neck yet again, just like always, Franz lowered his own blade.
But then.
Whoosh!
A red sword lunged toward Franz’s heart.
Seeing the blade rushing in without the slightest hesitation, as if it had no intention of stopping, Franz tried to raise his lowered arm.
“Ah…”
Too late.
He couldn’t block it.
Calian’s sword did not stop.
Involuntarily imagining the sensation of metal piercing deep into his heart, Franz took a step back.
Screeech!
An unpleasant sound of metal scraping to a forced halt rang out.
“If you let your guard down before sheathing your sword, you will die, brother.”
Franz felt a thin trickle of blood run down from the cut on his neck.
Lowering his head to look at his chest, he saw a thick, magical shield. He also saw the tip of Calian’s sword stopped dead in its center.
“Until you can attack properly, I won’t spar with you,” Calian said, his voice slightly stiff.
Then, turning his back, he walked away with heavy steps.
*
The night was bright.
As the sun set and darkness descended, magic lamps placed throughout the royal castle lit up. The trees lining the path between the back garden and the detached palace shimmered under the light.
It was long past the time she should have returned, but Louise continued to pace back and forth along the path. She had no particular reason, except that her mind was too anxious and restless to go inside.
“It has been over an hour since the Crown Prince went to see His Majesty. Why is he taking so long?”
“Please do not worry too much. I am sure nothing is wrong.”
Instead of an answer, a soft sigh escaped her lips.
“It isn’t even time for official business, yet he was summoned so suddenly. It makes me uneasy.”
“If you are that concerned, shall I go and take a look?” the maid walking beside her asked, looking up at Chase’s distant, unlit room in the main palace.
After a moment’s thought, Louise shook her head. “No, it’s fine. It would not do for His Majesty to find out that I am worrying needlessly.”
Click, clack. Louise’s feet took a few more steps, stopping and starting repeatedly. Each time she paused, she glanced alternately at Chase’s room and Devlan’s office.
“Regarding His Majesty’s order to bring the sleep incense again…”
“About that.”
Pausing, Louise took a few more steps before speaking. “Since he ordered the incense to be removed last time, we cleared it all out. There is none left. I will speak to His Majesty about it myself, so leave it be for now.”
“Understood.”
Nodding at the maid’s response, Louise’s gaze turned toward the main palace once more.
At the end of her anxious gaze, Devlan’s office shone brightly. The chandelier, imbued with magic, was casting its most brilliant light.
The small but exquisitely crafted fixture illuminated a pair of violet eyes.
“If you have nothing further to say, please permit me to take my leave.”
He had been summoned to the office and kept there for an hour.
Devlan had done nothing but review documents, work, and cough repeatedly, without uttering a single word to him.
Even at Chase’s words—who had sat completely motionless for an hour—Devlan merely turned a page of his documents without reaction. Then, he coughed.
Under the bright light, Chase’s eyes closed briefly and then opened.
“I,” Devlan’s mouth finally opened, “have been thinking. I have thought about it for a very long time.”
His voice was low and hoarse, yet calmer than anyone else’s.
Hearing that voice at last, Chase did not turn his head toward Devlan. He did not even break his posture.
“What thoughts do you mean?”
“About the one who spoke to me through Lemain’s mouth.”
With a soft thud, Devlan closed the document he had been reviewing and stood up. Then, with flawless movements, he walked over and sat opposite Chase.
The sound of the sofa sinking under his weight felt louder than ever.
“Using my bird, which they found by chance, to escape the guilt of harming the Marquis. Blaming that very bird to create an excuse not to answer my summons. Demanding my silence in the process. And then, finding another bird I was pursuing and making it their own, as if they had no intention of hiding it.”
Tap, tap, tap.
With his fingers clasped and resting on his lap, Devlan’s fingertips slowly tapped the back of his other hand.
“So, I thought about it for a long time.”
Staring into Chase’s violet eyes, which perfectly resembled those of the late king, Devlan’s tapping finger stopped. A small cough followed.
But neither Devlan nor Chase paid it any mind.
“How that child, whom you went out of your way to meet, could think…”
Tap, tap, tap.
“…so exactly like me.”
Chase stared back at Devlan without answering.
Devlan’s fingertip slowly drew a long arc across the back of his other hand.