Chapter 283: Truly Beautiful (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 283: Truly Beautiful (1)
Ah, Serenti.
I did say I’d hit you once when we next met. I said it because it felt like I’d been wronged too many times. I really did, but…
Still, isn’t this a bit much?
I took in an older brother who was like a withered pea, watered him, gave him sunlight, and raised him to be lush and green. I tried my absolute best to live a good, beautiful life. For someone who should know better, isn't this going too far?
"Sigh…"
Just one glass of Himolica?
Even when I joked about getting carried home on Kyrie’s back, I never once imagined being carried on my elderly father’s. Do you have any idea what it’s like to take one sip, close your eyes, and open them to the sight of your father’s back? Do you know what it feels like to desperately pretend to be asleep, knowing full well he’s not the type to be fooled by such an act?
Now that I’m a little older, I wanted to get some fresh air with my father for the first time, have a cozy chat, and enjoy a delicious drink together. That’s why I chose that liquor so carefully, even selling out the reputation my gentle, sweet older brother had painstakingly built. And for what? Just one glass?
At least I got to taste the Himolica. I didn't even get a sip of the Sizlinu. Father took it away.
"Yan… my head is throbbing…"
And Sispanian.
Why didn’t you cure my hangover?
…You’re both too much.
*
To be honest, he hadn’t slept for the entire trip.
Except for maybe a day or two, he hadn’t slept at all.
Calian frowned as he sat quietly, counting on his fingers to calculate exactly how many hours he had slept during his journey to the elf village. The hangover, of course, was to blame.
"Anyway, it’s because I didn't get enough sleep."
Yes.
He had passed out after a single glass of Himolica because he was sleep-deprived, not because he was a weak drinker. He didn’t know why he was suffering such a terrible hangover from just one glass, but he had simply fallen asleep because he was truly exhausted.
Having desperately come to this self-diagnosis, Calian smirked.
He then took a few sips of a well-blended banana and honey juice—prepared with Yan’s heartfelt wish of, ‘Oh dear, our flower-like prince’s hangover from a single glass of Himolica must go away quickly’—and spoke.
"Still, I’m not the type to pass out after just one drink."
"Right."
Around that time, Franz—having heard that his younger brother had been carried home on the back of the continent’s greatest archmage, one of only three prestigious and virtuous 7th Circle mages—quietly closed his eyes in secondhand embarrassment. Meanwhile, Lemain—hearing that his son, who had previously run to embrace his master instead of him, had now passed out drinking with that same master—agonized over whether to worry more about his son’s runaway habits or his pathetic alcohol tolerance.
"I looked into the matter you asked about," Eila said, her indifferent reply cutting through his attempt to sound composed. She placed a document consisting of two bound sheets of paper on the table.
Calian nodded at Eila, whose utterly humorless personality hadn’t changed in the slightest, and picked up the document.
"As you know, many poisons are undetectable by any method. Tacrimosa, which Silike used in her attempt to poison you, was one of them. The poison you mentioned is the same."
Calian’s knowledge of poisons was not vast—or, to be precise, not nearly as extensive as Eila’s.
"It’s naturally odorless and colorless, and it ruins the lungs of its victim. Just as you suspected, she wasn’t poisoned by touch but by inhalation while handling it. They weren’t vaporized fumes, but rather an accidental inhalation of the poison in powder form."
"So, is there an antidote?"
"It’s impossible to create one."
It was the answer he had expected, but Calian still pressed his temples, a sliver of hope extinguished.
"Right… If it were treatable, Devlan would have cured it already."
It was a poison Diena must have chosen with extreme care. An undetectable, incurable poison. A poison she must have been using for a very long time.
"Then, do you think Hina could cure it?"
"Yes. Viscountess Bern should be able to."
She said Louise could be cured. A sigh of relief escaped Calian’s lips.
He recalled the conversation he’d had with Chase before meeting Eila.
—Do not bring that healer, Hina, with you.
—Hina’s healing magic might be able to cure Mother.
—Not this time. It would be better to bring her on your next visit.
Louise’s symptoms had only just begun, and she hadn’t drawn her last breath until Bern’s final days. There was still time.
But if he brought Hina now and she caught Devlan’s eye, he would never let go of a target right in front of him.
—Understood.
That was why Calian had agreed to return with Hina only after Devlan was gone from this world.
Not this time, but the next. When he visited Secritia again for Chase’s coronation, he would bring her to cure Louise.
"Good. Thank you," Calian said, burning the paper in his hand. He had already memorized its contents, and there was no reason to leave evidence behind, even here.
"If I ask you to take me with you, will you?" Eila asked.
Calian pressed his temples once more. He spoke quietly, his face partially hidden by his long, pale hand. "Why?"
"You said you were going to meet Devlan."
"And?"
"I don’t like the idea of someone else killing the bastard who targeted my life."
"That man really is hated everywhere, isn’t he?" Calian muttered with a soft chuckle. "Is that the secret to his long life?"
His laugh sounded like that of a young, innocent boy, yet also like someone who had endured far too much.
"But Eila, I’m not one to entrust a task to someone who will forget my orders to look elsewhere."
"If it’s about guarding Viscountess Bern, just for a short while…"
"Eila." Calian cut her off, his gaze turning sharp. "I know how vicious those birds are. I know their persistence. I don’t know when you escaped from Devlan or how long you were hunted, but I know how hard you fought to stay alive. I understand why you want to come—you feel you can only find peace if you see him die with your own eyes."
He looked at her hair and eyes, which held the color of a sea he missed.
"I know you’re doing this because you’re afraid. I was the same."
Eila slowly closed her eyes, then opened them with a sigh. The ornament in her hair swayed gently. "You still know me too well."
"Did you really think I wouldn't know what’s inside that hairpin?"
A poison she couldn’t bear to part with, a symptom of her anxiety. Calian knew all too well what that meant.
"You feel like you'll only be safe once he's gone. That life will finally be worth living once the object of your hatred disappears. Isn't that right? But it turns out, that’s not what keeps a person alive."
He had thought everything would end once he saw Devlan die. He had thought he would finally be free. It was only after receiving the banishment order from Chase that he realized things didn't work that way.
"I heard you’re learning sign language. I hope you’ll stay firm in that resolve. It’s a much better path than following me back into the past."
Calian set down his empty juice glass. "While you’re by Hina’s side, I hope you can learn how to live by watching people be healed and saved, rather than by watching them die. It might not be a perfect answer, but from my experience, it was better."
His voice was soft, gentle. His words were true.
"There’s still time before we depart, so go back and think it over. If you still can’t accept it, come back and tell me. I’ll take you with me then, no questions asked."
"…Understood. I will think about it."
"Good. Thank you." Calian nodded.
Even though she’d always known, it was still hard to believe. Eila was suddenly struck by how much he resembled Chase.
*
He definitely resembled him. No, it was a perfect match.
He had checked after returning to the royal palace and opening his safe. Seeing it again now, there was no doubt.
"In my opinion…" Calian said, a playful smile on his face as he examined the sword he’d received from Demirea. He took off his white coat trimmed with thick gray fur and handed it to the butler. "It seems Sir Hertz wrote this."
A few more days had passed since he had desperately denied passing out from a single glass of Himolica.
Anne had grown just a little bit more, and the weather had turned quite a bit colder. And from the hands of Rotten, the blacksmith of the House of Duke Siegfried, a new sword was complete.
Calian, having slipped out of the palace on his own again upon hearing the news, was now looking at the name ‘Sinasta’ engraved on the blade—or rather, the half of the name left on the blue-silver steel.
"Are you saying Count Hertz inscribed those letters?"
"Yes. I think so."
A sword inscribed with the name of a flower that didn’t even grow in Kairis. A sword identical in strength to the dark-hued blade, but completely different in color. He had needed to commission such a sword. For that reason, he had told Demirea where and how he had obtained it.
"Then, even in the time Your Highness remembers, was Count Hertz in Valkan?"
"He was. He was the corps commander back then. My master wasn't around."
Hearing this, Demirea merely nodded as if it were nothing surprising. Calian chuckled. Both she and Eila were certainly not the most entertaining of personalities.
Soon, Calian lowered his gaze to examine the sword in his hand once more.
—Sinasta
The upper and lower parts of the letters connected, but the handwriting styles were different.
"Interesting."
Calian recalled the apology letter that Arsen Hertz—a man he firmly believed he could outdrink—had painstakingly written after getting wasted and trading his salary for his pride. The handwriting on that envelope closely resembled the script on the sword.
Usually, Arsen scribbled messily, claiming he was too busy. Had he carefully written each letter when commissioning the sword for Franz? Or did the Arsen of that time simply not write in cursive?
He now found himself curious about such trivial things.
"If you happen to see my brother, don't tell him Sir Hertz wrote these letters. He might throw the sword away."
"Understood."
Demirea's taciturn nature was dull, but this sword was so interesting it made him smile again.
Half of Arsen’s handwriting on the starlight blade that the past Franz had held. And half of Calian’s handwriting on the dark blade that the present Franz would hold.
"There is also a blade in the center. I’m sure you know, but be careful. You’ll get cut," Demirea said as he gently ran a hand over the letters.
A sword that split vertically. It was a unique design where the inner surfaces were angled into sharp edges, making each half a double-edged blade on its own.
Calian twisted the hilt, splitting the sword in two and merging it back into one. He checked it over for a long time, nodding in satisfaction at the craftsmanship.
Click!
The sword slid smoothly into its newly custom-made scabbard, locking into place with a satisfying sound. As Calian looked down at it, Demirea explained, "They said the leftover meteoric iron from the forging was difficult to reuse and a waste to throw away, so they added it as decoration to the scabbard."
"It seems so."
Gray and blue-silver meteoric iron was inlaid in patterns across the white scabbard. Calian nodded, agreeing that it suited the sword perfectly.
Once Calian finished his inspection and set the sword aside, Demirea lifted her cup of warm milk tea and asked quietly, "How do you plan to pay for the labor?"
There was no such thing as a free lunch. He had made a blacksmith—already busy maintaining swords for the second batch of knights from Count Aizen Aprin—pour his soul into a single blade for days. A fitting compensation was only right.
"You still haven't fully kept your promise to spar with me from last time."
He had promised a fortnight of sparring as payment for her tiara-like ornament but had only managed one session. Recalling this, Calian smiled brightly. "I've gotten a bit busy. Can't you cut me some slack?"
"No."
It didn’t work.
"If you have time, come to the palace starting tomorrow. I’ll be your opponent."
"I’ll be there in two days."
"Alright. Then, as for the price of the sword…"
With his schedule now set, Calian thought for a moment before speaking. "What should I give my fiancée… It would be easier if she just asked for money, but she’s probably wealthier than I am, so that won’t do."
"Since it is a sword for the 2nd Prince, it wouldn't be unreasonable for him to pay a portion of the price," she said, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask.
As Calian nodded, Demirea continued, "The swordsmanship of Brissen. I would like you to pass it down to Ririe as well."
"I can teach her the swordsmanship. My brother won't object either. However…" Calian paused, his gaze fixed on Demirea. "That is, as long as it doesn't interfere with the future of Grand Duke Franz, the King's older brother, one day leading the Brissen family."
"You don't have to draw such a deliberate line. I know what will happen if the 2nd Prince cannot take that position." Demirea smiled faintly. "Besides, I have no intention of raising a child of Brissen to be like the Brissens of old."
I like that, Calian thought, nodding.
*
He had obtained a sword at a pretty good price.
Starting in two days, he would also begin paying off one of his debts.
He was in a very good mood. He was, but…
"…Brother."
"Let's go."
A massive carriage was parked boldly in front of the royal palace. A massive carriage ornately engraved with the crest of the Kairis royal family.
Yes. That very carriage, which Sispanian had poured her heart and soul into creating. The luxurious carriage that represented the Kairis royal family.
It was parked right at the entrance.
Beside it stood Estina, the 2nd Prince's horse, with the pea himself sitting atop her. If that had been all, he might have tried to accept it.
But something was strange. Why was Raven out here?
"Where are you planning to go?"
"To eat cod."
"Right now?"
"Right now."
"Without sending a single letter to Secritia, and dragging the royal carriage along?"
"Yes."
"But I have a sparring appointment with the Young Duchess in two days."
He didn't seem to care about diplomatic relations, advance notices, or anything of the sort.
"I…" Franz began, looking down at his younger brother with truly arrogant eyes. "…said I'm going."
Who would dare stop the 2nd Prince of Kairis from going to see the famous seas of Secritia for his birthday?
His older brother—who had learned all too well how to use the trashy persona they had painstakingly crafted for him, despite being quite gentle deep down—gestured with his chin.
It was a command to get on Raven. Now.
"This is driving me crazy…"
Ah.
Serenti.