Chapter 300: Be Patient, Brother (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 300: Be Patient, Brother (3)
Pendelia.
He had only just learned its name.
“That over there. It’s a medicine made from Pendelia.”
In the direction Arsen pointed, there was a large plant with a green stem, brown spots, and broad leaves with slightly split tips. He’d seen it before.
He recalled someone mentioning that it bore fruit—green on the outside, pink on the inside—and that they hadn’t liked it very much.
“I received it from Sir Bern, the healer, to use after sparring with the Prince. Since we can’t call a doctor, let alone a healer, in this situation, it’s better to at least use this. You’ve likely never seen Pendelia before, though…”
“I know what it is.”
“How would you know about something like that, Prince Franz?”
He said he got wasted, rolled down a cliff, and woke up with it plastered all over his body. Recalling every word Calian had told him in the elf village, Franz replied in a low voice.
“My younger brother told me he once had it applied after slipping down a cliff on a day he drank too much.”
“…Ah.”
Unfortunately, Arsen understood the true meaning behind the words Franz had tried so hard to sugarcoat.
Would the treatment of royalty be any different in Secritia? Nevertheless, if raw, unprocessed herbs had been smeared onto a prince’s body, one could easily guess what must have happened.
“An-anyway, please use it, Prince Franz.”
“Rather than me…”
Franz grimaced, his words cutting off as Estina started up a gentle slope. A wave of pain washed over him. Although Estina was a smooth-riding horse, she was no Raven, who took extreme care to keep his master from jarring on roads like this.
The bleeding had stopped, and the wound was gradually healing, but it was hard to get used to the way the open wound tugged with every movement.
Franz caught his breath, waiting for the sharp pain to subside before continuing.
“I think my younger brother needs it more.”
“Pendelia is a medicinal herb with mild toxicity. It’s fine under normal circumstances, but if the Prince uses it now, it will do more harm than good.”
Glancing at the medicine bottle Arsen held out, Franz turned his head. He saw a certain black-haired madman slumped unconscious over Raven.
Calian’s breathing was steadier than when Arsen had first placed him on the saddle, and his purplish lips were gradually returning to their natural color. It was, after all, the blessing of Sispanian—which might ignore a hangover or refuse to soothe indigestion, but was exceptionally good at healing injuries.
He recalled the sight of his younger brother leaning against Raven just a moment ago.
One sword slash on his arm, another on his waist.
Even with just that, Franz was in this much pain and discomfort—so how could that boy stand there without even a grimace?
Was he stubborn? Ignorant? Or simply used to it?
He couldn’t tell.
Letting out a short sigh, Franz clenched and unclenched his pale hand in the moonlight. Then, he spoke in an even lower voice.
“Mage.”
“Yes.”
“How many mages could survive an encounter with them?”
“You mean Zeon? Someone like Sir Seiren could probably escape without much trouble, but for the rest of us—myself included—it would depend on the situation. I nearly died myself, you know.”
They were strong.
He couldn’t forget the look in the eyes of the last Zeon warrior to die. Franz had stepped forward without thinking, but Calian had blocked him, so he never crossed swords with them. If he had, would he have survived?
Probably not.
He likely wouldn't have stood a chance.
Lost in thought for a moment, Franz extended his uninjured arm toward Arsen.
“Give it to me.”
“Give you what?”
“The crystal plate.”
“…How did you know I had that?”
As he spoke, Arsen pulled out the notoriously expensive crystal plate. But remembering that Franz didn’t have a mage’s bag to store it in, he tucked it back away. “I’ll give it to you when we return.”
“Don’t use it.”
“I wondered why you were asking for a bulky crystal plate when you don’t even have a place to put it. Are you seriously worried I’ll use it without permission?”
To Arsen, who was looking at him with an expression that screamed, It’s not like it wears out from use, Franz retorted, “You already did.”
Arsen’s mouth snapped shut.
Glancing briefly toward Calian—or more accurately, checking to see if he was awake—Arsen whispered, “How did you know I used the crystal plate?”
“I hope you didn’t call Marquis Manasil.”
Conversing with Franz was truly difficult.
When asked how he knew, he gave another seemingly unrelated answer.
Arsen had to connect the dots to realize that Franz already knew he had used the crystal plate to contact Alan before coming to help them.
“I’m too scared to even drink water in front of you, Prince Franz. I feel like if I took a sip, you’d figure out what I ate three days ago.”
Even in pain, Franz didn’t miss that Arsen had reverted to calling him ‘Prince Franz.’ There was only one reason Arsen would tuck his tail like that.
He had been demoted from vice-commander again by Alan.
“Is it not more surprising that you thought I wouldn’t know?”
“I was stripped of my rank right before I left. A soldier can’t just go hunting people down on their own.”
Unlike Euria, who hunted people regardless of the situation, Arsen was a mage who assessed things before acting. That was why, before joining the fight, he had briefly called Alan and said, ‘Our Coco is using that carriage—the one made by Sispanian and modified by you, Commander—very comfortably and very well.’
Upon hearing those words, Alan had promptly and meticulously stripped Arsen of his rank on the spot. Thus, Arsen had quietly returned to being just a crazy, blue-haired mage whose only connection to Valkan was his affiliation.
“Marquis Manasil also seemed to realize something was going on, but he said he wouldn’t come. He said he’d probably get too angry if he did, so I told him we were fine for now and that he should wait.”
“I see.”
Franz replied curtly and fell silent again. Part of it was due to Estina making another jarring movement on a downhill slope, and part of it was because he had fallen deep into thought.
Arsen stared at Franz before shifting his gaze to Sinasta.
He had just seen something he’d never noticed before, since the sword was always sheathed: the inscription engraved on the blue-silver blade in Calian’s hand.
Thinking about it made his mind a tangled mess.
He wondered what could have happened in the past to make someone meticulously write out an inscription for that short-tempered prince’s sword.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
Franz spoke out of nowhere. He had turned his head, his light green eyes fixed on Arsen.
“No matter who wrote it. No matter what happened. It doesn’t matter now.”
“…Did you know it was my handwriting?”
“More or less.”
Franz closed his eyes after giving that vague answer.
He was in pain and couldn’t be bothered to explain.
A silent sigh escaped Arsen’s lips.
“I figured I wouldn’t have trusted just anyone to engrave a name like that,” Franz continued, surprising him. “Thinking back, there was probably no one else by my side. They said a crazy, blue-haired mage stayed with me until the very end, so if it was anyone, it had to be him.”
He hadn’t actually recognized Arsen’s handwriting. He had simply assumed that the past Franz, who—unlike now—had no one, would have entrusted such a task to the one man said to have remained with him. It was a vague guess, but Arsen’s reaction to seeing Sinasta today had confirmed it.
“I also wondered… just how barren my life must have been to keep someone like you by my side and use your handwriting.”
Arsen, who had almost felt a flicker of pity for Franz, quickly snapped out of it.
Franz looked down at the sword. Even though he understood its significance, finding out who had written the inscription made him seriously contemplate throwing it away. He winced again from the pain of his cuts, completely missing the look on Arsen’s face, which resembled that of someone who had just watched Coco eat dung.
Arsen considered saying, Do you think I wanted to be by the side of a guy like you? but realized that might constitute treason and get him kicked out of Valkan. Deciding that a proper mage’s life should at least involve getting a statue built in his honor before being fired, he held his tongue and turned away.
Franz let out a dry chuckle at his reaction, prompting Arsen to grumble.
“You can actually laugh right now?”
“I can. Why?”
“Even though that crazy, blue-haired mage you supposedly relied on so much isn’t following you around anymore?”
“I don’t care about that either.”
He understood what Arsen was implying.
In the past, at least Arsen had been by his side, but now there was no one. Arsen was asking if he was truly alright with this—just as the knight of Secritia had pointed out, and just as Calian had worried.
“Hardly. I have enough headaches as it is. Why?”
A single servant who whined at every little thing and a Valkan that seemed to break new records for causing trouble every day were more than enough. He already had his hands full with a black cat that barked daily and tried to bite whenever things didn’t go its way; what would he do with a crazy, blue-haired mage by his side? It would only give him another headache.
Having given his honest answer, Franz looked ahead.
In the distance, a small palace with a massive garden began to come into view.
*
Birds are faster than horses.
Though much had happened, not a lot of time had passed, and it was still the middle of the night. Nevertheless, when they arrived at Louise’s villa, about ten people came out quietly to greet them. It seemed Chase’s message had arrived first.
Knights laid Calian on a stretcher and carried him to a bedroom. Under Arsen’s watchful gaze, both Calian and Franz received basic treatment.
The treatment was basic for a reason: although they were told the people here were subordinates of someone Chase trusted, they couldn’t be too careful. They neither ingested nor applied any medicine provided. Franz only used the remedy Arsen had brought, and Calian was prevented from using even that until his detoxification was complete.
“Is there anything else you require, Prince Franz?”
“…Bananas.”
“Bananas, you say?”
“A lot of them.”
Afterward, not knowing when Calian would wake, Franz had them place a pile of bananas next to the bed before walking over to a nearby window. Until Calian woke up or more of his people arrived from the royal palace, Arsen had to stand guard alone, making it difficult for either of them to comfortably retire to their own rooms.
I’m injured too, but because he’s hurt worse, I can’t even rest properly. It was that kind of situation, but since he had brought this upon himself, Franz decided not to complain.
Sshhhhh…
It was a truly quiet place, with a view of the distant sea.
The room, on the highest floor, had an entire wall made of glass. As he stood gazing out the window, he heard the sound of tree branches rustling in the wind. Listening quietly, something in the darkness caught his eye.
Glimmer.
A blue light.
A blue light was swirling in a corner of the vast garden.
It didn’t seem to be a mage’s light. As he stared, trying to figure out what it was, the blue glow in the corner gradually began to spread and multiply. Before long, the entire garden was shimmering.
It didn’t take long to realize what it was. The swirling blue clusters began to disperse like seeds of light scattering on the wind, rising into the sky.
In this place, where the vast garden was planted entirely with flowers commemorating someone, those flowers, blooming for a second time under the moonlight, were turning into blue light and floating upward.
“It’s Sinasta.”
Yes.
It was Sinasta.
Franz turned his head.
The rascal, apparently unable to stay down, was already sitting up in bed and looking out the window.
“Why are you up?”
“Just… woke up.”
A raspy voice slipped out.
Knowing all too well that the boy could only sleep properly when Alan or Kyrie was by his side, or when he was in his own room in Chermil Palace, Franz simply nodded.
“The bleeding?”
“It’s stopped. Sensation is returning to my waist as well.”
“Good.”
Despite having forced his power, the blessing of Sispanian had steadily done its work, completing the detoxification. Now, it was beginning to heal his wounds.
Meanwhile, Calian let out a self-deprecating chuckle, thinking his aching back meant he really had taken a hit there. He looked around the room. Then, his gaze halted, and he held his breath.
“Did Chase happen to tell you about this place?”
“They said it’s Royal Concubine Louise’s villa. Is it a place you don’t know?”
Calian covered his face with his palm as a laugh escaped him.
“How could I not know?”
Even without the blue light of Sinasta, which was brighter than the stars, there was enough light to see inside the room.
Patternless black sheets, dark gray curtains, matte dark brown furniture. A desolate room without a single picture frame or vase. The place where he used to stay was decorated exactly as he remembered.
He had thought it would be gone, but apparently not.
“…It’s my room.”
Queen Diena’s villa.
And the room prepared inside for Bern.
Confronted with the traces of Bern, who did not exist in this timeline, Calian laughed for a long time.
Chase must have agonized over whether to give this room to Calian. He would have worried about his injuries and worried that this place might make him depressed. Yet, Calian laughed because he thought he understood why Chase had suggested this villa and placed him in this very room.
“It seems the meaning of my name wasn’t entirely wrong.”
Franz stared at Calian.
“If I ask, will you tell me now?”
Calian tried to shrug out of habit but stopped as his back throbbed. He spoke again.
“No. I won’t even tell you the meaning of your name, so why would I tell you my old one?”
“…Right.”
Chuckling at the momentary flash of annoyance on Franz’s face, Calian looked out the window.
“Anyway, it’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“Sir Hertz said something like that. That I’ve fought enough, so I should rest now. Kyrie told me not to stop. I don’t know how their personalities and the things they say can be so completely different.”
Franz did not answer. The small, raspy, and fatigue-laden voice continued.
“I was so glad to see Sir Hertz when he came earlier. As I looked at him, a thought suddenly occurred to me. Perhaps, in the end, I had been waiting for Sir Hertz to come last time, too. To be honest, while the words telling me not to stop made me glad, they also made me feel sorrowful. But the words telling me to rest made me feel sorrowful, yet glad.”
He was venting to Franz now, but in truth, it was because everything had been so incredibly hard and overwhelming.
“And that’s what’s interesting. In the end, it means I’ve waited for Sir Hertz twice on this land. Yet, the reasons were so vastly different.”
“…I see.”
Calian’s voice gradually grew faint.
“Not that I’m saying I liked what happened.”
“I know.”
“So, I won’t go through the same thing twice.”
“I know.”
“Don’t worry needlessly and get some rest. There won’t be a war breaking out over you this time, Brother. I won’t let that happen.”
“…Informal speech.”
“I got hurt like this because of you, Brother. Can’t you let at least that much slide?”
Franz furrowed his brow without answering.
Having traded a wound for a moment of informal speech, Calian chuckled softly once more.
The blue clusters of light flickered, illuminating his face before floating up into the sky. Lying back down on the bed filled with a familiar scent, Calian soon fell fast asleep. Though neither Kyrie nor Alan was there, he slept deeply.
Only a few hours later.
“All the Secritian soldiers who went to Bridget Forest are dead.”
Until Franz, who received this message from Chase, had to wake his soundly sleeping younger brother.