Chapter 40: Confirm It (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 40: Confirm It (3)
Beyond the Latria Forest lay Latran, a medium-sized city. While its scale might have been classified as average, it was a wealthy place that owned a nearby copper mine. Perhaps for that reason, the rows of large, clean buildings were clearly visible even from a distance.
The sight reminded Calian of Astrisha Street, and he gazed at the city’s panorama with a hint of admiration. Sensing this, and perhaps worried that Calian might form a favorable impression of the lord, Yan spoke up.
“Count Hale Latran. Do you happen to remember him?”
“Ah, him…”
The name sounded familiar.
Calian raised an eyebrow as he searched his memory. Hale was one of the nobles who had sent a gift to the youngest prince after he had been hurt by Franz’s slip of the tongue.
“A fence-sitter.”
Hearing Calian’s brief assessment, Yan grinned.
“Before that, he was on Prince Randel’s side. But six years ago, during the war between the Warriors of the Great Desert and Tensil, he immediately defected to Prince Franz’s side.”
Kairis was one of four kingdoms on the continent, but it had no access to the sea, its northern and western borders blocked by an endless desert. In that barren land known as the Great Desert, no proper nation had ever formed. The nomadic people who wandered there did not worship the Chief God Serenti, but their own folk deities. Using this as a pretext, Tensil—a small country whose holy artifacts, the source of its divine power, were gradually weakening—had attempted to expand its territory into the northern desert. They believed it was worth a try, since the desert dwellers lacked a proper army.
However, once the war began, the warriors who gathered were unexpectedly formidable. Driven into a corner by their foolish endeavor, Tensil invoked its relationship with Randel to request aid from Kairis. Naturally, Silike opposed it, and as a result, Tensil was forced to retreat after suffering massive losses.
“Still, he’s a fence-sitter who knows when to jump ship.”
Calian smiled faintly. Perhaps he should take it as a positive sign that such a man had tried to put a foot in his camp.
While they talked, they had already approached the city entrance.
Hale was standing there, waiting for the prince’s party with an excessively welcoming expression.
Calian nudged Raven to pick up the pace, moving to the head of the group. Once the distance closed, Hale stepped forward and offered his greetings.
“I greet Prince Calian. I am Hale Latran.”
“A pleasure to meet you.”
Calian’s response was always the same. He was about to head inside, the perfunctory greetings over, but Hale opened his mouth again. The words that followed were incredibly long-winded.
“To think the day would come when I would host the Prince himself—it is an infinite honor for me, Hale. I have been eagerly counting down the days until your arrival. Upon hearing that you had reached the vicinity, I could hardly sleep a wink last night.”
At those words, Calian briefly turned his head, pretending to look around. It was simply too difficult to hide his grimace at such cringeworthy flattery.
This road was the shortest route from Kairisis to Siegfried. Hale had undoubtedly spoken the exact same honeyed words to Franz last year.
Turning back, Calian replied with a smile. Since the man had stopped their tired march just to deliver such empty platitudes, Calian’s response wasn’t particularly gentle.
“It would have been even better if you had cleaned up your front yard before waiting.”
He then glanced toward the man who had attacked him. Only then did Hale notice the blood-soaked captive hidden behind Calian. He let out an involuntary gasp.
“Is he part of your entourage? I shall have a healer prepared.”
Calian shook his head. “He is someone who no longer requires treatment.”
Hale gasped once more.
It was a euphemism nobles used for a death row convict, a way to avoid harsh language. Kairis did not deny treatment to criminals, but those sentenced to death were an exception. Since they were going to die anyway, there was no reason to waste healing on them.
The man had drawn his sword on Calian. And Calian was a prince.
As a result, the man had become someone who had no need for his wounds to be treated.
“I am deeply sorry, Your Highness.”
Realizing the man had attacked the prince, Hale bowed his head low. Since Calian had referred to it as his “front yard,” the incident must have occurred within Latran territory. If things went wrong, Hale himself would not escape responsibility. He must have felt as if the sky were falling.
Just as Calian was about to reply, a single drop of water fell from the sky, wetting the back of his hand. Soon, another fell. And then another.
Raven snorted softly, a drop having landed on the bridge of his nose.
And so, the rain began to fall.
Yan quickly approached, trying to hold an umbrella over him, but Calian waved him off. The rain wasn't heavy yet. He turned to Hale.
“It seems we need a roof more than an apology right now.”
By the time they passed through the inner defenses and arrived at the lord’s castle, the rain had grown quite heavy. It was the middle of August, and the downpour quickly filled the air with a humid dampness. Watching the storm, Calian spoke to Yuran.
“For now, hand him over to the castle guards. Don’t offer any other explanations.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Having gotten somewhat damp on the way, Calian went to the room Hale had prepared for him and washed up first. Then, he threw the windows wide open. The sound of the rain filled the room.
Looking up at the sky, it seemed he would be trapped here until tomorrow. He had avoided getting involved in the earlier incident precisely because he didn't want to be delayed, but the rain had ended up trapping him anyway.
“How ironic.”
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded, and Yan entered, holding the iced mint tea Calian had requested.
“Thank you.”
Through the open doorway, Calian could see Yuran waiting.
When Calian met his gaze with an inquisitive look, Yan delivered the message.
“They say they found something on the man we captured. Should we hand it over to Count Latran?”
He asked because Calian had mentioned leaving the investigation to Hale. Calian shook his head.
“I’ll see what it is first. Tell him to come in.”
At his words, Yan called Yuran into the room. He then stepped out for a moment and returned to hand Yuran his own cup of mint tea. The gesture prompted a comical scene where Yuran practically sprang from his seat, bowed deeply, accepted the tea with both hands, and then politely sat back down.
After a flustered Yan stepped back outside, Yuran pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief and placed it in front of Calian.
“The soldiers said this was hidden in the man’s shoe. Ah, the handkerchief is mine. It’s clean, so please don’t worry.”
Calian smiled at the careful explanation. With the sound of rain outside, the refreshing feeling of having just washed, and a cool sip of mint tea, a smile came naturally. Enjoying the brief moment of leisure, Calian set down his cup and unfolded the handkerchief.
And then, the smile on his face slowly vanished.
Calian’s aura shifted so drastically that Yuran sat in silence, forgetting he was supposed to explain what the object was. After staring at the handkerchief’s contents for a long moment, Calian asked quietly, “The man had this?”
While Yuran might not have known the details, to Calian, it was an object that had gifted him an unforgettable experience.
Seeing Calian’s furrowed brow, Yuran looked bewildered. He couldn’t understand how the prince had recognized it at a single glance.
Calian looked at the object, which resembled a piece of sugar. “How do you know of this, Sir?”
“A long time ago, when I was in the security force, I saw it while arresting a black market merchant from Libern. They said it’s a poison that temporarily fakes one’s death. But… if I may ask, Your Highness, how do you know of it?”
How could he not?
Staring at the poison that had kept him bedridden for a week but had given him his freedom in return, Calian wore a strange smile.
“Because I’ve taken it before.”
The sound of the rain outside was heavy.
Of all things, the rain had trapped him. On top of that, something had appeared that would force him to step back into the fray he had just pulled himself out of. How could he possibly ignore this and just go on his way?
“A man who couldn’t even suppress his aura possessed a poison like this,” Calian muttered, scratching his cheek.
At the word ‘aura,’ Yuran looked at him. “He seemed to have excellent swordsmanship, though.”
At that, Calian smiled slightly. “That man.”
It was a blatant change of subject, shutting down any further questions about the fight. Though it was the part Yuran was most curious about, he decided to let it go, temporarily setting aside the memory of Calian deflecting a longsword with a single small knife.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’m going to meet him now.”
Yuran asked in surprise, “You mean in person?”
Instead of answering, Calian tapped his condensation-covered cup. It meant he didn't want to repeat himself. Having already grasped Calian’s personality to some extent, Yuran spoke again.
“Yes, I understand.”
* * *
Fire magic burns wounds. Ice magic freezes them.
Wind magic… tears them apart.
The man’s shoulder had been pierced by the power of a swirling wind. “Pierced” was a polite way of putting it; shredded to pieces was more accurate. Because the wound had been left with only a rough bandage, his hand, deprived of blood, was swollen and had turned a deep shade of purple.
Calian didn’t even frown. He simply asked, “Where are you from?”
The man raised his head and looked at Calian, then let out a smirk. Yuran grimaced, but Calian merely nodded, signaling him to leave it be.
“I thought you were just some young master from a noble house.”
“I’m from an even nobler house.”
There was no emotion in Calian’s eyes as he scanned the man’s wound. His expression showed no hint of guilt or concern. Of course, Yuran didn’t think Calian should feel any guilt, but he found the fifteen-year-old boy’s calm demeanor after harming someone with his own hands deeply unsettling.
“I’m a guard at the copper mine. Those bastards came to me, said they’d reward me if I helped them find someone. I just helped them out a bit.”
“That sugar-like thing—where did you get it?”
“They each had one. I pocketed it, thinking it was valuable.”
Calian nodded, deciding to believe that part was true. “What were they looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who are they?”
“They never used names, and they wore masks, so I couldn’t see their faces.”
“Anything else you remember?”
“Nothing.”
Calian clasped his hands on the table and studied the man. Fluid was seeping through the bandage, and his face was flushed with fever. In this heat and humidity, a magic-inflicted wound like that must have already begun to fester.
“I’ll have you treated.”
The man stared at him.
Calian, who likely knew better than anyone in the city just how much pain the man was in, spoke with that same calm face.
“If it can’t be treated, I’ll at least have it amputated. In exchange, give me something useful. If you have nothing, then it’s a shame for both of us.”
The man didn’t speak for a long time. Calian didn’t press him.
After a long silence, the man’s lips parted. “I have a wife in Hanson Village. Those bastards know that, too.”
They had threatened him to ensure his silence. Calian nodded, as if telling him not to worry.
“The thing they lost. What is it?”
“...A transparent bead, about the size of a fingernail. I heard them say they would only know for sure once they had a priest of Tensil examine it.”
A holy artifact, then. Tensil was frantically collecting them and would pay a high price. It made sense they would make such a fuss over losing one. And if it was a holy artifact, it also made sense that an elf could sense its energy. Calian asked his next question.
“Where can I find them?”
“They didn’t seem to be staying here. There was a white-haired elf. They must have gone after him.”
“Who are they?”
“Like I said, I didn’t see their faces and don’t know their names.”
Feeling slightly disappointed that the man knew nothing of real importance, Calian gestured with his chin for him to continue. The man furrowed his brow, trying to recall.
“But I did hear the title they used for their leader.”
“Blue Warbler. That’s what they called her.”
“...Blue Warbler.”
Ha.
Father.
Why has your bird flown all the way here?
Calian’s face hardened.