Chapter 47: You've Come Too Far (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 47: You've Come Too Far (5)
The sword held limply in Eila’s hand clattered to the floor.
Blood from her deep wound dripped down, splattering across the blade.
After a moment, Eila opened her mouth, her voice a dry, cracked whisper.
"How…?"
How did he know her name? How did he find out about the bird shop?
How had he already stepped onto the Path of the Sword?
The single word was loaded with countless questions, and a similar confusion flickered in her eyes, but Calian had no intention of answering any of them.
He took a step forward, staring directly into Eila’s eyes. He reached out and gripped her chin tightly, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.
"Ugh!"
He had checked to see if she was carrying the poison spies always kept in their mouths, but there was nothing there. It wasn’t that she had already swallowed it; she had simply chosen to go without. Realizing this, Calian let out a dry laugh.
"Eila."
When Calian called her name again, Eila’s shoulders flinched. He spoke in a low voice.
"Tell me. Where is the evidence?"
Should she lie and say it never existed? Or should she bargain, promising to hand it over if he let her go?
Various thoughts flickered through Eila’s mind. Knowing she would die if captured, she desperately searched for a way out and asked tentatively, "If I tell you, will you let me go?"
"At this point?" Calian asked, his face expressionless.
She had attacked him out of nowhere with clear killing intent, and now she was begging for her life. What mercy could he possibly show her?
"Everyone says Secritians are tough," Calian said, "but I guess you're the exception."
Then, as if to himself, he added, "Though I can't tell if you were always this soft, or if you just lost your edge."
Eila couldn’t quite grasp his meaning. But looking at Calian’s face, she knew he had absolutely no intention of letting her live.
She straightened her back and stood tall before him, then pointed to the shattered fragments of her sword on the floor. Since mercy wouldn't save her, she had to find another way.
"A Sword Master's blade, shattered by a single burst of Aura. You carry a sword inferior to your escort's, and he's not even a knight. Why is that?"
She was referring to Kyrie's sword, though it was a mystery when she had seen it. Calian stared at her without a word. Interpreting his silence as a cue to continue, Eila pressed on.
"The people around you don't know. You're hiding your true strength, aren't you?"
Having laid her trap, Eila watched Calian, her eyes gleaming with the confidence of someone who had just seized the upper hand. She had caught the slight clenching of his fist.
"You'd better let me go," she said, pressing her advantage. "Otherwise, I'll tell the knights outside exactly what I just saw."
Calian had clearly given her a chance.
He had offered to overlook everything if she just left the evidence.
He had tried to spare her life.
Standing in silence, a soft chuckle finally escaped Calian’s lips.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, Calian grabbed Eila by the collar and yanked her forward. Staring into her face, he gritted his teeth and snarled, "If you wanted to live, if you were going to beg for your life, you shouldn't have done something so suicidal in front of me!"
Calian's killing intent exploded, crushing down on Eila. His crimson eyes flashed, looking ready to swallow her whole.
Instinctive terror washed over Eila's face.
"It's too late," Calian said. "You've come too far."
No one could possibly know what Calian was feeling. No one would dare to empathize, let alone imagine it. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his head to watch the pouring rain.
After a long silence, his killing intent slowly dissipated. His expression and voice returning to normal, Calian looked back at Eila.
"It's not a secret grand enough to trade your life for. So just tell me where the evidence is. If you do, I'll spare you from any further interrogation."
Attempted assassination of royalty. The punishment was, of course, decapitation. Whether she was exposed as a spy or an assassin, she would face brutal torture until she confessed everything she knew. He was offering her a way out of that.
Eila smirked.
She had never imagined she would be caught and die like this. She would rather die without ever revealing the location of the evidence, if only to spite him.
As if reading her mind, Calian spoke again. "If you are interrogated, we won't be the ones doing it. I'm planning to bring someone in."
Eila narrowed her eyes.
Calian finished in a flat, dry tone, "The White Eagle will be the one interrogating you."
He meant every word. Since she had betrayed both Kairis and Secritia, the right to punish her had to be shared.
Only then did a deep-rooted terror fill Eila's eyes, mirroring the look she had when facing Calian's killing intent.
Calian knew all too well how cruel the White Eagle was to traitors. When Chase had seen the corpse of a traitor hunted down by the White Eagle, he hadn't been able to keep food down for three days.
It seemed Eila was also well aware that the White Eagle was a man who dragged those who turned their backs on him to the absolute depths of hell.
"The building next to the tavern," she confessed immediately. "The third step of the stairs leading down to the basement."
* * *
Bound in ropes, Eila was dragged to the dungeon.
Yuran and the knights took charge of guarding her. Calian gave a strict order: she was not to escape under any circumstances before the Royal Knights arrived to transfer her to Kairisis.
Calian then ordered all remaining knights—excluding the two with Kyrie in Hanson Village and the six guarding Eila and Norton—to search the tavern and the location Eila had disclosed.
While the castle servants moved his few belongings to another guest room, Calian slipped away to the dungeon alone. He was there to see Norton, not Eila, whom he had no desire to face again.
Dismissing the guards for a moment, Calian held out a small paper-wrapped package to Norton. Taking it, Norton asked gruffly, "What's this?"
Calian smiled. "Eat it tomorrow morning."
With that, he stood up and left without another word. When Norton unwrapped the paper, he found the sugar-like poison he had hidden away. Though he didn't fully understand Calian's intentions, he figured he had nothing left to lose and carefully tucked it into his shirt.
Back in his room, Calian pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began to write. It was a letter requesting a generous pardon for Malcolm Chettish, citing his immense help in capturing a high-profile criminal of Kairis. After sealing the letter, Calian handed it to Yan.
"Give this to the butler."
Yan readily agreed.
* * *
Meanwhile, Hale Latran was pacing his room with an anxious expression, gnawing on fingernails already bitten down to the quick.
The situation was deeply unsettling. An assassin had infiltrated Calian's room, sparking a battle so intense it shook the entire castle and left a gaping hole in the wall. Yet Calian had neither offered an explanation nor questioned him about it.
On top of that, Malcolm had vanished. He had been missing for hours. Hale had planned to give him a piece of his mind upon his return, but night had fallen and there was still no sign of him.
"What on earth is happening?!"
As Hale gnawed on his nails in frustration, a servant brought him a small, rolled-up note before quickly departing. It was a message delivered by carrier pigeon.
"Could it be… that the royal family searched my estate?"
It was a possibility, but he wasn't overly concerned. He hadn't left any incriminating evidence behind. Besides, he had already sent a carrier pigeon to Lennon Brissen that morning to apprise him of the situation and request aid. Hadn't he spent all this time currying favor with the Brissens for a moment just like this?
Confident in his preparations, Hale unrolled the note. His eyes widened. It wasn't from his estate.
You will likely need someone to defend you. To help, I have kindly explained to Queen Silike exactly what you were selling to land yourself in this mess. So, rest easy.
—Alan Manasil
The note slipped from Hale's trembling fingers. He had to find out exactly how much Calian knew—and if the "something" mentioned in Alan Manasil's letter truly referred to the sacred artifacts.
Hale rushed toward the door but stopped and turned back.
"No. That sly snake of a bastard mage must have sent this because he already knows everything. I'm sick of bowing and scraping to that commoner's brat, calling him 'Prince.' First, I must hide it."
Hale locked his bedroom door. In the off-chance that royal investigators searched the place and found his secret room, there was one item he absolutely had to hide. Something that Queen Silike and Marquis Brissen must never, under any circumstances, find out about.
The sacred artifacts!
He intended to retrieve the sacred artifacts he had purchased from the Blue Warbler but had not yet handed over to the Brissen Trading Company.
Rumble—
When he turned the clock on the fireplace mantel, the bookshelf beside his bed slid open with a low groan.
A hoard of countless valuables came into view. Ignoring them, Hale rushed forward and pulled out a single box tucked away in the deepest corner.
He popped the lid open to check the contents. Inside lay a sizable collection of sacred artifacts. He could have made a fortune with this lot, but because he had hoarded them to gain leverage with Lennon Brissen, he had landed himself in this mess.
Clicking his tongue in regret, Hale quickly closed the lid and stood up.
"Thank you."
He heard a voice.
Startled, Hale snapped his head up. A man's head was floating in midair right in front of him. Then, as if being sketched onto the empty air, a neck, shoulders, and torso gradually materialized beneath it.
Confronted by this impossible sight, Hale gasped and fell backward onto the floor. "W-who are you?!"
The face was familiar. It was the mage who had visited Calian, drenched in rain, the night before.
A mage!
Once his entire body had materialized, the man looked down at Hale and offered a belated introduction, his face deadpan.
"I am Arsen Hertz, a mage."
The reason no one had been able to open the magically sealed door while Eila and Calian fought was simple: the only mage capable of dispelling it had been hiding in Hale's room the entire time.
His objective, of course, was to locate the sacred artifacts—the irrefutable evidence whose hiding place not even the butler, Malcolm, knew.
As Calian had put it, the more evidence, the better. While paper records were important, wasn't physical, undeniable proof far superior?
Thus, Arsen Hertz, who had spent hours hiding in Hale's room under a 4th Circle Invisibility spell, spoke with utmost politeness.
"Since you went through the trouble of retrieving it, I shall put it to good use."
Arsen snatched the box from the stunned count's hands. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "And… I will be sure to tell that 'sly snake of a bastard mage' and that 'commoner's brat of a prince' that you handed this over obediently, without putting up any resistance. No need to thank me."
Hale's face drained of all color. A faint, ragged gasp slipped past his trembling lips.