Chapter 92: Because I Have So Much (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 92: Because I Have So Much (5)
After setting down a cup of tea, Head Chamberlain Raul opened the window. “Why don’t you take a brief rest, Your Majesty? The breeze is lovely.”
An exceptionally warm breeze drifted in.
A year ago, Lemain would have ignored such a suggestion, but today he nodded readily.
“Not a bad idea.”
Lemain picked up his teacup and moved to stand by the window. Watching him, Raul smiled warmly and slipped out of the room.
At some point, Lemain had stopped burying himself in his work. He now slept in the Camellia Palace instead of the Arpia Palace, having abandoned his old habit of grudging even the time it took to walk between his office and his living quarters.
Lemain knew he had changed a great deal, and he attributed much of that change to Calian and Alan. He was also well aware that the transformation had begun at last year’s King’s Birthday Festival.
Looking back, so much had happened during that festival.
While the grand celebration brought its share of gossip and trouble every year, nothing could compare to the last one.
“And here I thought it would be quiet this time.”
He had hoped this year’s festival would pass peacefully, especially since the matters concerning Silike had finally been settled.
Lemain walked back to his desk and opened a drawer. Inside lay a letter that had arrived by messenger hawk.
Eighty percent of the letter was a long-winded apology. Under normal circumstances, they would have sent a formal letter, but selecting the visitors had taken too long, leaving them no choice but to use a hawk. The sender was clearly walking on eggshells, terrified Lemain might take offense at the informal missive.
The only parts that truly mattered were two lines.
First, an explanation of who was coming.
Second, a request to keep the visitors’ identities a secret until they arrived at the Kairis Royal Palace for their safety.
Reading it, he immediately understood why their reply had been so delayed and why the letter was so full of cautious apologies. They were worried that Lemain, displeased by the breach of etiquette, might harm the visitors.
What on earth do they take me for?
Lemain let out a dry chuckle. Looking back out the window, he muttered to himself, “It seems things will be noisy again this year.”
* * *
Kyrie took a deep breath and exhaled.
Leave the staff alone.
Let the customers go, pitiful as it is.
Release the ‘fighting dogs’ in the iron cages.
And kill all of them.
“Can you do it?”
“Yes.”
For Kyrie, it was the only possible answer. This gambling den was a place he had to return to someday. That someday had just become today.
Calian might have planned this for another purpose, but Kyrie accepted it as permission for the revenge he had long suppressed.
—Slash!
The head of the man taking the entrance fee rolled across the floor as his body collapsed. He had died with two fingers outstretched, representing the two-florin entry fee.
His death was the signal. Kyrie’s sword began to deal out life and death. There were no mistakes; no target required a second strike.
Like Arsen’s ice spears, wherever Kyrie’s sword swept, life was extinguished.
“Aaaah!”
Those granted life screamed and scrambled for the stairs. More guards would pour down once they noticed the commotion on the fourth floor, but it didn’t matter.
—Splat!
—Slash!
Cutting and stabbing his way through the gambling den, Kyrie suddenly paused. His eyes fixed on the iron cage in the center of the room—the very place where countless ‘fighting dogs’ had been forced to fight for sport. A man was hiding in its shadow.
Kyrie stalked toward him.
It was the announcer.
The man looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized Kyrie’s face. The two differently colored eyes, impossible to forget, stared down at him.
“I—I didn’t do anything!”
The mouth that had always cheerfully introduced the ‘monster’s eye’ now stammered in terror.
“Oh dear. Please don’t be too shocked. This happens from time to time.”
That was what the announcer had said when one of Kyrie’s companions died in front of the customers. Remembering that day, Kyrie spoke in a low voice.
“You did.”
—Spurt!
The announcer’s blood sprayed across the iron cage. Watching it drip down the bars, Kyrie resumed his slaughter.
By then, a dozen more men had charged down, alerted by the commotion. He killed them all.
His revenge paused again at the office door, blocked by four swordsmen. He recognized them—the personal guards of the man inside.
“You bastard, do you know where you are?!”
The largest man lunged, and the other three brought their blades down on Kyrie in unison.
A small smile played on Kyrie’s previously expressionless face.
Too slow.
When he had first been dragged here, they had seemed so terrifying.
—Clang!
He deflected all four attacks with a single sweep of his sword, then moved his arm again. With a single slash, fountains of blood erupted from the necks of two men.
The remaining two didn’t last much longer. The head of the one who screamed fell first, and the head of the last one, who tried to flee, rolled to a stop before the iron cage.
Without a glance at the rolling head, Kyrie flung the office door open. He paused for a fraction of a second.
The office was empty.
The man who had bargained over his and Calian’s ransom was gone. Instead, a muffled, bated breath came from inside the massive safe behind the desk.
Standing still for a moment, Kyrie spun his sword in a fluid rotation of his wrist, then quietly walked over and pulled the safe door open.
—Whoosh!
As if waiting, a dagger flew out. Kyrie raised his sword and easily deflected it.
—Clink!
The dagger dropped harmlessly to the floor.
Compared to Arsen’s ice, its speed was laughable. If Calian had thrown that dagger, it would have pierced both his sword and his throat.
Kyrie stepped into the safe.
A piercing shriek and a man’s roar echoed inside the vault.
“Don’t come any closer! One more step and I’ll kill her!” the man screamed venomously, using a woman as a shield. A knife was pressed against her throat.
The last one.
Kyrie took a step forward. The man’s knife drew a thin line of blood on the woman’s neck.
“Kyaaaah!”
“I said don’t move, you monster!”
Kyrie paused. He looked from the man to the woman he held hostage.
After a brief thought, he took another step.
When he had entered the office, he had heard two distinct sets of bated breaths. There had been no terrified sobs.
Therefore, Kyrie thrust his sword forward without hesitation. The cold blade pierced straight through the hearts of the two people standing together.
—Squelch!
The sound of tearing flesh, muscle, and bone echoed briefly inside the safe. The manager of this place, whose name he still didn’t know, and the woman who had been holding her breath alongside him died together.
Silence fell.
Red blood dripped from Kyrie’s aqua-colored hair. It was all from others. Having wiped out everyone in the gambling den with his own hands, Kyrie stood in silence for a long while.
After some time had passed, he began to search the office. He pulled several ledgers that looked useful from the safe and walked outside.
The tavern on the first floor was completely empty; the staff and customers had fled. Slipping outside, Kyrie packed the ledgers into a saddlebag and whispered to the waiting horse, “Go on back.”
Raven’s sibling was not quite as intelligent as Raven, but it was smart enough to understand the words of a boy with elven blood. Carrying the bag, the horse began to trot back toward the royal palace.
Just as the sound of retreating hooves faded, Kyrie wrinkled his nose at the stench of blood clinging to him. The Capital Guard had arrived.
Seeing a boy so drenched in blood that his face was unrecognizable, the guards drew their weapons in unison.
“Drop your weapon!”
Instead of telling them he had been waiting, Kyrie quietly lowered his sword and raised his hands. Looking at them, he spoke in a calm, clear voice.
“I am Prince Calian’s attendant.”
* * *
Arsen could not wipe the look of deep dissatisfaction from his face.
Alan, the temporary commander of Valkan, patted Arsen’s shoulder as if coaxing a child.
“Think about it. We can’t exactly have him as your subordinate, can we? But it’s not as if I can step down and make him the commander, either. That is why we now have two vice-commanders.”
Arsen immediately retorted, “Do you really think I’m acting this way because I dislike having another vice-commander? You know exactly why I’m objecting to this, Commander.”
His face and tone were unusually agitated. No matter how much the royal palace prioritized bloodlines, wasn’t Calian someone who valued ability and placed people where they belonged?
“If Prince Calian himself were coming, I would gladly give up my position on the spot. But it isn’t him, is it?”
Arsen looked thoroughly displeased. Seeing him protest so vehemently, when he usually followed Calian’s decisions without question, made Alan click his tongue. With the subject of their conversation standing right in front of them, Alan found himself in quite an awkward position.
Arsen averted his gaze from Alan and glared at the 2nd Prince, who had just been appointed vice-commander. “Are you a mage?” he asked sullenly.
His point was clear: what business did a non-mage have as the vice-commander of Valkan? Franz understood the implication perfectly. With an incredibly relaxed expression, he curled one corner of his mouth into a smirk and gave a brief reply.
“I am a prince.”
His ability was his title. His specialty was his birthright. His contribution was being a prince. So what if he wasn’t some measly mage? That alone made him more than qualified to be vice-commander of Valkan.
How obnoxious. The world was truly a dirty, unfair place. Arsen should have known this was coming. He’d felt a lingering sense of unease ever since Franz started loitering around Wilhelm Pavilion these past few days, watching the Valkan members train.
Arsen spoke again, his voice thick with discontent. “Why is Prince Franz meddling in Valkan’s affairs?”
This was unlike him. Arsen might curse behind someone’s back, but he had never spoken so bluntly to their face. That was how deep his dissatisfaction ran—and for good reason.
“I heard Prince Franz decided to walk the same path as Marquis Brissen. If so, shouldn’t you be going to Karen or Raon, not Valkan?”
Calian had revealed his hidden cards to save his own brother, only for Franz to turn around and join hands with Evan Brissen. It was no wonder Arsen had nothing nice to say.
Franz shifted his gaze from Arsen to Alan. “Is this how all mages speak?”
Alan knew very well he was included in that question; Franz was likely referring to a time long ago when Alan had spoken of ‘madness’ to him. He smiled gently and nodded.
“The mages of Valkan are indeed all like this. When the one at the very top speaks that way, what else could those below learn?”
“Ah.” Realizing the situation, Franz chuckled. “My younger brother didn’t tell you.”
For all the attention Calian paid him, he was surprisingly lacking in delicacy. He had gone through the trouble of creating a vice-commander position for Franz but had forgotten to mention the crucial detail: Franz hadn’t actually joined hands with Evan.
Of course, Alan had already guessed as much. He was simply venting his lingering resentment over the fact that his precious disciple had suffered to help Franz.
Arsen, however, whose political perceptiveness was on par with Yan’s, had absolutely no idea.
Watching the two of them, Franz leaned back into the sofa and crossed his legs. He tilted his head up slightly, adopting a posture that was both highly princely and yet utterly un-princely, and looked at them with languid eyes.
“The old mage acts this way because he knows, and the young mage acts this way because he doesn’t. Quite a spectacle.”
Alan, his thoughts laid bare, smiled faintly. Arsen’s face flushed with anger once more.
Fortunately, two things prevented the situation from escalating. First, Franz wasn’t the type to punish someone for insulting royalty over a bit of sarcasm.
“I simply cannot—!”
Creak.
And second, just as a furious Arsen was about to declare he was quitting, Calian walked in.
Seeing the three of them gathered, Calian looked slightly surprised. But a more pressing matter was clearly on his mind. He looked at Franz and said, “Brother, I’m proceeding with the matter I mentioned. Starting tomorrow, you just need to act as if we are on bad terms. The Marquis will be furious, so you’ll have to smooth things over with him.”
“Sure.”
As Arsen’s expression turned strange, realizing something was off, Calian turned his gaze to Alan.
“And Master, I have a favor to ask.”
Alan nodded immediately.
Calian continued, “I need to use your name today.”
It was a difficult statement to understand at first. Soon, Calian’s explanation of the plan followed.
Only then did Arsen realize that Franz had merely pretended to join hands with Evan. His face turned completely pale.
Calian, oblivious, finished speaking with a serious expression and left. Alan also hurried away to carry out the task Calian had requested.
In the quiet room, only Franz and Arsen remained.