Chapter 93: Because I Have So Much (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 93: Because I Have So Much (6)
Late that night, a lone horse galloped through Kairisis.
Marquis Evan Brissen had informants within the Capital Guard, and one of them was now riding in a frantic hurry, ignoring the law that prohibited galloping within the capital. His sole purpose was to inform Evan of what had transpired at the gambling den.
Thanks to him, Evan received the news faster than anyone else. He calmly dismissed the messenger for the time being.
Then, he began to think.
In the past, when Calian had agreed to shelter Arsen for two days, he had promised to keep his mouth shut about the gambling den. Of course, Evan hadn't expected him to keep that promise forever, but he never imagined the prince would stab him in the back so soon.
"This is retaliation for Franz's betrayal."
That was Evan's conclusion.
The knight standing beside him, the former commander of Pavel, spoke up.
"Indeed. There is no other reason for him to suddenly raid that place."
Neither of them realized that this was a scheme orchestrated precisely to prevent Evan from suspecting the relationship between Calian and Franz.
In any case, it was true that Evan was now in a very difficult position.
If they were going to seize the evidence, they should have done it quietly. Instead, they had slaughtered everyone and, to make matters worse, had gotten caught by the Capital Guard.
As Evan mulled this over, he suddenly clenched his fist.
He had realized why Calian's servant had been caught so foolishly.
"He got caught on purpose. On purpose!"
"What do you mean by that, Your Grace?" the knight asked.
Evan glanced at him and gave a brief explanation. "Normally, this is a matter for the Capital Guard to investigate. He got caught deliberately so that the royal family would handle the investigation instead."
"Are you saying he wanted to prevent you from interfering, Your Grace?"
Evan nodded. "He was clever. He engineered this to have the royal family investigate directly, fearing I might intervene."
Just as he said, the royal family had to step in directly to exclude Evan's influence. However, the royal family could not initiate an investigation unless it directly involved one of its own. Calian obviously had no connection to the gambling den, so even with Kyrie's involvement, it was difficult for the royal family to step forward since it wasn't the prince's personal affair.
There was only one scenario where the royal family would intervene in a matter unrelated to royalty: when the Capital Guard requested it.
"The culprit they caught is the prince's servant. How could the Capital Guard possibly punish him? They'll have to send a request to the royal family. Once that happens, the royal family will have 'no choice' but to conduct the investigation."
"If that happens, you won't be able to quietly cover up the gambling den affair either, Your Grace."
"Indeed… He is a formidable opponent. Truly formidable," Evan muttered, his voice sharp and tense.
And he began to ponder how to resolve this situation.
* * *
He must be a bodyguard.
At his guards' words, Decal, the commander of the Capital Guard, tilted his head, puzzled. Does the Third Prince even need a bodyguard? he wondered.
"But Commander, a feat like this would be impossible unless someone is exceptionally skilled."
Forty-seven people were dead.
Whether they used swords, axes, or poisoned hidden weapons like the woman found inside the safe, everyone was armed—everyone except for the single man lying dead before the iron bars.
An ordinary boy could not have killed forty-seven armed warriors with a single sword and without a single mana bullet. That was why his guards looked at Kyrie and assumed he must be a bodyguard.
"Behind the iron bars, there is a staircase leading down. There are people held captive there. Please release them."
Kyrie, who had surrendered without resistance, had said only this upon arriving at the Capital Guard's central headquarters. He offered nothing else, which only deepened Decal's curiosity.
Of course, there was something else he was curious about.
What on earth happened to make the prince's servant do such a thing?
With that thought in mind, Decal's gaze was different from how one would normally look at a murderer who had slaughtered forty-seven people. Part of it was that he couldn't treat Kyrie carelessly because he was the Third Prince's man, but it was mostly because Decal himself had just returned from inspecting the horrors on the lower floor of the gambling den that Kyrie had mentioned.
Something a human should never do. That was the perfect description.
Therefore, Decal did not see Kyrie as a child who had killed humans, but as a child who had slaughtered beasts.
"We rescued a total of nineteen people," one of the guards reported as he approached Decal. "However, we also found two more corpses down there. Both had severe injuries, but they weren't sword wounds."
"It's a fighting arena. Were they injured fighting each other?"
"It seems so. Many of their bones were broken, and they appear to have received no medical treatment."
Decal cursed under his breath.
Kyrie showed no reaction to the overheard report. He didn't wonder if he should have saved them sooner or if he should have asked Calian for help.
It was selfish, perhaps, but Kyrie hadn't gone there to rescue them. He had gone there on Calian's behalf and exacted his own revenge in the process.
"But Commander, doesn't that place seem connected to a noble faction?"
"Undoubtedly. A gambling den of that scale couldn't possibly exist without noble backing."
A high-ranking noble, no doubt.
That was why, as soon as Decal heard Kyrie identify himself as Calian's servant, he had immediately sent word to the royal palace.
"We've notified the palace, so let's wait. If the boy truly is his servant, someone will come for him."
Having said that, Decal let out a long sigh. He had a strong feeling that this was not a case the Capital Guard could handle on its own.
As if in response to his thoughts, a voice rang out.
"Do not concern yourself with this matter any further. The royal family will handle the rest."
Decal turned toward the sound and sprang to his feet. Hair that started silver and deepened into a rich red—it was impossible not to recognize him.
"Are you… Count Manasil?"
Decal had expected someone from the palace—knights, perhaps—but not Alan Manasil himself.
Alan gave a brief nod in response to Decal's greeting, then stared quietly at Kyrie. Shifting his gaze from the pool of blood that had gathered beneath Kyrie's chair, Alan asked, "Are you hurt?"
"I am fine."
It was a brief reply. Alan snapped his fingers, and the blood clinging to Kyrie's body washed away. Decal was inwardly startled to see that the face revealed beneath was much younger than he had expected.
Then again, the Third Prince, who had already embarked on the Path of the Sword, was only fifteen. If this boy was a close associate of such a prince, it wasn't impossible for him to possess that level of skill at his age.
In any case, Decal welcomed the royal family taking over the investigation. Thus, Kyrie was quickly handed over to Alan.
"If there is anything you need, please let me know. I will assist you however I can."
Alan exchanged a few words with Decal and signed the custody transfer document. Once that was done, Decal spoke in a very cautious tone.
"However, Count Manasil, we cannot hand over the evidence immediately. The Capital Guard must inspect it first before it is transferred to the royal family."
"I am aware."
They could release the prince's servant, as he was under royal protection, but the evidence recovered by the Guard could not be handed over so quickly.
Showing no dissatisfaction, Alan offered a brief, polite farewell and stepped outside with Kyrie.
* * *
Alan's carriage, said to be as secure as Arpia Palace, was probably as comfortable as Calian's bathtub. It wasn't Kyrie's first time riding in it, but his stamina was a far cry from what it had been before.
He could have easily fallen asleep, yet Kyrie merely sat with an unchanging expression. Watching him, Alan asked casually, "I doubt the prince ordered you to slaughter them all. He is not the type to command such a thing, is he?"
Kyrie smiled faintly.
"Now that you've gone out of your way to kill everyone, do you feel a bit relieved?"
Even if Kyrie hadn't killed them all, the Guard would still have come, and the investigation would have yielded the same results. So, would Calian really have ordered him to slaughter every single person in the gambling den?
Alan thought not.
"His Highness told me that I could decide whom to kill and whom to spare."
Leaving none of them alive was a choice born from the same impulse that led Arsen to hurl a fireball at their carriage. On that day, Kyrie had wielded his sword exactly as he had learned while running countless laps around the training grounds of the Redington territory.
"I trusted that His Highness would take responsibility for me, so I took my revenge to my heart's content. That is why I feel relieved."
Looking at Kyrie, Alan didn't utter any foolish words about his actions being too harsh. What was there to say to someone who had simply killed those who deserved to die?
"Indeed. It is better than being forced to wipe them out under orders."
"Even if I had been forced, the outcome would not have been any different."
At those words, a curiosity Alan had kept buried resurfaced.
"What is it about the prince that makes you act this way?"
Kyrie was only seventeen—the same age as Yan. It was only natural to be curious when a boy who had just killed forty-seven people calmly stated that he would have gladly done it even if ordered.
"His Highness never told me exactly what I went through in the time he came from. However, he did say he was a royal brother and a knight of Secritia. If we shared a connection, it means I must have left this place and gone to Secritia."
Saying this, Kyrie looked down at the sword in his hand.
"At first, His Highness said he would only rescue me. He probably didn't know Hina was with me. He's not the type to save only me if he knew Hina was there. But after saving both of us, he kept asking questions—not to me, but to Hina."
His calm voice cracked slightly at the end.
Kyrie swallowed hard and looked back at Alan.
"He asked if Hina's ears had been cut off or if she had cut them herself, and if she had been unable to speak from the beginning. It was as if he was seeing Hina for the very first time. Afterward, when he realized nothing bad had happened to us yet, he said it was a relief. Recalling that day, I think I understood. I understood what kind of ordeal I must have suffered to end up in Secritia."
Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, Kyrie concluded, "That is why I act this way."
Hearing Kyrie's words, which showed he had already figured out exactly what Calian had saved him from, Alan simply nodded, saying nothing.
In any case, Calian has a peculiar talent for letting his secrets slip. One way or another, he always gets found out.
* * *
Early the next morning, a massive fire broke out at the Capital Guard's central headquarters.
No one was injured, but the evidence related to the gambling den stored inside was completely incinerated.
This was not ordered by Evan. Rather, the man who served as his informant had acted entirely on his own initiative.
"What kind of person do you think Calian is to just hand over all the evidence to the Guard?! It's probably already piled up neatly in his room!"
Consequently, instead of praise, the informant was met with this furious roar.
Evan was about to burst with frustration.
"Because of the fire you set, you've only drawn more attention to us!"
In the end, Evan was forced to abandon his plan of cutting his losses by sacrificing a minor connection. Instead of a mere pawn, he had to pin the blame on one of the nobles who followed him, resulting in yet another reduction of his faction's power.
On the night of the incident, the prince who had been lingering in front of Evan's house was completely unaware that Evan's informant—utterly terrified by the threats the prince had made after catching him—had gone and set fire to the Capital Guard headquarters.