Broken Wings (8)

The order Emma had given them was remarkably simple.

Drive Karsein out of the training grounds.

There were no other conditions whatsoever.

The knights who took the job found it so laughably easy that they were already mulling over what to spend Emma's money on.

For a day or two, they planned to toy with him, needling him just enough to keep things interesting, and on the third day they'd gone so far as to open a betting pool. From then on, all that remained was to rake in the money and pick their moment.

But then.

Ever since Isabella arrived, the plan had begun to unravel.

On the fourth day, Arina came.

On the fifth day, it was Claire.

That was how Theo found himself at an impasse.

He'd tried to force Karsein out through the knights' customary hazing ritual for new recruits, but how was he supposed to manage that with the daughters of the ducal house watching his every move with eyes blazing?

Worse still, Karsein stubbornly saw every training session through to the end.

He collapsed from exhaustion all the same, but he dragged himself through the daily schedule regardless.

Ah, damn it. It's day six, and I can already guess who's coming next.

As Theo headed for the private chamber at Emma's summons, he figured he was about to get chewed out for real this time.

And sure enough.

From inside the chamber, Emma shot him a savage glare and demanded without preamble,

"You haven't come to report to me in three days, which means you've surely driven Karsein out by now?"

Theo hesitated, then answered in a voice that had shrunk to a crawl.

"...Not yet."

"What!"

At those two words, Emma flew into a rage.

"How exactly are you handling things, that you can't even chase one wretched commoner out of a training ground!!"

"..."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He had nothing to say. Theo held his silence, and Emma let her fury spill over.

"What kind of knight can't get rid of a single commoner! You couldn't even punish one guilty man — and you still call yourself a knight?!"

"Ah, come on. The week isn't even up yet."

"And when the week ends, we both know how it'll go! What if he holds out this whole time and finishes the seventh day of training?!"

The moment Karsein completed the seventh day of training, he would become an apprentice knight.

From then on, he would be free to come and go from the training grounds as he pleased — which was precisely why Emma was hopping mad.

"Don't tell me you're planning to betray me now, after everything? And you think you'll walk away unscathed if you do?!"

"I wouldn't dare!"

Theo swallowed his irritation and replied to Emma.

"Head Maid. Just give it a little more time. How am I supposed to touch him with the young ladies watching? Lady Flora will be here today, so we'll be able to drive him out for certain."

"What?"

"The Duchess came on the third day. Lady Arina on the fourth, Lady Claire on the fifth. Who comes next?"

Theo soothed the fuming Emma, pinning what little hope he had on Lady Flora's presence — though he couldn't be certain of it himself.

"...Are you sure? Lady Flora is going to the training grounds?"

"Absolutely certain. The whole ducal residence is already buzzing about it."

With the other young ladies and the Duchess present, they hadn't been able to drive Karsein out carelessly.

If that was the case, then their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠failure so far was at least understandable.

"What exactly do you intend to do?"

At the question of specifics, Theo swallowed hard.

The truth was, his hands were tied right now.

The underlings he'd once commanded directly had been driven out by Claire or left half-broken, and since he'd expected things to be far easier this time around, he'd recruited only a handful of men.

And Bruce's failure to crush Karsein had public opinion shifting little by little against them.

For now, all he could do was lay out what he knew and bluff his way through.

"I can't speak for the other two young ladies, but with Lady Flora, is there really anything we couldn't manage? When the brat moved into the dormitory, he carried his bags in himself — and there was something in there he treasured above all else. We just need to make clever use of that."

"That's all you've got?"

"All I've got? That's plenty. With that, riling him up and exaggerating everything afterward would be easy."

Emma's nerves had been worn raw by days of accumulated dread in that chamber.

Something that flimsy was no guarantee of anything.

"No. You make the first move."

"Pardon?"

"Lady Flora is coming either way, so you can settle it for good, can't you? Slipping something you knights were issued into his bag wouldn't be difficult at all. Handle it there. The knights' way — a duel."

Theo swallowed hard as the meaning sank in.

Come to think of it, I do have plenty of things Lady Flora gave me. With those, I could paint him as a thief... and requesting a duel wouldn't be hard at all.

Regardless of who won afterward, it would give them another opening to strike, and it could turn public opinion against Karsein.

But the risk was considerable.

He could certainly pin a false charge on the boy and be done with it — but if things escalated into an actual duel, a single failure would mean the end.

Emma was so wound up with venom that even the time Theo spent deliberating displeased her, and she pressed on.

"You don't seem to understand. If you can't drive him out, it's over for me and for all of you. Settle it today. Cripple one of his limbs if you have to — I don't care how!!"

Cold sweat broke out down Theo's back at the murderous look in Emma's eyes.

Does it really need to be handled this desperately? he wondered — but...

She meant every word.

As for what happened to Karsein, they could always appeal the verdict by leaning on public opinion.

But being ordered to render a limb useless meant there was no way back. It meant someone was holding something over her.

"If it comes out that the money is Karsein's, everything is finished. We don't have that kind of room to maneuver. Burn my words into your memory, Theo Ramstair."

"...Understood."

Theo wiped a hand down his face, answered curtly, and left the chamber.

"Aaaaagh! That cursed lowborn scum!!!"

With a shriek, Emma smashed the glass cup sitting in the room. Shards scattered wide, grazing across her face.

Blood welled up from the diagonal gashes in her skin.

But the wound and the bleeding weren't the problem.

The small notepad clenched in her fist — that was what had driven Emma to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠edge of the cliff.

"It has to be settled this time. It has to...!"

The fifth day was drawing to a close.

It had been, all things considered, an exhausting day.

Though he was growing a little more accustomed to it, the training was still punishing for Karsein's body — and on top of that, there had been the sparring match with Bruce.

After completing even the final task of the day, his body was drenched in sweat as it always was, nothing left in him but ragged breaths.

And yet, he didn't feel all that tired.

"..."

He spread both palms open and examined them.

Karsein's hands were etched with small calluses.

They told the story of how earnestly the boy had swung his sword, however brief that time had been.

But that feeling —

It was in his hands, too.

"...Maybe it's just because it's been so long."

Looking at those callus-hardened palms always brought his old self back to him.

There had been a time when he'd attended a dojang, after all.

He, too, had gripped a sword this way, calluses blooming across his palms just like these.

Maybe that was why, rather than tired, he felt something a little...

No.

It was beyond that.

"It's bizarre that even this much is the same."

It wasn't only Karsein. Back in his dim-witted days, Minhyuk had run away from home too.

It was raining that day.

Some girl had come up and held an umbrella over him, asking what he was doing out here.

And then...

He'd gone inside the dojang.

He'd filled his belly on a stranger's kindness somewhere that was neither home nor school.

As his body thawed out, he'd grown reluctant to go back, so he'd thrown out the excuse that he wanted to learn kendo.

Now, gripping a sword again, those days came flooding back.

Heaving a long sigh, he gazed up at the sky and murmured,

"Thank you. Hyunsung-hyung. Yoonji-noona."

Strictly speaking, the only reason he hadn't lost to Bruce was because those two had taught him the sword.

In other words, he'd had their help.

"Still — I didn't lose. I put that punk down flat."

Hyunsung-hyung, who'd hammered into him never to lose to some street punk; and Yoonji-nouna, who'd always been scolding Hyunsung-hyung for it while teaching him techniques that could actually be used within the bounds of the law.

He had no idea where they were now or what they were doing... but at last, he offered them his thanks.

One day, his eldest sister and his mother had gone to see them, telling them never to take him back, and had pressed a fat pouch of money into their hands — and the two had refused it outright.

He never saw them after that.

Restraining orders had been put in place so that he could never seek them out.

Back in school, he'd caught one punk and beaten him black and blue, and been told he should go learn how to scrap instead.

Unable to visit the dojang, he'd gone long stretches without touching a sword.

But here —

"...I could keep holding one, couldn't I."

Now that he actually had a sword in hand, how could he bring himself to let it go?

Sure, it was a sword that only existed inside a game rather than the one he'd known — but even so, it was more than he'd ever hoped for.

And in this world, no one could stop him from learning the sword.

It would become a means of protecting himself, too.

There was no reason to hesitate.

Even after this episode ended, he would need the strength to defend himself.

As the fifth day drew to a close, the progression window and status windows burst into view in a cascade of light.

He had pushed through an episode called Broken Wings that he knew nothing about — but fortunately, the story hadn't strayed far from the flow he remembered.

No — if anything, so little had changed that he'd been able to reuse his original countermeasures as they were.

Once again the day's training had been grueling for Karsein's body, but because he'd refused to quit and seen it through, the regular knights' affinity scores had begun to climb, and his Recognition had shifted.

And there had been a meaningful change.

Those who had witnessed his passion during the bout with Bruce had already shown him the snow-white boxes, and when he'd risen from a losing position and pulled off the upset, the gray boxes that once signified negative affinity had nearly all vanished.

He'd taken an advantageous high point at a key moment, and though it was his first time holding a sword in ages, overcoming Bruce had left today with only the final choice remaining.

How would the fifth day be wrapped up?

The system was offering Karsein the choice to seek out one of its characters and prepare for what came next.

The threat levels of Bruce, Theo, and Emma had all risen — which meant the system was telling the player, in no uncertain terms, to prepare his countermeasures accordingly.

But wasn't that strange?

Why should he have to pick one location and go there? When it came to finding allies, surely meeting people was the whole point.

I can't keep letting the choices push me around forever.

And so he waited at the fork in the road, where all six locations were open to him.

And then — just as he expected.

He whiled away some time, but no warning window from the choices appeared. The timer stayed silent as well.

Before long, two figures came into view, and the choices vanished at once.

"There's... someone over there. Radiel."

"The young lord? Don't tell me — is that Lord Karsein?"

Mark and Radiel came running, breathless.

Right. There was no need for only one of them to hear this.

Just like during the Troublemaker of the Training Ground incident, letting the information gap between the two of them twist everything into circles — this would be more than enough to prevent that.

"I trust none of you doubts that some kind of arrangement is being made at the training grounds, given that my opponent today was Bruce. Mark — your thoughts?"

"I agree. But a question still remains."

"Which is?"

"You said this time you were confident, my lord... but I confess I don't understand how exactly you intend to clear your name."

It seemed Radiel had explained everything to him quite thoroughly.

Then it was time to move.

"This isn't the place for it, so I'd like to relocate."

Both of them nodded.

Karsein had been the one to suggest they change locations, and so Mark was following in his wake.

If word of this spread through the knight order, it would stir up ripples just as it had before. Moving somewhere with no listening ears first and talking there was unquestionably the right call.

And yet.

Every time he trailed after him, Mark found his head tilting despite himself.

I did assume the ducal house's secret had something to do with this side of things. But still...

This direction led nowhere one could call a place for conversation.

Mark lowered his voice and asked Radiel.

"Radiel. Did you hear anything about this?"

"Hm?"

"That the young lord mentioned it to you separately, or..."

Radiel shook her head.

That meant she hadn't heard anything either.

But this place, no matter how I look at it...

An old building — one that had fallen naturally into disuse after the main storage was relocated and new buildings were erected within the knight order's compound.

Karsein was walking straight toward that antiquated warehouse.

As if Mark's suspicions were correct, Karsein came to a stop in front of the old annex storage.

He drew a key from his pocket and slid it into the door.

*Click!*

The poorly maintained warehouse door groaned and creaked a few times before swinging open.

Having opened the door, Karsein glanced ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back and forth between the two knights, then said,

"Radiel. You wait out here."

It was a rather baffling instruction.

"Why, my lord?"

"Because there's a strong chance that this time, it's you who won't be able to keep your composure."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Hidden inside is the very evidence Emma Urnen tried so desperately to bury. If you got your hands on it — how would you react?"

"Why, I would obviously bring the documents to the Duchess, or to Lady Arina—!"

"Exactly. Which is precisely why I'm telling you to wait out here."

Radiel tilted her head, puzzled.

"That alone won't be enough to drive Emma out. You already know that, don't you? How they fabricated evidence out of thin air."

"..."

"Radiel."

Mark gently laid a hand on the shoulder of Radiel, who had clenched her jaw tight.

"The young lord is right, for once. And not just since yesterday or today. Do you even notice how your face changes the moment his name comes up?"

"What about my face, exactly...?"

"...You looked ready to kill someone on the spot. Like you'd charge straight into the ducal residence right now with that sword and raise hell!"

Mark had once seen Radiel leave the grounds alone.

That day, he'd watched from near the ducal residence as Radiel spotted Emma passing by, her eyes burning with murderous intent, and had to smother the sight in silence.

That was how reckless Radiel had been — how lethal.

Had she been carrying a sword, she might well have cut the woman's throat then and there.

Convinced by Mark's persuasion, Radiel stepped back with a nod of acceptance.

"Very well. I'll wait outside, as you say, my lord."

"...Thank you, Radiel. Right now, you're the one who finds it hardest to hold back."

"Just go already. And my lord... you will explain everything later, won't you?"

"I will."

Only after checking the status window could Karsein finally breathe easy and step into the old annex storage.

Before long, he reached the interior.

In the clutter of junk strewn across the warehouse, Karsein crouched low, ran his hands thoughtfully over the floor — and pried up a section of it.

"Th-this is...!"

Beneath the floorboards lay a trove of extravagantly valuable items and pouches of gold coins in bulk.

"The hardest thing to prove in that trial was whether they'd actually taken the commission. If evidence like this had existed, the verdict could have been overturned a hundred times over."

"Then this — don't tell me...!"

"Suppose they did take the commission. If the money arrived in a lump sum, anyone would find that strange. And besides, a knight's movements are restricted. This is the only way they could have hidden it."

Of course, people had suspected. But no one could ever have imagined the hiding place would be beneath the floor of the training grounds' old annex.

Who would have guessed? That the darkest shadow would fall so close to the lamp.

Mark's fists trembled violently.

And yet, in a way, he understood why Radiel hadn't been brought along.

"But, my lord. This alone may not be enough. I can't rule out the possibility that presenting it as evidence could land us in danger instead."

Looked at coldly, the worst-case outcome was a pay cut or a formal reprimand.

In other words, they would have excuses to spare.

"Right. Which is why we'll have to manufacture evidence of our own."

"Pardon?"

"Flora comes tomorrow. To everyone who watched that trial, there's no ally more dependable than her."

"D-don't tell me... my lord!"

He smiled, slow and sharp.

"Mark. From this moment on, I'll tell you exactly what you must do tomorrow."

Everything, after all, was already prepared for the sake of one foolish little girl.