Broken Wings (11)

Silence hung over the water station.

And within that silence, the knights thought.

What did he just... say?

Karsein's what? A fiancée?

He's saying that handkerchief Theo's holding belongs to his fiancée?

Then, all at once, the laughter erupted.

"Ha— my apologies, young lord. Did you just say fiancée?"

Even Theo Ramstair could no longer hold it in, clutching his stomach in laughter.

This, despite the fact that his own throat had just been cut and was still bleeding.

"Ah, forgive me. But if you're going to tell a lie, at least keep it believable. I don't care how expensive that handkerchief is—a fiancée? Really? A fiancée?"

The spectacle was too delicious, and the knights at the water station doubled over laughing all over again.

It was laughable, after all.

Karsein Bagrand, of all people, had gained a fiancée. Did that even qualify as words? It was obviously a lie.

"Ah, well. I suppose it's possible. You're a man too, young lord—I'm sure there's some woman out there who catches your fancy. Though I imagine you'd acquire her not only through what a woman might give you, but through other... routes as well."

Blackmail, extortion, for instance.

Or threats made under the weight of the Bagrand ducal name.

"Ah, but these days one does see the occasional marriage across class lines, doesn't one? Yes, sure. Perhaps some maid somewhere took a fancy to a man like you and fell head over heels. Of course, if it were a maid from another household rather than the duchy's, the odds would be even higher on a first meeting."

"KHAHAHAHA!"

"Keh keh. That Theo, the absolute bastard."

The surrounding knights knew exactly what Theo was implying, and catcalls began springing up from every corner.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me now. The world is a wide place, and tastes in the opposite sex vary considerably. To someone, I'm sure you're quite charming, young lord."

"He's right. Marriages that cross status lines—the kind you only see in plays—do exist in reality, however rare."

"My, my. A scandal between the son of Bagrand and a maid. That has quite the ring to it, doesn't it?"

Once more, laughter rolled across the grounds.

"And yet—handing over a handkerchief like this one? Whoever gave it would have to be a fairly high-ranking noble. And you'd still insist it came from a fiancée?"

Theo stared hard at the handkerchief and posed the question like a blade.

"There isn't a single noble in the Pecellos Empire who doesn't know what kind of man the adopted son of Bagrand is. And yet—a fiancée? Who on earth would ever offer you a handkerchief, young lord? In the first place, there are barely a handful of people who'd even deign to speak to you."

And then he laid the card on the table.

What kind of person Karsein was in the empire. How he was perceived. The pervasive reputation that must surely be circulating among the nobility came spilling out into the open.

"You claim this came from a fiancée, young lord, but no daughter of a noble house would accept such a claim. No—come to think of it, it may extend to every woman alive. Even the maids of the ducal house—there isn't one among them who would yearn for you."

Theo added this with a flourish, playing to the crowd.

It was a naked accusation—and at the same time, a sharp, precise point.

It was conceivable that a handkerchief could have come from a fiancée—if she were a commoner. But one look at this handkerchief marked it as a noble's. Therefore, the fiancée who supposedly gave it would have to be a noble.

And so, the claim that this handkerchief came from a fiancée was a lie.

After all, there was no woman in this empire who would look upon Karsein Bagrand, son of Bagrand, as a man and offer him her handkerchief.

"Which means the very claim of a fiancée's handkerchief is a contradiction. But this isn't the end of it, is it, young lord?"

Theo Ramstair smirked and declared that the show was far from over.

At his signal, the knights closed in, surrounding Karsein on all sides.

"Lady Arina has commanded that should Karsein, the young lord, ever injure another under any circumstances, his sword is to be confiscated on the spot and he is to be driven out of the training grounds. This is included in your standing prohibition as well."

Theo answered with leisurely ease, tapping his own throat with his index finger.

The other knights each added a word of their own.

"Driving a blade at Theo's neck is a violation of the training grounds' rules in itself."

"However legitimate the Duchess's writ may be, we cannot tolerate this."

"And since your instruction can no longer continue, we are now within our legal rights to expel you, young lord."

"Karma, truly karma. I simply cannot fathom how you remain so utterly consistent, young lord."

They no longer laughed openly as before, but their faces were already splitting into grins, lips twitching as they fought to contain their snickering contempt.

"Pray don't resent us too much. After all, this is entirely a mess of your own making, young lord."

Theo pushed the sword aside between the ranks of knights, leaving his parting bow.

But this time, instead of a blade, a kick drove into his stomach.

"Khk!"

Whoosh!

As Theo Ramstair sprawled across the ground, the sword was at his throat once more.

"Done running your mouth?"

"Khk! This—this act of yours has crossed the line!"

"You're the ones who crossed it. You insulted me—and at the same time, you insulted my fiancée. The evidence is sitting right here in plain sight and you couldn't even recognize it. Ah—unless, of course, your eyes all malfunctioned at once."

"Wh-what did you say?!"

Theo ground his teeth.

"Where is this evidence?! If you mean that handkerchief—!"

"You'd do well to look at that handkerchief more closely, Theo Ramstair."

"The handkerchief...?"

In that instant, Theo's eyes shook violently.

"I suppose it would've been hard to notice. The custom of embroidering one's family crest onto a handkerchief has largely fallen out of fashion, after all."

"The crest?"

"What's he talking about? It was just an expensive handkerchief, wasn't it?"

No. It was not.

This crest...

That's the crest of the Theresia Marquisate...!

Impossible.

There's no way.

It has to be another one of his bald-faced lies.

They had assumed they could run him down however they pleased.

But this—they could not run him down.

Theo's face had drained deathly pale.

"You there! What is going on?!"

The senior knights arrived at the water station.

According to Karsein's memory, it was not yet time for them to come looking. But why they had arrived early was more or less easy to guess.

A girl who had sprinted over, only to poke her head out timidly between them and hide behind their backs.

She had given herself away.

"It's n-nothing at all!"

That was how she intended to cover for herself?

Not a chance.

He intended to see this through to the very end.

paying it no mind, Karsein addressed the regular knight in charge of today's morning drill.

"Sir Carlton."

"...! Yes, my lord."

He was clearly cut from a different cloth than the rabble. A man who had served long years as a full-fledged knight, Carlton understood in that instant that Karsein was not calling to him as a trainee, but as a member of the ducal house of Bagrand.

"Those men laid hands on my property. Beat them black and blue, right here, until the dust flies."

They would think it a command bordering on the absurd.

They had only just arrived. Setting aside whether they had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠touched Karsein's belongings, most of them wouldn't even know what belonged to him.

Theo's faction sneered at Karsein inwardly for it.

But—

THWACK!

"Ugh?!"

CRACK! CRACK! THWACK!

The regular knights offered not a single word of protest and began beating them down.

They're really beating the dust out of them.

He had chosen the "beat them down" option, but they were genuinely pounding his tormentors hard enough to raise clouds of it.

Without mercy, fists and boots flew, and the ones bludgeoned with scabbards had gone blue around the eyes.

Every one of them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠must have been brimming with the same question.

Why? Why are we the ones being beaten?

And they were all thinking it.

Unlike you lot—mere apprentices and probationaries—those men are regular knights.

The blind spot, one might say, was the Snowflower Festival.

The regular knights had rushed out that day under Isabella's orders, and in their search for Karsein, plenty of talk must have circulated within the order.

And everything inside that pouch had come from the Snowflower Festival—there was no room for doubt.

The regular knights knew perfectly well that these men had not only laid hands on Karsein's property without leave, but had stolen it, burned it, and destroyed it.

And so, as knights of the house, they would severely punish those who dared lay hands on their lord's possessions.

There was nothing—absolutely nothing—wrong with that order.

"Enough."

The moment he called a halt amid the dust gathering thick over the water station, they stopped at once. Protest? Not a one of them seemed inclined to offer any.

Just as I expected.

It was said the regular knights harbored ill feelings toward Karsein, but they were at least men loyal to the house, and they would not cross the line. The ones who had actually laid hands on Karsein at Theo's command turned out, upon inspection, to be probationaries, trainees, and the newest bottom-rung recruits.

And that itself was riddled with contradictions.

The gulf between a regular knight and a probationer was said to be heaven and earth within the order—yet Theo had never brought the regulars into his fold.

In the past, too, he had never borrowed the direct power of a regular knight to drive Karsein out. Instead, he manufactured incidents and pinned false accusations—an indirect approach.

And the scene unfolding before them now made it certain: a man who only drew those of probationary rank or below into his faction, unable to bend the regular knights to his will at all—

He simply couldn't touch them.

His limit had been to wheedle and exploit only those beneath him, isolating Karsein that way.

That was why he had been so desperate to rise to regular knighthood himself.

Unable to reach upward, he had groomed everything below to lay his own board.

And knowing full well that this alone was not enough, he had reached out to Emma.

His final move was to court Flora's favor and somehow bring the entire knight order under his control.

The water at the top ran clear—yet those below had muddied it so thoroughly that the training grounds themselves had turned into this stagnant mire.

In that case, there was no reason not to choose an even bolder option.

"Carlton."

"Yes."

"By the authority of Karsein Bagrand, I command you. Strip these men who insulted me and my fiancée of their knighthood, every last one, effective immediately. And—"

Whoosh!

I leveled my sword at them once more and continued.

"As of this hour, cast them into the Tulea Mine. Report to the imperial crown that from this day forward they are criminals who shall never again take up a sword, nor set foot outside its walls."

"This is madness!"

"Cast into the Tulea Mine?! Do you hear yourself?"

"We cannot even accept a discharge! Reconsider, I beg you!"

The men erupted in furious protest.

A discharge alone was already a punishingly heavy sentence—and on top of it, I had declared I would throw them into the Tulea Mine, the largest criminal facility in the empire. Of course they would rage.

"Quiet, you dogs!"

"Move, now!"

Protest all they liked—criminals had no right to speak.

They were hauled away, not by hollow knights in name only, but by the genuine article.

Even so, the regular knights seemed to feel the order was excessive, and hesitated for a beat. Once the criminals had been dragged off, one knight stepped forward and bowed his head.

It was the knight called Carlton, whom I had summoned earlier.

"My lord. Those men laid profane hands upon their lord's property, and punishment they rightly deserve—but their crimes are comparatively light for the Tulea Mine."

Carlton spoke with meticulous courtesy.

"The Tulea Mine is the empire's largest facility for criminals. It is a crown-owned prison from which, once entered, no man emerges. Robbery, theft, and the insult of a noble alone seem insufficient grounds for confinement there."

"And?"

"I would suggest this: first, remand them to the dungeons of the ducal house of Bagrand and strip them of food, clothing, and shelter for ninety days, subjecting them to conditions ruinous to health. Then, once they have served out their term, revoke every privilege and rank they hold and cast them out to their homes. What say you to that?"

Carlton's argument—no, his counsel—was eminently sound.

Looking at this scene alone, those three charges, compounded into a discharge and the forfeiture of knighthood, would be the limit.

If the punishment were excessive and provoked a backlash, the cost would fall squarely upon Karsein Bagrand's own head.

And should word of this later spread among the empire's nobility, other ill effects would surely follow.

He was no knight whose loyalty to the house was merely skin-deep, after all. The fault lay only in the successors placed beneath him.

But I knew all of that already.

"What if they'd committed crimes far graver than this—crimes that would earn them a transfer to the Tulea Mine?"

"You mean to say... they have committed further offenses?"

"Of course."

The startled Carlton flicked his chin toward the surrounding knights, asking if any of them had heard anything.

Naturally, not a single one had an answer.

And then, right on cue, someone cut abruptly into the conversation.

"Proceed as planned. Those are the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠young lord's orders."

"Vice-Captain Mark?"

"And Captain Radiel, too?"

Through the crowd of bewildered knights appeared the captain and vice-captain of the order.

Questions like how did this turn out seemed entirely unnecessary.

"I have one question to put to you all."

"If I asked you to explain what transpired at this water station, how would you report it to me?"

One knight raised his hand.

"I would report that Karsein, the young lord, was having his belongings seized by the probationary knights, Theo Ramstair included, and had justly drawn his sword against them."

The other knights nodded along.

A concise report. Easy to grasp.

"Then let us suppose this instead. What if that scene had never come before your eyes?"

"Hmm... in that case, I suppose I would have heard it passed along from the others."

"Exactly. It would have reached you through another man's ears. You would not have witnessed it yourself. And who would be the very first to bring you that news?"

"The probationary knights, sir. Our order tends to receive its reports through the newer men."

At that, every knight tilted his head.

"Come to think of it, those men just now—they were all..."

"Probationaries and trainees, I believe."

"Not merely some of them. Every single man who laid hands on the young lord's belongings was. Not one regular knight among them."

"And more than that—I recall that at some point, reports stopped being passed between regulars directly and only traveled downward."

"It stinks. Doesn't it seem as though those men have been moving as a single faction?"

The knights' expressions deepened into grimness.

As if realizing they had overlooked something enormous.

"It remains mere conjecture, but if it hadn't been us who uncovered it..."

Just as that supposition surfaced, Radiel spoke.

"Yes. That is the blind spot."

"Captain...?"

"One man already burdened with a wretched reputation—what a perfect vessel to isolate and brand a liar, wouldn't you say? Especially when the entire chain of communication runs exclusively through probationaries and trainees."

"Could that truly be possible? Short of a conspiracy running through the whole order..."

"We found this stashed in the old annex storage. If a man flaunted luxuries beyond his salary, he'd be found out—so I expect he hid it like this."

CLATTER!

As if he had been waiting for precisely that cue, Radiel upended the chest he was carrying onto the ground.

"The evidence is out. In that situation, if someone pressed a sum equal to thirty percent of a man's yearly wage into his hands and told him to alter his report—those money-hungry probationaries would do it without a second thought."

"...You mean to say such dealings were actually taking place at this training grounds, and that is why this money existed."

"That is not all."

"Sir?"

"What if the commission came not from within, but from outside?"

"...!"

The knights' faces darkened in an instant.

This was no paltry sum.

From the chest had spilled a considerable quantity of currency, along with ornaments set with precious metals and gems.

And lately, more than a few among the probationaries and trainees had been flaunting their greed for wealth.

Hadn't some of them suddenly splurged on brand-new gear, boasting of their pay?

Radiel drove in the final nail.

"They need only keep their stories straight so nothing climbs to the upper ranks. Not so difficult. Even if it meant pinning the charge of having slashed me with a sword."

"C-Captain!"

"Surely you don't mean—"

The knights recoiled as if struck.

Their gazes turned, all at once, toward one man.

"Karsein, the young lord..."

"Was framed?"

"The one who cut down Captain Radiel—it truly wasn't the young lord?"

Confused eyes began darting this way and that.

With hard evidence sprawled before them, this was no longer a question of belief or disbelief.

The malice of the probationaries and trainees toward Karsein—they had seen it with their own eyes.

And the circumstances of money being paid for a commission were now laid unmistakably bare.

"Who... is the culprit?"

Carlton swallowed hard and asked Radiel.

He—the victim and witness of that incident—would know the true culprit beyond any doubt. Which of the three had done it.

It was a breathless moment.

Whichever name left those lips, the knights would never let it pass.

But the one whose heart felt fit to burst in that instant was none other than Flora.

Clutching her collar in a white-knuckled grip, she waited, hardly daring to breathe.

At last, a single name crossed Radiel's lips—

And the girl, feeling as though her breath had been stolen from her lungs entirely, collapsed where she stood.

Because I... helped Theo... Karsein...?

Something that had lived inside her chest burst, all at once, with a pop.