Chapter 68
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 68
Amidst the bewildered crowd, it was Duke Ergan, one of the elders, who spoke first.
“Lord Leon.”
As the man certain to be appointed the next Chairman of the Council of Elders, no other noble—not even a member of the Frezier direct lineage—could afford to ignore him.
“It is unwise to act solely on emotion.”
“I know.”
Leon Frezier replied, drawing the bowstring taut.
“I understand.”
Everyone assumed he would hit Tulia.
Lilius, Nigella—they all thought so.
The proof lay in their stillness; they only made a show of trying to stop him, yet none truly moved to intervene. If anything…
“Shouldn't someone stop him?”
“Lady Tulia looks to be in a critical state as it is.”
“Ah… if the Grand Duke returns to this, there will be hell to pay…!”
The anxious murmurs of the other nobles drifted to his ears, carried by the forest breeze.
Why?
He couldn't understand it.
True, he had neglected Tulia all this time.
He had been warmer to total strangers than to her.
But why did they think he would actually shoot her?
Had he really…
Been that cruel?
To that child?
Even as he asked himself, he already knew the answer.
Leon Frezier had truly loathed Tulia Frezier.
Unlike Lisian, who had gently ignored Tulia’s tantrums, Leon had always worn his disgust openly.
He knew.
He knew it was unbecoming of an older brother.
Yet, he hated her so much he couldn't help himself. Even when Lisian warned him to stop, he wanted to torment her.
When she threw a fit, he screamed back. When she slapped his cheek, he exploded with even greater fury.
On the rare occasions they attended external parties together, he never once escorted her.
Tulia would walk in alone, her nose held high with pride, but a lady without a gentleman to escort her was always a target for ridicule.
He had seen it and looked away.
When Tulia picked a fight, he countered with even sharper words.
There were times when a direct confrontation ended with a furious Tulia slapping Leon’s face.
Their relationship was, in every sense, the absolute worst.
‘I took away everything she liked.’
He remembered a hunting competition held a few years ago.
The talk of the day was a silver wolf the size of a house that had supposedly wandered into the area. It was a beast that had to be hunted, as it had ventured down to the villages and caused great damage.
Everyone anticipated the high-quality silver pelt, a prize that money could hardly buy.
“My goodness! I heard Lord Leon caught that wolf!”
“I knew he would!”
“Then does the wolf pelt belong to Lord Leon?”
“Since Lord Leon doesn't have a lady yet, won't he give it to Lady Tulia according to custom?”
“Some people have all the luck. Having Leon Frezier as a brother means receiving such a magnificent treasure.”
Tulia, too, had desperately wanted that silver wolf pelt.
He could tell just by the way her eyes sparkled—an uncharacteristic look for someone who usually looked at him with nothing but spite.
Moreover, since everyone was whispering that she would receive it, she seemed to be harboring expectations of her own.
A silver pelt—soft, rare, and warm.
A magnificent, beautiful wolf skin that could easily withstand the bitter cold of midwinter.
It was laughable.
The way she smiled like a gentle maiden the moment she wanted something, despite usually hurling insults and slapping his face.
That hypocrisy was revolting.
Yes, he had thought it was disgusting.
He decided Tulia Frezier was the worst.
And so, he had tossed it like a piece of charity to the lady sitting furthest away from Tulia.
He did it because he had overheard that the woman had once gotten into a hair-pulling fight with Tulia.
It was half-calculated, half-impulse.
He encountered Tulia again an hour later.
True to her foul temperament, she had gotten into a massive argument with the lady who received the pelt and ended up grabbing her hair.
Or so he was told.
She had tripped during the scuffle.
As luck would have it, there was a jagged rock where she fell, and the knees of her dress were soaked in blood.
There were only a few other ladies present at the time, but not one of them helped Tulia up.
They looked on with slight surprise, but beneath it, they wore faint, satisfied smiles.
Leon thought his own luck was the worst for happening to pass by at that exact moment.
The ladies fled as soon as they saw him.
For a brief moment in that vast forest, the two of them were alone.
Tulia Frezier sat there with her knees covered in blood, a look of pure resentment on her face.
“You make me sick.”
Tulia bit her lip as she looked up at him.
“Wipe that look off your face. It feels like absolute trash having you look down on me.”
“Ha. Fine.”
Leon Frezier pulled on his horse's reins.
“I’ll get lost just like you want, so feel free to crawl back on your own.”
And he truly did leave Tulia Frezier behind.
He didn't even bother to dismount.
At the banquet the next day, he heard that Tulia had succeeded in nearly beating that lady to death.
She had apparently dunked several other ladies into oak barrels as well.
Lilius had told him with a sigh that she had been severely scolded by their grandfather and placed under a confinement order.
What if he had helped her up back then?
Would she have stayed quietly in her room, treating her mangled knees?
There was no way to know.
But the incident had weighed on his mind.
He had sent her medicinal herbs.
But all that returned was a basket full of the ashes from those burnt herbs.
[Drop dead.]
Along with a short letter. No, a short note.
Slowly, he emerged from his memories.
“….”
He stared at Tulia Frezier, who was watching him from her wheelchair in the distance.
Usually, she would have ignored him and looked away.
He could tell that lately, Tulia’s intuition had become sharp—no, unnaturally quick.
Then don't you know?
That I might actually hit you.
Just like everyone else here thinks.
And yet, you entrusted the bow to me. Why?
Why?
Do you trust me?
Have you already forgotten that I poured the ashes of your letter over your head?
Or is it because, despite everything, I am your brother?
Are you actually trusting me?
“…Unbelievable.”
He muttered under his breath.
“You must hit the apple precisely, Leon Frezier.”
Grand Duke Nigella Frezier warned him in a low voice, noticing the arrowhead dipping slightly downward.
“Yes, Uncle Nigella.”
Even as he answered, he found it absurd.
How could those words possibly come from a biological uncle who cared for his nephew’s life?
He was warning him only because he feared Leon might miss the target entirely.
The ones who want me to hit you aren't me, but them.
‘Yes, them….’
“….”
Among people like this, the one who had been alone all this time wasn't himself or Lisian—it was Tulia Frezier.
“….”
Even now, Tulia held her chin high, as if determined to remain haughty even in the face of death.
She looked like a small fish puffing itself up to its limit to survive in front of a predator.
It was ridiculous.
Whether it was because she trusted him, or because she thought he possessed at least a shred of common sense.
Regardless, she had handed him the bow.
And yet, she didn't show a single trace of being groveling, friendly, or harmless.
It was funny, and it made him feel wretched.
Leon Frezier’s arrowhead moved, pointing directly at Tulia’s head.
The eyes of the knights who knew weaponry widened, and the hidden smile on Lilius’s face deepened—
Whiz!
The moment the arrow cut through the air.
“….”
“….”
“….”
The apple shattered into pieces, and a silence as cold as ice fell over the surroundings.
Leon Frezier tossed the magic tool bow back to the mages as if discarding it and began to stride forward.
“There’s nothing wrong with the magic tool.”
“….”
“Uncle, Tedric. Both of you are being far too cruel to my sister.”