Chapter 141
Chapter 141
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: 58. Rapids (2)
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Graham passed the entrance to the imperial palace and paused for a moment, looking around.
Something felt strange.
Nothing had changed from before, yet it looked as if stains were splattered here and there.
Shadows stretched long enough to shame the sun blazing high in the midday sky, and pitch-black gloom pooled between the corners.
Thinking it might be an illusion, he blinked and looked again. But nothing had changed. An ominous feeling crept over him.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
At the guard captain’s question, Graham shook his head.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.”
He had been summoned by the Emperor.
He had heard rumors of some incident at the imperial palace, but he didn’t know the specifics. Still, he suspected that was the reason for the summons.
Graham reached the grand hall where the Emperor resided.
Elite guards clad in black armor stood watch at the entrance.
“Please enter.”
“Very well.”
As soon as the doors opened, Graham stepped inside, dropped to one knee, and paid his respects.
“Your servant Graham comes before Your Majesty.”
No reply came, so he kept his head bowed.
Soon, a weary voice drifted out.
“Come here……”
Graham raised his eyes.
Emperor Ivar sat upon the throne.
He was draped in a cloak of red with a golden lion embroidered upon it, but even at a glance, his illness was plain to see. His complexion was gray.
A physician attended to his condition at his side.
Graham approached without betraying any surprise. Ivar smiled.
“Surprised?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Heh……”
“If Your Majesty is unwell, would it not be better to rest in your chambers?”
“The Emperor cannot abandon the grand hall. The entire Empire is mine—where else would I go? Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The Emperor must sit upon the throne. Heh……”
Graham felt that sense of wrongness again.
Ivar never flaunted his imperial status. Quite the opposite—he asserted his authority through humble words and deeds unbecoming of an emperor.
Yet now, his manner resembled that of any noble intoxicated by power.
“Heh, heh heh heh……”
Ivar laughed again, only to cough as if choking.
The physician immediately proffered a basin. Ivar retched into it a yellowish mixture of pus, blood, and saliva.
“Are you alright, Your Majesty?”
“I’m fine, just fine. Who do you think I am?”
“You were in perfect health—how did this happen……”
“Curious, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
Ivar stared at Graham. His eyes burned with a strange intensity.
“If you knew, would you help me, Graham?”
“Pardon?”
“Will you help me?”
“I am Your Majesty’s knight.”
“Indeed. You’re the very model of knighthood. Though sometimes your unyielding nature is a problem.”
Ivar chuckled.
“Someone poisoned me.”
Graham’s eyes snapped up.
Ivar spoke as if it were nothing, but this was no trifling matter. Someone had attempted to assassinate the Emperor.
“How could such a thing……”
“So I had a bit of fun with them. They’ll be arriving soon.”
The grand hall doors soon swung open, admitting new guests.
The two men positioned themselves to Graham’s left and right before bowing in unison.
“We see Your Majesty.”
“We see Your Majesty.”
They were familiar faces.
Crown Prince Yugen.
And ‘the Empire’s Barbarian,’ Yalta.
“What did you do?”
“Smashed their skulls to pieces, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Yalta grinned as he replied.
His innate savagery was pure terror to his enemies.
As if his ill-fitting clothes chafed, Yalta twisted his burly frame once before continuing.
“How could I let those who tried to kill Your Imperial Majesty live? I crushed their heads with my fists.”
Ivar laughed.
“Oh my. I asked you to extract confessions……”
Ivar glanced at Yugen, who shrugged.
“You know Sir Yalta’s temper is short, Your Majesty.”
“Heh……”
Ivar let out a chuckle.
“Fine. Confessions are irrelevant. I already know.”
“Indeed.”
Graham remained silent, unsure of how events were unfolding.
“Graham.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I intend to hunt down those who dared poison the Emperor of the Empire and make them pay. What say you? Shall I send you?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’ll lend you Yalta—go together, drag those bastards before me. Heh……”
Ivar clearly intended to send Yalta to set a proper example.
Dispatching him was tantamount to declaring no quarter for surrender.
Yalta’s face lit up.
“With Sir Graham? I’m delighted, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Splendid.”
“I’ll follow Sir Graham’s lead.”
“Yes, yes.”
Graham now understood the reason for his summons.
Few could rein in Yalta. Graham was one of them.
Yalta usually bullied his way through with brute force, but he yielded readily to those he personally respected.
He was simple as a child in that regard.
Grinning at Graham, he said,
“Sir Graham. Let’s avenge His Majesty together. Sound good?”
Graham looked to Ivar instead of replying.
There was more he needed to hear.
“Your Majesty. Who exactly sought to harm you?”
“Ah, I forgot.”
Ivar beckoned.
“Come closer.”
Graham took a few steps forward and stopped.
Ivar gestured more insistently, drawing him very near.
They were now close enough for their arms to touch. Graham caught a faint foul odor emanating from the Emperor.
“Your ear……”
Graham tilted his head as instructed.
Ivar’s hand seized his earlobe and tugged. Pain flared, but Graham showed nothing.
The stench from Ivar’s mouth crawled across his skin and stabbed at his nose.
At last, Ivar’s lips parted, and he whispered the name of a kingdom.
“……”
Graham blinked, head still bowed.
The words made no sense.
But Ivar offered no further explanation and released his ear.
“Do you understand?”
“Your Majesty.”
“Strike them down with Yalta.”
“Is what you just said truly the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Any evidence or testimony……”
“You doubt my word, Graham?”
Ivar punched Graham’s side with his fist. It did no damage to a knight like him, but it conveyed the Emperor’s fierce determination.
“Go punish them at once. Are you not my knight?”
If they had truly done it, they deserved to pay—but the truth remained unconfirmed.
“Your Majesty. If it is certain they poisoned you, I will gladly march forth and exact justice, even if it means piling their corpses into mountains.”
“They did it.”
“I am too obtuse to believe what I cannot see. Please, grant me faith.”
“Evidence, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t the bastards confess!”
“Your Majesty……”
“Graham!”
Graham fell silent.
Ivar, his face pale with illness, baring his rage—it was utterly unfamiliar.
The Emperor he knew wielded magnanimity as his weapon, whether genuine or not. Many believed it the epitome of dignity for one born of the continent’s noblest bloodline.
But this man restrained none of his emotions.
It was too drastic a change to blame on poison alone. He seemed like a different person.
“Sir Graham.”
Yugen, who had been silent, spoke up.
“I know you’re faithful to your knightly code. But this is no light matter. An attempt on the Emperor’s life—in such circumstances, must you be so rigid?”
“It may be a scheme. If we fall for it, the Empire becomes a laughingstock. We must investigate the culprits more thoroughly……”
Ivar bellowed.
“Graham!”
The shout was impossibly loud from a sick man’s throat.
He jabbed a finger at Graham’s chest like a drawn blade.
“Will you do it? Or not? Just say it. There are plenty who can go if not you. Yalta alone would suffice.”
Graham gave the best answer he could.
“Grant me time.”
“Time?”
“Yes.”
“Hahaha……”
Ivar burst into dry, rasping laughter as if his throat were parched.
Then he clamped his mouth shut and stared blankly into the void.
It was an intensely eerie sight.
A suffocating silence stretched on.
Suddenly, Ivar nodded.
“Very well.”
Yugen objected.
“But Your Majesty, those who laid hands on you must be punished without delay……”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Pardon?”
“Whether today, tomorrow, or a month from now, I remain Emperor and they mere corpses. What matters is the manner of it.”
Ivar’s pronunciation suddenly sharpened, his words coherent.
“Is there any knight more trustworthy than Graham? For simple slaughter, anyone would do. But to handle it in the most imperial fashion? Only Graham. I respect him, so I’ll grant his request.”
“Yes……”
“But I can’t give you much time. My patience is nearly gone.”
Watching Ivar shift by the moment, Graham wondered if the Emperor’s mind had fractured.
He glanced briefly at the physician standing by Ivar’s side, but the man merely observed in silence.
“Graham, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Withdraw for now. I’ll send a messenger later.”
Graham bowed his head.
As he exited the grand hall, he glanced back just before the doors sealed shut.
Yugen gestured wildly as he ranted, and Yalta laughed along. Ivar had reverted to his sickly hunch on the throne, chuckling foolishly at Yugen’s every word.
At that sight, a sinking dread gripped Graham’s chest.
The doors closed.
It was a dark night beneath a new moon.
A towering pyre of layered rectangular firewood stacks rose high.
Suddenly, a tiny spark—thrown by whom, no one knew—arced through the air and landed atop the wood.
The kindling began to smolder slowly, then flames caught, engulfing the entire pile.
As the area brightened, the landscape shrouded in darkness came into view.
Brawny young men in tattered clothes sat in a circle.
With every flicker of the blaze, red light danced across dozens of pairs of eyes.
“The day we must part draws near.”
The man in the red hat standing behind spoke.
He was Instructor 1—Yuri—the architect of this entire training regimen.
“I didn’t think you’d make it through. I expected most to quit. But you proved me wrong. Yes, I’m proud of you all.”
Someone sniffled at his words.
Memories of the grueling training flashed through the minds of those gathered.
It had been brutal, but equally rewarding.
“A night like this calls for music. Instructor 2.”
“Yes, sir.”
Instructor 2, Gonte, who waited on the opposite side, drew an instrument from his bosom.
A flute.
Tweetle, tweetle……
The very sound that had once made the knights want to plug their ears during training now wove a melancholic melody that soaked into their hearts.
Tweetle, tweetle……
Then, Instructor 3, standing at another spot, opened her mouth.
“No matter how I claim……”
“This dung heap here……”
“Is my home……”
It was that same song, ever-present at gatherings like this.
As the second verse flowed, the knights sitting quietly began to sing along with her.
Dozens of voices blended into perfect harmony, sounding as one despite their number.
The owls were now united.
“Bare my heart, yet……”
“No true friends remain……”
“Crying birds all……”
“Hurry away……”
“Don’t go, don’t go……”
“Stay with me……”
“Just one song……”
“Let’s sing together……”
The chorus swelled. Some couldn’t finish the lyrics before bursting into sobs. Farewells were always bittersweet.
At last, the song ended.
Tweetle…… tweetle……
Even the flute’s notes trailed off into faint echoes.
All lingered in the afterglow, sniffling softly.
Yuri approached Gonte and embraced him.
“Sir Gonte.”
“Your Highness……”
“It was good fighting alongside you.”
“The same for me. This isn’t a forever goodbye, is it?”
“Never.”
“Thank goodness.”
“We’ll meet again.”
They clapped each other on the back.
“The training was a resounding success.”
Joachim’s knights had become experts in mountain warfare. Yuri considered it a triumph beyond his expectations.
He had forged spineless knights into cunning hunters capable of facing any foe.
Yuri turned to the quietly standing Ena.
“Instructor 3.”
“Y-yes?”
“Why so quiet?”
“Sob……”
Ena was on the verge of tears. After all that whipping into shape, bonds had formed.
“Are you crying?”
“N-no, sir!”
“Instructor 3 is crying! Owls, will you stand idle?”
“No, sir!”
“Time to repay her!”
The knights surged to their feet, seized Ena, and tossed her into the air.
As they began hurling her skyward, she rocketed up only to plummet again and again.
Ena’s sobs turned to shrieks.
“Kyaaak!”
Yuri and Gonte watched with fond amusement—until the knights dragged them in to soar through the sky as well.
Laughter rang endlessly against the backdrop of the campfire.
It was a moment so beautiful one wished to freeze time.
But time marched on relentlessly.
No one could predict what the days ahead held.
Only the moon, buried in the night sky, shed a faint, tear-like glow.