Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 038
Chapter Title: Feel Free to Speak More Casually
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After returning to the estate, Awin became as docile as if the initial rampage had all been a lie.
She quietly ate her feed and rested in the stable, which had been crudely repaired in the meantime—a picture-perfect lady.
Of course, the other horses still treated her like some kind of monster.
"So, you spent three days and nights rolling around with that beast?"
"I'm telling you, it drained every last drop of energy out of me."
Roden stared at Shan's grinning face and let out a deep sigh.
She had no idea how much others had worried... and here she was, carefree as ever.
"Well, at least you tamed her. Honestly, I figured you'd just beat her to death."
For all her innocent looks, Roden knew better than anyone just how violent Shan could be at her core.
A girl who would smack someone across the face and make their nose bleed at the slightest provocation wasn't about to change overnight.
Deep down, Roden had half-expected Shan to lose her temper in a fight with the horse and kill her on the spot.
"My master said it: you can't rule a comrade you entrust your back to with fear. They'll obey when you're strong, but the moment you weaken, they'll club you over the head."
If Shan hadn't received that lesson—if she were still the girl from back then, convinced she could only prove herself through violence—she probably would have beaten Awin into submission.
But Awin likely never would have opened her heart that way.
A glance at the burn scars on her hindquarters made it easy to guess how she'd been controlled before.
Instead, it became a contest between creatures: which one was more superior and ruthless.
And Awin had acknowledged that Shan was the fiercer one, choosing submission.
"Anyway, enough of that. Read this first."
"What's this?"
"Letters from people who stopped by while you were gone."
Most of the bundle Roden handed over were from strangers—mostly low-ranking nobles and merchants.
Setting aside the flattery about how honored they'd be if Shan visited their homes, there were a few worth reading.
"Knight Catra's heading out on another monster hunt... Oh, and Knight Lug's joining Prince Elvin's camp."
"Really? That beanpole?"
"You haven't read it?"
"It's your letter. I wouldn't read it first."
"Then read it now."
When Shan offered the letter, Roden clicked his tongue in exasperation but took it and read through.
His face soon turned serious.
"Shan."
"Yeah?"
"You said Lug's strong, right?"
"If I hadn't been there, he'd have won the tournament for sure. Train him a bit more, and he might even surpass Peonil."
"Hmm..."
If she rated him that highly, he was definitely no ordinary knight—top-tier genius among humans, excluding Shan herself.
He'd make a name for himself down the line, no doubt.
Not exactly pleasant news that such talent might become an enemy someday.
Of course, Shan wouldn't lose a one-on-one, as the finals proved—but palace intrigues weren't always fair fights.
It was extreme, but if Abel Marquis and Lug teamed up for a pincer attack, even Shan could be in danger.
Not likely, given their camps, but still.
"Would've been nice to pull him to Princess Sherin's side..."
"Honestly, the princess doesn't have much to offer."
"That's the problem."
Not many knew the immense potential—or danger—Sherin held.
To most, she was just a genius mage princess with an odd interest in state affairs.
That she faced no real threats now stemmed largely from the princes' complacency: That girl gunning for the throne?
So, unless you were in Shan's position, it made sense to side with a prince—hard to see gains otherwise.
"For now, stay friendly. A prince's camp might leak useful info, and different camps don't mean we have to kill each other."
"Honestly, it's a bit burdensome."
Having someone around 5'11" gaze at her with starry-eyed idol worship felt downright weird.
Shan grimaced for a moment, then let out a small gasp at the next letter.
"Oh, perfect—Princess sent one too. Says the item's ready; come pick it up."
"Oho!"
"And if the new horse is hard to handle, she has tips."
"She missed the mark there."
Roden burst into hearty laughter, as if relieved she didn't know everything after all.
"So, when should I head over?"
"She said she'll be at the villa the night I get back."
"Damn, she really does know everything. How does she gather intel? Magic?"
As Shan read on, she made a puzzled face.
"What? Master stopped by?"
"Huh? No way I'd miss that."
"This is his letter."
It was on aged parchment thick with mustiness—no fancy decorations or perfume—just a sloppy scrawl: "Congratulations."
Without Knight Darkal's family seal and signature below, it'd look like a prank.
"Classic master."
"Tell me about it."
He probably felt too embarrassed to say something grand in person.
The old man couldn't stand sappy talk around others.
That single short line warmed their hearts anyway, and they chuckled for a good while.
That night, Shan walked alone through the dimly lit capital streets, no torch in hand.
Given what she was picking up, Roden had stayed home to avoid the night watch.
Her glowing eyes weren't much issue.
She just closed them when patrols passed, relying on memory.
Unlike most, Shan could precisely track her position after walking hundreds of meters from visual memory alone.
After several streets, she reached the princess's villa and knocked, just as Kagon had before.
Knock, knock. No answer, even after a few tries.
Knock harder?
A watchman approached from afar.
Shan eyed the wall beside the gate—three or four meters high—then leaped up.
Using tiny brick crevices barely a finger-width deep, she scaled it like a spider.
But as she landed inside, flames erupted from below.
'What the—'
Instinctively channeling defensive spirit over her body, she shielded her face with her arms as fire engulfed her.
If it had persisted, she'd have been scorched badly—but it vanished after one pass.
"Who goes there?!"
A sword drawn—with a shing—Knight Aran burst out, long blade in hand.
Seeing Shan's lightly singed form, she gasped.
"Knight Shan? Why trigger the garden trap? And who opened the gate?"
"Well..."
When Shan admitted jumping the wall, Aran's face twisted in disbelief.
"Even so, scaling the wall to the princess's residence?!"
"I knocked, but no one answered."
"Ah, just the princess and me here tonight."
She looked sheepish at the knocking mention, then changed tack.
"Still, glad you're unharmed. That wasn't weak."
"My spirit protected me."
Aran stared at the barely-scratched Shan like some exotic creature.
Spirit worked best on clear targets like swords or shields; enveloping the whole body was inefficient and brutally hard.
No average knight could manage it in the trap's brief activation.
"No wonder the princess invests so much in you, even when busy..."
Her murmur held faint jealousy and self-loathing.
If she were that strong, the princess wouldn't fixate on some Altoin knight.
Unlike last time's reception room, this meeting was in the princess's bedroom.
A vast space fit for racing, with a lavish central bed big enough for ten and wafting sweet scent.
Sherin, roused from sleep, wore only thin nightclothes under a robe.
Lounging in an armchair, she smiled at Shan.
"Quite the commotion outside, eh?"
"Tried sneaking in discreetly—small mishap, Your Highness."
"Unavoidable, but next time, use the front gate. Makes me nervous thinking a knight like you might slip in and slit my throat."
Her "joke" was morbidly grim as she pointed to a long, cloth-wrapped item on the floor ahead.
Stick-shaped, about three meters.
"Here’s the child awaiting its master. A prize for your joust victory... and payment for our first deal. Take it."
Untying revealed a spear.
Proper length for infantry or slightly short jousting lance.
Mysterious runes etched from leaf-like blade to blackened ashwood shaft.
Not glaring, but faintly glowing—clearly no ordinary weapon.
"Top artisan work infused with a whole troll magic stone. As long as the core at the grip's end is intact, it self-repairs any damage. Snap it in half, rejoin, and it's good as new. Wounds from the blade heal slowly too. And needless to say, far tougher and sharper than any normal spear."
Sounded more like ancient Altoin magic gear than modern enchanted tools.
Inferior to Thousand Forms material-wise, but that was inevitable.
Sherin truly outshone any mage of this era.
Once trust built, maybe show her Thousand Forms for study.
Wonder what horrors she'd uncover.
"Tested thoroughly, but report any field issues. I'll fix it pronto."
"Thank you so much, Your Highness! I'll treasure it!"
Overjoyed with the new weapon, Shan forgot decorum in her thanks.
Sherin beamed, then clapped as if remembering something.
"Ah, but such a fine spear needs a matching steed... Heard the royal troublemaker won this tourney?"
"Royal troublemaker?"
"That Horace Mountain warhorse. Best traits from the stud the Horace king gifted ten years ago—but sole one inheriting its sire's temper. Untamable."
Ah, Awin.
Come to think of it, the letter mentioned taming tips.
Sherin smirked slyly, shaking a fist-sized potion vial.
"Feed this to the horse steadily. Prepared it hoping to use her someday. Lowers intelligence but ensures obedience to commands. Not for people, obviously."
"No need. Already handled."
"What?"
Sherin's slender eyes widened at the unexpected reply.
"Handled how?"
"Took her out and rode for three straight days. Opened right up."
She skipped the gritty details of never dismounting.
Too crude for princess company.
"Ha... You're a riot. Short life, but no one's been this entertaining."
Sherin regretted the wasted gift but seemed satisfied too.
With the horse spared idiocy, talk shifted to the joust.
"Sorry I couldn't watch. Day schedule was packed."
"Come anytime you're free."
"I'd like that. And... when it's just us, speak casually."
"Pardon?"
"Formal tone feels distant. Liked your earlier slip. Hate it?"
"No, not at all, but..."
"You barely spoke at first—hiding my status helped."
Forced casual felt odd now, unlike accidental slips.
The princess factor?
Shan realized why.
"Then be casual with me too, Your Highness."
"Me? Wasn't I?"
"That archaic speech—you didn't use it before."
"True... Alright, let's drop the distance."
Back to bubbly mage girl, Sherin grinned, swinging her legs.
Knight Aran muttered, "Your Highness, some decorum...," but both ignored her.
Calling her "Sherin sis" was still a stretch.
"Any promising talents at the tourney?"
"Knight Lug."
"Finals opponent? Kagon said the same. If both agree, talent stands out."
Sherin murmured disappointment at no hidden gems.
"Not scouting time anyway. Heard Elvin's recruiting you soon."
"Prince Elvin?"
"'Prince' is too kind. Just call him that bastard."
Her face twisted in contempt as she spat the curse.
"Now he wants you—after we found you first. Won't commit, just use and discard. Don't fall for it, got it?"
"Yes."
"The nerve, eyeing what's ours."
Unsure how to reply, Shan glanced at a bedroom portrait.
Dark blue-haired beauty resembling Sherin, but older, softer-eyed, more mature.
"Lovely portrait."
"My mother."
"Ah."
"Aste Barvelka. Unfortunate soul. Never really knew her."
Shan recalled Sherin's full name.
Sherin Gisel Aste Hasra.
Hasra royals inserted parents' names between given and family.
Thus, hers differed from half-siblings' third syllables.
Silence fell, then Sherin switched abruptly.
"Know my father?"
"Not really."
"Figures. King's affairs don't trickle down... and you're foreign originally."
She sighed softly.
Shan's Pendia King Gisel III knowledge: three marriages, young queens dead of illness, king himself bedridden.
"When my brothers dismissed Father's health, you and Roden had that 'same here' look."
Shan flinched at the sharp insight—unspoken thoughts pinpointed.
"Father's a monster. Slaughtered his king brother and nephews for the throne, then whored his wives to death. If he hadn't collapsed, I might've poisoned him myself."
She added Konrad and Elvin were monsters too, differently.
Perhaps herself as well.
"The cursed Hasra line. Utterly vile..."
The next day, back home, Shan didn't spill Sherin's near-drunken rant to Roden.
It felt too private, not for sharing.
"Alright, time to plan."
Topic: Sherin's commission—hunt the high vampire in Castaman Castle.
North of Hasra City in remote wasteland.
Five to seven days on foot.
"Plan? Why?"
Just barge in and kill it, Shan implied.
Roden chuckled.
"You could, but high vampires are sly. What if it flees?"
"Ah."
"Even Awin's fast, but you need to know where. Strategy's key."
He drew a big circle with his finger.
"Encircling's best. Tracks escape direction anywhere."
"Encircling? Just us two?"
"Why two?"
At Shan's question, Roden looked baffled.
"You're a knight now. Means you can hire and deploy mercenaries galore!"