The Knight Commander, Jerome Crowner (Part 3)
“Your Highness, I’m coming in.”
The moment I stepped out from the knights' compound, I headed straight for Edwin’s quarters. Sitting at his desk with Emilia settled warmly in his lap, the young prince was locked in an intense battle with a thick, leather-bound tome.
“What are you up to, Your Highness?”
“Oh, homework. Master told me I have to memorize every noble house in the empire by tomorrow.”
The sight of Edwin seated before his desk, earnestly mumbling his lessons under his breath, was a world away from the boy I had first encountered. Not much time had passed, yet somewhere along the way, he had grown considerably more composed—shedding the helpless frailty of an untended child.
“Do you only need to know their family names?”
“No. Their defining characteristics, their holdings, and their complete lineage trees, too.”
What? Is that old codger Sage trying to tutor him in sovereign statecraft? What practical use does this kid have for knowing every aristocratic bloodline in the empire?
It took several moments before Edwin finally peeled his eyes away from the parchment.
“By the way, where did you run off to? Catherine said you went outside the palace.”
“I just returned from meeting Duke Jerome Crowner.”
At my answer, Edwin’s jaw fell wide open. The quill clasped in his small fingers slipped free, clattering as it rolled across the mahogany desk.
“Y-You met Sir Jerome?”
“Yes.”
“You really met Sir Jerome?! Where? How? What did he say? Did my name come up? Did you talk about me?!”
What was with this reaction? Don't tell me he actually idolized that man? Never had I seen the boy’s eyes sparkle with such breathless adoration.
I’m starting to feel a little irritated.
Jerome Crowner was the last person on this continent I ever wanted to deal with. Did Edwin have any idea whose sake had dragged me into trading barbs with that walking mountain of muscle in the first place?
“…Do you admire Sir Jerome that much, Your Highness?”
“Huh? Of course I do!” Edwin declared, thrusting a tiny fist into the air. “He’s amazing! He’s the strongest knight in the whole empire!”
Amazing? That meathead brute? It was completely beyond my comprehension.
“Is that your only reason?”
“Well, and… he’s my savior. Actually, he saved all our lives!”
“Your savior?”
“When I was little, Sir Crowner rescued us.”
Roughly four years ago, during the heat of summer, a horde of barbarian raiders had ambushed the imperial procession on its way to the summer villa. Relegated to the very tail end of the carriage train, Edwin’s entourage had been left utterly exposed.
“I truly thought I was going to die. There wasn't a single person protecting our carriage.”
“What were the escort knights doing?”
“The imperial knights had all rushed ahead to defend Father and my older brothers.”
The slaughter had escalated with terrifying speed. In a desperate bid for survival, Emma had clutched infant Emilia tightly against her bosom, seized young Edwin’s hand with the other, and bolted from the carriage into the fray. But luck was not on their side, and they ran headlong into an enemy marauder.
“He was a giant warrior with a massive, cross-shaped scar carved across his face.”
Tucked beneath the sheltering embrace of the nanny who sought to shield him with her own flesh, Edwin had shut his eyes before the barbarian’s descending greataxe.
“And right then, Sir Jerome appeared out of nowhere and cut him down with a single stroke.”
The only man who had turned back to save the neglected Third Prince was none other than the empire’s paramount blade, Duke Jerome Crowner.
“So, to me, Sir Jerome has always been a hero. But we were separated before I could even say thank you…”
A hero, is it?
My eyelids lowered into a narrow, sardonic slit.
“…Some people bleed like dogs only to be branded butchers, while others get hailed as shining heroes. At the end of the day, the blood on their hands is the exact same color.”
Hearing my muttering under my breath, Edwin blinked round, curious eyes.
“Eh? What did you say?”
“Nothing, Your Highness. It was nothing.”
Smoothing my features into an unbothered mask, I offered an easy pivot. “I simply wasn't aware that Sir Jerome was your benefactor. Had I known, I would have treated him with a touch more courtesy.”
It was deeply regrettable that I had learned this so late. Truly, most unfortunate.
“Did… did something happen between you and Sir Jerome?”
“Not in the least.”
I gave a nonchalant shrug, though Edwin’s fingers began fidgeting with anxious uncertainty all the same.
“Then what did you two talk about?”
“Well, matters that will serve to Your Highness's distinct advantage.”
“My advantage?”
He tilted his head with a naive, innocent tilt that knew nothing of the world's cutthroat machinations. Placing a firm hand on his narrow shoulder, I curved my lips into a bright, immaculate smile.
“Your Highness, do you remember the promise I made to you? That I would ensure you had the power to choose whatever future you desired?”
Edwin nodded quietly.
“I intend to start fulfilling that promise today.”
At the words 'starting today,' the boy could only blink in stunned disbelief.
“And while we're at it, you will have the perfect chance to offer Sir Jerome your belated thanks in person.”
Despite the layered malice hidden within my pleasant grin, the sweet-tempered Third Prince simply stared back, thoroughly baffled as to what was in store for him.
“You marched straight into the Gloria Knights’ headquarters?!”
In a secluded, overgrown thicket on the palace perimeter stood a weather-beaten wooden cabin. It was the humble roost of the Third Prince’s Palace’s newest gardener.
“Have you lost your bleeding mind?!”
The gardener—who doubled as Edwin’s secret mentor—clamped both hands over his mouth in sheer horror.
“You’re completely insane, aren't you?!”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“That wasn't a compliment, you madwoman!”
Sage gaped at me before letting out a hollow, defeated gasp.
“…Crazy. Utterly deranged. Barging unannounced onto the Gloria Knights' training grounds wasn't enough, so you had to drop an unreasonable demand on Duke Crowner's lap to boot?!”
“I hardly consider it an unreasonable request. All I asked was for Prince Edwin to tag along during their morning physical drills.”
“Girl, do you take Jerome Crowner for an ordinary man?! What if he had sniffed out your true identity? What then?!”
“He didn't notice a thing, so where is the problem?”
Sage stared blankly at my nonchalance, completely at a loss for words.
“…Ha. It really is Kyla. It’s truly you. This reckless, insolent madness—it’s Kyla Angel down to the marrow.”
“I believe I explicitly told you that name is forbidden.”
“Does a damn name matter right now?!”
Sage propped his chin on his clasped, trembling hands, his wrinkled brow furrowing deep with dread.
“Do you have any earthly idea how to weather the fallout from this?”
“What fallout is there to weather? I merely asked to slip him into their conditioning circuit.”
“Why pull a stunt like that in the first place?! And why on earth did it have to be the Gloria Knights?!”
“Because the Gloria Knights are the most prestigious in the empire, aren't they?”
“That's what I'm asking! Why the hell did you have to aim for the most prominent order in the land?!”
Sage brought his scrawny, branch-like arm down onto the wooden table with a loud crack.
“Word that the Third Prince's nanny called upon the Gloria Knights has unquestionably reached the Second Imperial Consort’s ears by now! Are you aware that woman harbors a vicious grudge after her bid to secure Duke Crowner as her son's swordsmanship master fell flat on its face?!”
“Ah. Yes, I've heard.”
“What?! You knew that, and you're sitting there looking like you haven't a care in the world?!”
“Why shouldn't I be calm?”
“Do you truly not comprehend what kind of viper Consort Helena is?! She won't sit idly by! She could send assassins into this palace this very night!”
Tugging frantically at his wild hair, Sage wailed in despair.
“If that happens, my presence here will be dragged into the light! I refuse to die before I’ve even accomplished anything!”
And here he was claiming earlier that he could die with no regrets. Truly, no one in this world actually wished for death. Any mortal claiming they wanted to die was spouting a bald-faced lie.
Keeping those cold thoughts to myself, I spoke in a soothing murmur.
“Do not fret so much.”
“Stop telling me not to fret! You need to start fretting a little yourse—”
“Do you honestly believe the Second Consort is the only person who received word of my visit to the Gloria Knights?”
When I flashed a tranquil, calculated smirk, Sage’s expression contorted.
“Wait… don’t tell me…”
A hollow, sudden realization washed over the old sage’s face.
“Did you do this deliberately? To catch the Emperor’s attention?”
For a supposed Great Sage, he was agonizingly slow on the uptake.
Having finally deciphered my intent, Sage shook his head in absolute disbelief.
“Why would you court such madness? Are you genuinely intending to throw Edwin into the bloodbath for the throne?!”
“No. Not particularly.”
“If that isn't your goal, why go to such extreme lengths—!”
“I have no intention of entangling him in the war of succession. But by that same token, I have no intention of letting him sit helpless and do nothing.”
“Hah?”
“Didn't you tell me to build him a foundation?”
“I only meant—”
“Isn't that the exact reason you ordered His Highness to memorize the profiles and lineages of every noble house in the empire?”
Sage clamped his mouth shut. It seemed he had no counterargument left to offer.
“In any case, if I am to lay that groundwork, I had no alternative.” Shrugging my shoulders lightly, I continued, “A lowly servant like myself lacks the rank to request an imperial audience directly. Therefore, I must compel His Majesty to seek me out instead.”
Carvelius III, reigning Emperor of the Ventrum Empire.
If memory serves, he was never an ordinary man.
I quietly recalled the guild's confidential dossier on Carvelius III.
The Emperor bears two conflicting epithets across the continent.
A 'sagacious monarch' who ascended the throne at the youthful age of twenty to forge an unshakeable, sprawling empire.
Or a 'bloodstained patricide' who systematically slaughtered every single one of his half-siblings to seize the crown.
Naturally, he had been a client of immense renown within the underworld.
After all, the assassins who butchered the imperial bloodline back then were all dispatched from our guild.
Hence, the Emperor was yet another individual I would have preferred never to cross paths with again.
Yet if Edwin is to survive, imperial patronage is non-negotiable.
The explosive news that the Third Prince’s nanny had approached the supreme commander of the empire's finest order would inevitably reach the throne. Whether Duke Crowner petitioned the Emperor in person or some lurking spy snitched behind our backs made no difference.
Of course, just as Sage feared, the news was already buzzing in the ears of the Second Consort and the rest of the imperial court.
None of that matters.
The only variable of consequence was how the Emperor himself chose to interpret this move.
Would he extend a single opportunity to his long-abandoned youngest son?
Or would he cast him aside into the shadows once again?
If he ignored the boy solely because he believed him worthless, then we need only prove that assumption wrong.
Provided Edwin was given the stage to show his true mettle, the Emperor would have no choice but to look upon his Third Prince with brand-new eyes.