Those Who Remain (1)
"Look over there."
"Isn't that theFides family?"
"They're not a duchy anymore. They're just viscounts."
"Always preaching about integrity and loyalty, and look where it got them."
"What's going to happen to the young heir of Fides?"
"What can he even do now that his family is ruined? He'll probably just quietly slink off to some countryside estate and fade away."
"I heard the third son of that mad-dog Crysa family was dragged off by the Imperial Guard."
These were the whispers directed at the Fides family, whose status had been stripped down to a mere viscountcy overnight by imperial decree.
Rumors ran rampant: that the sole remaining heir of the Fides family was confined to a small, remote castle in the countryside; that Tollin Crysa had been dragged to the imperial palace to be tortured. All sorts of rumors filled the air.
These rumors were all the gossips had to chew on. After all, nothing had been officially disclosed—neither the reason for their punishment nor their current whereabouts.
As always, mockery disguised as concern filled the empty halls of the Fides Duchy.
Meanwhile, the subject of their idle chatter, Flin Feedus, was riding in a carriage heading toward a white, dome-shaped tower on the outskirts of the Capital. The only unusual thing was the company he kept inside the carriage.
"Um, Young Master. I still don't get it. Are you sure it's okay for us to tag along to a place as grand as this?" Seya muttered, his eyes glued to the ivory building visible through the window.
"I'm the one receiving help," Flin replied. "I have nowhere else to go. You two are the ones helping me, since I know nothing of the world."
Hearing this, Mir clicked his tongue inwardly and turned his head away.
A homeless noble heir fleeing with a couple of beggars. It was a ridiculous combination that wouldn't even make it into a cheap dime novel.
Many things had changed since that desperate night. The fire in the tower was officially ruled an accident, blamed on a priest who had carelessly knocked over a candle.
The Fides family was demoted to a viscountcy without any public explanation. The shelter project they had been running was shut down, and Duke Millio bought up the land and buildings for a song.
Thanks to Tollin's efforts, the children of the Shantytown managed to escape the Capital and scatter far away. They had survived, but everyone had been cast out of their respective worlds.
The Young Duke of Fides had fallen from the pillar that held up his sky, and the children who once hid in the shadows had left to find new ones.
Only Mir and Seya remained by the Young Duke's side. Mir had wanted to take Seya and run away with their friends, but he couldn't.
"Seya, do you feel sick anywhere?"
"Huh? Me?" Seya pointed at himself, looking thoroughly bewildered by Mir's question.
"Yeah, you. I mean, do you feel like throwing up or anything?"
"Well, I did overeat a bit earlier. But when have you ever seen me throw up from just that? I can eat rotten food and be perfectly fine, so why would a little extra... Wait. Come to think of it, didn't you ask me that yesterday too? And the day before? What gives? Did something actually happen to me?"
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Seya had lost his memories of that night. The Young Duke and Tollin had pulled Mir aside and told him that Seya had swallowed a terrible poison. They said that while he might seem fine now, it would slowly kill him.
They wouldn't tell him what the poison was or how it had happened. They only said that if Mir wanted to save Seya, they had to wait together.
Mir ground his teeth. The sheer lack of information made him incredibly anxious. It wasn't as if Mir himself fully understood what had transpired that night, either.
All he could recall were fragmented scenes: the acrid smoke and the smell of burning, the Young Duke screaming at them to run for the exit before they could even register what was happening, and the massive stone statue that immediately blocked the entrance, cutting off their escape.
Even when he tried to piece together these shattered memories, no one would help him. Whenever he asked what had happened, he was met with the same dismissive response: You don't need to know yet.
With so little information that he couldn't even tell if they were being used or helped, it was only natural that Mir's nerves were shot.
Screeech.
Flin frowned slightly at the grating sound of the cheap carriage grinding to a halt.
The coachman practically shooed the children out before driving off, the carriage squeaking noisily as it disappeared down the road.
Because the coachman had dumped them far from the actual entrance, they had to walk a considerable distance along the wall of the massive ivory building.
Their only luggage was a single bag each, so the walk wasn't physically taxing, but it did nothing to improve their mood.
As they neared the entrance, the Young Duke's expression grew increasingly rigid. He had looked forward to attending the Academy one day, but he had never imagined he would enter it like this.
Nor had he ever imagined that instead of being welcomed by a senior student or a teacher, he would be escorted inside by a thoroughly ill-tempered man.
The man standing at the main gate spotted the three approaching children and called out irritably.
"Are you Mir, Seya, and Kyle?"
"Yes, that is correct," Flin answered clearly.
"Hmph... Follow me."
The man swept his eyes over the three of them and led the way.
Flin followed closely behind, taking in the sight of the other children walking proudly through the main building and the inner gardens.
The place where the man eventually led Flin, Seya, and Mir was a five-story building situated a short distance away from the main campus.
"Hurry up." The man urged them on, showing no patience for them as they tried to examine the circular building.
Even as he walked, Mir kept his eyes fixed on the building's exterior. A strange sense of dissonance washed over him.
The color. It was slightly different from the other buildings. While the rest of the Academy's structures boasted a soft, uniform ivory hue, this particular building had noticeable dark patches painted here and there. Are the other buildings like this too if you look closely?
"We're here."
Before Mir could resolve his doubts, they arrived in front of a room with a worn, weathered door on the very top floor.
The man took a deep breath, then carefully raised his hand to the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Exactly three sharp raps.
"Come in."
A raspy, metallic voice drifted from inside. Though the tone was ostensibly polite, there was an undercurrent of sharp irritability to it.
Guessing that this voice was the reason the man was opening the door with such painstaking care to avoid making a sound, Mir glanced at the nameplate on the door.
Mia Iera
The man gestured urgently with his eyes, and the three children stepped into the room with tense faces.
The very first room they saw inside the Academy was... incredibly, unbelievably filthy.
Setting aside the clothes and empty glass bottles strewn everywhere, there were long, bizarre instruments of unknown purpose tangled together like a messy ball of yarn. It was impossible to even guess what they were used for.
In this spacious room cluttered with all kinds of junk, the only clean spot was the exact center. Mir figured that if one looked down from above, it would look like a single clear hole in the middle of a chaotic mess.
And in the center of that disaster zone stood a person. Or rather, something that resembled a person. With a black sack pulled over their head, they looked more like some bizarre creature than a human being, no matter how generously one spun it.
They had what seemed to be their face pressed flat against a large water tank in the center of the room, intently observing something inside. Mir narrowed his eyes, trying to get a closer look at whatever was squirming in the tank, but his view was blocked as the man stepped in front of them.
"Lady Mia Iera, these are the children who will be handling the chores starting today," the man said cautiously.
At his words, the figure called Mia slowly stood up straight.
"..."
Silence followed.
"We will be under your care starting today. It is a pleasure to meet you," the Young Duke spoke up first, attempting to be polite and break the awkward silence.
Fortunately, the black sack had eyeholes cut into it, allowing them to see where their host was looking. A pair of eyes swept over the Young Duke, who had spoken first, then Seya, and finally Mir.
Then, they spoke. At least, that was the assumption, given the raspy, metallic voice that emerged from beneath the sack.
"What are you standing around like idiots for? If you want to get paid, get to work."
The Young Duke looked utterly shocked by this complete lack of basic manners, but Mir and Seya actually felt more at ease. They were far more accustomed to this kind of treatment.
After all, what could be simpler and clearer than "work if you want to get paid"? As long as the employer didn't stiff them on the wages later, a blunt, straightforward order like this was much preferred.
"So, where do we start?"
At Mir's insolent question, the man who had guided them glared fiercely. However, no fists came flying. I guess even in a place like this, beating kids is forbidden since it's the Academy.
Thinking that their new environment was better than expected, Mir smirked.
"Are you blind? Look at the state of this room. Obviously, you start by cleaning. Keep your movements to a minimum so you don't disturb my work, and do it quietly."
With that, Mia spun around with a sharp huff and marched back to the center of the room. Watching her press her face against the water tank once more, Seya, Mir, and Flin all shared the exact same thought:
This month is going to be absolute hell.
The interior of the carriage heading toward the Imperial Palace felt strangely suffocating, as if the air required to breathe had been cut in half.
Unable to get used to the dizzying sensation no matter how many times he made this trip, Tollin opened the carriage window. His gaze was instantly drawn to a solitary castle standing far in the distance, isolated from the main palace.
The castle, exceptionally small compared to the surrounding structures, looked shabby, as if it were being maintained with only the bare minimum of effort.
"Was it always that run-down...?"
Muttering to himself, he recalled the master of that castle—a man who was, in his own unique way, completely out of his mind.
The Seventh Prince, Ran Abaran. He was as unpredictable as the unexpected goodwill he had shown.
When he had stared through Tollin with those sunken black eyes, there hadn't been a shred of hesitation in him. It was as if victory had already been decided.
—Hold out for a month. After that, a massive storm will brew both inside and outside Abaran. From then on, you can do what you do best, Tollin.
As if he even knows what I'm good at.
Tollin suppressed a chuckle as he pictured the prince's face—a man who was mad, yet so magnificently confident in his madness.
Even if it was sheer madness, even if it was a fight with no chance of winning, at least he wasn't alone anymore.
A single misstep would still mean death either way, but simply knowing he had a partner in this insanity gave him strength.
"My Lord Tollin, are you feeling unwell?"
Snapped out of his thoughts, Tollin looked at Pale, who was watching him with a worried expression, and offered a bitter smile.
"No, it's nothing. I've never felt better."
The carriage was drawing closer to the palace of the First Princess, Mentil Abaran.