The Wild Colt
Tollin stared at the beggar child before him, making no effort to hide his discomfort. He had never cared much for street urchins to begin with. They were filthy, lied without a second thought, and lacked any semblance of manners. He was hardly in a position where he needed to force himself to like such uncultured brats. Moreover, the fact that the Duke of Fides had risked his life to protect creatures like this only fueled his resentment. And then there was that hand! Tollin sighed, glaring disapprovingly at the Young Duke's hand as it casually patted Seya's grimy shoulder. What if he catches some disease? Tollin prayed fervently that the black grime—a mixture of sweat, dust, and God knew what else—clinging to the boy would not harm the Young Duke's health. Finally, he parted his lips to speak.
"I assume you know why you've been brought here? You must be aware that children have been vanishing from the capital. If you know anything at all, you had better spit it out right now."
Seya flinched at his gruff tone. Tollin's voice, his gaze, his posture—every single thing about him was all too familiar. He was the textbook definition of the kind of noble a street child feared most. The boy's tension traveled straight up his shoulders, transmitting itself clearly to the Young Duke.
"Don't worry," the Young Duke said. "Tollin might seem a bit particular, but he only wants to help you."
"Particular...! Particular, Your Grace...!"
It was a joke meant to reference how Seya and Mir had called Tollin a "particular old man" during their last encounter, but to Tollin, it was a devastating blow. Nevertheless, the Young Duke's playful sacrifice worked wonders; the rigid tension in Seya's shoulders and face began to melt away. Seya stared for a moment at the clean hand still patting his shoulder before slowly speaking.
"...I don't know... exactly when it started. Just, one day, kids started disappearing. Mir... my friend, he said it started right around the time that building went up in the center of the capital..."
"Can you stake your life on those words?" Tollin reacted sharply to the implication that the Fides family might be involved.
"No, no! That's not what I mean... I mean, they give out free food there. Really generous portions... So a lot of kids went there to get a meal. But the kids who went never came back. Almost none of them..." Cowed by Tollin's intense aura, Seya spilled everything he knew in a rapid-fire rush.
If children really were disappearing, and if someone was using the Fides name to pull it off... even if the victims were just street urchins, it was bound to cause trouble. How many people in this empire would dare to use the Fides family so shamelessly for their own ends? A dark foreboding settled over Tollin, knitting his brow as he continued his interrogation.
"You seemed firmly convinced that being captured meant death. How can you be so sure the missing children are dead?"
At Tollin's question, the color drained from Seya's face.
"...Some kids came back. Just two of them..."
Tollin leaned forward at the mention of survivors, sensing a crucial lead. "There are those who returned alive? Did you find out who is behind this?"
"Alive... did they really come back alive?" Seya muttered blankly. What other states could describe a human life besides those two? You were either alive, or you were dead.
"They didn't seem alive. Neither of them could do anything. They were like dolls. Actually, they didn't even return on their own. We found them. They were dumped in the trash heap. Like scraps of garbage."
"What do you mean by that?"
Seya's hollow eyes sank low, as if drifting back into the memory.
"I brought one back, and Mir brought the other. We weren't super close, but we'd shared meals before. They had run off so excited to get free food... but then we found them dumped in the trash heap. Like broken junk."
The boy's clenched fists turned white.
"We tried to give them food, but they couldn't eat. We tried to give them water, but they couldn't drink. Then, about a week later... they suddenly started vomiting blood. It looked like every drop of blood in their bodies was pouring out. We tried to scoop it back in, but... Mir said it was useless. And then they just died."
Lost in the memory of those dead faces he had tried so hard to forget, Seya snapped back to reality when he felt something warm touch his cheek. The Young Duke's hand was gently wiping his face. Did I get something dirty on me? Seya hurriedly raised his own hand to wipe his cheek, only then realizing he was crying.
They had been exceptionally healthy, fast-footed kids. He had honestly believed that even if everyone else died, those two would manage to survive until adulthood. He knew it was wiser not to grow attached to anyone on the streets, but he had thought it was safe to be friends with them. Because they didn't seem like the type to die.
A sudden, burning lump rose in his throat, forcing Seya to hang his head. Once the dam broke, his emotions overwhelmed him completely. The Young Duke gently rubbed Seya's back as the boy sobbed. After quietly comforting him for a moment, Flin raised his head. The child's steady, resolute gaze locked onto Tollin.
"Tollin. Blockade that building immediately and send our men. Apprehend anyone who looks even remotely suspicious. Do not kill them."
At his firm command, Tollin nodded. Loyal to a fault, Tollin fully intended to carry out the order with everything he had. However, he kept to himself the quiet voice whispering from the depths of his heart—the voice telling him that it was already far too late, and that this would all be in vain.
Once his crying subsided, Seya began stuffing his mouth with the sweet desserts the Young Duke offered, his eyes so swollen he could barely open them. Seya was certain that even if his eyes had been perfectly fine, he wouldn't have had the slightest clue what he was eating. And he was right. The boy had no idea that the soft, sweet, and tangy treat melting on his tongue was lemon custard cream, nor did he know that the slightly sticky, soft, sweet pastry he shoved in next was a cake made of honey-soaked bread. But one thing was absolutely certain: at this very moment, he was incredibly, blissfully happy.
The Young Duke watched Seya devour the desserts with a somewhat ravenous appetite, observing him as if he were a fascinating new creature. Coming from a family of martial artists, Flin had seen plenty of big eaters, but he had never seen anyone inhale sweets with such pure, unadulterated joy and speed.
"There's plenty, so take your time. You can have as much as you want."
"My goodness, young master! Your generosity is as grand as your character!"
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Seya let his guard down and flashed a thumbs-up. However, realizing almost instantly who he was sitting in front of, he quickly and meekly lowered his thumb. But tucking his thumb back in only made it look like he was thrusting a fist at the Young Duke, prompting Seya to hastily drop his hand altogether. The sight was so comical that the Young Duke burst into laughter.
Seeing that the Young Duke wasn't offended in the slightest, Seya took courage and spoke up again.
"Um... young master, would it be alright if... I took this with me?"
The Young Duke stopped laughing and looked down at the plate the boy was timidly pointing to. It was a cake that hadn't been drizzled with honey yet. Since Seya had only taken a single bite before setting it down, Flin had assumed he didn't like it.
"Of course. I can have them make a fresh one for you if you'd like. It's meant to be eaten with honey, so if you want, I can tell them to soak it in plenty of honey beforehand."
It was a thoughtful offer meant for the sweet-toothed Seya, but the boy shook his head vigorously.
"No, no! It's perfect just like that! I don't really like sweet things."
Only then did the Young Duke realize that the boy hadn't left the cake because he disliked it, nor was he trying to save it for himself.
"It seems your friend Mir doesn't care much for sweets."
Seya nodded.
"Yeah, that's what he says. But if it's soft and only mildly sweet like this, I think even he would really enjoy it..."
The Young Duke watched Seya in silence for a moment before turning to the maid serving the food.
"Have the kitchen prepare ten more of these for the boy to take with him. And pack plenty of honey as well."
Seya's eyes went wide at the offer of ten more of these incredibly expensive-looking treats.
"Uh, wait..."
"I'll make sure they pack the honey separately, so be sure to share it with Mir. I'm sure there are other children besides him, too."
Lacking the kind of pride that would make him refuse a free gift, Seya nodded cautiously. Then, casting a sneaky glance around, he buried his face back in the dessert before him and resumed inhaling it.
Watching him, the Young Duke felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. The storm of worries—his heavy conversation with Tollin, the Academy, the Tinas Ritual, and the threat of Prince Dito—suddenly felt like distant memories. It was incredibly bizarre.
Perhaps it was because the boy sitting before him was far kinder than he had expected. The Young Duke glanced at the cake still sitting untouched at the corner of the table, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
The Young Duke was well aware of what the world called street urchins. He hadn't been so isolated from high society that he didn't know nobles referred to them as "street trash." Yet, these were the very people his father had risked his life to protect. People had called his father a foolish madman. They called him a traitor to God, a lunatic, and a simpleton who had thrown his life away for mere garbage.
No matter how hard Tollin tried to shield the Young Duke from the world's malice, he couldn't stop the whispers that traveled on the wind. And it was true that those rumors had deeply wounded the young boy's heart.
Yet, this child before him—this boy labeled as "street trash"—knew how to weep for his unjustly killed friends, and possessed the humanity to think of his companion even when starving. During their last meeting, the boy had clearly shown a willingness to risk his own life for his friend. Wasn't that enough to make him a remarkably decent human being? Flin Feedus was deeply glad that Seya was this kind of person, and that the people his father had saved at the cost of his own life were worth saving.
"...Um, couldn't I just run instead? I'm actually really fast."
Seya pleaded with Tollin, his voice tinged with desperation. Tollin was hardly an easy person to make such requests to, but looking at Jack, who was grinning ear to ear and waving at him from inside the carriage, Seya felt he could endure any amount of discomfort to avoid riding with him. But Tollin was not the type to accommodate personal preferences. With a gentle nudge to Seya's back, he efficiently conveyed his message: *Stop talking nonsense and get in.*
Pushed forward helplessly by the gentle force, Seya stared in despair at Jack's gleeful face. So that hairy guy wasn't just some servant, but a noble knight? Recalling all the sheer, unmitigated rudeness he had displayed toward the man, Seya dragged his heavy limbs into the carriage. Carrying Seya's heavy heart, the carriage set off at a brisk pace.
"Well, well~ I assume we'll have a quiet ride this time? You didn't smuggle anything strange in with you again, did you?" Jack teased, glancing playfully at Seya's sleeves.
"N-no, sir! I must have lost my mind back then. I am truly sorry. I have committed a sin worthy of death." Seya bowed his head as low as possible, adopting an incredibly submissive posture as he poured out his apologies.
Seya might have been simple, but he was far from stupid. Just because he had met an exceptionally soft-hearted and peculiar noble like the Young Duke, he wasn't about to assume Jack would be the same. In fact, it was Jack who was caught off guard. He had only meant to tease the boy a little; he had absolutely no intention of crushing his spirit like this. The reaction Jack had anticipated was some cheeky remark about an old man holding a grudge, or at least some quiet, sullen grumbling—not this unprecedented, utterly subservient display.
"Hey, kid. Just act like you usually do... No, wait, not like you usually do. Just be about half as rude as you were before." Realizing he had almost made a grave error, Jack hastily corrected himself halfway.
Jack was dying inside. When he had volunteered to share a carriage with the boy, he had only wanted to tease him and see his sulky face. But seeing the kid huddled in the corner of the carriage, pale with terror, made Jack feel incredibly uncomfortable—almost to the point of heartache.
"Kid. I'm not angry at all. Seriously, you don't have to be so scared." At this fourth repetition of Jack's self-defense, Seya finally peeked up to look at him.
"...Is that true?" Jack's face lit up as Seya finally met his eyes. "Of course! If I wanted to punish you, I would have pulled rank from the very beginning."
Finding that logic reasonable, Seya stole another glance at Jack before slowly pulling himself out of the cramped corner. "I really am sorry about back then. I did it because I honestly thought I was going to die."
Jack narrowed his eyes at the response. "You little rascal, if you thought you were going to die, shouldn't you have behaved even better? You just didn't like me, did you?"
"...That's not it," Seya muttered sullenly, turning his gaze out the window. "...At first, I did it to save Gil and Jin. But after that, I just felt... weird."
"Weird how?" Jack asked.
"Because I thought you were on the same side as the people who killed my friends. You didn't seem like a bad person, so I couldn't understand why you would kill us like that. I kept thinking, if such a good person wants to hunt us down and kill us, are we really just trash...? So, I guess... I just wished you were a bad person instead."
Having rambled on, Seya couldn't bring himself to look at Jack and kept his eyes fixed outside. Jack fell silent, and no further words passed between them. The carriage drew closer and closer to the shantytown where Seya and the other children lived.
"If we go a bit further, there's an alley. You should stop there. The carriage won't fit any deeper inside," Seya said, scanning the passing scenery.
Jack, who had remained quiet all this time, finally spoke. "Hey, kid. What did you say your name was?"
"Seya." Though puzzled by the sudden question, Seya answered honestly.
"Alright, Seya. Listen carefully. You are quite—no, incredibly ill-mannered. You're easily one of the rudest brats I've ever met in my life."
"...So you're still mad after all. Look, I'd rather you just hit me a few times so we can call it even..."
"That's not it!" Jack quickly cut off Seya, who was making his proposal with a deadpan, serious face. "Do you know why I'm not holding it against you despite all that?"
At Jack's question, Seya rolled his eyes thoughtfully. "Because the young master ordered you not to?" Jack cleared his throat, caught off guard by the surprisingly sharp answer.
"Well, yes, the Young Duke did tell me not to punish you. But even without that order, I had no intention of scolding you, or hitting you... or anything like that." Unaccustomed to speaking kindly or giving compliments, Jack deliberately turned his gaze out the carriage window to hide his rising embarrassment.
"I like you. I like that you're faster than most, and I like that you've got guts. But most of all, I like your loyalty—how you're willing to risk your own neck for your comrades. Of course, you do need to fix that hot temper of yours that makes you act like a wild colt, but..."
Clack. Jack, who had been pushing past his embarrassment to finish his sentence, suddenly felt a gust of cold wind slap his cheek, accompanied by the sound of scraping wood. He whipped his head around. All that greeted him was an empty seat and a carriage door swinging wildly back and forth with the motion of the moving vehicle.
"He really is a wild colt! Stop the carriage, now!" Jack roared to the driver as he threw himself out of the moving carriage.