Chapter 185, My Sword (4)

Translator: Lizzz

Editor: Hedge

 

Rmain quietly removed his glasses and set them down before raising his head.

 

Those eyes, usually submerged like deep waters with imperceptible currents, carried a flood of words today. First angry, then irritated, brimming with annoyance before softening into regret. That kind of look.

 

To interpret: anger at why he had to listen to such words, irritation at being unable to refute them even after hearing them, annoyance at how long he would have to deal with this, and regret for the past time spent being friendly with such a fellow.

 

‘Having received news that spring might truly come to this Cyries that always awaits spring, how could I express in words this joy that makes my heart overflow…’

 

A letter filled with flowery phrases that didn’t suit him at all.

 

The elegant rewrite of ‘Quickly send down your third son who got engaged to my kid. I’m bored.’

 

He had been sending exactly one copy of that letter every day without changing a single word. It was clear he intended to keep sending them until he received a reply.

 

Since it was a letter sent by the Kingdom’s one and only Duke, Rmain couldn’t bring himself to burn it, tear it up, or even crumple it to his heart’s content. He folded it carefully again and handed it to Grand Chamberlain Raul, letting out a deep sigh.

 

Allan, sitting on the sofa a short distance away and watching with the fascination of someone observing a fight between Mages, spoke up.

 

“After using someone else’s child, it looks like you’ll end up sending your youngest son.”

 

After saying this with the expression of someone gauging how far a fire across the river might spread, he picked up an apricot from atop the tart. The apricots, stewed slowly with plenty of sugar, suited Allan’s taste perfectly.

 

In any case, Sleiman was probably criticizing Rmain’s attitude of selling off Dmirea’s precious name rather than truly intending to take Kalian as a son-in-law. Whether he knew or not that Rmain had already promised to provide Dmirea with appropriate compensation, Sleiman was, in his own way, toying with Rmain.

 

Even knowing it was a simple prank without other meaning, Rmain was properly troubled. No matter how well-intentioned these letters might be, wasn’t this a matter between the royal family and a ducal house? While Sleiman might not care, Rmain alone could neither lightly ignore these letters nor respond to them seriously without consideration.

 

“Come to think of it, sending the Third Prince wouldn’t be so bad either.”

 

He was suggesting sending Kalian to Siegfried.

 

Not long ago, Allan had arrived with a personnel roster, announcing plans to expand Valkan’s Mage ranks. And while at it, he’d requested a Knight’s title be granted to one of Kalian’s escort attendants.

 

Wasn’t it Rmain who had forged documents for Kyrie and Hina, whose identities couldn’t be confirmed, making them ‘Kyrie Bern’, a commoner from the Hwiteurin Territory? When that came to mind and he expressed concern about whether that attendant could be trusted enough to serve as Kalian’s Escort Knight, he was told not to worry because that person took better care of Kalian than Rmain did. So Rmain felt a bit depressed.

 

But now Allan was telling him to just send Kalian to Siegfried. It was obviously a joke, but Rmain, who had been feeling depressed, became a little irritated.

 

“This affair seems to be merely an entertaining spectacle for Count Manasil.”

 

Allan smiled slyly and picked up his fork again. After eating a few more apricots from atop the tart, he cleansed his palate with tea infused with lime and mint.

 

“Since it’s entertaining, I’m taking time from my busy schedule to watch.”

 

When else would he get to watch Rmain being tormented by Sleiman like this? All because he had acquiesced to and made a fait accompli of the engagement rumors between Kalian and Dmirea, claiming he would benefit from the gossip?

 

Watching Allan pick clean only the apricots from the tart while not losing a single verbal exchange, Rmain wondered who could possibly shut that mouth and let out a small sigh.

 

“Besides, if Prince Kalian were to go to Siegfried, wouldn’t that be welcome news for me? Duke Siegfried’s backyard would be several times more comfortable and safe than inheriting the paper throne Your Majesty currently occupies.”

 

When was it that he came to Cyries, declaring he’d grant Kalian the Crown Prince position? And now, suddenly, it was all fine? As if that weren’t enough, he was now proposing a royal wedding.

 

Just a short while ago, he’d been consumed with worry over the consequences of naming Kalian Crown Prince. And now? He was suggesting sending him off. Whether he was joking or serious was anyone’s guess.

 

Rmain sighed once more.

 

Seeing this, Allan ate the last apricot from the now-bare tart and said:

 

“Isn’t he the type who would quiet down if you just send a few bottles of alcohol? Don’t try to give detailed explanations as if you’re going to apologize.”

 

Allan finally offered proper advice.

 

‘Don’t explain anything, just send alcohol’. It also meant that Rmain should just stay quiet and let Sleiman interpret whatever meaning the alcohol might hold.

 

In any case, wouldn’t a royal marriage between the two be difficult to achieve even if it took a lifetime? Kalian wouldn’t give up the Crown Prince position to go to Siegfried, and that Dmirea wouldn’t give up her Ducal position to become Queen.

 

Rather than each side stepping forward to confirm such facts, it was better to just muddle through and each gain their own benefits. The parties involved had already agreed to proceed this way.

 

“In the future, even when the Nobles learn that Prince Kalian is essentially a penniless empty-handed person, you should maintain the current relationship appropriately so they don’t dare turn their heads away.”

 

Rmain was about to complain about why Dmirea’s father had to be someone like Sleiman, making him get swept up in such affairs, but he closed his mouth.

 

Anticipating what kind of harsh retort that Mage, who would never say anything wrong, might give upon hearing such talk, he simply nodded without saying anything else.

 

* * *

 

Could it continue to be called a dream?

 

Or should it be called a past event? Or perhaps memories of another him who lived somewhere else?

 

Chase quietly opened his eyes, recalling things that were difficult even to name. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the curtains he had drawn before falling asleep.

 

During that time, he had been unable to sleep until dawn and barely opened his eyes after late morning had passed, but recently it wasn’t like that. Literally, his sleep had lengthened because he continued to dream. Without trying to force himself awake, he kept dreaming like that, taking in everything he saw and storing it all in his memory.

 

Soon Chase carefully sat up, being mindful not to make any other sounds. Then he opened his mouth in a very small voice.

 

“I dreamed of something unexpected.”

 

He had wanted to dream a little more detail about what Kalian had requested, but perhaps because the dream was long, he ended up recalling new memories he hadn’t expected alongside it.

 

Therefore, Chase, having made a sound too small to be heard outside, turned his eyes toward the door visible in the distance.

 

Taillan Kastrin.

 

Currently Chase’s Master and Escort Knight. And in the past, Bern’s Master and Debeullan’s Escort Knight. He was the continent’s strongest Sword Master.

 

Since he had been told never to disturb him while sleeping, Knight Taillan would continue guarding outside until he heard sounds of movement from inside Chase’s room. So Chase had quietly sat up, trying not to let Taillan notice he had awakened.

 

He didn’t want to show Taillan the confusion that filled his violet eyes as he sat leaning against the headboard.

 

Once more, a small voice flowed out.

 

“Is it real, or just an imagination?”

 

There was something Chase occasionally questioned.

 

He wondered whether what he saw in dreams was really only facts that had occurred, or if perhaps Chase’s imagination was mixed in.

 

Some things were too harsh to believe as real, making him want to think of them as mere imagination, while others were such good memories that he hoped they were real rather than dismissing them as simple imagination.

 

Generally, the content about Bern was like that.

 

It was too harsh to believe as real, yet too happy and filled with good memories to dismiss as imagination. Therefore, every time he dreamed about Bern, he would feel like hoping some things were imagination while wanting other things to be real.

 

But today was a little different.

 

Even though it wasn’t contents about Bern, he had dreamed something that was harsh to believe as real while also being somewhat fortunate.

 

[Bern.]

 

Chase, who couldn’t even voice it aloud and only opened his mouth to put that name on his lips, continued his soliloquy.

 

“…So you weren’t the only one who lived hiding something.”

 

[That I too had something I didn’t tell you. That I too had one fact I didn’t know about until now.]

 

Reflecting on one hidden story he had only learned today, Chase smiled soundlessly.

 

After that, he moved his head to stare for a long while at the thin silver bracelet on his wrist. He felt like it might smell of coffee, or perhaps mint. He also felt like there was the smell of thick ocean brine, or perhaps the fishy smell of something else.

 

Fearing that if he continued to immerse himself in that memory, he would end up drowning deep in the ocean like he sometimes did in his dreams and lose his breath, Chase opened his mouth as if coughing up blocked breath.

 

“Lord Kastrin.”

 

Immediately the door opened and tall Taillan entered the room. Even though he had tried not to make a sound, Taillan had noticed he had gotten up. It was quite a quick response. Standing at the foot of the bed and briefly examining Chase’s complexion, Taillan asked with a worried face.

 

“Did you have another nightmare?”

 

His expression was full of concern about whether Chase had started dreaming again when things had seemed a bit better recently.

 

Every time he heard the word nightmare, Chase had always corrected by saying ‘It wasn’t a nightmare’. But today, Chase didn’t offer such an explanation and just stared into Taillan’s eyes for a long while.

 

He did not know how much time had passed. Chase kept looking at Taillan like that, then spoke in a low voice.

 

“Lord Kastrin.”

 

Like this, he called Taillan once more.

 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

Instead of asking what was wrong, Taillan quietly answered.

 

And once more, silence came.

 

Still sitting on the bed, with confused eyes, having just awakened to a dream-like truth.

 

“Are you my sword? Or my father’s sword?”

 

He asked this question.

 

Had Chase ever called Debeullan ‘father’ before?

 

Taillan briefly set aside the question that arose like a flash at the unfamiliar title and bowed his head. Then he delivered his answer with eyes that, unlike Chase’s, didn’t waver at all.

 

“In the past I was His Majesty’s sword, but now I am Your Highness’s sword.”

 

Words meaning that while he was simply an escort to Debeullan, he would be different to Chase. At Taillan’s honest words that he had changed his object of loyalty himself, Chase smiled slightly.

 

He didn’t smile because he doubted whether to trust a Knight who had changed Masters once. He smiled because the word ‘past’ that Taillan mentioned sounded a little different to Chase.

 

“In the past, you were ultimately my sword too.”

 

Having said words that Taillan could not fully understand, Chase looked into Taillan’s eyes and spoke.

 

“It seems I’ll have to stay here one more day.”

 

At the words asking to delay the journey to Secritia by just one day, Taillan looked at Chase again with a worried expression. It was clear he wanted to ask if the nightmare had been that severe.

 

Chase shook his head as if to say not to worry and smiled broadly as he spoke.

 

“I’m thinking of telling you a rather long story.”

 

An impossible truth.

 

A truth harder to believe than lies.

 

A truth more hellish than hell itself; he would tell this story now. ‘So this time too, live as my sword, not Debeullan’s. Please do that.’

 

It was a story told with that meaning.

 

* * *

 

Brothers were bound to resemble each other in the end.

 

Even though he had said there was no need to bring any more, the considerate head chef had once again brought out lamb mixed with bell peppers.

 

No matter how bad their relationship, brothers were still brothers.

 

“You’re both exactly the same.”

 

Looking at the one plate that hadn’t been touched at all despite all other dishes having been eaten, Ian grumbled as he spoke. For Ian, saying Kalian and Plants were the same was quite harsh words. Of course, it wasn’t appropriate for an attendant to say either, so Rerik’s face nearby turned pale, but Ian didn’t care. He was just looking at Kalian with an expression asking what on earth he was doing.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to smell it.”

 

Having been scolded by Ian more than once or twice, Kalian lightly responded and looked ahead with a grin. There sat the culprit, the green fellow who sat motionless like a blade of grass that had sprouted somewhere in the Royal Palace, just petting a cat.

 

Before long, after Ian and Rerik went outside, Kalian spoke.

 

“Count Aprin’s Knights came yesterday. Dmirea agreed to verify whether they’re trustworthy on my behalf. As I mentioned, they’ll all join Valkan before August ends. Before that, I’d like Kyrie to receive his Knight title and help with your work. Would that be alright?”

 

There wasn’t anything particularly worth opposing, and since he had already decided everything himself and was asking if it was okay, how could he say no? Therefore Plants just lightly nodded once.

 

“Healer too.”

 

And after saying this one phrase, he looked at Kalian.

 

Kalian looked back at Plants like that for a long while, then slightly furrowed his brow. He was at a loss for words seeing that face that said he was done talking.

 

“Don’t you have any thoughts of… lengthening your words a bit?”

 

His words were too short.

 

No matter how well Kalian understood what he meant, there were often times when his words were frustratingly short.

 

“Tansyll’s healer. Wouldn’t it be necessary for Hina? She doesn’t know anything.”

 

Though the healing methods were different, since healing was the same, he was suggesting whether they could ask a healer from Tansyll to teach Hina something before the number of people needing treatment increased further. Hina had healing power but didn’t necessarily have the knowledge to go with it.

 

He remembered hearing that Veronica was studying herbs with materials left by her father, Ronil. Come to think of it, Hina didn’t have such things. She didn’t even know how to properly bandage wounds.

 

But why was his Hina, who was kind and capable with nothing lacking anywhere, also ‘Hina’ to Plants? Kalian looked at Plants with eyes saying he wouldn’t let it pass if he put that precious name in his mouth one more time.

 

“You should go, brother.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

Since they would have to go through Randel to ask the healer about Hina, that was what he meant. When Kalian suggested that the person who brought up the topic should go up and make the request, Plants immediately said he didn’t want to and once again stopped moving like a blade of grass, looking out the window.

 

When Kalian, who ended up having to visit Randel once more, let out a quiet sigh.

 

— Prince Kalian.

 

A truly sunshine-like welcome voice resonated in his head.

 

— Arcus Tempus, I’ve remembered something.

 

And like this.

 

A grateful and apologetic story was conveyed to him.