Chapter 291, Please Endure, Older Brother (2)

Translator: Hedge

Editor: Lizzz

 

He had left five of them for his older brother and gone for the two Warriors drawing on Zeon’s power. That much was certain. Up to that point, there had been two. He had killed one of them, so why were there still two?

 

[…No, it is just the one.]

 

There had definitely been two a moment ago, but looking again, there was only one. Which made sense. There had been two, and he had killed one, so there ought to be one left. That was correct. But then why had there been two. Strange.

 

*Blink.*

 

He blinked slowly, as though trying to wipe away the blurred grey at the edges of his vision. Only then did his focus return, and the Warrior who had appeared as two resolved, precisely, into one.

 

“Ah… so it was just one. I nearly frightened myself thinking the one I just killed had come back.”

 

[Thought there was another one like me.]

 

Kalian blinked again, just to be sure. One. Correct.

 

*Step step…* He struck the ground a few more times with his foot. He pressed his fingers around the grip of his sword several times, coaxing the sensation awake before it could fall asleep on him.

 

*Blink.*

 

In the distance, the silhouettes of five people exchanging blows were visible. He blinked a few more times, just in case. Since one of the five would be his little pea, that meant one fewer swordsman.

 

He could simply hold on and wait for Lord Hertz to arrive, fighting at a measured pace. Or he could even suggest that since they were practically on the same side, they should all watch the Third Prince die together in friendly fashion. However, apparently flexibility was something these men possessed in amounts too small to measure, and so they had inevitably gone and reduced the swordsmen by one.

 

“Going to be thoroughly marinated again.”

 

*Whoosh!*

 

He had barely begun to draw a short breath when the Warrior, whose breathing had settled, came at him. No time to exhale properly before he raised his sword.

 

*Clang!*

*Clash! Clang! Claaaang!*

 

The succession of metalwork sounds woke his ears.

 

He still had no sensation in his waist, but the pain in his heart kept rising steadily, gripping hold of the consciousness that had been flickering in and out. That was, at least, something to be grateful for.

 

He moved feet that could not quite tell whether they were pressing earth or shadow, dodging the Warrior’s charging blade. He stubbornly kept hold of his sword and thrust it toward the man.

 

Four caught at the shore. One before. And the one standing in front of him now. In short, there was a total of six Warriors of the Great Dunes sent by Zeon.

 

“Doesn’t seem like you were particularly close to the others. You stood there without blinking while nearly thirty of them died.”

 

He was curious, and also needed to push back the drowsiness, so he put the question out. The men had stood utterly still with the expressions of people watching a neighbour’s house burn down, right up until every swordsman was dead. How could one call that being on the same side?

 

“We were still strangers.”

 

He had not expected such an answer. But with their blades pressed against one another, straining, the Warrior replied in a low voice.

 

[Still strangers? Different allegiances. They had met recently, or for the first time today.]

 

Kalian only nodded. There was nothing further. Words were replaced by the sword, and the Warrior struck it hard from below.

 

*Claaang!*

 

Sparks flew. He quickly withdrew the blade and swung, and strands of hair, white threaded through with dark, fell to the ground. He had known for some time that the man had been appearing as two again; he had thought his aim was true, but it seemed to have gone wide.

 

*Gulp*

 

He swallowed down a clot of blood rising in his throat, the way one might swallow out of habit. A laugh rose.

 

[How weak.]

 

At this rate he would not be able to tease that impossibly delicate pea of a person for being fragile.

 

*Claaang! Clash!*

 

He knew that stopping meant dying. So he kept his feet moving, kept his arms swinging without pause. The Warrior opposite, of course, faced the same truth. But at least the man’s vision was not doubling a single enemy into two. That was the difference. So, Kalian moved faster, subtler, hunting for gaps.

 

*Thud.*

 

His brow furrowed of its own accord.

 

The sharp sensation that his heart sent, he simply could not, truly could not, grow accustomed to it. The sound of a heart at its limit beating dumbly rang in his ears like a hum.

 

*Thud!*

 

The sword that had been radiating a red light guttered and went out.

 

“Ha…”

 

He blinked.

 

He looked again at the distant silhouettes. Three opponents remained. His older brother had reduced them by one more.

 

At this rate, the pea would wilt entirely.

 

*Hmmm!*

 

He wrung out a sword as though squeezing it from a dry cloth. He blinked. He moved his feet. He swung his arm.

 

“A man who looked like he’d die on his own without any help, and yet here you are.”

 

He laughed instead of answering.

 

Because if someone were to say he does not die, the word that had been built into something like a conviction, uncertain from the start, might be denied. Proved a lie after all.

 

He pushed the Warrior’s sword away again. The blade vanished again. He conjured it again. Had he known it would come to this, he would not have struck so hard as to break the first one he killed. The sword was threatening to disappear again, so he gripped the edge of his heart and held on, smiling once more.

 

In a brief gap, he looked toward Plants again.

 

And he stopped smiling.

 

“Why, on earth.”

 

He could see the little pea.

 

Yes. He saw him. He had thought to blink and check, but instead he just looked. Because it was not doubled. It appeared clearly, as one person. So, he simply looked. He looked without being able to smile any further.

 

He saw the pea, thoroughly marinated, exactly as expected. Running toward him.

 

[Why?]

 

“Kalian.”

 

He called out.

 

The one who had decided to run with armed men, three of them, trailing off his back like ornaments, called out to him.

 

“…Catch.”

 

A sword flew. Kalian caught it.

 

[Ah.]

 

[This older brother of mine had truly gone mad.]

 

Doing something foolish again. Perhaps he had forgotten that the sword that splits in two was not meant for elegance. Perhaps he had convinced himself that his swordsmanship was enough to fight properly with half a blade. Perhaps he was not as clever as assumed.

 

He had truly gone mad.

 

He really had.

 

He kicked off the ground toward the Warrior. Gone, then appeared again. From behind the man. From in front. He drove the blade forward. He cornered him. Then the man doubled again, and he stabbed empty air instead of his throat.

 

[Damn it.]

 

*Clang!*

 

Nearby, Plants and the swordsmen, trading at one another’s lives. The sound of his older brother blocking. Now that he had learned to understand the short words, it seemed he had learned to understand the sound of steel catching steel too.

 

The sound that should have been ringing in his own ears was coming louder from that direction instead.

 

*Clash!*

 

Plants blocked again.

 

The next, he dodged. Or perhaps took the hit. He was not sure. Whether he had been badly cut. Or stabbed. He did not know. One sound disappeared. Plants had reduced another. That being the case, perhaps the wound was not severe. He did not know.

 

His heart twisted again. He did not know. How long could Plants hold with half a blade. That too he did not know.

 

*Claaang! Clash! Clang!*

 

As though only instinct remained, and the sword happened to be that shade of pale blue, he wrapped it in Aura and let killing intent bleed out. He swung the blade as though he might genuinely bare his claws, bare his teeth. Even then, his perfectly intact ears kept faithfully filtering for sounds from elsewhere rather than the clashing in front of him. A truly curious thing.

 

Plants’ attack was blocked. The next sound did not come. Why? He took his eyes off the Warrior and looked toward where the sound had been. The grey blade held in the grip of the man opposite. He could see it clearly.

 

He could see all of it.

 

What thought had been had, what had been set down, what thoroughly useless worrying was happening, he could see all of it.

 

“You…”

 

‘Don’t let your thoughts run ahead and lower the sword first.’

 

That was what he meant.

 

“You foolish pea.”

 

He ran.

 

The Warrior followed behind, swinging. Whether it caught his back, he did not know. Whether it hurt, he did not know. He ran. He swung the blade toward the hand gripping Sinnastar. He grabbed Plants’ shoulder. He moved him behind his back. The smell of blood thickened, falling in drops.

 

His back hurt.

 

[You fool. Forgetting everything he was taught. Damned thing, this enemy older brother of mine.]

 

“No.”

 

He had not died.

 

Then that was enough.

 

That much he could understand.

 

* * *

 

‘Wouldn’t it be frustrating to withdraw like this, Prince Plants?’

 

In one corner of a flower garden full of nameless red flowers, a Knight who introduced himself as ‘someone who couldn’t bear seeing the unfortunate circumstances of a neighbouring country’s Prince’ opened his mouth like this. Plants thought about stuffing all those flowers into that mouth, but held back once. He nodded his head as if to say continue, and the fellow went on.

 

‘Prince Kalian is the person who murdered Prince Plants’s mother.’

 

The road where Plants, having held his mother’s hand, lived on as though dead.

 

The road where he let go of his mother’s hand, where all others but himself lived.

 

But he was the one who had chosen the latter. The one who had murdered his mother was not Kalian but Sillike herself. She caused her own downfall. And in turn, Beurisen had discarded Sillike. He knew this. Kalian knew this. The man before him did not. It was an ignorant thing to say, and so he let it pass. Ignorance was not a sin, or so they say.

 

‘And moreover, everything you ever possessed has been seized from you, by that same person, has it not.’

 

[What had I possessed? For you to say I have lost anything at all. Had I even lost Beurisen?]

 

[He did once say, ‘even if everything around you is green, a pea is still pea-coloured.’]

 

His younger brother had been trying to shake Beurisen off him. Could that be called having something taken? That was wrong. If not that, then what else had been taken. The younger brother who had only ever whittled pieces of himself down to give away, there was nothing to identify as having been taken, nor anything he himself could think of as lost.

 

He had stopped himself twice. Anyone who only knew how to skim the surface, the sort of person to fit Beurisen, might well see it that way. Ignorance was not a sin. But tbe Beurisen-flavoured stupidity certainly was.

 

‘So. I will help you. With just a small favour in return, you may return to how things were before.’

 

He stopped himself three times.

 

‘Come outside the Royal Palace walls with us, whenever you are ready. We will clear the way for you.’

 

Plants had been about to extend one more moment of patience, a souvenir of coming to see the sea. He then remembered what his younger brother had told him. That if something was uncomfortable and unwanted, there was no particular need to endure it.

 

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

 

And so he decided to endure no longer.

 

And he moved.

 

Chase had been at the end of the plan. Kalian, who would not have cared in the least about attempts on his own life but would certainly have opposed Chase leaving the Royal Palace walls, had known that much. So he had said nothing. And so everything had gone wrong. Completely sideways.

 

He had thought to reduce the threat to Kalian’s life somewhat, and to verify the identities of the suspicious figures concealed among the Nobles and hand that list to Chase. The consequence of not enduring and taking action had spread to this. Had he known it would stretch this far, he would have stopped himself one more time. Or else, he would simply have spoken to Kalian before leaving.

 

“…Too late.”

 

Whatever the case, that was all in the past now.

 

The blue-haired mad Mage had arrived.

 

Plants looked briefly at the long slash along the back of the younger brother who had carved away all his own flesh to give away and was now prepared to carve his life too. He gave a silent nod. At the same moment the ice barrier shattered. The men moved.

 

Their target had never been Arsene. It had been Kalian from the start. After Kalian had shielded Plants and a swordsman died by Plants’ hand, they had begun targeting both without distinction, but Kalian remained the priority.

 

The swordsmen moved toward Kalian. The Warrior swung his blade toward Arsene.

 

A pale blue chill gathered in Arsene’s hand.

 

*Crack!*

*Shhhk! Shk!*

 

The Warrior’s feet froze in place, and simultaneously three Ice Spears flew toward the swordsmen.

 

*Crunch!*

 

Two swordsmen crumpled before they could reach Kalian, long thick columns of ice run through their bodies. The swordsman who had somehow dodged the Ice Spears received a long slash across the throat at nearly the same moment.

 

The swordsman did not even register that the pale blue sword had passed through his neck. He stopped where he stood. He looked at Kalian for a moment, then tried to turn his gaze toward Plants.

 

*Thud.*!

 

Or rather, he tried to.

 

Kalian, who had already kicked the man, who had not even noticed his own death, far away, took his sword in hand again.

 

The Warrior, who had stumbled when his feet froze, pressed down against the ground. The ice that had gripped him shattered into glittering fragments, and toward him fell four Ice Spears, pouring down like rain.

 

*Shhhk!*

*Clash clash clash!*

 

The Warrior’s sword moved quickly. He deflected every one of the Ice Spears that came shrieking at him, then swung at Arsene, and was blocked by an ice wall once more. The grating sound rang without mercy.

 

Arsene’s fingertips pointed at the Warrior again. Dozens of ice wedges flew toward the man. A frosted white energy swirled around him, trying to wrap itself around his body.

 

The man raised his sword. And at that moment, Kalian’s blade swung toward the Warrior’s heart. The Warrior, rather than scoff at the clearly slowed arc of Kalian’s sword, parried it with care.

 

*Claaang!*

*Clash! Clang!*

 

The Warrior broke free from the ice beneath him and stepped out of range, blocking Kalian’s blade and striking it upward. In the opening that created, a long Ice Spear came flying again, and that too was blocked.

 

*Clang! Clash! Clang!*

 

Kalian’s footing wavered once. The Warrior extended his blade. Kalian raised his sword. Plants stepped forward. Kalian moved to block him.

 

*Crackkk!*

 

A sound rang out, the kind one might hear from the Senu River frozen solid in the dead of winter. The sound of dense-packed ice swelling and spreading. That was Arsene.

 

The tip of the Warrior’s sword frosted over white. Like rain returning to a cracked and dried-out riverbed, the white chill of ice branched and spread in every direction, running down the length of the blade.

 

Arsene moved. The swordsman’s hand froze. Kalian moved. He extended his sword. The Warrior raised his arm. Two blades collided, trying to shatter one another, and a great sound erupted.

 

*Claaaang!*

 

That was where it began.

 

From that impact, cracks spread through the Warrior’s solid blade. Fractures ran through the strong sword built to carry Aura. Arsene did not stop. On and on and on, sending cold into the Warrior’s sword. Kalian swung again and struck down against the man’s blade.

 

*Shhhhing…!*

 

The blade that could not hold gave its final cry. It shattered. It scattered in all directions. Arsene moved quickly, wrapping Plants in a shield. Not Kalian. He knew it would only get in the way.

 

The Warrior took one step back. He picked up a sword lying nearby. He came again.

 

Kalian extended his hand.

 

Plants passed over the sword still in his grip. Kalian took it. He joined the two swords into one. This time it was Kalian who held the complete Sinnastar.

 

He held his breath. He kicked off the ground. He drove the sword forward. The man blocked, not paying attention as to what kind of blade he faced.

 

*…Crunch!*

 

The sword the Warrior had just picked up shattered. The sound of the Warrior’s sword, and beyond it, his heart, and within that his life, was extinguished. The Warrior’s body tilted and fell.

 

He breathed no more. Dead, killed.

 

No.

 

He had not killed. He had protected. This time.

 

That much, at least, he could understand.

 

* * *

 

Red flames rose.

 

It was Arsene’s fire, set to destroy the bodies of the attackers before Secritia’s knights arrived. He knew those bodies would have made excellent bargaining pieces, and yet he burned them all without a moment’s hesitation.

 

The reason, as always, was the same. If he left behind evidence that Kalian’s true abilities, and now Plants’ publicly presented abilities, differed considerably from reality, the fact that they had been the ones attacked might work in their favour for the moment, but not later.

 

—…Kalian must be badly injured. And Prince Plants, how are you?

 

— Alive. Both.

 

Plants looked briefly at the two or three bandages Arsene had handed him, turned over in his mind how they might be wrapped, and gave up. If he had the energy to wrap them, he would not have needed the blue-haired mad Mage’s support to get onto Estina’s saddle.

 

In any case, Chase asked nothing more about their condition.

 

They had both been together, and if one of them needed to contact Chase, it would have been Kalian. The fact that Plants had been the one to make contact instead, asking about Kalian’s state at that point would not have helped.

 

—Don’t come out.

 

—I know.

 

Plants and Kalian had, finally, had a proper conversation. Whether what they had, with Plants speaking, Kalian nodding once or twice before stopping, could be called a conversation was uncertain, but at least Plants had understood enough to know what Kalian had prepared before coming out. And so, Plants decided to abandon the plan he had originally conceived.

 

After a long silence, Chase spoke again.

 

— From where you are now, go the opposite direction. Cross through the forest and follow the eastern road, and you will find my mother’s villa. It is the best place for your father to catch wind of Kalian being hurt without the information being too precise, and for you both to withdraw from the eyes of the Nobles. Arianneu’s people manage it, so there is no need to worry about anything leaking. I will send the two Mages who went to Brigit Forest along with Kyrie once they return, so you would do better to go there for now.

 

— Sharp.

 

— Whose brother do you think I am. As if I wouldn’t know that much.

 

Plants smiled faintly.

 

— All right.

 

— I have things to do here. Contact me if anything comes up.

 

— Understood.

 

When the conversation with Chase was done, Plants slowly raised his head.

 

The smell of blood, which he had somehow forgotten, found him again. The dried bloodstains on his hands were something he noticed only now. He looked at them for a long moment, then turned to look at Kalian.

 

After the battle ended, Arsene, who in his urgency had attacked before even introducing himself, had gone to find things to do, and Kalian was standing rigidly against Raven with his eyes closed, saying nothing.

 

He knew the state Kalian was in. He was not even able to use the Mana needed to contact Chase. That sat poorly with Plants, and he was about to say something, when Kalian opened his eyes. He looked up quietly at Plants, sitting atop Estina.

 

The cape Allan had given as a gift, the sky-blue jacket and white trousers, the white shirt beneath, everything had lost its colour. The hair that had been a fresh green was soaked with blood. He had made no move to wipe the dried blood from his hands.

 

Kalian looked at Plants for a long time with an expression that said ‘I know exactly what you are thinking,’ then let out a short breath. And used his Mana.

 

“Clean”

 

The one who had not even been able to breathe Mana into his bracelet had used Magic.

 

When the perfectly able blue-haired mad Mage was still walking over, Kalian had wiped the blood away with his own hand.

 

“You.”

 

“No matter what you say.”

 

Kalian cut across Plants’ words.

 

Then, with a loose, soft smile, he raised his hand and pointed at Plants. And spoke.

 

“Pea.”

 

[Stop. Barking.]

 

*Thud.*!

 

And he passed out.

 

Again, he passed out. He had finished barking and then passed out. At this point it was reasonable to suspect he was doing it on purpose.

 

The blue-haired mad Mage, now close enough, bent quickly and caught Kalian, taking him up. Even in the dark, the trembling of the man’s shoulders, face hidden, was entirely visible.

 

“…Don’t laugh.”

 

“I will endeavour to try, Prince Plants.”

 

Plants stopped himself once. Then looked up at the sky.

 

Every star in it looked like a little pea, which was almost enough reason to stop looking, but he went on looking. He had been told not to bow his head, so he kept his eyes on the little peas scattered across the sky.

 

[Even stained with grass it would still be pea-coloured. My younger brother, who cannot tell a lie, said pea-coloured, then it must be right.]