Chapter 32 : Chapter 32
Rasseu Castle Hallway
The hallway was as dark as the deep night sky. Moonlight streamed through the windows, but it cast only faint pools upon the floor.
And Sevha stood in a shadow untouched by the light, lost in thought.
“Order the knights to live parentless. Tell the clown: be reborn a knight. Let the father… die a knight.”
The words the Marquis had spoken in a brief moment of lucidity. Sevha did not understand them.
But even without understanding, he knew they were the Marquis’s final wish.
If you have a wish, just say it plainly. Is everyone in this Knight Kingdom a poet?
He was a young man who, if asked about noble refinement, would ask what kind of animal it was and where he could hunt it.
And being that kind of man, he could only grumble inwardly.
Just then, the sound of a door opening echoed down the hall.
Creeak...
Footsteps followed, and Count Bernard walked toward Sevha.
But the Count passed by, completely oblivious to Sevha’s presence in the shadows.
A moment later, Prince Duce also approached, leaning on his cane.
Thud, tap, thud, tap... tap.
Unlike Count Bernard, however, Prince Duce stopped the moment he stepped into the shadow where Sevha was hidden.
He slowly turned his head.
Sevha’s eyes met the Prince’s.
Only then did the knights following Duce notice Sevha and place their hands on their hilts.
His instincts... they’re sharp.
Sevha was surprised by Duce’s perception, but he showed none of it, bowing his head.
Seeing this, Prince Duce spoke as if reciting a poem.
“Hiding in the darkness, unable to belong in the hall of knights... You must be a foreigner, like me. Let us exchange names, as fellow strangers.”
You don’t seem like a knight, so what are you?
Sevha lied. “I am Seha, squire to Sir Eshu, commander of the Blanc Knights.”
Duce, perhaps sensing Sevha was hiding something, replied in a regretful tone.
“To one foreigner, another is still just a foreigner. It is a pity I could not earn your trust, but I understand.”
Saying he understood why Sevha concealed things, Duce departed with his knights.
Afterward, Sevha heard familiar footsteps and stepped out of the shadows. Eshu and Piétang approached him.
Eshu said, “Young Master. It went as planned.”
“The jousting tournament will be held.”
Sevha looked at their weary faces and could imagine the debate that had taken place inside.
He asked, “Who opposed it?”
“The Prince. His speech is so peculiar, it’s hard to be certain, but he said it would be dishonorable to hold a tournament while the Marquis is ill.”
“But the Count argued strongly for it, so it was decided. He seems quite confident of his chances to win.”
“So? When is it?”
“One week from now.”
“Too soon...”
Sevha swallowed his words of doubt and nodded.
He bid farewell to Eshu and Piétang and walked down the hallway to Teresse’s pharmacy.
When Sevha entered, Teresse didn’t spare him a glance, her eyes fixed on the distiller.
Sevha asked, “So? Is the poison finished?”
“Curious? Care for a glass? Though you won’t need a full one.”
“You’ll drink it with me, won’t you?”
Teresse snorted at the jest.
“I appreciate this passionate plea to die together, but we aren’t that close, are we?”
Sevha snorted as well and, standing beside her, told her what had happened that day.
“What do you think my grandfather’s words meant?”
“The clown is the Prince, the knights are the Blanc Knights, and the father... well, I don’t know about that.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because I am a magus.”
Sevha sighed as if to say, here we go again.
Teresse stared at him. “Ignore the Marquis’s words for now. What’s important is the jousting tournament, isn’t it? Can you win?”
Sevha looked out the window.
The sky was black. The moon was a sliver of light.
“With a great deal of luck, I just might.”
It was an objective assessment. Even with practice, a horse and heavy armor were just cumbersome decorations to Sevha.
A jousting tournament, fighting while adorned with such things, was a chaotic world to him.
“When thrown into an unknown forest, you shouldn’t think of winning, but of surviving...”
“This is not that situation, Hunter. You must not be satisfied with survival. You must win.”
Sevha nodded. But since no way to win came to mind, he did not answer.
As he turned to leave, Teresse said abruptly, “I’ll help you. Just find the will to win.”
“How?”
A brief silence passed.
She answered curtly, “With magic.”
Sevha clicked his tongue at her persistence and opened the door.
He stepped out of the room and slammed it shut.
THUD!
***
Three days later, at evening.
Sevha, clad in heavy armor, was thrown from his ugly mount.
Lying on the ground of the training arena, Sevha stared blankly at the setting sun.
“I admit it,” he said. “My skill at falling from a horse is the best on the continent.”
Laughter followed immediately, and Eshu approached him. “Still, you are improving quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“If I had a son who rode as well as you do now, Young Master, I would tell him he might become a fine knight in five years.”
“So you’re saying this won’t be enough.”
Convinced that winning the tournament was impossible at this rate, Sevha got to his feet, his brow furrowed.
“Young Master. There is no other way but to keep practicing.”
“There is. There has to be. No forest is without its hidden paths.”
Just then, Sevha’s eyes darted aside.
In the distance, he saw the Prince and his knights.
Sevha cleared his throat.
Eshu glanced at the Prince and said loudly, “Thank you for assisting with my training! As expected of Squire Seha! Ha! Ha!”
The man so very convincing in his act.
Sevha sighed inwardly and hung his head. “Commander. Let us stop here for today.”
“Indeed! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Thinking he shouldn’t make Eshu lie anymore, Sevha led the horse into the stables.
As soon as he put the horse in its stall, it looked at him and snorted, as if in ridicule.
“What are you laughing at?”
The horse snorted again, as if to say the answer was obvious.
“You damn beast...” Sevha grumbled.
He asked the ugly horse bluntly, “Hey. Do you know a way for me to win this tournament?”
The horse turned away as if it couldn’t care less.
“Right. What kind of conversation can I have with an animal?”
Sevha took off his heavy armor and left the stables.
Outside, the training arena and Rasseu Castle beyond it came into view.
It was wider and larger than Anse Castle, but the sight was suffocating.
This place doesn’t suit me.
Fearing the feeling would worsen, Sevha did not return to the castle but went outside its walls.
The atmosphere of the castle town was similar to when he had first arrived, yet slightly different.
“A jousting tournament, they say?”
“Why hold a tournament now, of all times?”
“Maybe there’s a reason for it?”
“What reason?”
“Who knows? Maybe something good will happen for us.”
There was a mixture of confusion as to why a tournament was being held when the territory was in disarray, and a small hope born from that same confusion.
Sevha observed the mood of the Rasseu commoners as he entered the inn he had visited before.
“Welc—! Oh, it’s you.”
The innkeeper’s daughter, Mary, recalled the sight of Sevha slaughtering men and greeted him with a tense expression.
Her father, the innkeeper, however, greeted Sevha warmly as soon as he saw him.
“You’ve finally come!”
“Finally?”
“Yes! I’ve been wanting to treat my savior to a meal, but you suddenly disappeared. Where have you been?”
“Here and there.”
“Anyway, sit! Let me treat you to a meal.”
As Sevha sat at the bar, the innkeeper immediately began to cook.
Sevha watched him for a moment, then gauged the mood of the patrons behind him.
Like the commoners outside, they were also speculating about the jousting tournament.
Sevha asked, “How have things been lately?”
“Same as always,” the innkeeper said, continuing to cook. “The only difference is that people think something might happen at the tournament.”
“Do you want something to happen?”
“I’d like for the good old days to return.”
The innkeeper glanced back at Sevha and smiled.
“You might not know it, but there was a time when Blanc was one of the finest territories in the Knight Kingdom.”
“When the Great Underground Road was stable?”
“Yes. Those were good times. Good enough that we could just laugh off the trouble the Marquis’s daughter caused.”
Sevha froze at the mention of his mother.
“You... knew the Marquis’s daughter?”
“There probably isn’t a soul in Rasseu who hasn’t spoken with her. She was a tomboy who would ride out of the castle at all hours.”
Hearing stories of the mother whose face he could not recall, Sevha smiled faintly.
He remarked, “‘Marquis’s daughter’ and ‘tomboy’ don’t seem to fit together.”
“That’s because you didn’t know her.”
The innkeeper spoke of the days when Sevha’s mother lived in Rasseu.
“Her Ladyship found the castle suffocating, so she’d escape on horseback almost every day. The knights always gave chase. But still... not a single one could ever catch her.”
“She rode as well as a knight?”
“It was different from how a knight rides.”
The innkeeper placed a plate in front of Sevha and continued.
“When you watched the knights ride, you’d think of the open plains. But when you watched the lady ride, you’d think of a city.”
“What?”
“I’m no expert, so I don’t know how to describe it. In any case, the knights could never catch her once she left the castle.”
The innkeeper set a cup before Sevha and poured an unfamiliar drink.
“Anyway. Her Ladyship may have lacked nobility, but all the people of Rasseu loved her. She listened to us, she took our jokes... she saw us not as commoners or subjects, but as people.”
Hearing his mother praised, Sevha smiled unknowingly and took a sip of the drink.
Immediately, he felt a burning sensation in his throat and started coughing.
“Wh-What is this?”
The innkeeper chuckled. “A herbal drink.”
“Who drinks this?”
“People who want to wake up. Or people I want to mess with.”
As Sevha continued to cough, the innkeeper kept laughing, then paused.
He said, “You resemble her.”
“Who?”
“The Marquis’s daughter. She came into my shop once while hiding from the knights. She said she was thirsty and grabbed this very drink. The look on her face then was identical to yours now.”
The words “you resemble your mother” made Sevha recall something Edgar had once said.
It’s thanks to our mother that you were born with a body perfectly suited to be a Hunter.
As he remembered his lost family, a wistful look crossed Sevha’s face.
Then, like a fool waving his hands to grasp at something no longer there, he asked without thinking, “Do you really... think I resemble her?”
“I do. Seeing you makes me miss her more. I heard she passed away after marrying into Anse, and that when Anse fell, both of her sons also d—”
The innkeeper saw Sevha’s wistful expression.
Why would he ask such a question with such a look on his face?
The moment the question formed, the answer came to him.
His mouth fell slightly open.
Then, with the sudden respect the realization demanded, he said, “If you go to the east of the castle town, you will find traces left by her... Lady Carna. Perhaps you should visit.”
Sevha realized his foolish mistake and wondered how to salvage the situation.
But seeing the innkeeper’s nostalgic expression, he felt certain his secret was safe.
So he stopped worrying and simply nodded. “Alright.”
Sevha then ate in silence. He finished his meal and downed the rest of the awakening drink in one gulp, his face contorting just as his mother’s once had.
Then he rose from his seat.
As Sevha turned his back, the innkeeper bit his lip and said, quietly enough that the other patrons could not hear.
“Blanc... is in your hands, Young Master.”
Sevha was an outsider, connected to Blanc only by blood. A foreigner who understood neither horses, nor heavy armor, nor chivalry.
And so Sevha thought it was foolish for the innkeeper to place his hope for Blanc’s salvation on him.
So foolish that it bothered him.