Chapter 57 : Chapter 57
“Lord Sev—Lord Dan!”
Legra ran frantically toward the training grounds.
“Th-The castle...!”
Legra tried to deliver his news, but he fell silent the moment he saw Sevha and Duce.
Thud!
It was impossible to tell how many times he had fallen. Duce lay sprawled on the ground, caked in dirt.
“I’ve taught you for over a week, yet you show no progress. Shall we stop now?”
Provoked by Sevha, Duce used the sword in his hand to push himself up.
“Not yet...”
Jaw set, Duce lowered his already stooped frame even further… like a beast before it pounces.
The instant Duce’s center of gravity began to shift forward, Sevha said, “Your body can’t react quickly. I told you to take your stance perfectly from the start.”
He flicked a small stone, striking Duce on the forehead. Duce immediately lost his balance and pitched forward.
Sevha watched him groan on the ground before turning to Legra.
“Go on.”
Legra gathered his wits and delivered the news. “A messenger has arrived from the capital. The witch is dealing with him, but he insists on seeing you and His Highness Duce.”
“The capital?”
A knot of apprehension tightened in Sevha’s gut. He said to Duce, “I’ll go on ahead. Wipe off the dirt and follow me.”
But Duce did not answer. When Sevha looked at him, he was trembling like a scolded child.
“Duce?”
Duce flinched as if startled, then forced a brittle smile that was anything but fine.
***
Creeak...
Sevha opened the door to the Lord’s Hall and entered with Legra.
So, that’s them.
Directly before the lord’s seat stood a man who resembled a weasel, along with others Sevha had never seen before. To their left and right stood Teresse, Eshu, Baren, and Tataka, their stances watchful.
Sevha walked past the weasel-like man and sat in the lord’s seat. Legra took his place at his side.
“Well?” Sevha asked.
The man answered without so much as a greeting.
“Are you the brothel bastard, Dan le Blanc?”
Bastard of the brothel, young master of the pleasure district—these were nicknames Sevha himself had spread to hide his true identity.
So while he did not dislike them, they were not titles a messenger should utter in the Lord’s Hall.
“Well?” Sevha repeated.
The pressure in the room skyrocketed. The weasel-like man flinched.
“I—uh, I am Pashon, a knight and messenger for Milte Barsh, third son of the Lion King, conqueror of a domain vaster than any other.”
“Dan le Blanc, acting for the Marquis of Blanc.”
As soon as Sevha introduced himself, Pashon retorted as if he had been waiting for the opening.
“I was told the representative for the bedridden Marquis of Blanc was not you.”
The moment he heard those words, Sevha knew the name of one of the shadows lurking behind Pashon.
That damn Count. He just couldn’t give up.
Realizing there was no need for courtesy with the Count’s pawn, Sevha’s voice turned icy. “I don’t know who told you that, but it’s nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
“Ask anyone in Rasseu. No, in all of Blanc. They will tell you that I act for my grandfather.”
The implication, that all of Blanc was on his side, withered Pashon’s confidence.
Just then, the door opened and Duce entered with the Knight of Ornament. Color immediately returned to Pashon’s face.
He regained his nerve the moment he saw Duce.
As if on cue, Pashon greeted the prince. “Duce Barsh. I am Pashon, a knight of Prince Milte.”
Duce’s expression stiffened at the mention of his younger brother’s knight. Pashon’s face brightened even more.
“Excellent. Now that everyone is here, I will deliver Prince Milte’s message.”
Pashon unfurled a scroll and cried, “I, Milte Barsh, have secured testimony that the sealing of the Great Underground Road was not due to a collapse! Therefore, I shall dispatch a representative to investigate the truth!”
Those who did not know the truth behind the sealing were shocked. Those who did know furrowed their brows, unable to guess the prince’s angle.
The Blanc family had kept the true reason for sealing the Great Underground Road, the undead, a secret. But they had done so on the orders of the royal family, who wanted to avoid interference from the Papal See.
I don’t know what that bastard Count offered the third prince, Milte-whatever-his-name-is, but are they planning to shift their own responsibility onto the Blanc family?
Sevha remained silent, guessing at their intentions.
Pashon, mistaking his silence for shock, shouted triumphantly, “Now, bastard! Let us go to the Iron Shield Fortress! I will open the Great Underground Road myself and investigate!”
Even Sevha could not hide his surprise at that.
“Open it? Are you in—”
“What is it?”
Sevha was now certain that Pashon, and perhaps the third prince who sent him, did not know the real reason the Road was sealed. No one who knew the truth would suggest unsealing it and turning the surface world into a hell.
The Count didn’t tell him the whole truth because... Sevha thought for a moment, then understood. He wants to make me the suspect.
Unsealing the Great Underground Road was something that must not be done, not now. And so, knowing this would cast him under suspicion, Sevha had no choice.
“I refuse.”
Pashon took the bait at once. “So you did file a false report! This is treason! Treason against the royal family!”
As Pashon grew more insolent, Teresse spoke up. “He means we refuse to cooperate with the investigation for now.”
“What?”
“How are we to know if you are truly a messenger of the royal family?”
“Look at the seal imprinted here!”
“We will send a man to the capital to confirm that the seal is genuine. We will assist the investigation after that.”
As Teresse tried to buy time, a flustered Pashon screeched, “Insolence! A bastard, a wench, an orphan, and non-humans gather to doubt me! I am the seventeenth descendant of the one who tended the Knight King Barsh’s very own steed...!”
As Pashon insulted everyone in the hall and began reciting his lineage, Sevha seriously considered another option.
Should I just kill him?
It was common for messengers to disappear. He calculated how long it would take to beat them all to death with his axe.
Just then, Pashon stopped reciting his pedigree and turned his head toward Duce.
“Duce Barsh! Tell these insolent creatures. You know who I am, do you not?”
“While many carry on the Knight King’s will,” Duce began, trying to feign ignorance, “this unworthy one is no knight and does not know their names...”
Pashon smirked. Are you sure about that?
“Prince Milte misses your performances.”
Duce began to tremble, then answered in a small voice, “I know him.”
Pashon looked at Sevha as if to say, There, satisfied?
Teresse thought for a moment, then said, “In that case, Prince Duce shall oversee the investigation.”
“What did you say?”
“Prince Duce is His Majesty’s eldest son. There is no one more suitable to confirm the Blanc family’s loyalty to the royal family.”
Pashon searched for a way to refute her justification but, in the end, could find none. “Fine! But to ensure the fairness of the investigation, we will protect Duce Barsh’s person!”
“The prince’s protection is our...!” the Knight of Ornament tried to object.
But Pashon ignored him, leaving the hall with his retinue.
Silence fell.
The corners of Duce’s mouth twitched in a way that was both a smile and a sob.
He said, “I know not what the truth may be, but the truth will always be revealed in time. I shall fulfill the mission given to me.”
“Prince Duce.”
“...I have nothing to say to you.”
Ignoring Sevha, Duce hurriedly left the hall with the Knight of Ornament.
Teresse sighed. “Hunter. If you agree, you could be branded a traitor.”
“If I refuse now, they’ll demand we open the Great Underground Road. Refusing then leads to the same outcome.”
Trapped, Sevha looked at Teresse.
She thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll use Hwin and Eshu’s connections to find out if the royal family is trying to shift all the blame onto us, or if the third prince is just acting out of ignorance.”
“You think that weasel will just sit quietly in the meantime?”
“I’ll do my best to obstruct the investigation. You should try to talk to Duce.”
“Duce...” Sevha recalled the prince’s bizarre expression, on the verge of tears yet smiling. It was like a clown, smiling through painted-on tears. And with that, he remembered the words his grandfather had spoken.
Tell the clown it is time to be born as a knight.
***
A house in the castle town of Rasseu. Sevha stood upon its roof. He looked out at the night sky and the empty streets and sighed.
“My body is already failing. What a miserable chore.”
After lamenting his state, Sevha turned his head. In the distance, he saw his objective: the large inn where Duce was staying.
After Pashon’s display of discourtesy, Duce had left the castle and taken up residence in an inn designated by the messenger. His protection was provided not by the knights led by the Knight of Ornament, but by the men Pashon had brought with him.
Every time I ask to meet, the only reply is that he’s unavailable...
Walking through the front door was not an option. And so, the method Sevha chose was to sneak in.
“She told me to rest. What is this?”
Forcing his body, which ached with every movement, Sevha leaped across the rooftops.
After a few such leaps, he landed on the roof of the inn. But strangely, he felt almost no presence near or inside it.
This is where a prince is staying, yet no one is on guard?
An uneasy feeling settled over him. Sevha dropped down to the terrace of the largest room. He glanced inside before slipping into the room.
“Duce. We need to talk.”
Duce was sitting alone. He was startled to see Sevha, but his eyes soon darted anxiously toward the door.
“I—I...”
“Duce.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
Sevha stared intently at Duce’s expression. It was one of pure terror.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Wh-What do you...”
“Find a mirror and look at yourself.”
As Sevha continued to press him, Duce covered his face with his hands and mumbled as if weeping, “You wouldn’t understand. I am but a clown, performing on a stage.”
Just then, new presences materialized throughout the inn—snake-like, as if crawling along the floor. Sevha knew at once they were not invited guests.
“Duce. Where are all the men who were guarding you?”
“What do you mean? They should be outside.”
Without his knowledge, the men guarding Duce had vanished. And now, the snakes had infiltrated.
Sensing a conspiracy, Sevha slipped back onto the terrace. Immediately after, the door burst open.
The man who entered wore a mask. Upon seeing Duce, he rested his sword on his shoulder and spoke with a sneer.
“Clown, oh clown, do your dance.”
Hearing the strange, theatrical line, Duce began to tremble. Then, he forced a clownish, rictus smile.
The man paused, as if he hadn’t actually expected him to do it, then cackled.
Watching from his hiding place, Sevha had a strange thought. It feels like an act.
He could feel malice from the man, but not killing intent.
This was a threat, then. A taunt.
He’s armed, Sevha thought. I’ll just kill him.
He hurled his handaxe. It buried itself in the man’s face.
Blood splattered onto Duce, who stared with a blank expression. Sevha walked to his side, pulled out the handaxe, and removed the mask.
“Not much face left to identify...”
Duce came to his senses and screamed, “What have you done! If they find out I resisted...”
He cut himself off, then muttered something strange. “This was... a trivial thing. Something I go through all the time.”
“All the time?” Sevha asked, even as the other presences drew closer. He handed Duce the sword that had fallen next to the corpse.
“We’ll talk later. For now, shall we see if you’ve learned what I taught you?”