Chapter 67 : Chapter 67
The noble lady stood tall, spear in hand. Sevha tensed as he looked at Charlotte, Duce’s wife.
This woman is formidable.
He could tell from her stance and her breathing alone. She was a master, not someone who had trained for a day or two.
As Sevha fell silent, studying her, she spoke with formal politeness.
“To receive a greeting and say nothing is a great discourtesy.”
At the sudden lecture, Sevha shot Duce a baffled look.
“Try to understand,” Duce said. “Charlotte has always placed great importance on etiquette.”
“Then why is a woman who values etiquette behaving this way in another man’s castle?”
“You’ve heard the rumor, haven’t you? That you spend your nights in revelry with countless young men and women? It seems she’s misunderstood, thinking you’ve lured me into joining these debaucheries.”
Feeling wronged, Sevha turned to Charlotte. “It’s a baseless rumor!”
Charlotte countered at once. “I saw soldiers training outside Rasseu. I met a man of the Tusk Tribe there named Tataka. He laughed and told me the rumors were true.”
“Tataka! That ugly shitter! He was lying! It was a joke!”
Faced with Sevha’s vehement denial, Charlotte seemed to consider it. “Indeed, the only evidence against you is the rumor and the word of this man, Tataka.”
“Finally, some reason!”
“Then there is no other way. I ask that you prove yourself, Frenzied Blanc.” Charlotte leveled her spear at Sevha and took a fighting stance. “With your martial prowess.”
Prove your sincerity through combat.
Sevha was so dumbfounded he let out a hollow laugh. “Your wife… she’s a lady in appearance only.”
Duce immediately explained. “The family of the Knight of the Lance has always been this way. They care only for honor and the skill required to defend it.”
“You’ve found yourself a fine wife.”
“I think so too.”
“That was sarcasm. Shut up.”
Charlotte remained unmoved as Sevha and Duce engaged in their little farce. Seeing that she had no intention of backing down, Sevha muttered that he had no choice and drew his handaxe.
“Dan le Blanc.”
The moment Sevha introduced himself, he closed the distance to Charlotte in a single burst of speed.
I have to get in close. Too close for her to use the spear.
It was a gamble to negate the spear’s reach.
But even as Sevha lunged, Charlotte showed no sign of panic, instead whipping the spear’s shaft around. The butt of the weapon shot up from below, forcing Sevha to leap back. The instant a gap opened between them, Charlotte thrust.
Sevha saw the spearhead coming and tried to dodge.
She really is strong.
The spear suddenly moved like a viper. Its reach extended, and the point he thought he had evaded now shot toward his face.
Sevha threw himself off-balance to avoid the strike. Charlotte followed with a continuous flurry of thrusts.
Sevha scrambled backward, dodging the spear and rolling across the floor.
When he quickly got to his feet, Charlotte had already reset her stance.
Her skill surpasses Tataka’s.
That meant Sevha would have to fight in earnest. But not wanting to turn this farce into a tragedy, he asked, “Isn’t this enough to convey my sincerity?”
“You are not fighting in earnest.”
Realizing Charlotte was not satisfied, Sevha sighed. “Sincerity, sincerity… the damn spiritualism of the Knight Kingdom. I have no idea what kind of sincerity you want, but fine. Let’s do this.”
Sevha held his breath and approached Charlotte, venturing into the deadly radius of her spear.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, she thrust.
As the spearpoint darted out, Sevha deflected it with his handaxe and took a step forward.
When Charlotte immediately swung the spear around, Sevha used his handaxe to guide the shaft away and took another step.
Advance.
With minimal movements, using his handaxe like a shield, Sevha advanced.
Charlotte’s barrage of attacks did not stop. But neither did Sevha’s advance.
Parry, one step.
Deflect, one step.
The moment Sevha planted his foot directly in front of Charlotte, she spun her spear in a full circle, creating a defensive whorl. This forced Sevha to give a little ground.
Charlotte then gripped the spear with one hand and drove into the space at his side.
A shift.
Sevha moved to match her, and their positions reversed. Both of their centers of gravity were thrown off, their stances broken.
Did she intentionally lead us to a point where both our stances would break?
As Sevha turned to face Charlotte, she said, “Now, I will see your sincerity.”
The spear slid back through her hand. She gripped the shaft firmly, holding it like a short spear, and prepared to thrust.
A close-range thrust that would be impossible to dodge from a broken stance.
Sevha knew he couldn’t evade the coming strike.
In that instant, the sound of light, quick steps descending the hall stairs behind him.
“Mother! What are you doing!”
Sevha’s eyes widened in shock at the feminine voice. Someone was behind him. If he dodged, the person behind him would be struck.
He abandoned all thought of evasion, spinning to shield the person with his own body.
And then…
“Ahh!”
Though Sevha and the person in his arms fell to the floor, the spearhead never reached him.
Sevha looked up hastily at Charlotte. She was gripping the spear tightly, her palm torn and bleeding from having halted the thrust.
“Your sincerity… I have seen it.” Charlotte planted her spear on the floor and bowed formally. “My apologies for doubting you.”
Baffled, Sevha looked down at the person he was holding.
Charlotte added, “And thank you for saving my daughter.”
The woman in his arms was young, perhaps his own age. She had Charlotte’s refined and proud bearing but also a hint of Duce’s clumsiness.
She looked at Sevha with a reddened face, then snapped open a fan and hid her face behind it.
“W-would you please let me go?”
When Sevha released her, she rose and straightened her posture. After a small cough, she snapped her fan shut and pointed it at Charlotte. “Mother! What in the world do you think you are doing?”
“Spearmanship is a lady’s accomplishment, my dear.”
“How is that a lady’s accomplishment? And Father! Are you just going to stand there and gawk?”
Duce started, then sidled cautiously over to his wife. “Charlotte. The rumor you heard was false.”
“Yes. It appears I was mistaken. I am sorry.”
“I’m sorry too! I haven’t been in touch…!”
Charlotte looked down at Duce’s rambling explanation, then smiled faintly and kissed him. “I am glad to see you are well.”
“Ch-Charlotte…”
Watching the couple’s shameless display of affection, Sevha yelped, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing in my castle!”
Though his sense of injustice erupted, Charlotte simply said, “I will explain later,” before turning to the matter at hand. “Leytia, you have not greeted the marquis. Your respects, now.”
Leytia, the woman Sevha had protected, immediately turned toward him and offered an elegant curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, Marquis. I am Leytia Barsh, eldest daughter of Duce Barsh.”
Duce and Charlotte watched Leytia’s curtsy, smiling with pride.
“This is my child I told you about. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She is my daughter. Is she not elegant?”
“You’re embarrassing me, Mother, Father.”
Sevha looked at the loving family, then covered his face with his hands. In a weary voice, he said, “All of you will follow me to the drawing room. Now.”
***
In the drawing room, Duce, Charlotte, and Leytia sat across from Sevha. The Knight of Ornament stood behind them.
As Teresse placed tea on the table, Sevha summarized the story he heard.
“So, you heard a rumor that I was luring Duce down the path of wickedness, and you came to rescue him?”
“My husband is easily led astray,” Charlotte said. “I could not simply dismiss it.”
The Knight of Ornament, uncharacteristically, joined the conversation. “Charlotte. I have told you many times, you are too quick to solve problems with force.”
“You’re one to talk. You could have at least sent a letter to let me know how my husband was faring.”
“Th-that is… I have been rather busy since arriving in Blanc.”
Sevha was surprised; he had never seen the Knight of Ornament speak at such length on a personal matter.
Noticing his surprise, Duce explained, “The three of us have been friends since childhood.”
Charlotte then returned to the matter at hand. “In truth, I did not come based on the rumor alone. I received a letter from the Knight of the Dagger, suggesting it would be wise to confirm it.”
The Knight of the Dagger.
Duce’s face tightened, his expression a mixture of understanding and anger. “You received a letter you could not refuse.”
When Sevha asked with his eyes what he meant, Duce sighed and answered with a reassuring firmness. “You need not concern yourself with it for now. It is nothing more than a prank… a warning.”
Seeing Duce’s resolve, Charlotte smiled with pleasure. “You have changed.”
“Charlotte. I only wish to be a husband you can be proud of.”
“Changed or not, you have always been a husband to be proud of.”
As the couple began another display of affection, Sevha gulped down his tea and spat, “Is there anything else? If not, take Duce and go home!”
Duce grew flustered. “Go home? Don’t say that. What are we? Are we not like brothers?”
“What? Since when are we brothers?”
“Have you forgotten our oath under the moon?”
“What oath!”
As Duce acted like a child who didn’t want to go home, Charlotte’s smile grew wider. “It seems the rumor about you seducing my husband was not entirely baseless.”
Sevha opened his mouth to object, then simply sighed, realizing nothing he said would change her mind. “Fine. You may stay in Blanc for a time.”
The family expressed their thanks and rose from their seats.
As they were about to leave, Charlotte said, “I had intended to tell only my husband, but you seem a trustworthy man, so I shall say it here.”
Her following words were shocking.
“The Third Prince has been killed. By the king’s hand.”
***
Jerom, capital of the Knight Kingdom Jershu. In a tavern, a minstrel was singing.
He who punished the one who killed his father.
He who quelled the rebellion of nobles.
He who strode across vast domains.
Praise him.
As we look up to our Lion King.
The tavern’s patrons listened as they drank, their conversations weaving through the melody.
“His Majesty’s birthday is soon, is it not?”
“The Knight of the Shield has long been absent from the festival, but with the changing of the guard, he will surely attend this time.”
“Indeed. It has been a long time since we’ve seen the spectacle of the Four Knights gathered in Jerom.”
And in Jerom’s royal palace, the Third Prince, Milte, and the Second Prince, Aleio, entered the King’s chamber.
The room was dark, save for a pool of light near a window. In a seat obscured by shadow, the King was reading a letter.
“Father.” Milte approached and knelt.
But the King did not even glance at him. “Marden… is dead. The Four Knights who rode into battle with me are all gone now, their lines all changed.”
At the mention of Marden, Milte cried out. “Father! Marden was a traitor! He filed false reports about the Great Underground Road and—!”
As Milte revealed Blanc’s secret, the King finally looked up from his letter. “I know. It was I who ordered Marden to do so.”
Only then did Milte understand why Aleio, who had received the same count’s letter, had remained silent.
Milte immediately dropped to both knees and begged for forgiveness.
“F-forgive me, Father! I was ignorant of your will and have acted foolishly!”
A moment of silence passed. The King rose from his seat.
“Marden. The Knight of the Shield. Of all my knights, he was the most knightly. He never ceased in his righteous counsel and never once wavered in his loyalty.”
As the King passed by the window, the object in his hand was briefly visible.
“And now a knight among knights has chosen death, all because of your foolishness.”
It was a sword.
“Fath—!”
Before Milte could say another word, the King brought the sword down on his shoulder. Blood erupted from the wound, and Milte began to shriek and thrash.
“Ah, Father! Father! I’m sorry! Please forgive me!”
“Do not dare call me father. One who is not a knight is no son of mine.”
The King struck Milte again and again. Though he possessed the skill to kill him in a single blow, he deliberately avoided vital spots. Covered in a ruin of slashes, Milte wept tears of blood as he screamed.
“Your Majesty…! Would you kill your own son…?”
At Milte’s final plea, the King burst out laughing. “I can always have another.”
When Milte realized his fate and his face twisted in despair, the King brought the sword down on his head. Milte collapsed to the floor with a wet slap.
The King drove his sword into the body and turned to Aleio.
“Aleio.”
Aleio immediately fell to his knees and bowed his head. “Yes, Father.”
“I have heard from the Dagger. The Clown has begun to show defiance, has he?”
“Shall he be punished?”
The King considered this, then answered. “Tell the Dagger to punish the Clown and to deliver a warning to the Knight of the Shield.”
“Yes, Father.”
The King nodded and walked toward the door, then stopped. “Aleio? Do you remember who the wife of that thing lying there is?”
“The eldest daughter of Marquis Santinu.”
“Ah… Santinu was an excellent knight.” In the darkness, the King licked his lips like a beast. “She will bear me an excellent knight.”
Understanding, Aleio trembled, then looked up and forced a smile. “All things in the Knight Kingdom are yours, O Master of Knights.”
As the King left the room, the sound of a different song drifted from far away.
He who quartered and killed his mother, his father’s murderer.
He who violated all the daughters and wives of the rebellious nobles.
He who buried alive all who crossed his path as he strode across the vast domains.
Be silent.
For our Tyrant is watching from above.
The king in that song was Barsh II. The mightiest conqueror on the continent and its most wicked tyrant.
The Lion King.