A small barbershop, which was never particularly bustling, was unusually crowded. And knights, who clearly didn’t belong there, were guarding the entrance in full armor. Passersby, feeling the discordance of these heavily armed knights in the dead of night, had to take a detour rather than cross the alley where the barbershop was located. Those in haste who had no other choice but to cross that path did so with heads lowered in fear of catching the knights’ eyes.
“So, are you saying that I’ve mistakenly aggravated the situation over something that didn’t happen?”
A cramped room on the second floor of the barbershop felt as though it would burst at any moment, housing three knights, Count Johnstein, and Loyal.
‘I feel so small, not just in stature, but in spirit too.’
Latilda managed to summon a voice, even if it was a struggle, to speak to her father.
“Yes. Why do you refuse to believe me, yet swallow Dalmar and Anna’s words hook, line, and sinker? You believe what you want to believe. Those monsters weren’t from the Black Lion Knights. You don’t like Count Lumerier, but you know he’s not a fool. Would he send knights in black armor to attack me? If it were me, I would have sent knights carrying the Red Rose banner.”
“He’s a show-off, who couldn’t bear not showing himself. He would even glow in black armor just to break my spirit. And if you had really died at that spot, his strategy would have succeeded. I probably would have given up on the war and everything else, heartbroken.”
Her father responded, his voice tinged with belated concern.
“Do you know how worried I was when I heard you were attacked, my child?”
“It sounds more like you’re blaming me than worrying.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. You always push me into the role of the bad guy.”
Frustrated, he halted his pacing around the room and sat on a large chair. Despite it being made of metal, it groaned under the immense weight of his armor. He never took it off unless he was inside Denmoju castle.
“I won’t disregard Dalmar’s intuition.”
He turned to Dalmar standing beside him.
“Tell me again. Which group of knights attacked your squad and my daughter?”
Dalmar, with his head bandaged and arm fastened to a splint, looked pale, almost like a corpse.
“I…I’m sorry, but since Lady Latilda is so sure, I have to say that it may not have been the Black Lion Knights…”
Count Johnstein let out a snort of laughter.
“So, I have essentially declared war on the royal family based on your uncertain facts. That’s pretty much a declaration of war.”
Dalmar was frightened, his face almost tear-streaked.
Latilda intervened.
“It was your choice to make a near-declaration of war. Don’t blame it on Dalmar. Even if Dalmar was sure he saw Count Lumerier going crazy with a sword, you should have made the final judgement.”
“Oh, my wise daughter. If you were a bit older, I wouldn’t need to send you away for marriage. You could stand by my side as a general. So, do you want to tell the story of the black knights who attacked you?”
“You probably won’t believe it.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe my own daughter’s words?”
Her father rested his chin on his hand, waiting patiently for her to speak. Left with no choice, Latilda slowly described the incredible scene that he had refused to believe.
“They were such grotesque beings that I’d go as far as to say they weren’t human. Even if they were indeed the two elite members handpicked from the Black Lion Knights, would Dalmar’s escort squad have been defeated so easily? Even the Twelve Thorns currently protecting you, father, would probably not have withstood them. The Black Lion Knights? That’s ridiculous.”
The Red Rose Count chuckled dryly and winked at a knight standing behind him.
“Did you hear that, Linke? She claims there are knights in Camort who are better than you.”
The blonde knight standing quietly in the back spoke in a low tone.
“I apologize if this seems presumptuous, Miss Latilda. There is no one in the Kingdom of Camort who can defeat our twelve knights. If only two of us had been mixed among your guards, such a tragedy would not have happened against those two monstrous knights.”
‘How ridiculous!’
Latilda was about to shout but seeing the emotionless gaze of Linke, she closed her mouth. Linke, captain of the Rose Knights and leading the Twelve Thorns, had such a stern gaze that it was hard to look at for long. He had a strange charisma that could make his conversation partner retreat a few steps, without threatening or intimidating.
Latilda could speak confidently with her father, but she hesitated when speaking with Linke and the knights of the Twelve Thorns.
“Your bravery is well-known, Linke. You don’t need to say it like that. I am currently talking with my father, so please don’t interrupt.”
Latilda quickly turned her head and refocused her attention on the count.
“I think it’s a good opportunity, Father. You should apologize!”
“To whom? To the King?”
“No! To Count Lumerier.”
Her father sighed as if he couldn’t believe it. Latilda held her father’s hand.
“If you apologize first for such a big issue, he will have to accept it due to his own honor.”
“That bastard? Accept my apology? There’s no way!”
“No, he will. Or send me. I will go and apologize.”
“Are you crazy? Are you suggesting I throw you into the lion’s mouth?”
“Think about it the other way. If Regeni comes with an apology from Count Lumerier, would you cut him into four pieces and send her back in a box?”
“I’ve heard it all now from your mouth. Why would I cut up that stupid fellow? I’d feed him and send him back quietly.”
“Wouldn’t you rather increase the guards? Just in case he gets involved in an unfortunate accident and loses his life.”
Her father had no response.
“Count Lumerier will be the same. He will treat me much better than you treat Regeni. If you seize this opportunity and apologize first, your name will rise higher, and Count Lumerier, wanting to show his magnanimity, will have no choice but to accept your apology.”
Latilda found a crack in her father’s stubborn opinion.
“I’m a girl who knows nothing about the strategies of war. But I know that strategy isn’t just for the battlefield. Apologizing first doesn’t break your pride. No one will think that.”
“So what about the Black Knight who attacked you?”
Her father asked with a voice that had softened considerably.
Latilda felt that if she missed this opportunity, she would never be able to persuade her father, so she racked her brain desperately.
“It’s someone’s conspiracy. It could be a third party, possibly the action of another noble or another country. If the two noble houses with the greatest military power in this country fight, some power will benefit! Isn’t it a great operation if you think about it? They’re trying to exploit the fact that you love me.”
“It’s nice to hear such proactive talk from you, Latilda.”
Her father’s face was full of dissatisfaction, but in the end, he nodded his head.
“Fine, okay. If you wish so, I will send someone to ask Count Lumerier’s intentions and if possible, let’s try to resolve this through conversation. If, as you say, that Black Knight is not the work of Count Lumerier but a third party, it could even become another serious problem.”
Latilda was relieved.
“Thank you, Father. If you talk to him, you’ll find that Count Lumerier is not such a bad person.”
“That won’t change, my dear. That will never change, even if the sky cracks. As you said, this is a strategy.”
Her father rose from his creaking chair and spoke to Morton, the scared barber waiting outside.
“Hey, Morton. Is there any bread? I’m hungry.”
“We are preparing a feast for you, my lord.”
Morton responded awkwardly.
“What feast at this time? Just bread will do. It would be good if there’s some jam as well.”
“Ah, the place where I used to get jam has closed… I don’t know where to get it now…”
“You just have to bring what you usually eat. Haha, my friend Morton, you’re treating me like a total stranger now. Why are you bowing so much? There are exactly two people in Normant who don’t need to fear me. My daughter and you. Now go and get some bread. Grab the cheese you left over too.”
Morton descended to the lower floor with a still awkward smile.
“Hmm, it’s a shame to see a precious friend like that.”
“It’s clearly your fault, Father.”
Latilda pointed out.
“Did I change the way I treat Morton?”
“You at least didn’t visit wearing such armor.”
“Hmm.”
Her father sulked with an annoyed face.
A short while later, Morton returned with several slices of bread in an old wooden bowl. One of the knights took it from him.
“Shall I taste a piece first?”
The knight asked with a very serious face. Morton was startled. The Count took a piece of bread and spooned some strawberry jam on it.
“Are you trying to scare my old friend with such nonsense? It seems I’m making you too uncomfortable. Go down, Morton. We will leave early tomorrow morning.”
“P-Please, rest comfortably, Count.”
Morton bowed deeply in greeting and descended the stairs. The Count ate the bread thoughtfully and looked at Loyal, who had been quietly guarding Latilda’s back.
Loyal stared at the Count and the twelve Knights with unfocused eyes as much as Linke, doing nothing particularly conspicuous.
“Let’s talk about that friend who has been following you around. I couldn’t ask you in detail because the timing wasn’t right.”
Latilda gestured for Loyal to stand by her side.
“His name is Loyal. He’s the knight who helped me when I was trapped in the village. He stayed by my side in case something happened in this city. Loyal, say hello.”
Loyal slightly bowed his head and said,
“My name is Loyal. I’m a mercenary from Irophis.”
“Irophis?”
The Count scrutinized him with doubtful eyes.
“Who have you worked for as a mercenary? There are a few names I know in Irophis…”
“None. I actually worked in Carnelock. I tried to join the Dragon Knights, but I couldn’t even take the test because I wasn’t from a noble family.”
“The Dragon Knights of Carnelock are known to be tough. So you’re a wanderer.”
Latilda was about to point out her father’s harsh choice of words, but Loyal readily accepted them.
“That’s right. I plan to settle somewhere after working for another year or two.”
“It’s not easy to settle down as a former mercenary. Are you still living as a mercenary?”
Loyal rotated his pupils around once, then shook his head.
“I am not currently affiliated anywhere.”
“Good thing you’re a bad liar. You’re neither a mercenary nor a wanderer. If you don’t tell the truth, you could die here.”
The father warned nonchalantly, and the Rose Knights behind him put their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“Father!”
Latilda shouted. The Count extended his hand with a smile on his face.
“This is a conversation between him and me. It’s not your place to intervene.”
“No way!”
Latilda shouted.
“It’s okay, Latilda.”
Loyal reassured Latilda with a smile and then spoke to the Count.
“I apologize. You’re right, I lied.”
Loyal scratched the back of his head.
“But it’s a matter of timing. I am indeed a former mercenary and it is true that I was active in Carnelock. Just not now.”
“So what about now?”
The Count asked, taking another bite of bread.
“I can’t tell you. Ah, no, at least not to you, Count.”
Loyal stumbled over his words.
“Then who did you tell?”
“Obviously, um… what should I say? Oh, right. My employer! Besides my employer, I have no obligation to tell anyone about my affiliation. Don’t you think?”
“Latilda is my daughter. I have the right to know.”
“Do you own Latilda? If not, you have no rights, Count.”
Loyal spoke in an unbelievably innocent tone.
The Count burst out laughing.
“Then, I must discern your identity through Latilda.”
“That’s right.”
“And your level of skill?”
“That’s a tough question.”
“Try expressing it somehow.”
“I have enough ability to ensure no one lays a hand on Latilda while I am protecting her.”
“Quite confident. Are you aware of a knight named Bading in Normant?”
“I’ve encountered him a couple of times. He seems quite capable. But it doesn’t matter who I face. Defending and winning are very different matters.”
“How much do you want in return for protecting my daughter?”
“I’ve already discussed the remuneration with my current employer.”
The Count brushed the crumbs off his hands and crossed his arms.
“Isn’t it more advantageous to negotiate with me than my daughter?”
“The one who currently employs me is Latilda, not you, Count. So, if you wish to hire me, wait until Latilda dismisses me first.”
The Count chuckled softly and asked again.
“You don’t disclose your identity, and I don’t even know where you’re from… What would you do if I threw you out now?”
“I’d be expelled.”
Loyal looked at Latilda with a somewhat stupid expression.
“But only if those words came from Latilda.”
The Count clapped briefly.
“Latilda, you’ve picked up a very interesting fellow. I thought he was just after the power of my background, but he’s not. He’s still dangerous, though. He could be an assassin waiting to slit your throat while you sleep, or a spy lurking beside you to kill me. Still, if you don’t care, tell me, what do you intend to do with this fellow, Loyal?”
Latilda spoke without hesitation.
“I’ll use him as my bodyguard. I don’t need your permission for that.”
“You didn’t like the bodyguards I provided, I see. As Linke suggested, I can assign two of the Twelve Thorns to you if you wish.”
“I don’t need them. From now on, I will take personal responsibility for my own protection. If you suspect that Loyal is a spy watching the Red Rose’s army, then don’t let me near you.”
Latilda signaled that no further conversation was needed.
“Fine. But keep an eye on Loyal. Understand that. And I hope he’s as capable as he claims to protect you.”
“Even if you brought your most trusted knight, they wouldn’t be able to easily face him. After all, he’s a swordsman acknowledged by one of the White Wolves at the party.”
“Ah, really?”
The Count showed interest in her words.
‘I didn’t need to mention that.’
Looking at her father’s twinkling eyes, Latilda regretted her words.
“Linke, tell me a little about the White Wolves.”
Linke smiled faintly. Latilda was surprised as she had never seen him smile before.
“There was one face I recognized among the White Wolves. His name is Gerald Haran. A genius swordsman with whom I served as a mercenary. He nicknamed himself ‘Fire Mercenary’ because it made him laugh, but the enemies turned that into a name to fear, which surprised him.”
Latilda also remembered the name. It was the man who just kept eating at the party.
“I thought he died in the battlefield since I hadn’t seen him for a while, but he appears in an unexpected place with an unexpected status. Though we couldn’t exchange greetings due to the situation, I’m sure he recognized me as well. For mercenaries like us, that recognition is often enough.”
“And how was his skill?”
The Count asked.
“It was impressive. Haran was a great competitor for me. That’s all. He is certainly a swordsman to be reckoned with, but he is still human. If he received excellent guidance in the meantime, he would still stand up to me just as he did then.”
The Count smiled in satisfaction.
“Did you hear? They say they’re the greatest knights in history. But that’s the talk of the war heroes a decade ago, not the current members. If the five elite members of the Wolf Knights are so remarkable, what about the Twelve Thorns of the Rose Knights, who are the elites and on par with Linke?”
Her father warned her in a tone of admonishment.
“Don’t harbor illusions about them. Admit their reputation. That reputation alone can shatter the enemy’s morale. But whether that same power truly manifests in war, is not always the case.”
Latilda just listened, maintaining her disinterested gaze.
“Anyway, if you’re so determined, I won’t interfere with your security matters. And about Count Lumerier, let’s think for just one more day whether your way is really right.”
Latilda merely nodded, refraining from speaking further, worried that her finally persuaded father might change his mind over something insignificant.
☆ ☆ ☆
“What did you discuss with the king?”
Azwin abruptly questioned Kassel as he descended from the tower. While the king’s guards and attendants were still around, Kassel didn’t hesitate to speak.
“His Majesty’s first love story.”
Sheyden and Gerald were taken aback by the absurdity, but Azwin seemed to understand, nodding her head in recognition. The king’s guards were preoccupied with watching the White Wolves’ every move, waiting for the king to descend. They wanted to initiate conversation, but couldn’t muster the courage.
‘Wow, in the past, being a royal guard was considered an honor worth selling one’s pride for. Now, they’re fawning over me.’
To be selected as a royal guard, what kind of rigorous process would one have to undergo? An ordinary mercenary couldn’t even dream of such a position. It wouldn’t be a position earned solely based on ability. Whether it’s connections or exams, the process to pass must be complicated, and the amount of study required for royal etiquette or the duties of a guard must be extensive.
Kassel was increasingly uncomfortable standing there receiving their adoring gazes without any connections to this place. He could hardly believe he had just been exchanging trivial jokes face-to-face with the king of this country.
“His Majesty will be descending soon. I’ll go ahead.”
Kassel courteously informed the guards. They were again touched by such a famous figure showing them respect. All Kassel did was genuinely greet them out of respect.
They didn’t speak a word until they reached their lodgings, but once they all gathered in the room, Gerald suddenly spoke up.
“I recognized one of the guys the Red Rose Count brought in today.”
“What’s that out of the blue?”
Azwin attempted to rebuke him for the uninteresting story, but Gerald spoke up first.
“You know those dozen or so knights the count led into the party?”
“Exactly twelve. In red armor.”
Azwin specified.
“Did I ever tell you about the Woodra Knights? That organization was started by that guy. What was his name, Li… Lick? I can’t remember. Anyway, back then, he was the only one I couldn’t beat. Ah, I remember, it was Linke!”
“Ho, there was someone even the Fire Mercenary Gerald acknowledged?”
“I had plenty of competitors back in my mercenary days. You think I trained my sword skills alone? In my case, competing with him was quite helpful. That guy, if he had applied for the Wolf Knight’s test, he would have definitely passed the first round. With plenty to spare.”
Upon Gerald’s words, Kassel tensed up and asked.
“Are there twelve knights of that level?”
“Would such guys be that common? He’s probably the leader. Considering the guy I know, he wouldn’t be in that position unless he’s the captain. Anyway, if he didn’t slack off and gain a belly after we parted ways, he’d still be pretty good.”
Sheyden tapped his chin and spoke.
“Let’s talk about that later. Kassel, did you have an important discussion with the king?”
“There was no significant conversation. But if our intentions were communicated correctly, a royal conference will probably be convened tomorrow.”
At Kassel’s words, Azwin rocked back and forth in her chair and asked,
“So all we have to do is attend this conference and listen to whatever the King says? I still don’t understand why we’re in Camort.”
“It’s a vague problem. The Queen did not explicitly instruct us to do anything. There isn’t a clear enemy to draw our swords against.”
Sheyden agreed with Azwin and questioned Kassel.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow’s royal conference?”
“Do we really need one? We’ll likely just stand back and observe. Officially speaking, if any representative finds our presence at the meeting unwelcome, we’ll have no reason to be there. It’s difficult to expect King Charles to protect us. From our brief conversation, he seemed rather timid…”
“The Red Rose Count basically declared war. Even if it’s a war among counts excluding Normant, considering the power of the two, the royal family won’t be safe, hence it’s understandable for the King to be timid.”
Sheyden remarked.
“What role the White Wolves will play at the conference tomorrow depends on the conference contents, so I won’t decide now. But there is something that worries me more than the Red Rose Count. The Black Knights and assassins.”
Kassel tried to generate some suspense by speaking in a low tone, but the reaction was lukewarm.
Azwin changed the topic completely.
“Ah, by the way, the daughter of the Red Rose Count, her name was Latilda, right? She’s not ordinary. The ostensible reason for the war between the two counts was because of her, right? If I were a man and was divorced from a woman of such beauty, I’d definitely start a war. Whoever is assigned as her bodyguard is lucky.”
“Of course, a real man would start a war for a woman he’s fallen for once!”
Gerald clenched his fist and spoke as if for Azwin to hear.
“Why does it feel small-scale when you talk about it?”
Azwin teased. As Gerald and Azwin started another dull quarrel, Kassel spoke.
“To my eyes, Azwin is no less than anyone. When you appeared in that white dress, I was genuinely dazed.”
Kassel gestured towards Azwin, who was still in her dress.
“You really suit it, Azwin. Every time our eyes meet, I feel dizzy.”
“I knew all along that my captain always says the right things.”
Azwin extended her hand, and Kassel high-fived it on the spot. Gerald was irritated.
“Hey, Kassel. Don’t flirt with Azwin! She’s more innocent than she looks, and if you tell her such things, she’ll think it’s for real.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I think so too.”
Gerald agreed.
“Gerald, you’re cool too. Of course, you look cooler when swinging an axe.”
Kassel gave a thumbs-up.
Gerald threw his arm around Kassel’s neck.
“I knew all along that my captain always says the right things.”
Then, Sheyden asked Kassel from the side.
“What about me?”
“Ran out of compliments?”
At Kassel’s joke, Sheyden laughed out loud.
‘Ah, I really like these people. Just having these conversations makes me happy and excited. It feels like my heart could burst.’
Kassel recalled the moment when they were camping before arriving in Normant. He had danced with Azwin in front of the bonfire. Gerald had taught him swordsmanship, and Sheyden had discussed various political perspectives. Just remembering it brought such joy that he had to restrain himself.
“Well, we have things to do tomorrow, and today was eventful… Shall we rest now?”
At Kassel’s suggestion, everyone looked surprised.
“What?”
Especially Azwin, her eyes wide open.
“We spent so much time getting dressed up, isn’t it a waste to go to sleep already? Besides, you guys are the only ones who can see me in this dress. It’s been a long time since you’ve dressed like this, hasn’t it? Let’s chat more before sleeping.”
“Right. Besides, I couldn’t eat properly earlier because I was so tense.”
Upon hearing Sheyden’s words, Gerald responded with a perplexed expression.
“Why didn’t you eat?”
“I’m not as nonchalant as you.”
“Oh, you cheeky lad, are you trying to hurt my feelings?”
While Gerald was disputing, Dunmel was expressing something in sign language.
Azwin interpreted it for them.
“Dunmel said he’s dying to have some wine, but he’s holding back.”
Azwin then spoke to Kassel without showing her lips to Dunmel.
“Dunmel is more timid than he appears. He tends to get overly tense at times like these.”
This was a joke Azwin made at Dunmel’s expense. It’s unthinkable to tease someone who can’t hear in such a way, but Azwin had no qualms about it. Conversely, it meant she treated Dunmel equally without discrimination. After cracking such a joke, she would always show her lips to Dunmel, speaking to him clearly.
“Dunmel, even if you get a little drunk, no one can touch you! What’s the harm in showing a little vulnerability?”
While Sheyden and Gerald kept bickering, Azwin was scolding Dunmel. From their brief interactions, Kassel knew that once they started this kind of conversation, it never ended easily. And he was aware that there was still plenty of food and drink left in the royal kitchen tonight.
Kassel opened the door and called the servant outside.
“Could you please bring a couple of bottles of the wine we had at the party? We need some snacks too, but there’s no need to cook. Leftovers are sufficient.”
“We’ll bring up the quickest available items first,” the servant answered politely and withdrew. When Kassel returned to the room, the other four had already made themselves comfortable. Gerald had initiated an intense discussion on the topic of how he wasn’t hurt by trifles.
In Lurun, nobody enjoyed late-night conversations. Kassel used to spend boring nights alone reading books and creating imaginary friends to converse with. But now he had real companions. He could now understand why the camping nights had been so thrillingly fun.
“We’ll think about tomorrow when it comes, and let whatever will be, be.”
Gerald forcefully pulled the still-standing Kassel by the hand and made him sit down on a chair. They continued their banter well into the night.
Watching Sheyden pour the wine into glasses made Kassel feel as though he was looking at an unattainable ideal. Sheyden was always composed, considerate towards the person he was speaking to, yet clear about his own intentions. Kassel didn’t have to worry about where to learn the knightly experience he lacked. Sheyden was there. Just by emulating him, he felt he could handle other nobles and knights.
‘Did I just mention handling nobles? I couldn’t have dreamt of that a month ago.’
Gerald was like a humble friend, someone Kassel looked up to. He occasionally made extreme jokes, then tried to fix things and ended up making them worse. But he never held back his jokes. He kept talking until he eventually made the other person laugh with his jokes, and Kassel found such efforts amusing. Even when he argued with Azwin, it didn’t escalate into an emotional battle as it was based on the premise of his own defeat.
Initially, Kassel didn’t quite understand the strange relationship between Azwin and Gerald. However, after a few experiences, he realized that Azwin’s intense jesting was limited to Gerald alone.
‘So, Azwin’s being playful.’
Once he realized that, Gerald seemed admirable. Who could dare to take on the playful onslaught of a woman as proud as Azwin, head-on? Only Gerald could do it.
Looking at Azwin, the first thought that invariably surfaced was her beauty. While she wasn’t as knowledgeable as Sheyden, her curiosity was profound, which made her a great listener and conversationalist. Although Kassel thought she wouldn’t be interested in talking about books, he felt like he could spend days conversing with her once they started on that subject.
Dunmel, though incapable of speech, did not see it as a weakness. He didn’t seem to regard it as a complex either. As they conversed, Kassel gradually learned sign language, and Dunmel began with the simplest of words. Kassel thought that understanding more about Dunmel would come once he was better versed in sign language. Instead, Kassel kept his eyes on Dunmel throughout the conversation.
Loyal, despite the brief encounter, left him with a deep impression, albeit not a particularly positive one.
‘Don’t get it twisted. You’re a farmer who must return to Lurun at any given moment.’
As Kassel reassured himself, he allowed his heart to indulge in this dreamlike time for a while longer.
“I’ve never heard of such an ordinary life.”
Gerald enjoyed listening to Kassel’s dull countryside stories and responded.
“Such a fresh critique. How can you judge someone else’s life like that?”
Azwin chided him, and Sheyden intervened.
“Honestly, it’s more entertaining than our Wolves’ life stories, right?”
The wine quickly ran out, and the tired-eyed servants hastily brought three more bottles. Even though they were talking non-stop without a break, they never ran out of topics, and no one seemed bored even if someone spoke for an extended period. Occasionally, Gerald would ruin the mood with his dry jokes, but sometimes, that was not too bad either. No one suggested they should sleep in preparation for tomorrow.
☆ ☆ ☆
On a black table illuminated by twenty candles lay Regeni’s body. Count Lumerier looked down at his son’s corpse with an expressionless face. Under the candlelight, his pallid face didn’t look much different from his lackluster demeanor during his lifetime. The count found his son’s relaxed, closed-eye expression more pleasing than his usual furrowed brows that hinted at constant anxiety.
‘You have exactly the face I wanted, Regeni.’
To maintain his usual unwavering demeanor, the count spoke coolly.
“Who found him?”
Yet, he couldn’t completely hide the quiver in his voice.
“It was us, sir.”
Two of Regeni’s servants bowed their heads and stepped forward.
“Take all the time you need, but explain in detail. Why is my youngest dead?”
One of them, preoccupied with observing the count’s barely visible expression in the dark, stuttered out the events of yesterday afternoon. The other, who didn’t seem to have the confidence to speak, merely observed Bading, who was standing next to the count.
“A Black Knight?”
The count inquired.
“Yes. A Black Knight on a monstrous horse.”
“He encountered a Black Knight while returning from meeting Latilda at the castle gates? And in Normant?”
“Yes.”
The count stroked his chin and returned to Regeni’s corpse. He gently brushed his son’s cold, lifeless cheek.
“I didn’t care whom Regeni chose to accompany him, whether it was guards or women. I told him to do as he pleased. So, I forgave the fact that my servants, paid with my money, allowed my youngest to foolishly wait at the castle gate to meet Latilda. I forgave that they didn’t stop him from secretly meeting Varda in his pursuit to marry Latilda. And I even forgave that they didn’t report this to me for months.”
The count closed his eyes. A suppressed rage shook the silence lying dormant in the darkness. The two servants trembled in fear, waiting for the count’s next words.
“But I won’t forgive the coward who ran away from the scene of my son’s death.”
Bading, who had been silently preparing, drew his sword. The servant who had been narrating the events let out a groan close to a scream. The other servant, who had been silent all this while, covered his mouth and retreated towards the wall.
“My lord, we came here to report this to you. If we had planned to run away, we would have…”
“Silence.”
Bading placed a finger on his lips. Regeni’s servant bit his lips so hard that blood started to seep out. Bading kicked the servant who tried to make excuses, knocking him down. He then plunged a knife into the belly of the other servant who had only shivered in fear and not said a word till now. His movements were slow but the servant couldn’t resist even once, stupidly grabbing the blade that had pierced his own stomach.
“A man who couldn’t even seize the opportunity to make excuses.”
Bading kicked the servant’s chest. The knife, which was stuck inside, broke the servant’s bones as it was pulled out. The dark blood gushed out in the darkness.
“Apologize to the Count and the young master till the moment you die.”
The servant clutched at his spilling intestines, gasping for breath, but his breath gradually slowed. Blood pooled on the floor.
“We need at least one witness who can talk well. That guy seems fine.”
Bading wiped the blood off his knife. The Count did not reply. Usually, in such cases, it meant that he agreed with Bading’s opinion.
The Count stared at Regeni’s corpse for a long time before he lifted the black blanket covering his son’s body. Some candles were extinguished by the wind, and Regeni’s naked body was revealed. There were more than five large holes where a spear had pierced and passed through. The chest bone was broken and protruding, revealing the intestines.
‘My God, I didn’t expect to be shocked by such a thing.’
The Count shivered.
“My lord.”
Bading held the Count’s shoulder to calm him down.
Count Lumerier didn’t particularly like his youngest son during his lifetime. Compared to the eldest and the second, Regeni lacked confidence in everything, wasn’t exceptional in swordsmanship, and wasn’t bright. The Count had treated him as if he was nonexistent. But when he died, the Count couldn’t control his emotions.
Rather than offering words of comfort, Bading chose to speak analytically about the situation.
“Count Johnstein said that the Black Knights attacked Latilda. It is unlikely to be a lie. When I was waiting for the White Wolves in Normant, the carriage that Latilda had been in was shattered, and there were no guards, only a single groom. There were signs of an attack. Also, my other subordinates recently…”
The Count cut him off.
“No more, Bading.”
The Count covered Regeni’s body with the blanket again.
“The Black Knights attacked both Latilda and Regeni. Latilda survived, Regeni died. Isn’t the bastard’s scheme clear?”
“So, you think they staged an attack on Latilda to kill Regeni? But all the guards were killed. Would they stage such a play, even if it meant killing their own soldiers?”
“He is just the man to do it. Has he not yet fled from Normant? Capture him.”
Before Bading could stop him, Count Lumerier punched the wall. His skin tore, and blood started to flow, but he couldn’t feel the pain.
–TL Notes–
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