Editor 116

Against the Darkness (3)

Lunchtime the next day.

For the first time since arriving at the duke’s estate, Cleo set foot in the main castle’s office.

Unlike the newly built wing, the main castle was medieval in style, with narrow windows and cold stone walls, so tapestries were hung everywhere.

Surrounded by all kinds of documents, letters, and file folders, Lysa couldn’t tear herself away from work even while being treated by Cleo.

Other knights and soldiers who needed treatment had also gathered around Lysa’s desk, sitting or standing in a haphazard cluster.

“Sorry for calling you over. I just have so much work to do, it ended up like this.”

“Not at all. Dame Lysa, as acting deputy captain, this must be your busiest time.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

When Cleo used magic, Lysa’s ankle was soon as good as new. After moving her leg around, she wore a satisfied expression.

“This is excellent. Much better than old Meyer, who’s laid up now.”

“There was a flash of light, and it’s all better?”

“The little mage’s skills are something else.”

“Hey, stop talking and get in line for treatment.”

As Cleo treated the knights’ various injuries, he realized something. Their bodies were covered in countless scars. Some were from swords and ether, but many were also rough bites or tears from beasts’ teeth and such.

“Sure enough, they all seem to have gone through much rougher things than the young knights of the Capital Guard. They’re also older.”

That experience would become a tremendous asset for them in the coming era of war. Cleo found himself regretting and coveting the Tristain knights all the more.

Eventually, everyone had their turn. The last, Trude, after having his back treated, stood up, muttering.

“Wow, that’s miraculous. My back pain’s all gone. Thanks. You’re so talented, I wish you could show our Duke Armorique…”

The lively mood instantly cooled. Lysa pressed down on the knight with a casual but piercing look, without a hint of threat. Trude realized his mistake.

Cleo, who only knew the Duke Theo Tristain was suffering from a serious illness but not what kind, kept his mouth shut, watching for cues.

“You know magic can’t cure deep internal illness.”

“Didn’t the young lord go to the capital the year after he was made heir to try and fix it? Didn’t matter what doctors or mages they sent, nothing worked, remember? At least it was a bit better when old Meyer looked after him.”

“But now our Duke is even worse than back then. While old Meyer was out with the subjugation team…”

“You need to go spar outside to fix your dumb brain.”

Several people smacked Trude on the back of the head and dragged him out of Lysa’s office.

It felt like a defensive reaction, as if they’d unwittingly revealed something that shouldn’t be shown to an outsider like Cleo.

.

.

.

Walking down the long hallway of the main castle, Cleo stopped abruptly. Taking advantage of a quiet moment, he squatted down. If anyone saw him, he’d claim he felt dizzy.

He heightened “Perception” to the maximum, and caught the faint scent of someone long-ill drifting from the top floor of the main castle.

It was the stench of death.

Arthur and his group didn’t even know where the duke’s bedroom was, nor had they ever gone to pay their respects. Vice-captain Rotan had flatly said that the Duke did not receive anyone.

From bits of conversation overheard from servants and attendants, Cleo learned the duke hadn’t received any visitors for over five years. He couldn’t even eat by himself, apparently surviving only by magic.

With Mage Meyer away on the monster subjugation, the duke’s condition had clearly become even more precarious.

“The young lord is absent, and the duke is dying, yet the castle seems cheerful. But still… you can’t know everything just by appearances.”

---

The practicum would end the day after tomorrow.

The twins had gone off with the knights to join the hunt. Isiel and Chel were learning how to conduct ether through the special snow boots used only by the Tristain knights, and Arthur was sparring with Mietz.

While the children enjoyed some time to themselves, Cleo, back in the drawing room, munched on honey-soaked chestnuts and read the newspaper for the first time in two weeks.

Only after the monsters were exterminated and the snowy roads cleared could the supply wagons reach the duke’s estate. Among the cargo were newspapers tied with string, though few people cared.

“At least the local paper covers events in this area, so some people pick it up, but no one is interested in the central papers delivered by train.”

So Cleo took them all for himself and read at leisure.

Apparently, all of Albion had been in turmoil for the past two weeks, as the numbers of monsters killed by region were organized in a table.

“As expected, Tristain territory had the most monsters, other places only a few dozen each. At most, one or two were level 3.”

Level 2 or lower monsters never left the land where they first awoke, just circling like territorial animals until wiped out by the knights.

Even in territories without stationed knight orders, with help from dispatched Capital Guard knights and nearby orders, the situation was resolved without major damage.

“In the early part of the last manuscript, it was the same. But as the bigger ones, huge clusters of magic stones deep underground, started appearing, things got much worse.”

Cleo turned the pages of the newspaper. The headlines were quite a sight.

While Cleo had been holed up at Tristain, Aslan’s stock had skyrocketed.

“It was crazy before I got here, but now they’re outright praising him.”

While Melchior managed the nationwide situation from the capital, Aslan swept through the entire southeast leading the Kruel Knights.

The tone of the papers clearly rated Aslan higher for his bravery at the front lines than Melchior, who handled only administrative duties. Whether it was Zuleika or Aslan, they seemed to be playing their cards well.

“Administrative work is, at best, a thankless job, and mistakes stand out. Compared to a prince fighting with a sword, it doesn’t look good. Is the race for the throne really starting now? Ugh.”

Mecht, the dark-skinned knight who’d led the subjugation team, poked Cleo, who was so serious he’d forgotten his snack.

“Hey, little mage. What are you reading so hard?”

“Hello, Sir Mecht. Just catching up on outside news.”

“News? Just about monsters, right? We got the order and sent a report by telegram to the capital about the monster kills here, too.”

“That’s right. It’s a relief it was resolved safely without any major incident.”

“Whew, I guess it was nothing for the rich territories. We nearly broke the bank forming the subjugation team and hiring mercenaries. The vice-captain looked like he’d cough up blood from the unexpected expenses. But we barely scraped by thanks to the magic stones we collected, even from the tiniest monsters.”

Tristain was a wealthy domain, but since they had no farmland, most food had to be brought in from elsewhere. Even with high income, it wasn’t easy to manage.

“If you wiped out the monsters, you deserve at least that much reward. Congratulations.”

Having camped out since the first day the monsters rampaged, Mecht was smiling broadly, happy to be back at the castle.

As Mecht took a seat, soldiers who’d been on night guard and earned free time, and knights who’d gone off to the training ground after treatment, all came pouring in.

The chatty knight Trude pointed at an illustration in the newspaper Cleo was reading.

“Oh! Isn’t that the second prince? Right?”

“Looks like it. Trude, didn’t you go to joint training with the Kruel Knights when you were in the capital? Did you meet that prince, too?”

“Of course. Ugh—he was a real piece of work. Said he wouldn’t even spar with commoners. So stuck-up, such a rude mouth!”

Cleo had to bite down hard not to laugh out loud.

The knights of this mountain region were free of pretense. They only showed genuine respect to the Duke of Tristain, and otherwise spoke bluntly even about royalty.

They clearly didn’t even know “lese-majeste” was a crime that existed.

“What did he say?”

“Ahem. ‘Do you dare call yourself a knight? One who has not sworn the covenant is not a knight.’ That’s what he said.”

“Right! When I became a knight, I was commissioned by the Duke! That’s good enough. How was I supposed to swear a covenant to a king who hasn’t even waved from the terrace in ten years? Should I have begged for it?”

Cleo pricked up his ears.

“Commissioned by Duke Tristain? How is that possible?”

Every official knight, whoever they were, had to be received by the king at least once in their life—at the knighting ceremony.

In rare cases, the queen or crown prince could act as the king’s proxy, but Cleo had never heard of a duke commissioning knights.

Mietz, who had plopped down next to Cleo, answered bluntly, snatching the plate of honeyed chestnuts Cleo was eating.

“Judging by our little mage’s face, you don’t know this. The three ducal houses that were granted titles by the Conquering King originally had the authority to commission knights on behalf of the king. They were originally kings of their own territories. But with the other two houses’ lines extinct, only the master of this castle, Duke Armorique, retains that right.”

“Ah…”

He’d learned that the Kingdom of Albion was founded a thousand years ago by uniting or conquering several kingdoms, but hadn’t realized such things still had effects today.

“But isn’t it surprising that the Duke of Kruel doesn’t try to claim the same authority, or that His Grace here doesn’t try to abolish his own?”

“Oh, good question. Actually, it’s because this place is so remote that they let us handle recruitment ourselves. But the black-haired prince makes an annual fuss about it.”

Mietz finished with a mischievous grin. Though he was a rough-mouthed, rough-bearded middle-aged man, when he smiled, he had a strangely gentle impression, like someone Cleo had seen before.

“There goes Mietz’s mouth of truth again, hehe.”

“So what. Don’t like it?”

“No, we all like honest people.”

As Trude answered, one of his comrades snickered and teased him. It seemed Trude was the troublemaker of the order.

“Just don’t be too honest outside, or you’ll end up in a fistfight or challenged to a duel by some noble, you know?”

“Remember that baron who came to buy magic stones? Dressed all flashy in silk, but threw up everywhere from carriage sickness. Wasn’t it hilarious to see him acting all high and mighty?”

“Right. You only treat high people with respect if they deserve it. Like our Duke Armorique or the crown prince.”

While the knights and soldiers bantered, Cleo, skimming the rest of the paper, suddenly looked up.

“Have you ever met His Highness Melchior?”

“Sure. Went to the capital, met him two or three times.”

“How were you able to go? Isn’t that normally difficult?”

It was something Cleo had learned while staying at the duke’s estate. The Tristain knights had their freedom of movement more strictly limited than other orders. Now he suspected it was due to the special nature of the “covenant” they performed.

“So, the lord’s immediate family can be escorted by up to four knights. That doesn’t require royal approval.”

“So we rotate escorting the young lord, four at a time, to the capital. My turn and Trude’s was three years ago, and back then, seeing the crown prince, I couldn’t even look up at him. He was that awe-inspiring.”

“He really is a noble royal. Even sent old Meyer to help our duke. Without a mage, who could have cared for him?”

“But I actually found the crown prince a bit scary. Maybe because he’ll be king one day, he has this untouchable aura.”

“Trude’s cousin who escorted the young lord this time said the same thing.”

“Man, do these people have animal instincts? Or are their minds so straightforward that brainwashing doesn’t work? Amazing.”

“Hey, the youngest prince is working hard, too. Look.”

Trude pointed out the window.

Arthur, apparently having lost a sparring match with Mietz, was running laps in the training yard, visible from the drawing room, steam rising from his back.

Always diligent and good-natured, Arthur had already become like a beloved younger brother to the knights.

“Seeing the youngest prince working so hard reminds me of the young lord Taeserton. He used to train day and night.”

“What are you saying. But our young lord Taeserton is the best, you know?”

“Who’s arguing? Still, I wish he’d spend more time here in the territory. The duke’s always in that state, but he’s always in the capital…”

“The crown prince is the king’s representative, and loyalty to the king is a retainer’s duty. We can handle things here, so why try to keep the young lord?”

“Even so. What, is our young lord lacking that he has to play at being an escort knight? In the old days, he’d have been a prince of the Kingdom of Armorique!”

“Yeah. It’s not like he got an appointment letter or was forced, but now he doesn’t even come home once a year.”

“The young lord is also a knight commissioned by the Duke of Armorique, just like us. Not even bound by the covenant…”

“Hey, hey.”

One of the more perceptive knights poked Trude in the side, aware of Cleo’s presence, but with more talkers than silencers, the conversation quickly became heated.

As Cleo listened quietly, he reached a conclusion.

“Even these knights find Taeserton Tristain’s blind loyalty strange.”

Cleo recalled the contents of the last manuscript and the interactions he’d seen firsthand between Taeserton and Melchior in Dubris.

He wondered if it was a relationship like Isiel and Arthur’s, but Taeserton’s manner was too formal, and the hierarchy between them seemed strict.

“They only met after Theo Tristain fell ill… so they’ve only known each other six or seven years at most?”

Even in the last manuscript, Taeserton remained absolutely loyal to Melchior to the end.

“What on earth causes that?”