MTO C68

Chapter 68

In a small courtyard hidden in a secluded corner of Eglence Castle, the coachmen, cooks, footmen, and maids stood in neat rows. They had all gathered here from the early dawn to meet God.

“With spirit once more! One, two, three, four! Two, two, three, four!”

Saint Michel, the one who conveys God’s will, stood before the crowd and carried out a sacred rite. In time with his calls, the people raised their hands high toward the heavens or made deep bows.

This rite, begun only a few days ago with a handful of participants, had now swelled so much that the little yard was bursting. Word had spread among the servants that attending Saint Michel’s dawn service made the body light and the mind clear.

“For the last round, run lightly in place!”

As Michel raised his hands and jogged gently, the people in the courtyard stamped their feet with all their might. Some pressed their hands together as if praying, some cried out God’s name in wailing supplication. Charlotte and Leon, who had gotten up unusually early and tagged along out of boredom, claimed a corner of the courtyard and bounced in place with great seriousness.

With dozens moving at once, the ground trembled as if in an earthquake. Startled by the uproar, the eagles perched along the battlements flapped away.

Finishing the last movement, Michel clapped, face refreshed.

“Good work today!”

“Thank you!”

They wiped sweat and exchanged greetings. A few, still overcome, approached Michel to share how moved they were.

“Saint, today’s service was the best!”

“Haha…”

It wasn’t a “service.”

If this had to be named, “dawn calisthenics” would be apt. Michel’s conscience pricked at having, somehow, deceived people.

Still, it was all for the health of Eglence Castle’s household. If God truly exists, surely God would wish the faithful to be healthy.

Before his flimsy pretense could be exposed, Michel hurried to change the subject.

“Brother Eric, how’s your knee?”

“Well… it was fine when you worked it, Saint, but it’s sore again, as if another devil has latched on. A very nasty one, by the feel.”

The elderly coachman, clutching his right knee, confided under Michel’s concern. Michel seated him on a low stretch of wall and kneaded the leg. Charlotte and Leon plopped down on the ground and imitated him at once.

“Begone, demon! Taekwon!”

“Heehee.”

With grave face, Charlotte muttered strange incantations while kneading Leon’s shoulder; he stifled giggles, feet drumming at the tickle. Exorcism play was the children’s favorite game lately. Michel smiled at them, then addressed the servant again.

“Brother, you worked yesterday too, didn’t you? Didn’t I say you should rest for a while?”

“Heh—if I rest, who will tend Eglence’s stables?”

“Brother Barnes is there.”

“It’ll be a long while before that boy can carry my share.”

At the mention of the young stablehand, the coachman shook his head firmly. Despite being old enough to raise the castle’s average age by himself, he tackled the hard jobs. Even when Michel told him to cut back to heal the knee, the man could hardly stay idle.

Under Michel’s hands, his face loosened into drowsy relief.

“And besides, when the Duke works so hard, how could I rest?”

“Does he scold you for laziness if you take time off?”

“How could you say such a thing? Never.”

He flapped his hands anxiously, as if afraid of misinterpretation.

“The Duke labors diligently for the castle and the fief—so I want to do my utmost to help.”

Others chimed in one by one.

“True enough, everyone’s been busier since the current Duke came.”

“He checks everything in the castle himself—no one can slack. We’d better work hard to earn praise.”

Though the words seemed like grumbling about more work, their faces were bright.

In the past days talking with the servants, Michel learned they all liked and respected Kaidan. He also learned that sentiment toward the late Duke was not so favorable. The late Duke, they said, was a stern master who did not forgive mistakes; that he sometimes used the cane shocked Michel, who had assumed from Alban’s account that all admired him. As with anyone, the man was judged differently by different people.

By contrast, Kaidan wielded no rod and worked hard to govern; he was popular among the staff. Many had families in Valois and had benefited from his new policies. While his intimidating air and grim rumors made them fear meeting him face‑to‑face, they were glad to work for him.

If only he smiled a little more.

Michel pictured Kaidan’s smile. He was a man whose face changed greatly with a smile: when he smiled quietly, the frost melted into surprising gentleness.

Lately, though, Michel had seen neither the smile nor even the usual sternness—Kaidan was consumed with investigating monsters and works like new walls. He sometimes invited the orphanage to supper, but Michel, minding seven children, found no time to talk.

“In my view, Eglence folk are all workaholics. For health, rest is more important than exercise. If you don’t rest properly, the demon in your knee will only grow stronger.”

“R‑really?”

“Really. If that scares you, rest. Until your knee recovers, no attending morning—calisth—er, services.”

“Gasp—how can you say such a thing…”

“You promised me, didn’t you?”

Chastened by Michel’s serious tone, the coachman answered gloomily that he understood. Michel gave a light massage to another servant with stiff shoulders, then led the children out of the courtyard.

As they rounded a side wall, he ran into a surprise.

“Oh? Taekwon! Good day!”

“Taekwooon!”

Charlotte and Leon, spotting Kaidan, shouted greetings. He nodded, slightly awkward, to the bowing children, then looked to Michel.

“You’ve no mind to rest at all.”

Said by the busiest man in Eglence. Michel’s face lit at the sight of him after days apart.

“Good morning, Brother! Where to so early?”

“There’s a rumor of a secret gathering under the east tower at dawn. Came to check. It’s a bit loud to be ‘secret.’”

With Kaidan’s bland remark, the organizer’s eyes quivered wildly.

“D‑did you see?”

“Yes.”

“…Since when?”

“From when you all flattened yourselves to the ground in prayer.”

It wasn’t prayer, actually. And yes, some did recite prayers whenever they bent at the waist, but still.

Michel laughed lamely, then, startled, hid his arm behind his back—the bruise hadn’t fully faded. Kaidan had told him to rest until it did; instead, he’d somehow ended up leading mass calisthenics. He hadn’t meant to defy orders; it had just… happened. Now he was in no position to scold the servants for never resting.

But I truly feel fine.

Luckily, Kaidan didn’t seem poised to scold. Michel tested the waters.

“You should’ve joined in if you were watching. Would’ve been great to exercise together.”

“No thanks. I’ve no taste for spoiling a mood.”

“How could you say that? Everyone would’ve loved it if you joined. Right?”

“Yes! Come tomorrow!”

At Michel’s prompt, Charlotte answered stoutly; Leon bobbed his head vigorously. Kaidan only huffed a laugh and did not agree.

“Busy?”

“No. I was just heading back to my room.”

“Then spare a moment?”

At this hour, Barbara and the maids would watch the children anyway, so Michel agreed. After seeing Charlotte and Leon to their room, he followed Kaidan—secretly hoping, as with the underground vault, for something new.

But the place they reached, to Michel’s mingled anticipation and dread, was the familiar library door.

“W‑why the library? Do I have to write prayer texts again?”

He froze on the spot. Memories crept up, cold and clammy. Last time, writing prayers had nearly split his brain; repeating that task made him ready to weep. Had God decided to punish him for deceiving people with “exercise”? He was about to plead some sudden duty and flee when Kaidan calmly corrected him.

“No. I’m going to teach you how to fight monsters.”

Michel looked back and forth between Kaidan and the door. A library felt rather too quiet a place to learn how to battle monsters.

“Here?”

“Today, instead of sword drills, I’ll teach you which monsters live in the North. As I said, to defeat a monster you must know each species’ traits. Are you not interested?”

“No! I am!”

He blurted it reflexively, but suspicion wasn’t wholly gone. He hadn’t forgotten how Kaidan said he would teach him to write prayers, then locked him in the library to do it alone.

“This time you’re teaching me yourself, right, Brother Kaidan?”

“Yes. Or do you want another teacher?”

“No. I like learning from you.”

Only then did Michel smile freely. His big eyes narrowed into crescents, round cheekbones lifting with pleasure. Sunlight spilled through the window, warming his face. Kaidan looked down at him in silence for a while.

When he didn’t move at all, Michel stopped smiling and looked up in puzzlement. Their eyes met; Kaidan spun on his heel and strode into the library. Michel, without dawdling, scurried after him.