MTO C70

Chapter 70

However, contrary to Michel’s expectations, there was no observation lesson. With the training yard in sight, Barbara’s scream and a child’s wailing rang out. Michel and Kaidan sprinted toward the sound.

“Get out of here, now!”

When Michel arrived, the yard was in chaos. Knights, livid, were slashing their swords at the sky, and the children clustered around Barbara with frightened faces.

Barbara, clutching one of the twins, was beside herself—the child’s entire face was covered in blood. The instant Michel saw it, it felt as if the blood drained from his own body.

“Sister!”

“H‑Headmaster…”

Barbara looked up at him, on the verge of tears. Michel crouched quickly to check the boy’s condition. It was Max. A long gash split his right forehead, streaming bright red.

“Waaah!”

Whether from pain or the sight of blood, Max couldn’t open his eyes and sobbed miserably. Heart in his throat, Michel whipped out a handkerchief and pressed the clean inside against the wound to staunch the blood. Max’s cries only grew louder.

Meanwhile, Kaidan seized a knight by the arm.

“What happened.”

“T‑the eagle attacked the child.”

“What?”

Only then did Michel notice the chunks of meat and black feathers scattered across the ground. An incident during the golden eagle feeding, then. The moment he understood the situation, a question rose.

The golden eagles were supposedly trained not to attack humans.

How could a trained bird attack Max? But that wasn’t the priority now.

“Treat the child first.”

At Kaidan’s words, Michel took Max from Barbara. He asked her to look after the others and ran straight to the infirmary. Barbara looked dazed, but Michel had no room to attend to anyone else. His hands were already soaked through with blood.

—

Fortunately, the wound was confined to Max’s forehead; the eye was unharmed. But the laceration was wide, requiring three stitches—a major ordeal.

They gave a pain‑relieving draught beforehand, but it didn’t change the fact a needle would pierce living flesh. Michel soothed and cajoled the boy, watching as the physician stitched the forehead. Even observing it was terrifying; imagining the fear and pain of a small child twisted his heart. Helpless, he held the boy’s little hand tightly.

Not long after the procedure ended, Max fell asleep as if fainting.

“The sutures are good. We’ll monitor, and once it’s healing, we’ll remove the thread. Until then, keep the site clean and apply the salve regularly.”

“Thank you.”

Michel bowed deeply. In that short time, he had been so tightly wound that he was wrung out. Seeing his drained face, the physician told him to rest and stepped out.

Michel quietly looked down at Max, asleep with his head on Michel’s lap. From crying so hard, the lids over his closed eyes were puffed like a little fish. The long, uneven line carved from forehead to temple on that tiny face made Michel heartsick.

This is my fault.

He recalled the recent eagle feeding with the children. He had taken the knights at their word that the eagles would not attack humans, and arrogantly assumed that with him watching, nothing major could happen.

His carelessness had led to a serious accident. The one who bore a deep wound for his momentary misjudgment was not him, but small, young Max. Shame kept his head bowed.

“How is the child?”

Before long, Kaidan returned. He had guided Michel to the infirmary, then gone to question the knights for a precise account of events.

“He’s alright now. The forehead was split; they stitched it. He just fell asleep—he was exhausted.”

At Michel’s whisper, Kaidan exhaled shortly in relief. But his expression stayed dark.

“Truly… I have no excuse. I should have given the knights a strict warning.”

“It’s not your fault, Kaidan.”

Michel denied it at once. This had nothing to do with Kaidan. The more he thought, the clearer it was—this was on him.

Since coming to Eglence, Michel had felt more at peace than ever. Inside the castle there were no monsters, there were more eyes watching, and he had believed the children were safe.

But children could be hurt, anywhere, anytime. Perhaps, fixated on preparing for monsters that might appear someday, he had neglected the care right before him. Had he gone to the yard a little earlier today, could he have prevented the accident?

Kaidan, however, saw it differently.

“No need to say that. If it happens inside Eglence, it is my fault. I will answer for this with my honor. I will ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

Michel almost objected again that it wasn’t his fault, then stopped and nodded weakly. It was pointless to argue who bore more blame. What mattered was preventing recurrence.

To prevent a repeat, the cause must be known.

“How did it happen? I was told Eglence’s eagles are all trained never to attack people.”

“Correct. There has never been a case of a golden eagle attacking a person without orders. The knights say it happened while they glanced away and they aren’t sure. But…”

Kaidan paused. His eyes sank, as if weighing words in his mouth. Soon he spoke again.

“No matter the training, in the end they are beasts. I may have grown too complacent.”

The air around him grew heavy; Michel did not know how to respond. Kaidan seemed to feel guilt as deep as Michel’s.

He had sworn to take responsibility—he would do something, surely. What, Michel could not guess.

What would become of the eagles? Though he was heartsick at Max’s injury, Michel did not think the birds were “wrong.” As Kaidan said, they were beasts, wild animals. It is the humans who must take care.

Instead of encouraging the children to feed the eagles up close, he should have warned them not to approach. One regret after another.

“Still, being at Eglence meant Max could be treated right away. It’s good we all came.”

Michel forced some brightness into his voice. It was not only to comfort Kaidan. If a similar accident had happened at the distant orphanage, response would have lagged.

The accident had happened, and by great good fortune Max was safe. Proper reflection reduces future mistakes, but too much remorse only clouds one’s view. He resolved to repent and care for the children better. Now, it was time to smile and soothe them.

At his words, Kaidan’s expression eased a little. But the softened mood broke quickly. With heavy footfalls, the infirmary door banged open.

Jerard strode in, eyes bloodshot. He swept the room, found Kaidan, and his face twisted.

“You’ve caged all the eagles—what madness is this? Release them at once!”

His voice was so loud Michel froze. Max, too, whimpered in his sleep at the noise.

Jerard’s agitation met Kaidan’s chill.

“Sir. Lower your voice.”

“How am I to be calm? Did you order the knights to kill the eagles?”

Michel jerked his head toward Kaidan in shock.

Order them killed? No matter how serious the injury, the golden eagle was the emblem of House Eglence. Kaidan would never—Michel thought Jerard must be mistaken, but Kaidan replied icily:

“A golden eagle attacked a child. I will not leave a beast that harms people.”

“Our eagles will never attack a human—under any circumstances! Do you still not know that?”

“Oh? Then the culprit was not an Eglence bird?”

“There must be some misunderstanding. Have you ascertained the full context? No, I doubt it! You’ve made another unilateral decision without hearing anyone, haven’t you?”

As Jerard refused to calm, Kaidan’s gaze sharpened. Michel flicked his head back and forth, unable to intervene or stand aside. He wanted to break it up—but who? Kaidan wasn’t raising his voice; trying to stop Jerard might only inflame him.

Then someone tugged Michel’s hem.

“Headmaster…”

“Oh, Max. You’re awake? Sorry—was it loud?”

Perhaps the noise had woken him; Max rubbed his eyes and reached for Michel. Thankfully the medicine he’d taken before sleep seemed to be working; he didn’t complain of pain. Michel patted the tired child’s back, but his eyes stayed on Kaidan and Jerard.