MTO C64

Chapter 64

Just then the infirmary door opened and another visitor entered—a knight with the ideal physique Michel envied.

“Brother Jerard!”

Michel leapt up in delight. It was the first time seeing Jerard since the knight training. Even now, he exuded the rugged presence of a tiger.

Jerard’s brow pinched faintly, as though he hadn’t expected anyone else here. Michel approached him, but the knight strode past as if not seeing him at all.

Huh?

“Bandages and salve.”

“Where is the injury?”

“One of the eagles—its wing is hurt.”

Michel let his lifted hand droop, awkward. His gladness had nowhere to go. From the exchange with the physician, it sounded like a golden eagle under Eglence Knights’ care was wounded.

Must be badly hurt.

When anxious, one’s focus narrows; that was only natural. Michel chose to believe Jerard hadn’t snubbed him, only that he was consumed by worry for the injured bird—just as Kaidan, no matter how much Michel had insisted he was fine, had still run the corridors clutching him.

He decided to greet him properly next time and sat back down—when Kaidan spoke suddenly.

“Sir.”

“…?”

“Show due respect to the Saint.”

“Brother,” Michel hissed, grabbing Kaidan’s arm, but the Duke, arms folded, fixed Jerard with a steady glare. Jerard turned, face just as grim. Sparks seemed to crackle where their eyes met. Michel’s grip tightened, fearing they might actually draw steel in the cramped infirmary.

But Jerard looked away first. He tipped his chin toward Michel.

“I failed to notice you.”

“N‑no worries. You seem busy…”

“Thanks for understanding. As I said, I’m pressed—I’ll take my leave.”

He snatched bandages and salve from the physician and left. The door slammed. Michel glanced up at Kaidan, bracing for him to tear after the knight.

“Seems your treatment is done as well. Let’s go.”

But Kaidan rose with cool composure, as though nothing had happened. Startled, Michel simply nodded.

Taekwondo class resumed after a long break—starting with meditation.

“Right, everyone: put the right foot on the left knee, and the left foot on the right knee.”

Michel settled the children cross‑legged on the training hall floor. It was a bit chilly, but the torches ringing the hall would keep colds at bay; a touch of cold was good for building immune strength besides.

“Hands on knees or folded before the navel. Find a comfortable posture, and close your eyes.”

Children used to chair‑sitting found full lotus awkward—some shuffled their bottoms, some legs kept sliding out. Yet each child squeezed eyes shut.

“Do not open your eyes, and do not speak, until ‘Master’ gives the signal.”

With eyes closed, their faces focused more than ever. Though all were gathered together, the hall was quiet except for Michel’s voice. Barbara, who had followed them, also held her breath, watching.

“Slowly—deep breath in.”

His voice dropped, softened. He inhaled loudly on purpose; the children’s little inhales echoed back.

“Now breathe out—slowly. Hoooo…”

They exhaled on cue. After a few cycles, they continued on their own. Little Leon’s focus wandered and he peeked, but when Michel raised a finger to his lips, the child squeezed eyes closed again.

Only when they sat fairly still did Michel close his own eyes and attend to his breath. Meditation was good for children and adults alike—not only for focus and calm (as pamphlets boasted), but because taekwondo’s intensity could invite injury; as stretching warmed the body, meditation warmed the mind, anchoring the self in the present.

It was the union of body and mind—training both together.

Of course, fending off turbulent thoughts wasn’t easy; even Michel, long‑practiced, sometimes succumbed.

What was that yesterday…?

His brow twitched. One break in concentration and thoughts chained themselves.

Were those two about to fight?

He replayed Kaidan and Jerard’s odd exchange in the infirmary. Too many things didn’t fit. At first he’d thought Jerard was simply too worried about the injured eagle to notice them. But when Kaidan forced their presence to be acknowledged, Jerard’s response wasn’t surprise—it was displeasure.

He had sensed the tension, briefly but clearly; the air had thickened, tight as if ready to burst. Yet instead of clashing, they ended it by turning away: Jerard left in haste, Kaidan let the slight pass. Later, when Michel asked Kaidan about Jerard, the Duke answered without interest—and abruptly left, saying he was busy.

Was it because of me?

A plausible guess. When Michel had trained with the knights, Kaidan had seemed to blame Jerard. Michel had defended the knight then; who knew what passed between them after Michel left the castle? They hadn’t seemed close to begin with…

Focus.

“Hoooo…”

Michel renewed his breath, letting stray thoughts drain away, attending only to his body—from nose and mouth that drew and released the air, to the chest where the heart beat, the belly digesting food, the arms and legs at rest, then outward to fingertips, toes, and crown.

Scanning for discomforts, new sensations, he felt his mind quiet, thoughts clear. His sense of self eased into harmony with the world—

“…So yesterday, Charles said to Miss Beryl—”

“Oh? Someone’s inside?”

Startled, Michel’s eyes flew open. The children—most of whom had long since lost focus—stared back in mismatched poses. Oliver and Alice still had eyes shut, but looked pained by the endless meditation. Charlotte, short on sleep, had actually nodded off, mouth open—the classic side‑effect.

The source of the noise: two knights at the door, debating whether to enter. Michel told the children they could open their eyes now and stood.

“Come in!”

“Saint! Good day!”

Recognizing him, the knights bowed cheerfully and entered—each carrying a large bucket in either hand.

As they approached, a heavy tang of blood washed over the air. Inside the buckets lay raw, unidentifiable meat.

“Wasn’t training over for today?”

“Yes. We’re not here to train—we’re here to feed those beasts.”

At the knight’s gesture, Michel looked up. Perched along the crenellations ringing the yard, golden eagles had gathered unbeknownst to them. Each was so large they looked like men crouched on the parapet.

Barbara moved to gather the children, worried; the children only gazed up with bright curiosity.

“Catch!”

A knight flung a hunk of meat high. Wings beat in unison; a swift eagle snatched the morsel midair. It landed apart, tearing into it, and a few others swooped in to share. Living nature documentary, unfolding in real time. Michel murmured in awe.

“Would you like to throw one yourself?”

“Me?”

“They’re trained not to attack humans. No need to fear.”

With a playful lift of brows, the knight offered a bucket. Naturally, Michel felt more fascination than fear. He did not hesitate—he grabbed a hefty chunk of meat.