MTO C77

Chapter 77

“You were originally a priest, my lord saint. Surely such stories of superstition must be unpleasant for you.”

“Ah, yes, of course. My apologies.”

Fortunately, another knight walking beside them scolded Owen for his remark, and Michel silently gave thanks. It was probably wise to move on to another topic, yet he couldn’t just let the talk of dragons slip away.

“It’s alright. I’d actually like to hear the story.”

“It is an old northern legend. A wicked, hideous dragon, out of envy toward a kind and beautiful spring faery, summons a merciless winter so that spring might never awaken.”

It seemed to be a tale in the same vein as the saying, “when it rains on a sunny day, a tiger is marrying.” Michel breathed easier; it was clearly not the kind of dragon he was thinking of. Still, learning that northern people viewed dragons in a negative light was troubling. Should he find one, its true identity would need to be carefully hidden.

All the more reason he needed to be the first to discover it… but how could he?

While Michel was lost in thought, Owen gazed around the snow-covered village.

“To welcome the spring faery, one must endure the dragon’s envy. This is a season that calls for vigilance. Fires break out often from heating, and accidents upon icy roads are not rare. Wells freeze over entirely, making it difficult to secure water. In such times, man and beast alike struggle to survive.”

Another knight passed Michel a small flask, urging him to warm himself. Normally, he would have refused, but his hands and feet felt numb with cold, so he accepted a sip. The liquor was so strong that just one mouthful seared his throat and set a fire in his belly, yet the chill was not so easily banished.

I want a bowl of soup.

Naturally, he was reminded of the steaming hot dishes he used to seek out in winter. Just one bowl of piping hot gukbap would soon fill his stomach and spread warmth through his body.

There had been a gukbap shop only five minutes’ walk from Usung Taekwondo Gym, and it was Jung-oh’s regular haunt. He visited five times a week, four of those with Master Usung-woo himself. It had been the master who first introduced him to the place.

He even remembered eating there on a day when he and the master had quarreled over some trifling matter. The details of their fight were hazy now, but what Master Usung-woo had said, as he watched Jung-oh sulkily tidying the children’s messed-up gym, remained perfectly clear.

“Let’s eat.”

Frustrated to death, Jung-oh had wondered why on earth they should eat together—yet meekly followed along. That day, too, had been bitterly cold, the kind that froze your nose solid, and as always he wore slippers out, earning a scolding for it. His head was ready to burst with indignation when at last the boiling earthenware pot arrived before him, like a mirror of his seething mood.

He had thought he had no appetite, but the savory aroma stirred hunger in him. And as he puffed cool air over his spoon and ate, Master Usung-woo ceased his nagging.

They exchanged no great words. Yet, strangely, by the time Jung-oh emptied his bowl, his anger had already subsided, leaving only the contentment of a full stomach. Neither of them apologized, but somehow, as always, the quarrel dissipated into nothing. That was how every dispute with Master Usung-woo came to an end.

“Hm?”

“What is it, my lord?”

Michel, still savoring in memory the taste of the hearty, salty broth, suddenly stopped in his tracks. The knights turned toward him in confusion, but on Michel’s face was already blooming a confident smile.

“I just thought of something.”

After Michel left, Kaidan remained alone in the office, poring once again over his paperwork. Not even for a brief moment could he allow himself the luxury of relaxation.

Before spring’s arrival, there were countless matters that needed attending to across Valois. He wanted to build higher the outer ramparts before monsters grew active in warmer weather, and to repair the numerous worn-down structures scattered throughout the towns. Though the cold season made immediate construction difficult, he at least needed to ascertain the areas in need of work, so that when the short seasons of spring and summer came, they could be used with utmost efficiency.

Above all, Kaidan’s greatest concern was the formulation of Valois’s own independent laws. In this land far removed from the capital, the kingdom’s codes scarcely held sway, and for that reason crimes abounded.

Since becoming Duke, Kaidan had ruled criminals with firmness. Yet, applying laws devised in the southern regions directly to the north brought no end of complications. For example, thieves in the south paid restitution in large sums of sea salt—yet Valois had no sea. And if the laws were constantly altered to suit circumstances, the people would lose all sense of what bound them and what gave them liberty, descending into confusion.

New laws were desperately needed. Yet even one required careful consideration of the land’s history, its geography, the surrounding regions, and the livelihoods of its present people. With so much assailing him, Kaidan sometimes wondered if he would finish even by the day of his death. Still, every single matter was vital. He could not sit idly by. He had to keep moving.

But as time passed, the letters on his documents began to dance away into the void. Without realizing he had drifted into thought, Kaidan found himself replaying the recent conversation.

“Who would concern themselves for me?”

“Everyone in Eglence Castle does. The knights, the servants… and I worry for you too, Kaidan.”

Though he had long acknowledged Michel as the saint, in that moment Kaidan once more wondered if he were in his right mind. Any sane man would scarcely dare think of worrying about him.

He was the infamous warmonger, a swordmaster. He did not, as rumor held, drink blood to quench his thirst or transform into a beast beneath a full moon. Yet it was true: he could fight seven days and nights without rest and still stand.

Still, dismissing Michel’s words as mere nonsense wasn’t easy. He was the saint, and his face had been perfectly grave. Recalling recent days, Kaidan realized Lawrence’s nagging had indeed grown more frequent, and some knights had quietly grumbled that he pushed himself too hard in training.

He had brushed it all aside until now, but for the saint himself to say it meant the matter was more serious than he thought. Retainers who grew anxious at their lord’s state—that was no small problem. A lord who lacked their trust would find ruling his domain much harder.

“Am I truly so unreliable?”

Kaidan had tried to fulfill his duties as lord to the best of his ability, but naturally, he was bound to fall short, never having received the proper training. When he should have been learning to rule, he had been away at war. Even if he had remained in Eglence, would he truly have been properly taught to be an heir? He doubted it.

In any case, if his shortcomings made his household feel insecure, then he needed to know, and correct them.

But instead of a clear answer, Michel had only flicked him on the forehead with an exasperated look.

“It’s not that, Kaidan. Everyone just wants to support you. It isn’t that you’re unreliable—it’s because they respect and care for you.”

That was even less comprehensible. If they respected him, why then worry? Was worry not proof of mistrust?

Kaidan felt suddenly uncertain of Michel’s intent. Was there any truth at all to the claim that servants respected and cherished him? Even now they often quaked and shuddered in his presence like deer startled before a lion.

Surely it was all words meant to sway him.

Indeed, Michel soon brought up Jared. It seemed the knights had put him up to persuading him. Being saintly and kind-hearted, Michel had evidently found it difficult to refuse.

Kaidan wanted to dismiss him quickly and return to the mound of unfinished work awaiting him on his desk. Time wasted on idle talk was a luxury he did not have.

Yet when he regained awareness, he realized he had already been answering Michel’s questions candidly.

“Did you dismiss the knights because their skills were lacking?”

“I didn’t expel them. They left of their own accord.”

And as if confessing before a priest, he laid bare details he had never spoken to anyone. He’d been misjudged more than a few times before—but being accused by Michel made it unbearable.

Was it Michel’s gentle yet persistent manner that disarmed him? Or those clear eyes that seemed to pierce straight through one’s heart?

Perhaps it was simply because he was the saint. A man who had already shown miracles, saving lives from the brink of death—was it so strange if he also drew truth from people’s lips? Kaidan found himself prattling out confessions he had never intended to share, like some penitent sinner.

“Have you explained as much to Brother Jared?”

That thought alone was enough to send a throb of pain through his temple. Since Michel’s departure, he had accomplished nothing more. To use such a word for a saint was blasphemy perhaps, but the man was in every way a nuisance—whether by his side or absent.

If this continued, it was clear he would not finish a single task today. Perhaps the advice to rest was not entirely wrong after all. He could entrust his burdens to no one else, but at least a moment to catch his breath might be permissible.

Kaidan rose from his desk, seeking to clear his head.