MTO C82

Chapter 82

 

The commanding presence that had once singlehandedly directed dozens of black eagles was nowhere to be found. Jared now sat heavily upon a tree stump, looking utterly exhausted. With the flames extinguished, it seemed his strength too had been completely spent. Considering his age and the wounded state of his shoulder, it was a miracle he had not collapsed sooner.

“Hey.”

At Kaidan’s short call, Jared abruptly lifted his bowed head. Only then did he seem to realize Kaidan was standing before him, and he made a clumsy attempt to rise to his feet.

“Stay seated.”

Kaidan blocked him and held out a bowl of soup. Jared hesitated a moment before taking it.

“Mind if I sit beside you?”

“…No, sir.”

Though his reply sounded reluctant, Kaidan sat down beside him without hesitation. Yet once seated, he found himself at a loss for words.

“…”

“…”

An awkward silence settled between them. After a long moment of hesitation, Kaidan finally lifted his spoon—deciding, for now, to buy time by eating. Perhaps before the bowl was empty, something worth saying might come to mind.

But the soup he had begun to sip merely to pass time turned out to be surprisingly delicious. In truth, the flavor itself was simple, unremarkable even, but to a body weary from cold and labor, the freshly cooked warmth was bliss. The salty heat spread down to his stomach, loosening every taut muscle in his frame.

Magnificent.

Kaidan soon forgot the purpose of sitting there at all and devoted himself to eating. He needed to stall for time, yet the contents of his bowl were vanishing all too quickly.

“Mmm…”

A low murmur of satisfaction startled him; glancing sideways, he saw Jared with closed eyes, savoring the soup’s warmth. A faint, contented smile curved the man’s lips.

Moments later, Jared opened his eyes, apparently intending to take another spoonful—only for their gazes to meet directly.

“…”

“…”

Though he knew he shouldn’t, Kaidan awkwardly averted his eyes. His soup was nearly gone; even that excuse for lingering was gone with it. He thought to rise and come again later—

“This is the finest vegetable soup I have ever tasted.”

Jared’s statement broke the silence. An insignificant remark, perhaps, but Kaidan welcomed the simple fact that there was at least something to talk about. He stirred the empty bowl idly with his spoon.

“…Then the castle’s chef should learn from it.”

“Heh, I’ll be sure to pass your words along.”

Jared let out a quiet, humorless laugh. Kaidan, too, gave a short chuckle—though both smiles faded almost at once.

Jared could no longer deliver any message to the cook of Eglence Castle, for he was no longer one of its residents. Kaidan glanced sidelong at his face; Jared sat rigid, staring fixedly into his soup bowl.

I can’t keep this up any longer.

Suppressing a sigh, Kaidan set his empty bowl roughly on the ground. It was time to break his foolish pride. How many people had already tried to reconcile the two of them? During such desperate times, it had been an utterly useless struggle.

“Did you say you’d watch how my foolish pride would bring down Eglence Castle?”

At his quiet words, Jared’s shoulders flinched. Kaidan’s lips twisted faintly upward.

“The territory lay in ruins before the castle could even fall.”

“Your Excellency.”

“I’m not blaming you. You’ve never spoken a false word.”

Kaidan had resented Jared to the core. Since the day he had become duke, Jared had opposed every decision he made—defying him at every turn, before ending it all with a grave insult. He had disregarded Kaidan, refused to acknowledge his authority as Duke of Eglence. He should never be forgiven.

But in truth, the reason Kaidan had been unable to forgive Jared was because everything he said had been true. Truth, at times, pierced sharper than any blade. No amount of struggle could erase the fact that he had once turned his back on this land—and that was what shamed him.

“As you know, I spent a long time away from the North. When I returned, everything here felt wretched to me. I thought I had to undo and rebuild everything in sight.”

To Kaidan, House Eglence and the lands of Valois were the living inheritances of his father’s sin. He had inherited that guilt, and to atone, he believed every trace of his father’s existence had to be erased.

It did not feel unfair to pay for another’s sins—after all, by turning away from those he had once sworn to protect, he had committed an equal sin himself.

“But watching you today, I realized I was wrong. The truth is, I merely did not understand what was here. There are many fine and good things in this land already, even without my changing them.”

To think that people suffered only because he had been absent was, he recognized now, its own brand of arrogance. However poor or harsh their lives might seem to him, those lives were precious in their own way—carefully built through their own hands and endurance.

More than anyone, the residents of Eglence Castle and the people of Valois knew this land far better than he. He was but an outsider. Just as one could not impose southern laws upon the North, he could not impose the standards of his life upon the people here.

Then what should he do from now on?

To become a strong knight, one merely needed to spend the day swinging a sword; but the path to becoming a good lord seemed infinitely more complex and uncertain.

“Where water stagnates, decay is inevitable.”

At this belated response, Kaidan lifted his gaze. Jared’s face—so often contorted with rage whenever their eyes met—looked, for the first time, simply weary. Yet that very weariness lent him a gentleness he had not shown before.

“Your Excellency has merely carved a new channel for the waters to flow. It takes time for a narrow stream to grow into a strong river. On that journey, it’s only natural that the waters strike the rocks and sometimes pause along the way.”

“…”

“For my part, though I knew I should continue forward, I let age and weariness become excuses for my indolence and arrogance. I deeply repent the disloyalty of my conduct and will accept whatever punishment you decree.”

Bowing his head deeply, Jared awaited judgment. Yet for some reason, Kaidan felt no satisfaction. He had long wished for the day Jared would cease defying him, obey his orders meekly—and now that it had come, it brought him no joy at all.

He looked over the central square, now hollow and bare where the buildings had burned to ash. If only he had swallowed his damned pride sooner and called Jared back, might the damage have been less?

When would he finally learn to make right choices without being driven by folly? His own incompetence filled him with disgust.

Yet Kaidan was not a man to repeat the same mistake twice.

“With such a great fire, there’ll be no rest for anyone for quite some time. It’ll take ages to restore all that’s been lost. And of course, of all times, Lawrence had to collapse. I swear, I can already hear the knights whining from here.”

“…Lawrence collapsed? Has something happened at the castle?”

“The orphans under the Saint’s care went missing for a short while. They were quickly found—no need to worry.”

“…?”

Jared’s face took on a peculiar expression.

“The more I think of it, the more unfair it seems that I should handle all this alone.”

At last, Kaidan pulled something from within his coat—the golden button that had for a time lost its owner. It gleamed faintly before Jared’s eyes, the gilt surface unmarred by years. The token, once bestowed upon a knight by his lord’s own hand, had not lost its light through age. Jared’s gaze wavered as he recognized the object he himself had thrown away.

“Come back to the order. I need you, Jared.”

The words were firm and clear, yet Kaidan was uncertain Jared would comply. The man had left the knights with resolute conviction—repentance alone did not guarantee his return.

As if to affirm that doubt, Jared did not take the button right away. His lips pressed shut, he merely stared at Kaidan’s open palm. The weight of his gaze made Kaidan’s hand feel heavier by the moment.

“If I return… you won’t have me beheaded, will you?”

At last, Jared spoke, his face lined with worry. The absurd jest drew a dry, short laugh from Kaidan.

“I’ll give it some thought.”

“Very well. Not that I’ve many years left to lose. I’ll obey your command.”

Only then did Jared take the golden button from Kaidan’s hand. He brushed it gently, as though caressing a priceless treasure that had found its way home.

“Woolsley has ever stood by Eglence.”

At that belated, affectionate remark, Kaidan felt his trust in Jared rekindle. For as long as he bore the name of Eglence, Jared would remain behind him. The name of his house—once a brand of shame—felt, for today at least, like a solid shield at his back.

“Care for a drink? Not as good as the soup, but it’s decent enough.”

Jared, seeming lighter in spirit, handed him the leather flask at his belt. The liquid inside was liquor—so strong that its scent alone made one’s nose sting. Even so, Kaidan took a few swallows before passing it back.

“Since when did you become such a drinker?”

“Haha, Your Excellency may not realize this, but in the North, drinking this much is considered basic manners.”

That remark made Kaidan’s lips tighten; inevitably, the face of an infamous drunkard surfaced in his mind. He turned and scanned the square for Michel—and there he was, not far off.

The man who had once drowned himself in liquor now moved among the sorrowful, offering comfort. The torch in his hand illuminated paths through the dark night.

“The eighth resurrection of Saint Pablo, it seems,” Jared murmured, having also turned his eyes toward Michel. Kaidan silently agreed.

When he had first seen Michel in the square that night, fury had nearly robbed him of speech—but now, he was simply grateful the man had come. Tonight was a night when even those without faith needed a touch of divine mercy.