Rasseu Castle Hallway
The hallway was as dark as the deep night sky. Moonlight stread through the windows, but it cast only faint pools upon the floor.
And Sevha stood in a shadow untouched by the light, lost in thought.
“Order the knights to live parentless. Tell the clown: be reborn a knight. Let the father… die a knight.”
The words the Marquis had spoken in a brief mont of lucidity. Sevha did not understand them.
But even without understanding, he knew they were the Marquis’s final wish.
If you have a wish, just say it plainly. Is everyone in this Knight Kingdom a poet?
He was a young man who, if asked about noble refinent, would ask what kind of animal it was and where he could hunt it.
And being that kind of man, he could only grumble inwardly.
Just then, the sound of a door opening echoed down the hall.
Creeak...
Footsteps followed, and Count Bernard walked toward Sevha.
But the Count passed by, completely oblivious to Sevha’s presence in the shadows.
A mont later, Prince Duce also approached, leaning on his cane.
Thud, tap, thud, tap... tap.
Unlike Count Bernard, however, Prince Duce stopped the mont he stepped into the shadow where Sevha was hidden.
He slowly turned his head.
Sevha’s eyes t the Prince’s.
Only then did the knights following Duce notice Sevha and place their hands on their hilts.
His instincts... they’re sharp.
Sevha was surprised by Duce’s perception, but he showed none of it, bowing his head.
Seeing this, Prince Duce spoke as if reciting a poem.
“Hiding in the darkness, unable to belong in the hall of knights... You must be a foreigner, like . Let us exchange nas, as fellow strangers.”
You don’t seem like a knight, so what are you?
Sevha lied. “I am Seha, squire to Sir Eshu, commander of the Blanc Knights.”
Duce, perhaps sensing Sevha was hiding sothing, replied in a regretful tone.
“To one foreigner, another is still just a foreigner. It is a pity I could not earn your trust, but I understand.”
Saying he understood why Sevha concealed things, Duce departed with his knights.
Afterward, Sevha heard familiar footsteps and stepped out of the shadows. Eshu and Piétang approached him.
Eshu said, “Young Master. It went as planned.”
“The jousting tournant will be held.”
Sevha looked at their weary faces and could imagine the debate that had taken place inside.
He asked, “Who opposed it?”
“The Prince. His speech is so peculiar, it’s hard to be certain, but he said it would be dishonorable to hold a tournant while the Marquis is ill.”
“But the Count argued strongly for it, so it was decided. He seems quite confident of his chances to win.”
“So? When is it?”
“One week from now.”
“Too soon...”
Sevha swallowed his words of doubt and nodded.
He bid farewell to Eshu and Piétang and walked down the hallway to Teresse’s pharmacy.
When Sevha entered, Teresse didn’t spare him a glance, her eyes fixed on the distiller.
Sevha asked, “So? Is the poison finished?”
“Curious? Care for a glass? Though you won’t need a full one.”
“You’ll drink it with , won’t you?”
Teresse snorted at the jest.
“I appreciate this passionate plea to die together, but we aren’t that close, are we?”
Sevha snorted as well and, standing beside her, told her what had happened that day.
“What do you think my grandfather’s words ant?”
“The clown is the Prince, the knights are the Blanc Knights, and the father... well, I don’t know about that.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because I am a magus.”
Sevha sighed as if to say, here we go again.
Teresse stared at him. “Ignore the Marquis’s words for now. What’s important is the jousting tournant, isn’t it? Can you win?”
Sevha looked out the window.
The sky was black. The moon was a sliver of light.
“With a great deal of luck, I just might.”
It was an objective assessnt. Even with practice, a horse and heavy armor were just cumberso decorations to Sevha.
A jousting tournant, fighting while adorned with such things, was a chaotic world to him.
“When thrown into an unknown forest, you shouldn’t think of winning, but of surviving...”
“This is not that situation, Hunter. You must not be satisfied with survival. You must win.”
Sevha nodded. But since no way to win ca to mind, he did not answer.
As he turned to leave, Teresse said abruptly, “I’ll help you. Just find the will to win.”
“How?”
A brief silence passed.
She answered curtly, “With magic.”
Sevha clicked his tongue at her persistence and opened the door.
He stepped out of the room and slamd it shut.
THUD!
***
Three days later, at evening.
Sevha, clad in heavy armor, was thrown from his ugly mount.
Lying on the ground of the training arena, Sevha stared blankly at the setting sun.
“I admit it,” he said. “My skill at falling from a horse is the best on the continent.”
Laughter followed imdiately, and Eshu approached him. “Still, you are improving quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“If I had a son who rode as well as you do now, Young Master, I would tell him he might beco a fine knight in five years.”
“So you’re saying this won’t be enough.”
Convinced that winning the tournant was impossible at this rate, Sevha got to his feet, his brow furrowed.
“Young Master. There is no other way but to keep practicing.”
“There is. There has to be. No forest is without its hidden paths.”
Just then, Sevha’s eyes darted aside.
In the distance, he saw the Prince and his knights.
Sevha cleared his throat.
Eshu glanced at the Prince and said loudly, “Thank you for assisting with my training! As expected of Squire Seha! Ha! Ha!”
The man so very convincing in his act.
Sevha sighed inwardly and hung his head. “Commander. Let us stop here for today.”
“Indeed! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Thinking he shouldn’t make Eshu lie anymore, Sevha led the horse into the stables.
As soon as he put the horse in its stall, it looked at him and snorted, as if in ridicule.
“What are you laughing at?”
The horse snorted again, as if to say the answer was obvious.
“You damn beast...” Sevha grumbled.
He asked the ugly horse bluntly, “Hey. Do you know a way for to win this tournant?”
The horse turned away as if it couldn’t care less.
“Right. What kind of conversation can I have with an animal?”
Sevha took off his heavy armor and left the stables.
Outside, the training arena and Rasseu Castle beyond it ca into view.
It was wider and larger than Anse Castle, but the sight was suffocating.
This place doesn’t suit .
Fearing the feeling would worsen, Sevha did not return to the castle but went outside its walls.
The atmosphere of the castle town was similar to when he had first arrived, yet slightly different.
“A jousting tournant, they say?”
“Why hold a tournant now, of all tis?”
“Maybe there’s a reason for it?”
“What reason?”
“Who knows? Maybe sothing good will happen for us.”
There was a mixture of confusion as to why a tournant was being held when the territory was in disarray, and a small hope born from that sa confusion.
Sevha observed the mood of the Rasseu commoners as he entered the inn he had visited before.
“Welc—! Oh, it’s you.”
The innkeeper’s daughter, Mary, recalled the sight of Sevha slaughtering n and greeted him with a tense expression.
Her father, the innkeeper, however, greeted Sevha warmly as soon as he saw him.
“You’ve finally co!”
“Finally?”
“Yes! I’ve been wanting to treat my savior to a al, but you suddenly disappeared. Where have you been?”
“Here and there.”
“Anyway, sit! Let treat you to a al.”
As Sevha sat at the bar, the innkeeper imdiately began to cook.
Sevha watched him for a mont, then gauged the mood of the patrons behind him.
Like the commoners outside, they were also speculating about the jousting tournant.
Sevha asked, “How have things been lately?”
“Sa as always,” the innkeeper said, continuing to cook. “The only difference is that people think sothing might happen at the tournant.”
“Do you want sothing to happen?”
“I’d like for the good old days to return.”
The innkeeper glanced back at Sevha and smiled.
“You might not know it, but there was a ti when Blanc was one of the finest territories in the Knight Kingdom.”
“When the Great Underground Road was stable?”
“Yes. Those were good tis. Good enough that we could just laugh off the trouble the Marquis’s daughter caused.”
Sevha froze at the ntion of his mother.
“You... knew the Marquis’s daughter?”
“There probably isn’t a soul in Rasseu who hasn’t spoken with her. She was a tomboy who would ride out of the castle at all hours.”
Hearing stories of the mother whose face he could not recall, Sevha smiled faintly.
He remarked, “‘Marquis’s daughter’ and ‘tomboy’ don’t seem to fit together.”
“That’s because you didn’t know her.”
The innkeeper spoke of the days when Sevha’s mother lived in Rasseu.
“Her Ladyship found the castle suffocating, so she’d escape on horseback almost every day. The knights always gave chase. But still... not a single one could ever catch her.”
“She rode as well as a knight?”
“It was different from how a knight rides.”
The innkeeper placed a plate in front of Sevha and continued.
“When you watched the knights ride, you’d think of the open plains. But when you watched the lady ride, you’d think of a city.”
“What?”
“I’m no expert, so I don’t know how to describe it. In any case, the knights could never catch her once she left the castle.”
The innkeeper set a cup before Sevha and poured an unfamiliar drink.
“Anyway. Her Ladyship may have lacked nobility, but all the people of Rasseu loved her. She listened to us, she took our jokes... she saw us not as commoners or subjects, but as people.”
Hearing his mother praised, Sevha smiled unknowingly and took a sip of the drink.
Imdiately, he felt a burning sensation in his throat and started coughing.
“Wh-What is this?”
The innkeeper chuckled. “A herbal drink.”
“Who drinks this?”
“People who want to wake up. Or people I want to ss with.”
As Sevha continued to cough, the innkeeper kept laughing, then paused.
He said, “You resemble her.”
“Who?”
“The Marquis’s daughter. She ca into my shop once while hiding from the knights. She said she was thirsty and grabbed this very drink. The look on her face then was identical to yours now.”
The words “you resemble your mother” made Sevha recall sothing Edgar had once said.
It’s thanks to our mother that you were born with a body perfectly suited to be a Hunter.
As he rembered his lost family, a wistful look crossed Sevha’s face.
Then, like a fool waving his hands to grasp at sothing no longer there, he asked without thinking, “Do you really... think I resemble her?”
“I do. Seeing you makes miss her more. I heard she passed away after marrying into Anse, and that when Anse fell, both of her sons also d—”
The innkeeper saw Sevha’s wistful expression.
Why would he ask such a question with such a look on his face?
The mont the question ford, the answer ca to him.
His mouth fell slightly open.
Then, with the sudden respect the realization demanded, he said, “If you go to the east of the castle town, you will find traces left by her... Lady Carna. Perhaps you should visit.”
Sevha realized his foolish mistake and wondered how to salvage the situation.
But seeing the innkeeper’s nostalgic expression, he felt certain his secret was safe.
So he stopped worrying and simply nodded. “Alright.”
Sevha then ate in silence. He finished his al and downed the rest of the awakening drink in one gulp, his face contorting just as his mother’s once had.
Then he rose from his seat.
As Sevha turned his back, the innkeeper bit his lip and said, quietly enough that the other patrons could not hear.
“Blanc... is in your hands, Young Master.”
Sevha was an outsider, connected to Blanc only by blood. A foreigner who understood neither horses, nor heavy armor, nor chivalry.
And so Sevha thought it was foolish for the innkeeper to place his hope for Blanc’s salvation on him.
So foolish that it bothered him.
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