.jpg)
I recalled Tatyana's face from that day, as she closely observed my reaction. Just as she had, Vasily no longer hid the betrayal of Uncle Anto—no, Libertan—in my presence.
“I know. Don't worry, Vasily. I have no feelings for that man. We haven't seen each other for too long to harbor any special affection. It's just... I'm still not quite used to it.”
The fact that Duke Anto Libertan was the leader of the rebels.
Furthermore, I was anxious.
I feared that Ivan, who had followed that man so devotedly in his childhood, might still be keeping him close to this day.
“Chenko.”
At the cold call, the man snapped his head up.
It was the dawn of early spring, and a chill still permeated the air. A tall man, who seemed to have run breathlessly, was just stepping inside, calmly regaining his composure.
Chenko, who had been suppressing his presence while hiding in the shadows cast by the lamps, stood before the man.
It's thrilling to see the Captain with this kind of expression, he thought, swallowing such trivial sentiments and fulfilling his duty before it was too late.
“Limbs are intact. He's fine. Mental shock—that will require more observation, but he seems okay for now. Chenko is uninjured and fine. If there's any special note, I'm a bit hungry.”
It was a clear report with a hint of playfulness, but internally, he was somewhat tense.
While it was a great relief that Princess Larisa was safe, as a result, Chenko had failed to fully carry out his assigned mission. It was a significant blow to his pride.
Contrary to the usual reprimands of 'report properly,' his Captain was silent. It was only natural, as the person he was tasked to protect at the cost of his own life had gone through such a crisis. Believing it was better to get the first blow over with, Chenko kept his head up and closed his eyes.
“Left side, please, Captain. The tooth that fell out on the right last time is still...”
“Good work.”
But wait. Instead of delivering a slap of fury, his Captain had just completely deflated Chenko's tension. Though he was a man who could smile in the face of a gun barrel, for some reason, he felt scared now.
“I failed to predict the insurgents' raid.”
“I know.”
“...Is that all?”
As he peeked with one eye, the Captain, standing stiffly with arms crossed, gave a cold warning.
“Are you disappointed? If you lift your head again, I'll make sure the other side swells up too.”
“My apologies.”
Then I shall be on my way. He retreated obediently before the misfortune of a displaced cheekbone could occur.
Today's Captain might be a young duke, a count, a viscount, and a baron of a certain family, but Chenko knew that the moment he donned that crude, half-finished mask, he was an opponent capable of crushing a rebel's face like a meat pie.
Moreover, for him, violence or torture was neither an outlet for twisted desire nor anxiety caused by mental instability.
It was violence thoroughly controlled by an impeccable rationality that felt not a shred of guilt or sympathy. The Captain used force purely based on objective necessity (of course, this objectivity followed the unit's rules), and watching this, Chenko had come to a realization.
'Yeah, the truly crazy ones aren't the ones being swung around, but the ones doing the swinging.'
He planned everything himself and never failed once. Chenko was convinced that the absurd moniker of 'Prophet' stemmed from his thorough planning and insight.
Under this man, at least he wouldn't end up dying a dog's death.
That was why Chenko, who had wandered while being treated as the scum of humanity, had settled under him. He had long since thrown away any meager sense of duty to protect the Empire and its citizens.
...It had already been about two years since he began following his Captain, Valentin, as if in worship. Chenko now knew Valentin's true nature. He was simply...
“Chenko.”
At the low call, he turned around like a thief caught in the act.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take a day off. Return the day after tomorrow in the morning.”
Aha! He was simply the greatest Captain. Overjoyed, Chenko practically tap-danced his way out of the Imperial Palace.
Valentin took his eyes off Chenko's retreating figure as he disappeared with all sorts of fuss.
The place he headed immediately was the Emperor's bedroom. As he entered the room, the Empress, who had been sitting with a face full of worry amidst the heavy, sunken air, stood up.
“Good work, Count Nariyan.”
Leaving behind words of sincere encouragement, the Empress left the bedroom with her attendants. Soon, the Emperor, who had been leaning against the bedside, motioned to Valentin.
“I am sorry. My condition is not good, so a long conversation will be difficult.”
“I understand.”
Looking at the Emperor's state, it seemed he had briefly fainted upon hearing the news of Vasily and Lara. Ten years ago, he had been as steadfast as Vasily, but as he aged, he had become more fragile than the Empress regarding his children.
“First... I must thank you. Today's events seem to have been truly dangerous, and thanks to you secretly bringing along Horgan members, the Crown Prince and Princess survived. I am truly grateful.”
Valentin bowed his head obediently.
“Chenko Kuyev, was it? I intend to provide medals, rewards, and several conveniences for him and the other three. If you have time, check on it before you leave.”
“Understood.”
The Emperor, coughing lightly, suddenly let out a long sigh and smiled.
“The Crown Prince has grown a lot. To think he coordinated with you to overhaul the Princess's guard personnel without even giving me a word.”
“...I am merely sorry that he has come to despise Your Majesty.”
“You are terribly honest. In times like this, you should deny it and say he didn't despise me. Of course, I do like that about you. So... what do you think? Do you still judge Count Mikhail to be suspicious?”
Count Mikhail.
As the Chamberlain of the Imperial Household, he had served the Emperor for a long time. Count Mikhail was one of the people the Emperor kept closest, including Valentin, and having been friends for over 30 years, his personal level of trust was something Valentin could not rival.
In particular, since the overall management of the Imperial Palace was his doing, Mikhail remained by the Emperor's side whenever Valentin overhauled the maids and guards moving in and out of Lara's bedroom for certain reasons.
Perhaps those days came to mind. The Emperor continued in a hollow voice.
“I know you held your tongue because you were conscious of Count Mikhail. Coincidentally, this is the result. Truly, coincidentally... that such a disaster occurred the moment you reinforced the guards without a word.”
In truth, Valentin was certain that Count Mikhail was a spy for Libertan.
Information that one of the princesses would attend the ball in Shaharansk had reached Mikhail's ears through Ivan, and without fail, rebels targeting her had gathered.
Count Mikhail had built a friendship with Libertan that was as long as that with the Emperor. He was also one of the very few people who knew of the Emperor's origins.
“If you permit it, I intend to observe him a bit longer. Even if Count Mikhail knows he is suspected, he is in a position where he must use any means to remain in the Imperial Palace. Libertan likely cannot trust him implicitly either. If we persuade him, we can certainly use him to our advantage.”
“A prudent judgment. However, I can no longer keep Count Mikhail in this palace, so please consult with the Empress and find a way to tie him down. I leave the rest entirely to you.”
.jpg)