Chapter 43 - An Uncomfortable Reunion (2)

“What a pleasant face! Very handsome!”

A cheerful voice broke the silence. It was Gawain, beaming at Yohan.

Yohan was somewhat taken aback. Only yesterday, a Demon had torn open Gawain’s emotional wounds, sending him on a rampage. He had lost his reason, just as he had the day he caused his mother’s death. Self-loathing should have been inevitable, yet Gawain showed no sign of it. If anything, he seemed even more cheerful.

‘... Young as he is, Gawain is still Gawain.’

Even in the original novel, he had never revealed his true feelings. By playing the thoughtless layabout, he always disarmed his political enemies’ suspicions.

A restless wanderer, a wastrel obsessed with wine and women, the disgrace of Artelga’s royal family, an accursed son who had defied all filial duty... Every label that followed him was merely a mask of his own making.

He kept his head low and bided his time. Until he uncovered the hidden truth behind “that day,” Gawain would never reveal his true self.

Now was no different. Though his rampage had claimed victim after victim, he showed no guilt. The world would consider him a thoughtless reprobate, and no politician would see him as a threat. Only Yohan knew what lay beneath his mask.

Yohan spoke from one knee.

“You are as handsome as the rumors say, Your Highness.”

“Oh, so they speak of me even in the south.”

“You are very famous, after all.”

“Layabout, scoundrel, disgrace to the royal family, what else was there...? In any case, I imagine it is all infamy. Haha.”

Gawain smiled brightly as he disparaged himself.

“The youngest holy knight, one blessed by the moon, the Great Saint’s favored child... You have many distinctions that one could hardly dare call infamous.”

At Yohan’s immediate reply, Gawain’s smile faded. He was a little surprised; this was not the response he had expected.

Whenever he, a prince, belittled himself in front of someone, most people either became flustered or withdrew in discomfort. Yohan was different. He had answered as though he had been waiting for the chance. He had the social finesse of a wily old noble, at such a young age.

Gawain spoke.

“You embarrass me. I am woefully inadequate compared to my reputation.”

Gawain possessed tremendous power, but he could not properly control even a tenth of it. A reputation that had outstripped his strength—in a sense, he and Yohan were in similar circumstances. As a Demon, Yohan was also weak compared to his reputation as an Apostle.

Yohan said, “If that reputation comes from expectations others have imposed upon you, you need not live up to it. Please do not belittle yourself.”

Gawain stared at him without answering. Listening to their conversation, Shaperia gave a discreet nod.

The holy knight Keinak cleared his throat.

“... Your Highness, forgive the interruption, but I believe we must be on our way.”

Gawain gestured for Keinak to rise.

“Where is my head? I did not mean to detain you. My apologies. Hurry along, Sir Keinak. This is the ideal time to capture White Horn, is it not?”

Then he turned to Yohan.

“Sir Yohan, I would like to speak with you a little longer. If you are not busy, could you keep me company? You are free to decline, of course.”

Yohan had no particular reason to refuse. Gawain was a major figure in the story, and forging a connection with him would prove useful in one way or another.

Yohan said, “I have no objection, but are you not busy yourself, Your Highness?”

“Espada is bound to return to my hand eventually. For now, I would rather focus on a new acquaintance.”

“You honor me.”

Gawain smiled at Yohan, then looked at Keinak.

“You do not mind if I borrow Sir Yohan for a moment?”

“He was not part of our company to begin with. Please do as you wish, Your Highness. We shall take our leave.”

At Keinak’s command, the troops turned as one. Shaperia and Yohan exchanged a glance of farewell.

The imp in the iron cage was still staring at Yohan. He could feel its determination to return alive. Yohan chuckled. If it truly did survive and return, he intended to keep his promise, though the odds were next to impossible.

“Shall we go elsewhere?”

The villagers were still prostrate on the ground, unable to rise. Gawain did not want to make them uncomfortable any longer.

“Allow me to escort you to the hut.”

It was a shabby place to receive royalty, but there was nowhere else suitable.

“No. Let us simply walk for a while.”

“As you wish.”

The two walked out of the hamlet.

Unlike usual, the hills were far from quiet at this late hour, and no darkness obscured their view. The Church’s search filled the surroundings with noise, while holy light rising here and there illuminated the area.

Instead of nocturnal beasts watching them, numerous people trailed Gawain and Yohan. All of them were there to guard and monitor the Third Prince.

Gawain muttered under his breath.

“On my trail already. That Yuri really does have an uncanny knack for finding me.”

Yuri, the knight serving as Gawain’s bodyguard, was someone Yohan knew well, too. She was following Gawain at a careful distance.

“Are we being followed?”

“Rather than followed... Hmm, protected? Watched? Well, call it protective supervision. Nothing will happen, so do not let it bother you.”

That was difficult. Knowing someone was trailing him, and feeling powerless because he could not detect the slightest sign of them, left Yohan distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Perhaps I should have Gaf teach me how to spot a tail.’

It seemed likely to help him survive in the future.

“More importantly, Sir Yohan.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Just as you knew of me, I have actually heard something about you.”

“What might that be?”

Gawain stopped abruptly.

“Rumors about House Miyatro’s illegitimate son.”

“May I hear the details?”

“It is simple. ‘An illegitimate son suddenly appeared, ousted his uncle, and became heir to the baronial house. In the process, the uncle took his own life, and questions remain about his death.’ That more or less sums it up.”

Yohan nodded calmly.

“Leaving aside the truth of that account, you are quite different from the rumors, Your Highness.”

“In what way?”

“I heard you had no interest in politics or current affairs, yet you know all about the family affairs of a baronial house on the frontier. Clearly, one should not take rumors at face value.”

Barely a few weeks had passed since Yohan’s uncle Kril had killed himself. Word would be starting to spread, but it was too soon for it to have reached the entire kingdom. It could hardly have reached the ears of the politically indifferent Third Prince.

At least, that was what the public’s perception suggested. The reality was entirely different.

Gawain never let a scrap of news escape him. He gathered vast amounts of information to uncover the hidden truth behind “that day.” Having read the original novel, Yohan knew that very well.

Gawain said, “One of my attendants never stops chattering, so I hear all sorts of things whether I want to or not.”

A lie. He was surely referring to Yuri, but she was actually gathering information on his orders.

“Did you ask to speak with me alone to confirm whether your attendant’s story was true?”

Gawain shook his head.

“No. You gave me some advice, and I wanted to offer you a sincere word of counsel in return.”

“Forgive me, but may I ask what advice I gave you, Your Highness?”

They had only exchanged a few words, nothing grand enough to be called advice. At least, not as Yohan remembered it.

“You told me I need not meet expectations others impose on me. To be honest, that struck quite a chord.”

Gawain smiled, and there was genuine goodwill toward Yohan in that smile.

‘Is it because of the Great Saint’s eyes?’

If so, that was very welcome indeed. The price he had paid for the eye was well worth it.

Yohan said, “I am glad if I was of even a little help to you, Your Highness.”

“Then I ought to repay you. May I offer some advice as well?”

“I shall take it to heart.”

“Do you happen to know who was backing your uncle, Sir Kril?”

Count Staviana had been Kril’s backer. The kingdom’s chancellor and leader of the aristocratic faction—the most influential man in the kingdom had been supporting Kril.

“My uncle told me himself that it was Count Staviana.”

“Then you must know something about the Count, too.”

“He is widely reputed to be a cold-blooded man of power.”

“Cold-blooded hardly describes him. The Count is a Demon of a man. Seemingly friendly, yet heartless; seemingly merciful, yet ruthless. Some call him as cunning as a fox, yet as bold as a tiger. Whatever he may be, he is not a man to make an enemy of.”

There was little hostility toward the Count in Gawain’s tone. He was merely stating his thoughts calmly.

‘As I thought, he still seems to know nothing.’

If Gawain knew the hidden truth behind “that day,” he would not be able to speak of the Count so calmly. The Count was the underlying cause of his mother’s death.

Just as in the original novel, Gawain would eventually learn the whole truth. He and the Count would become bitter enemies. Yohan intended to hasten that day through the Nightmare Spirit he had already planted.

Yohan said, “... Then I have displeased the Count without intending to.”

The Count had wanted Kril to inherit the barony. Whatever the reason, his wishes had been thwarted, and he was not a man to let that pass.

“Yes. In fact, he has already begun to move. I hear he has taken possession of Sir Kril’s body.”

It was just as Yohan had expected.

“That is valuable information. I must prepare.”

At that, Gawain’s eyes changed. A faint competitive spark flickered in them.

“Prepare? Do you intend to oppose the Count?”

Gawain’s demeanor quickly settled, but Yohan could not shake the fleeting sense that something was amiss.

‘... What was that?’

Just now, Gawain had shown a kind of hostility. It had been so brief that Yohan wondered whether he had imagined it.

“Oppose is too grand a word. I merely strive to uphold the justice I believe in and the laws of the Great Saint.”

“... I see. Whatever happens, handle it wisely. I would like to see you again.”

“I shall not forget your kindness, Your Highness.”

“And I shall remember our meeting today. I quite enjoyed it.”

Gawain began walking again.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes. It is time I looked for Espada.”

Yohan was a little puzzled. He could not tell why Gawain had sought this conversation. Had he simply wanted to get acquainted? The subject had been rather sensitive for that, considering they had discussed Count Staviana.

Concealing his misgivings, Yohan bowed his head.

“I am sure you will find it. Please take care.”

Even as he left, Gawain looked back at Yohan several times. The farther he went from Yohan, the louder the holy spear Espada’s cries became. It sounded as though it were wailing at him not to leave, begging him to return.

After pondering for a long while, Gawain abruptly stopped. He called out from a distance.

“Sir Yohan! Forgive me a moment!”

Gawain opened his hand toward Yohan.

“Saint Marziel. O vanguard that pierces malice and carves justice into it, return once more to the front line!”

Pure white holy light blazed from his hand. The radiance drew in the surrounding space as though it exerted a force of attraction.

Their surroundings began to warp. The air rippled around Yohan. The atmosphere convulsed, and the veil of night twisted.

Gawain’s face betrayed his bewilderment.

“W-what is going on...?”

A deafening blast, as though the world itself were shattering, shook heaven and earth.