#041

The moment he appeared, the banquet hall stirred. The crowd, recognizing him instantly, hastily bowed. Their expressions were filled with more hope than when they had dealt with Lasano.

“Silfir!”

“Silfir, you’ve returned!”

“We’ve been waiting, Silfir!”

Silfir, his expression stern, strode into the hall. The pristine appearance he had at the Imperial Palace was gone, replaced by clear signs of hardship. His cloak was torn, and his hair was disheveled.

Nevertheless, he appeared more dignified than Pellar Exion.

Like Silfir, his knights also seemed injured. As he entered the banquet hall, he stopped before Cullen and Pellar.

“Oh, Silfir! You’ve arrived just in time. Subdue this insolent fellow at once, quickly!”

Silfir glanced at his struggling uncle, then turned his gaze to Cullen. Their eyes met.

Soon, he bowed his head towards Cullen.

“I greet Your Highness.”

Following Silfir’s greeting, the knights behind him knelt. Seeing the knights kneel in unison towards Cullen with disciplined movements, people’s eyes widened. The commotion instantly subsided.

“……?”

Hearing the title “Your Highness,” Pellar looked back and forth at them with incomprehension. Cullen, applying more pressure to the hand pinning Pellar, observed Silfir. Seeing the shadow cast over his face, Cullen realized his guess was correct.

The Marquess must truly be dead.

“Have you found the Marquess?”

Cullen asked, his tone now awkward after days of being a royal. Silfir nodded.

“Yes.”

“It’s a shame it couldn’t be salvaged.”

“No. Your Highness was also in danger, so it is natural. Rather… it seems there was a disturbance.”

Silfir surveyed his surroundings. His gaze passed the banquet hall, Pellar, and the people, finally landing on Arne. After scanning him, who was held by knights with a sword in hand, Silfir spoke.

“An unexpected being has caused trouble. A priest wielding a sword.”

Now that Silfir was here, this was no longer his concern. Cullen released Pellar’s wrist after twisting it once more. Pellar collapsed forward with a cry of pain.

“Before that, I must take that priest away.”

“Your Highness, I apologize, but that cannot be done.”

Silfir said, wiping his forehead with a weary face. With a slightly sharp expression, he gazed at Arne.

“He attempted to assassinate a noble. He cannot be easily released.”

The people seemed to be slowly grasping the situation. As Silfir, who was clearly not an illusion, continued to address Cullen with honorifics, they turned pale and began to kneel.

Pellar looked at Cullen with a dazed expression. His family also turned pale and cautiously knelt behind Pellar. Whispers spread like a shallow breeze.

“As Your Highness knows, this is now my estate. As the lord of the territory, the crime of attempting to assassinate a noble must be severely punished.”

In other words, a minimum of death. It was as he had guessed.

“However, that priest is a witness.”

“A witness to what?”

“The disaster befalling your territory now is due to a curse. Your uncle’s accumulated sins are the very offering of that curse.”

Silfir closed his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair again and this time turned his head towards Kiyen. He bowed respectfully to him, much like he had to Cullen, and then spoke. However, he paused as if remembering something.

“Call me Kiyen.”

Silfir’s lips moved, and he looked at Cullen. His eyes were confused.

“…You said Kiyen?”

“Yes. That is my name.”

Kiyen, who had been silent for a long time, opened his mouth. The nerves, taut with tension, relaxed slightly at Kiyen’s words.

“…Yes, Kiyen. Do you agree with this, Kiyen?”

Kiyen nodded.

“If you wish to resolve the issues in your territory, you must kill that man.”

“The goddess gives me no rest.”

Silfir sighed deeply and rubbed his dry face. Clearly exhausted, he surveyed Cullen’s party once more and reached a conclusion.

“It is late. For now, I must attend to my father’s remains and announce the passing. As my uncle was a noble, his immediate execution is not possible, as Kiyen said. A trial is necessary.”

At Silfir’s words, the people, who had been as quiet as mice, began to murmur. Someone cautiously asked.

“Is it true… that the Marquess has passed away?”

After a few seconds of silence, Silfir slowly nodded.

“Yes. He was involved in an accident while returning here quickly after hearing the news.”

With shadowed eyes, Silfir looked down at Pellar.

“Anyone involved in this incident, regardless of their relationship, is responsible for the death of the former Marquess Exion, Jeils Exion. That person will surely pay the price.”

Silfir quickly organized the situation. His demeanor clearly indicated he was the master of this place. Naturally taking control of the hall, he spoke to the knights.

“You will escort His Highness and his party. Prepare and entertain them with the best possible offerings.”

“No, dinner is not necessary.”

Cullen, speaking to the knights, turned his head to look at Lasano.

“Lasano, please take the sword.”

“May I ask the reason?”

Silfir asked, puzzled. Cullen replied.

“Those without divine power cannot wield this sword. The sword seems to swallow the wielder’s spirit.”

“Then I shall ask you to do so.”

Lasano, looking at Arne, returned to his usual expression from his hardened one. Composing his features, he slowly approached Arne. After briefly gazing at Arne’s swollen and battered face, Lasano quietly extended his hand.

Arne handed over the sword without a word. Lasano picked up the pouch that had fallen on the floor and placed the sword inside it. Silfir, watching this, said to Cullen.

“I apologize, but I will arrange separate accommodations for the High Priest. As Your Highness said, if this sword is part of the evidence, it must be protected with the utmost care.”

You speak well. Cullen conceded to Silfir’s veiled request, which was to prevent the potential misfortune of Pellar’s death. There was no other way, either.

“We will look into the details tomorrow.”

Silfir commanded the knights.

“Bring my uncle.”

“Wait, Silfir! Do you really… believe him, right now? That it was me, of all people?”

“This is the Empire’s one and only Crown Prince. Watch your words, uncle.”

Silfir spoke with an expression devoid of any regret. Pellar shook his head. His family, clinging to his side, cried out in unison.

“Lord Silfir, this is not right! He is your uncle. You are being too harsh on someone who has dedicated himself to the territory in place of both of you. Please, make a fair judgment…!”

“I will hear it tomorrow.”

Silfir concluded his words resolutely. Pellar’s wife, who had been raising her voice, trembling, lowered her head when Cullen’s cool gaze fell upon her. Silfir made the final arrangements.

“Take that priest to the dungeon. As for my uncle…”

“Not the dungeon, Lord Silfir!”

Pellar’s daughter shrieked. Even the quiet onlookers began to side with her.

“That’s right. Placing him in the same space as the one who just tried to assassinate Lord Pellar is tantamount to condoning another murder!”

“Indeed. You… Your Highness, you must have fallen for that priest’s scheme.”

It seemed the same argument would repeat. Cullen rubbed his brow and said to Silfir,

“Do not harm Arne in any way before the trial begins.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“If you tell me the room, I will go on my own.”

Tired green eyes gazed at Cullen. Cullen realized the fatigue in his eyes was staining him as well.

“Understood.”

The night was too long.

Cullen requested bathwater instead of a meal. He hadn’t expected warm water, but Silfir brought water at just the right temperature.

Once the hardened, foul-smelling blood was washed away, he could finally breathe. After changing into the light clothes brought with the bathwater, Cullen, sword in hand as always, sat on the bed.

His body was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come. He pushed back the black hair clinging to his forehead, still damp. The sight of Arne’s resigned face made his mood even lower.

“You don’t seem to be able to sleep.”

Cullen turned. Through the slightly ajar door, a familiar face appeared. The rigid expression softened minutely. Cullen himself didn’t notice.

“Lord Kiyen.”

“Humans are consistently selfish.”

Kiyen entered Cullen’s room with silent steps. The door clicked shut. Cullen sat still, looking up at Kiyen as he approached the bed.

It felt like only yesterday he had been wary, sword drawn.

He had grown accustomed to it since then. Cullen even felt an absurd sense of relief the moment Kiyen approached him.

But today, it couldn’t be helped. The situation earlier had exhausted even Cullen. He was disgusted by the faces of people who saw only what they wanted to see, regardless of the truth.

So, it was natural for his heart to be soothed by seeing someone as beautiful as Kiyen.

“Yes, I agree.”

Kiyen leaned his forehead against the bedpost. His long blonde hair flowed beautifully. The faint, ever-present scent of lilies perfumed the air. It was a fragrance he hadn’t smelled all day, amidst the smell of blood and dust.

“I…”

Kiyen’s eyelashes slowly lifted. His deepened blue eyes gazed at Cullen.

“I didn’t expect you to save that priest.”

“I was the one who stopped him in the cave.”

“Yes, from then on.”

Kiyen sat down beside Cullen. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, making Cullen flinch, his fingers trembling. Kiyen remained silent for a long time. The faint moonlight illuminated his profile. A quiet peace settled.

“Ella was the most peculiar among the humans I’ve seen. She didn’t suit Larkan. And you…”

Kiyen met his eyes. His soft breaths echoed. Cullen’s heart began to beat faster.

“No.”

Kiyen cut himself off. Then, he began to climb onto the bed entirely. Cullen, about to ask what he had been about to say, suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Only his white feet were visible.

A strange anxiety spread through him, as if he had lost something. Cullen clenched the bedsheet in his hand, then released it.

“Did you… leave your shoes behind?”

Kiyen settled onto the bed like a large beast. Lying on his side with his chin propped in his hand, Kiyen yawned. He said casually,

“No, I threw them away.”

“…What?”

“They were dirty and I couldn’t wear them anymore. They seemed beyond cleaning, so I threw them away earlier.”

Cullen gazed at the white feet. They had suited him quite well. But they certainly weren’t practical for movement. He had already seen them stained with blood.

It was natural to throw them away.

His mood continued to sink. Cullen couldn’t understand why, and slowly nodded.

“Is that so.”

“Yes.”

Kiyen lay down, resting his head on the bed.

“Next time… I will give you something better.”

Kiyen gazed at Cullen with his elongated golden pupils. After watching Cullen for a long time, he slowly closed his eyes. There was no reply.

Listening to his quiet breathing, Cullen silently stared at Kiyen’s white feet.

Despite being terribly tired, sleep wouldn’t come.