#091

As he left the room, the sun was clearing the mist from the snow. Through the wide windows of the temple, the land visible in patches revealed its seasonal colors again, melting in the sunlight. The ice was melting.

The temple was quiet. Those who had endured the frozen night had gone out to rebuild their lives, and only Moet’s knights and priests remained in the temple.

Cullen headed straight for Lasano’s location to check on him. He had deliberately avoided thinking about it while with Kiyen, but the moment he left the room, the suppressed worry surged.

Guided to the room where Lasano was, Cullen stopped before it. He was covered in blood, with a sharp stone lodged in his chest, and the memory came back in an instant. It was hard to believe he had recovered from such a state.

Cullen had seen too many of his people die horrific deaths. Not one had died peacefully. He felt as if Lasano’s image would be added to that list, making it difficult to open the door.

“The High Priest is alive.”

It was Kiyen who made Cullen’s hesitant hand move. Kiyen’s face was expressionless. That resolute appearance brought a sense of relief.

“If he were dead, the temple would have already made preparations. He is a priest from the ducal territory. He must be skilled, so they would have at least kept him alive.”

Following the voice that quietly echoed in the corridor, Cullen turned the doorknob.

The massive wooden door opened silently. A faint scent of herbs wafted out first, followed by the sight of the tidy room.

Silver hair was visible on the white bed. A priest stood beside him. On the opposite side, Arne’s sturdy back was visible, engaged in conversation with Ulli. The sight inexplicably eased his heart.

“You’re here?”

Ulli was the first to greet Cullen upon sensing his presence. With a wide smile and a wave, his face marked with a few scratches, Cullen hurried his steps. As he strode forward, Arne also turned quickly and greeted Cullen.

“You’ve arrived, Lord Cullen?”

“Were you all here?”

Arne smelled of fresh herbs. His face, gaunt from the night, looked tired. He smiled kindly and nodded.

“Yes, Lord Ulli helped me. Thanks to the priest, I didn’t have too much to do.”

Then, the priest who had been looking down at Lasano from across the room raised his head.

Those with divine power tended to have hair closer to silver. The priest had long, gray hair. Though not as much as Lasano, his divine power was clearly strong. Judging by his long, almond-shaped eyes without double eyelids, his pink irises, and his face, she was a woman.

“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Ritke, the Vice-Priestess.”

Waving away the priest’s greeting, Cullen asked.

“Is Lasano alright?”

At his words, Ritke quietly pulled back the blanket covering Lasano. Cullen flinched, recalling the horrific sight he had last seen, but Kiyen, who had appeared beside him, placed a hand on his back.

“Yes, he has been blessed by the goddess.”

Lasano’s upper body was revealed. His skin, as white as his face, had well-defined muscles, unlike his previous state.

However, what captured Cullen’s attention were the numerous scars covering his torso. The countless scars, hardened by years, were of various types. Spiderweb-like marks from blades, burn scars that could only come from being scorched, and others that were impossible to guess.

Cullen recalled Lasano’s words before they parted. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t die even if all his bones were broken? With a hardened expression, he examined Lasano’s torso. And his abdomen, which had been pierced, was bandaged. There were no bloodstains.

“Originally, with my meager divine power, I cannot properly heal the High Priest. However, this is a place where the goddess resides, and the High Priest’s will allowed me to accept my power. My brother here also helped with other external injuries.”

Ritke bowed her head briefly to Arne as she spoke. Arne hastily put down the herbs he was grinding and bowed apologetically.

“At this rate, he will regain consciousness within a few days. After that, he will recover quickly with the grace of the gods… we hope he will return to his former self within a fortnight.”

After finishing her words, Ritke turned to the group. Her gaze finally stopped at Kiyen, and she bowed respectfully, offering praise to the goddess.

“I offer the honor of meeting such a great being to the goddess. I shall take my leave so you may converse comfortably.”

Without adding unnecessary words, Ritke intended to depart. As Cullen granted permission, she stepped back and left the room.

Even after the priestess left, Cullen remained silent for a moment. As he simply took in the sight of Lasano’s scars, Ulli approached.

“You’re surprised, aren’t you? We were surprised too. Scars of this extent are rare even among mercenaries.”

Only after the door was fully closed did Arne lift his head and go to Lasano’s side. Applying herbs to his injured areas with care, he also spoke.

“What kind of experiences must Lord Lasano have gone through? Who could have done this to the High Priest… Is it the Aksha Temple… No, no.”

He hastily swallowed his words, fearing they might be blasphemous, when Kiyen answered in his stead.

“High Priests cannot harm each other. If they did, the goddess’s punishment would descend.”

Silence bound them together. Was this the past behind the facet of his personality that always showed a meaningful demeanor? A past etched with scars that even the High Priest’s healing power could not erase.

“Can’t Lasano do almost anything with his divine power?”

“But he cannot heal himself.”

“Even with the strength to survive such wounds?”

“Expecting more than that is a luxury.”

Kiyen said so, then turned his gaze out the window. With an inscrutable expression, he added.

“The goddess does not bestow perfect blessings.”

The words Lasano had spoken once, that the goddess’s mercy was different from humans’, vaguely came to mind. Just as Cullen was about to ask Kiyen for his thoughts, a knock was heard.

“Your Highness, I apologize, but I have something to convey.”

It was the voice of the knight who had escorted him here.

“What is it?”

“My lord has just returned. He has ordered that you be brought to him once you have concluded your business at the temple.”

The eyes of the group met. It was right for him to leave, as there was nothing more for him to do here. He also had many matters to attend to with the Duke.

“I will go now.”

Cullen replied and turned to Ulli and Arne.

“Would you like to come?”

“Hmm, I’m uncomfortable in such settings. Let me know if you need me.”

Arne, following Ulli’s quick decision, cautiously asked.

“I’m sorry, but… may I stay by Lord Lasano’s side? This is the kind of thing I can be of help with. Of course, call me anytime if you need me!”

Seeing Arne timidly express his opinion, Cullen felt a faint sense of comfort. He looked at them wordlessly, then nodded.

Though winter had receded, the ducal territory was in disarray. Damage that would take a long time to rebuild, similar to the Marquess Exion’s territory, was visible everywhere. They had minimized casualties as much as possible, but more than half of the vast territory had been swept away by Kwanu’s movements. And that wasn’t all.

The ducal palace was even worse.

The number of knights who had escorted Cullen initially had been halved. That was what was immediately visible. There were certainly knights dead in the city, but this was excessive. How many had died in Zarkas’s attack?

It wasn’t just the knights; the castle itself was in ruins. Though not destroyed by Kwanu, traces of murdered knights were visible everywhere. Passing by pale-faced servants, Cullen was led to the Duke’s study. Upon arriving at the door, a knight announced in their stead.

“Your Grace, His Highness has arrived.”

As soon as the words ended, the door opened. It was Moet. Unlike when he had greeted Cullen at the temple, his face was pale. It must be due to the Young Duke’s death.

“……Greetings, Your Highness.”

The Duke, who had been seated, stood up and approached him. He bowed along with Moet. It was a somber face Cullen had never seen in the palace.

“Please dispense with the formalities.”

“Thank you.”

At Cullen’s words, the Duke stepped back. He gestured to the sofa in the study and dismissed the knights.

“You may leave.”

Only after the door closed did Cullen slowly survey the study and head for the sofa. Piles of parchment overflowed everywhere. Moet apologized as he picked up fallen documents.

“Please excuse the lack of preparation. As Your Highness knows…”

His words trailed off. As soon as he spoke, a look of anguish descended upon the Duke’s face. Only after Cullen sat down did the Duke and Moet take seats opposite him.

After a long silence, the Duke spoke.

“Would you like some tea, Your Highness?”

Cullen glanced at Kiyen, but seeing his indifferent expression, he quickly refused. The atmosphere was hardly conducive to leisurely tea, and even less so with the Duke before him. It was Duke Ruffellon who had caused him trouble in Rodiak.

“No, thank you.”

At Cullen’s refusal, the Duke remained silent.

Observing the Duke’s eyes, filled with sorrow and despair, Cullen suddenly realized a contradiction. An oddly conflicting fact he hadn’t considered.

The curse on Rodiak was clearly the power of Akesis. That power was undoubtedly being used by Zarkas, which meant the Duke must also be a member of Zarkas.

But Zarkas had killed the Young Duke.

If the Duke was one of them, what reason would he have to kill the Young Duke and all of the Duke’s knights? Internal strife? Or betrayal? Something didn’t add up.

“There is something I wish to ask Your Highness.”

As confusion rippled through Cullen’s mind, the Duke spoke. Moet looked at his father with anxious eyes. In the tense atmosphere, the Duke raised his head. His red-rimmed eyes asked Cullen.

“I dare to ask, Your Highness.”

“Father…!”

Moet shook his head, but the Duke opened his mouth.

“Did Your Highness kill my firstborn?”

Cullen’s confusion deepened at the faint hostility in his voice. He had always considered all nobles to be excellent actors, but the deep emotion in the Duke’s voice was too profound and genuine to be feigned.

“Father, Your Highness would not do such a thing.”

“Step aside, Moet.”

Despite knowing of Kiyen’s presence, the Duke was resolute, as if he had made up his mind. He continued his question.

“I heard that my inadequate child committed an offense against Your Highness. I am merely asking because I wish to know, Your Highness. I know it is rude, but you may punish me if you wish, so please tell me.”

Finally, moisture mixed in.

“If the favor I showed Your Highness has returned like this… it means I will be a father who brought death to his child.”