RR 24

Chapter : 24

Hmm… This time, he looked at Ron. Ron was good with horses as a stable hand, but he had never received any knightly training. He might have been treated harshly, but he had never been thrown into a life-or-death situation with nothing. Would he endure? In Tris’s eyes, seventeen-year-old Ron still looked like a boy.

Sensing his hesitation, Ron said to Tris,

“I’ll never be a burden to you, Sir Tris.”

Tris let out a short laugh.

“You could die within a day if things go wrong.”

Ron answered with a completely serious face.

“That’s fine. Outside the estate, no one will know I’m a bastard unless I say it myself. Even if I only live one day, I want to taste freedom.”

Hoo. Tris lifted the corners of his lips into a smile. Freedom… Even if he lived only one day—he wanted to live free…

Tris’s heart began to pound as well. Even the air in the hall felt different—lighter somehow. Come to think of it, Tris had never tasted freedom either.

To ride on the wind of freedom…

Tris rose from his chair.

“Ron, there’s one thing you have to do first.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything.”

“From now on, call me brother.”

Ron leapt up, flustered.

“What? How could I dare? I can’t.”

“Then stay behind.”

Tris spoke coldly and turned away. Ron looked at Peta desperately for help, but Peta only shrugged. He had grown up with Tris since they were ten years old and had seen the training and education he went through.

Which is why it was amazing. Even so, Tris was nothing like other nobles. Tradition meant nothing to him. His mindset was bewilderingly down-to-earth.

And yet, ironically, he looked the most noble of them all. Even without acting like one, he still appeared that way—probably because he had the capacity to embrace people.

Taking responsibility for others—wasn’t that the true essence of noble power?

Ron hurried after Tris.

“Sir Tris, please!”

Tris cut him off coolly.

“If you can’t even do that much, what do you think you’ll manage? Forget it.”

Then to Peta:

“Peta, come to the village with me. We need to tell Thompson a few things and see if there’s anything useful.”

“Right.”

As Peta passed Ron, he whispered,

“Just do it. You’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Ron shook his head miserably. Hoo. Peta chuckled quietly. To hesitate over a little joke—what a fool. One word wouldn’t change anything anyway. That was what status was: an invisible brand stamped on you the moment you were born.

Tris tossed Peta a cape, pulled on his own, and headed out.

When they crossed the drawbridge, their breath white in the cold air, Peta muttered,

“The joke was too much.”

Tris answered casually,

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“What, you really mean to act like his brother? Aden and Tommy will be thrilled.”

“They’ll hate it. They’re nobles.”

“You are too. You’re a noble.”

Tris frowned.

“Ron’s half noble too. Sean, Rooney—everyone.”

“…I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Then shut up.”

Peta clamped his mouth shut. A weight settled uneasily in his chest. The duke must feel the same. No wonder people called Tris a weirdo. Peta sighed. He couldn’t change Tris’s mind anyway.

After they walked a while, Peta cautiously asked,

“So… what are we going to live on? Do you have a plan?”

Tris answered immediately.

“I’m going to do what I’m best at—and what I love most.”

Peta stopped walking and stared.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to live off fighting?”

Everyone in the domain knew how much Tris loved the sword. He cared so much he forged his own blades. No woman had ever slept in his bed, but a sword did—every night. So the moment Tris said he would do what he loved most, Peta guessed it.

Stretching both arms, Tris said,

“I’m going to live off that. I’ll be a mercenary.”

Peta gaped.

“You’re insane. Get a grip, Tris. You’re going to be a duke someday! A mercenary?!”

How could he not exclaim? For someone of Tris’s status to even think that… Truly a madman. Yet Tris acted as if nothing were strange.

“There must be lots like me.”

“You’re the same as those people?”

“How am I different? Father will say he cast me out anyway.”

“But still…”

“And besides, when the time comes to go get Idella, I won’t manage it if I’m weak.”

“You don’t think you’re the only one who cares about Idella, right? The lord is keeping her in mind too.”

Tris stared at him and quietly asked,

“You really believe that?”

Peta flinched. Tris’s gaze seemed to pierce straight through him. His face reddened as he lowered his head.

Tris resumed leading the way.

“Regardless, I need strength of my own. If you don’t like it, don’t come.”

Peta grumbled.

“Why do you have to say it like that? I never said I won’t. I was just shocked.”

He was shocked. And anxious—and afraid of what came next.

Ron’s words flashed through his mind.

Even if I only live one day, I want to taste freedom…

Peta twisted his lips. What a lunatic. What freedom did a bastard have? Just wait and see—if he slacked off even a little, Peta would make sure he regretted it.

“Tris, wait up!”

Tris beckoned him forward.

Peta hurried. Tris looked almost giddy, excited. Hah. Madman. What if he really lost his claim to the dukedom? He probably wouldn’t care. Peta genuinely wondered what his brain looked like inside.

At that moment, the messenger carrying Emblin’s letter entered the fork leading to the Aicke estate.

The day Tris finally left, Dello village felt like a wake. Thompson stood at the front, somberly watching Tris lead his horse forward.

When Tris said he was leaving, Thompson assumed he meant returning to the main castle. He hadn’t imagined he meant leaving the domain altogether. The heir—leaving. It had sounded like a terrible joke. But it wasn’t.

The scars on Tris’s handsome face… He had clashed with the Duke before, but this time must’ve been serious. No one but the Duke could have marked Tris’s face like that.

But that wasn’t why Thompson looked so glum. Tris was excited. If he were being cast out, he would leave grinding his teeth, vowing to return. But he seemed delighted—thrilled, eager, almost joyful.

He wasn’t outright smiling, but Thompson had never seen him look so happy. That was what hurt. Tris would not return—or not anytime soon. Would Thompson even still be alive when he did…?

“All right!”

Tris paused and addressed the villagers who had come to see him off.

“Work safely on every job, and don’t start projects on your own without orders from the main keep. You’ll triple your workload that way. And don’t do anything foolish like paying taxes and working unpaid labor at the same time.”

Snickers broke out. Everyone understood Tris perfectly—he never sugar-coated anything.

“I trust Thompson to manage. I’m off.”

Blunt and clean—a final cut. Thompson forced himself to relax. There was no changing Tris’s mind; it was better to send him off with ease.

Thompson walked up with an awkward smile.

“I won’t forget the kindness you’ve shown us.”

Tris stared at him, then said dryly,

“With that face, it sounds like you’re cursing me.”

Thompson rubbed his face.

“Not at all. I’m just sad.”

“Thompson.”

“Yes, Sir Tris.”

“Hold out.”

It sounded like a warning. Thompson swallowed hard.

“And don’t fall off any more cliffs. Keep in mind there won’t be anyone to haul you back up this time.”

“Yes, sir.”

It sounded like a joke, but the words had weight. Thompson decided not to think further. He’d been lucky—very lucky. He would never meet a noble like Tris again. One who built walls with them, dug moats, cleared snow…

Smiling already with nostalgia, Thompson asked,

“But if—just in case—we wanted to bring you back someday, how would we do it?”

Ha ha ha ha. Tris laughed lightly.

“Pay me. Then I’ll gladly return.”

Thompson’s eyes widened, then curled into crescents. He understood exactly what that meant. Tris must be planning to become a mercenary. He could already guess the nickname people would give him—the Heretic of Aicke. It suited him perfectly.