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Chapter 59
“I’ll need to take a closer look, but it seems like mana is pooling in your head. Isn’t that so?”
“You can see that?”
Startled, Killian leaned forward, and Justin quickly shoved his chair back with all his strength.
“Good grief. Can we not get closer little by little? I’m still trying to adjust to my nephew—who used to be like a kitten—suddenly looking like some hulking wild beast.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Uncle.”
“Mmgh.”
Back then, even the smallest joke would make him laugh out loud, but now Killian’s starkly dry response made Justin quietly pull his chair back in again.
“Yes, I saw it. As you know, I was a magic swordsman, so of course I can see the flow of mana to some extent.”
A magic swordsman. A rare existence, barely five in the entire Empire—those who wielded aura. And Justin had been lauded as the strongest magic swordsman in history. Yet his brow furrowed.
“Your mana is more than a little tangled. Your condition must be pretty bad?”
“…Can you fix it?”
“That depends on the situation. Want my help?”
“…!”
“If you don’t mind getting help from a down-and-out uncle like me, I’ll help you.”
Uncle, huh… Well, he really does look a lot like Killian. Especially those sky-blue eyes.
Litricia sat in the resting area outside the barracks, picturing Justin’s appearance.
Her gaze lingered wistfully on the army tent’s dark green canvas fluttering in the wind.
She knew in her head that Killian should have time to reconnect with family he hadn’t seen in so long. Still, she couldn’t help feeling regretful sitting here without him.
I really have gotten too used to Killian. I was the one who told myself not to, and yet…
The more time they spent together, the more her heart slipped out of control, flowing somewhere it shouldn’t.
“But are you really not the rabbit from this storybook?”
“Hm?”
Litricia snapped back to herself at Dur’s question. He was sitting on her lap, kicking his feet playfully.
In one hand, he held the fairy tale Killian had written; in the other, a lumpy rabbit doll Justin had crudely made from gauze. Dur stared up at her intently.
“You’ve got cotton-candy hair, and your eyes are pink, just like the rabbit in here. You really aren’t?”
“Dur, was it?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Well, Dur, I’m not the heroine from a storybook.”
“But you really look just like her…”
The disappointed child pouted, fiddling with the picture Litricia had drawn for him.
While waiting for Killian, she had sketched illustrations into the storybook so that children who couldn’t read could still enjoy it. Looking at them now, she had to admit—the rabbit really did look like her.
“You’re right. It does look like me.”
“Madam.”
She bent her head to get a closer look at the picture, when suddenly Killian’s cool, mint-like scent washed over her.
“Killian! Are you finished talking?”
Litricia’s heart swelled at the refreshing fragrance that seemed to seep into her very lungs. Then she instantly regretted her eagerness—had she been too forward? Killian looked a little taken aback by her warm welcome.
But he quickly regained his composure and smoothly escorted her.
“Sorry to interrupt when you were enjoying yourself, but we need to head back to the castle. If we’re any later, that man Piril’s worry for you will deepen even more.”
“Oh, the sun’s already about to set.”
The western sky glowed red as the sun sank, and Litricia gently set Dur down from her lap.
“Piril? The Piril I know? He’s at the grand duke’s castle too?”
“Yes.”
“Well, well. In honor of seeing an old friend again, I should host a good drinking party!”
“That won’t be possible.”
“What…! Then at least one drink? Just one?”
Justin’s desperate cry, as though struck by lightning, made Litricia quietly raise her hand.
“Um… Uncle, will you also be coming with us to the castle?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for deciding without asking your opinion. Will that make you uncomfortable?”
“No! I’d like it. You’re Killian’s family, of course you should go to the castle.”
Shaking her head vigorously, Litricia gathered up the bundles in her arms—just potatoes and sweet potatoes.
“And what are those?”
“Oh, the villagers gave them to me.”
She pointed toward some peasants with hoes slung over their shoulders.
The fields right along the border had suffered when the Telshi villagers, maddened at the time, had thrown rocks and filth across the river. Thanks to the sentries Killian sent, the fields hadn’t been completely ruined, but the damage had still been severe.
Just when it seemed the harvest would be lost, the antidote had spread, calming the Telshi villagers’ rampages. In gratitude for the safe harvest, they had handed over these gifts to Litricia.
“It must feel rewarding.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever truly helped anyone. Of course, it would’ve been impossible without Killian and Piril.”
“No, this is entirely thanks to you. The thought and the action were yours.”
Finding her flushed cheeks endearing, Killian easily lifted Litricia onto his horse’s saddle.
Beside them, Justin looked like he’d bitten into something sour. His companion was Mark.
“Why can’t I just walk? Or even take a cart?”
“Please ride, Sir Justin. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Ha! Look at the size of you and me. For the horse, carrying us both would be torture!”
“You needn’t worry about that. I brought along a weight-reducing magic tool.”
“Why are you so absurdly prepared? Bah, forget it. And how do you expect me to squeeze in with some hulking man?”
“Please let me. You’ve always been my idol, Sir Justin.”
“Idol, my foot…!”
While Justin and Mark bickered, Killian mounted his horse with practiced ease. Then, instead of leaving, he steered toward the Telshi villagers.
“Eek!”
One of them gasped as Killian’s oppressive presence bore down on them. Their guilty consciences clearly weighed on their legs.
“On second thought, it wouldn’t do to leave without addressing the damage you caused to my people’s fields.”
“W-we’re sorry, Your Grace! At the time we’d lost our senses because of the illness. Please forgive us! Spare our lives!”
The villager who had led the vandalism threw himself face-down on the ground. The others who had followed him quickly dropped to their knees too.
Their trembling backs showed their terror plainly.
Even though they knew the duke and his wife had saved them with medicine, their fear of Killian hadn’t lessened.
“If you spare our lives, we’ll cut off our own arms if that’s your punishment!”
“What use would I have for your arms? Better to use them to repair the fields you destroyed.”
“Huh? You mean…”
“Do you find my words difficult to understand?”
“N-no, we understand!”
The villagers nodded so hard it was a wonder their heads didn’t snap off.
“Guards.”
“Yes, Your Grace!”
“As you heard, assign them to restore the damaged land. And while you’re at it, have them clear and cultivate the unused land as well. That much labor will be punishment enough.”
His cold blue gaze swept over their thin limbs and the children’s scabbed mouths, proof of hunger.
“And give them a portion of the crops from the new fields. In that condition, they couldn’t work, let alone carry a sack.”
“Yes, understood!”
“Don’t even think of trying anything foolish. I’m not merciful enough to forgive the same sin twice.”
His words, sharp as if he carried a sword on his tongue, made the villagers nod frantically, as though their heads might fly off otherwise.
They kept their faces pressed into the dirt until Killian and his party had left. Only long afterward did they dare lift their heads.
Their faces were still dazed with shock.
“I was sure we’d be beheaded…”
“Then those stories about piles of corpses behind the grand duke’s castle—must be nonsense, right?”
“Well, since our heads are still on our shoulders, that rumor’s definitely false.”
