chapter 10
The next morning, an emergency report was delivered. Two guards stationed at the underground prison where Roberto Brida was confined had suddenly collapsed.
“How on earth are you guarding the prisoner? This is absurd. Do you plan on losing a captive we worked so hard to seize? Who will take responsibility?”
At Dantes’s stern, angry tone, Cesario wore an expression of disdain, while Marco even turned his head to laugh at the all-too-obvious charade. But the knight and Baron Aventurin—who were in charge of this prisoner transport—had gone pale and stammered as they replied.
“There were no signs of anyone entering through the main entrance or elsewhere.”
“Are you making excuses?”
“No, not at all. We’ll investigate further to understand exactly what happened.”
“Then I should go down myself and see how this prisoner is being held. Cesario, once Gunter returns, we’ll depart immediately, yes?”
Cesario answered in a businesslike tone, pretending to know nothing.
“Yes. It would be best to move quickly, before the cleaned-up path becomes sullied again.”
“I wonder if management is being done properly. Is the Baron’s son really delivering meals as he should? Has the prisoner refused food or displayed any strange behavior?”
Dantes’s eyes turned sharp. Roberto’s face yesterday had been in terrible condition. Baron Aventurin wiped his sweat, and the knight Port spoke up in his stead.
“He has been refusing meals. According to the guards, he demanded the rations be changed. It seems there may be some kind of grievance…”
“Roberto Brida isn’t that kind of petty man. Most likely, your son asked him something rude.”
Dantes cut off Port’s words decisively. Startled, Port bobbed his head repeatedly.
“Y-yes, of course. That must be it. I did hear there was some kind of scuffle.”
“M-my son is still young and overly curious. He must have acted foolishly. I will punish him harshly and teach him a lesson. Please forgive us, Your Majesty.”
“It was admirable of him to want to help me, but it seems his efforts were misguided. I’ll leave the matter in your hands, Baron. I had trusted you all enough not to meddle, but now I see I must oversee things personally.”
Dantes did not hide the look of disappointment on his face.
“If, because of poor treatment, the prisoner is being driven closer to death—whether through denying him a blanket, failing to give herbs to treat his injuries, or forcing him to live in unsanitary conditions—then I would be even more disappointed in you. That hasn’t happened… has it?”
“N-no, of course not! But just to be sure, we’ll inspect everything again!”
“Good. I’ll come after lunch. By then, I expect everything will be in order.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Port and Baron Aventurin quickly left, claiming they would prepare at once. As the door closed, Marco whistled and shook his head.
“Sounds like Roberto was in pretty bad shape yesterday?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who’d have thought a man his size could slip out through a window? I made the mistake of thinking Dantes Belkin was just an ordinary man. I underestimated him!”
“You speak nonsense.”
Feigning indifference, Dantes turned his attention to the reports piled high from the previous night. Cesario, wearing a more serious expression, spoke again.
“Don’t push Port into a corner. You’ve got the culprit right under your nose, and yet they don’t know a thing.”
“If he has the ability, he’ll catch him.”
“Poor Port. When we return to the capital, I’ll have to introduce him to a pretty girl at least.”
Pretending to wipe away tears, Marco sprawled lazily across the sofa. Dantes ignored their jabs, his eyes fixed on the papers. Shamelessness, after all, was an essential trait for an emperor. Cesario glanced at Dantes’s right arm.
“Ah.”
“I told you not to strain yourself. The wound is deep, Your Majesty.”
“Must’ve tossed and turned in my sleep…”
“What kind of tossing and turning lands you out of bed, through a window, and all the way down to the heavily guarded prison? I’d really love to know.”
Marco mocked him mercilessly. Dantes stayed silent. Cesario checked the wound and continued.
“This must not happen again. The Kingdom of Terzes is already making suspicious moves. Your Majesty’s injury is a serious weakness right now. They won’t miss the chance to exploit it.”
“All right, all right. You’re nagging holes in my ears.”
Dantes waved him off. It was getting harder to keep up the pretense of ignorance—these two knew him far too well. They were not only excellent knights, but also his oldest friends.
Marco offered his advice, clearly frustrated.
“Just settle it today. Bring the Baron and Port—we’ll handle the rest. Talk to Roberto, or beat the truth out of him if you must.”
“You can’t beat him. Dantes’s wound will reopen if he fights.”
“Cesario, you dullard. I was speaking figuratively.”
“Even as a figure of speech, it’s unacceptable.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible! Maybe I should beat you instead, huh?”
“Don’t be noisy, Marco. This is important. We need to stay focused on His Majesty.”
“Argh!”
Marco sprang up, then plopped back down, unable to argue further. The matter of Roberto was, after all, no trivial thing.
When it came to Roberto, Dantes was uncharacteristically emotional. His feelings could flare up violently or sink into deep silence, and no amount of persuasion could predict where his decisions might go.
Hadn’t it been the same yesterday?
Dantes was usually wise and rational in everything he did, which made his behavior toward Roberto all the harder to understand.
This senseless pursuit—spending years and enormous sums on a bounty, and finally capturing Roberto Brida—was proof of that.
Obsession. Fixation. Even those words weren’t enough to contain the weight of his emotions. It was certainly more than mere friendship and betrayal.
“Just focus on wrapping up what needs to be settled. And before we reach the capital, for heaven’s sake, don’t act on impulse. You know the weight of the position you hold.”
Cesario spoke firmly, though it was still a concession. Dantes didn’t answer. Marco, watching his stubborn profile, added,
“Yeah, for once, listen to Cesario. Roberto’s not much of a talker anyway. Pushing him won’t make him open up. Maybe it’s better to ask short questions, more often.”
“I told you, I’ll handle it. What, are you his spokesman now? The moment we meet again, you’re all on his side? And who said I was going to beat him? I just…!”
“Just what?”
“Just!”
“Just what, then?”
“…I’m just curious.”
“……”
With a sigh, Dantes raked his fingers through his hair, the sleek black strands slipping quickly between his pale fingers.
“I’ll take care of it. So don’t meddle in matters concerning Roberto anymore.”
“……”
“This is between him and me.”
Dantes’s sharp, hawk-like eyes gleamed dangerously. Cesario and Marco gave up on continuing the conversation, and silence filled the room.
Roselina rubbed her temples at the bustle in the prison that morning. Ever since Dantes had visited her yesterday, it seemed new orders had been given.
The guards suddenly herded her into a corner and began scrubbing the place. The once-filthy cell was soon spotless, with thick, fluffy blankets laid out—fine woolen ones, no less.
Does Delion really give things like this to prisoners? No… impossible.
Then they brought warm water and towels, telling her to wash. Roselina refused, but the guard simply repeated the order over and over.
Seeing his frightened expression, she eventually shooed him out and gave herself a rough wash. The guard showed no hostility—his attitude was almost pleading, as if all that mattered was that she bathe.
The fresh prison clothes he brought were simple tunics, easy to slip on without unlocking her shackles. Once Roselina changed, she called out,
“I’m done.”
The guard took away her old rags, the dirty water, and the soiled cloths. Then he returned with medicine and a meal.
“From today, Lord Monterno Aventurin will no longer bring your meals. Please, make sure to eat.”
His face was still trembling with fear, and his tone was far too polite for a prisoner. Clearly, he had been scolded severely. Roselina didn’t want her stubbornness to cause anyone else trouble. Though she still wondered about Monterno’s motives, this wasn’t her battle to fight.
“Understood.”
She answered briefly and began to eat. The food was far better than before—plump sausages, boiled eggs, bacon, a fresh apple, and milk.
Roselina said nothing, quietly chewing and swallowing. Hunger was something she had long since grown numb to, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten the pain of it. Slowly, steadily, she ate.
The warmth spreading in her stomach always made her throat tighten, though her tears had dried up long ago. She finished silently, then took the medicine and applied ointment to her wounds.
Her compliance seemed to ease the guards’ nerves. Security around her cell had been doubled, likely because of the intrusion the night before.
Roselina looked at the guards now stationed right outside her cell, then closed her eyes. With a full stomach, medicine taken, and her body wrapped in warmth, drowsiness overtook her.
That sense of safety—
Roselina thought it ironic that she only felt it when back at Dantes’s side, as she drifted into sleep.
