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chapter 19
“Roberto!”
When Gunter shouted and rushed into the underground prison, Roselina was leaning against the wall, gasping for breath.
“No, you…”
Seeing him clutching the iron ball in his blood-stained hands, Gunter was at a loss for words.
“Are you okay? You can’t die!”
At Gunter’s words, Dantes ran in with a startled expression. Roberto let the iron ball slip from his hands and sank to the ground. With the hand less soaked in blood, he wiped his face, looking utterly drained.
“Roberto!”
Dantes called his name and rushed into the cell. He immediately sat beside Roselina.
“Are you all right? Where are you hurt? Why is there so much blood? Were you cut? Are you really okay?”
When Dantes reached to examine his body, Roselina flinched. He froze at her reaction, and only then did she manage to speak.
“There’s… a lot of blood on me.”
“……”
“I was afraid it might soil Your Majesty’s hands…”
“Do you think that matters right now? I’m talking about your injuries!”
“You needn’t concern yourself with a criminal…”
“Roberto!”
“There’s no serious wound.”
“You mean you really took out all of these men by yourself?”
As Gunter stepped into the barred cell, he spoke in awe. The ground was littered with corpses, all of them with their skulls smashed. Not by Gunter’s hammer, but by the iron ball meant only to shackle prisoners’ limbs.
Roselina said nothing. She only steadied her breathing and checked on Gunter and Dantes instead. Noticing a few bloodstains on Dantes’ clothes, she asked worriedly,
“Are you unhurt, Your Majesty?”
“Ha ha ha! Roberto, you must be joking. This blood’s from my hammer. Dantes didn’t fight—if he had drawn his sword, Marco would’ve flown into a rage. You’re covered head to toe in blood, yet you’re the one worrying about us? Ha ha ha!”
Gunter’s laughter rang out brightly. Among all of them, it was Gunter who loved Roberto the most—because Roberto resembled their teacher more than anyone. What Gunter often ruined with his hot temper, Roberto handled with calm skill.
He always put Dantes and the Empire first, and no one kept to knightly honor as he did. For him to flee just before becoming a full knight had been a crushing shock to Gunter.
But with just a few words, it was clear that it had only been circumstances. The knight Gunter had once admired and respected hadn’t changed at all. Gunter couldn’t stop laughing.
Dantes, after watching Roberto for a while, sighed and stood.
“I’d better go to Marco and Cesario. Gunter, stay here with the prisoner.”
“Got it! Not a single one left alive? I killed every last one I met on the way here. Looks like there’s no one left to interrogate.”
Gunter prodded the bodies at his feet, checking for any survivors. Dantes glanced at him, then turned his head. Roselina’s wrists were shredded raw, her fingernails torn from gripping too hard.
Dantes stripped off his outer coat and tossed it to her. Roselina caught it uncertainly, unable to do anything but stare at him. But he was already leaving the cell, climbing the stairs.
After Dantes was gone, Gunter chuckled again.
“Looks like it’s not just Roberto who hasn’t changed. Dantes is the same as ever too.”
Roselina looked at Dantes’ coat, so large it could swallow her whole.
What hadn’t changed…
She thought that the coat weighing down on her felt heavier, more suffocating, than the iron shackles binding her hands and feet.
The next morning, the Aventurine household was thrown into chaos.
The assassins who had attacked at dawn had left over ten servants dead, and even the Imperial Knights had suffered losses. Worse, the captured Roberto Brida had almost been kidnapped. Survivors swore they had never seen mercenaries with such terrifying skills before.
“This is madness. Our family will be wiped out.”
“But Father, they said those people were unbelievably strong.”
Monterno tried to reason with his despairing father. But Baron Aventurine was nearly catatonic with fear.
“You think that’s an excuse? We’ve already made too many enemies! One slip, one accusation, and they’ll confiscate our lands and sell us all off to the slave market!”
“No! We did our best!”
“Who will believe that? Who? Why does this keep happening to me!”
Baron Aventurine tore at his hair in anguish. Not even when his son had been dragged off by goblins had he felt so hopeless.
Now he was terrified—of the Emperor, and of the Three Musketeers. Especially Cesario. Every time he recalled the way Cesario had looked into his eyes and spoken, he jolted awake in terror.
Unable to watch his father crumble further, Monterno declared boldly,
“I’ll solve this!”
“No! Don’t you dare, Monterno! You have to carry on our family name!”
“But if things go on like this, we’ll all be destroyed anyway!”
“That may be true, but not you! You’ll never even reach the Emperor before those three block your path. Especially Cesario—dear heavens! You don’t understand what kind of man Cesario Wood is. The Wood family has always produced the sternest, most unyielding men. He’d carve you into a hundred pieces before you could blink. A cold-blooded monster!”
“Father, isn’t this your first time even meeting him?”
“I’ve heard enough tales! And after seeing those eyes, do you doubt them?”
The baron was a man ruled by fear. Monterno often thought his own timid nature—shrinking back whenever trouble arose—was something inherited from his father.
“But I have a way.”
“A way? Another plan to get yourself kidnapped by goblins? What’s next, offering our entire house to them?”
“No, it’s not that—this time it’s real!”
“Real, what?”
The baron shouted on the verge of tears. Monterno burst out in frustration,
“I know how to get revenge!”
“What?”
“I can track those people. I know how to find where they’re hiding.”
“You? How?”
Seeing his father’s incredulous expression, Monterno pointed out the window—where a massive hawk perched.
“Good heavens, what’s that now? Butler! Catch that mad bird!”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because that bird will show us!”
“What nonsense are you spouting now?”
“Where the people who attacked us are gathering.”
The baron saw his son’s eyes glowing with rare conviction. Monterno was often scatterbrained, but whenever he had this look, he never lied.
The baron’s heart wavered. If he recalled Cesario Wood’s cold glare, he wanted to silence his son immediately, pray for the storm to pass, and hide. That was the safer choice.
But if he trusted his brilliant, eccentric son, perhaps before the Imperial Knights left, they could seize this chance. Perhaps, in their family’s ruin, they could turn the tables.
Baron Aventurine swallowed hard. His son’s eyes still gleamed.
“Just trust me once, Father.”
Meeting his son’s gaze, the baron still couldn’t shake his dread. The Knights would be leaving soon. He was torn as though his life depended on the decision—close to tears.
Ironically, it was not Monterno who delayed the Imperial Knights, but someone else.
“Why do you refuse a physician’s treatment?”
It was Roberto Brida. He declined an examination, asking only for the necessary medicine. Cesario spoke with a stern face,
“Under Delion Imperial Law, criminals guilty of high treason or offenses against the Crown are not to be treated, even if they fall ill or die during transfer.”
“That’s an outdated, unjust law. Too many innocent lives have been lost because of it. Didn’t we submit a reform bill?”
“Yes. It is still under debate in the Assembly. No decision has been reached.”
“So the elders dragged it out, nitpicking as always.”
“My apologies.”
“But it was my decision to amend it. If anyone objects, I’ll take responsibility.”
“The matter could still turn messy. And Roberto himself refuses treatment.”
Many old nobles opposed the young Emperor, writhing snakes always scheming ways to trip him. Roberto, it seemed, did not want Dantes to suffer trouble on his account.
Dantes nearly slammed his fist on the desk out of habit but stopped—he couldn’t smash another family’s furniture for the third time.
“Damn it. And yet he won’t see a doctor? His wrists are shredded, barely held together. They’re worse than rags!”
He remembered Roberto’s mangled hands and bit his lip anxiously. Cesario almost laughed bitterly at this—Dantes hadn’t shown half as much concern even when Fort had nearly lost his arm yesterday.
Just as Dantes was about to insist they move forward regardless, the door opened. Marco stepped in, his mood lifted despite the lingering resentment from yesterday. His eyes gleamed as he spoke,
“Did you hear?”
“What?”
“What?”
Dantes and Cesario asked at the same time. Marco grinned and twirled his finger in the air.
“Monterno Aventurine claims he can locate where the Terzes mercenaries are hiding.”
“What?”
“What?”
The two stared in confusion. Marco only smiled wider, offering no details.
“With magic!”
Their expressions turned complicated—unsure whether Marco was joking or serious. But Marco just grinned, holding back more. Finally, Dantes sighed.
“Bring Monterno Aventurine here. We’ll hear it from him directly.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Marco, as if he had been waiting for this, bowed and returned with Monterno, who had been waiting just outside. Dantes eyed him with deep suspicion.
