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chapter 23
Monterno’s expression was grim. Inside the house, he had worn only a single layer of armor, but now he was fully armed. The problem was that everyone around him moved effortlessly, even in gear that was so heavy he could barely lift it with both hands.
Gunter, being such a large man, swung a massive hammer in which six emeralds were set, without slowing down a bit.
“I was getting itchy every hour! I’ll smash them to pieces. Damn these Satanish bastards!”
“Calm down, Gunter. What if you fly off while swinging like that? What if someone gets hurt again?”
When such terrifying words came from Gunter, Cesario quietly added from beside him:
“Just one getting hurt would be lucky. Who could survive being hit by that?”
“Eek.”
Monterno wanted nothing more than to escape this fearsome conversation and move to the rear of the procession. But as the falconer, he had no choice but to stay at the front.
Aside from the vanguard, this was no different from the very front of the battlefield. On his left was Dantes, and on his right were the Three Musketeers.
Walking, Monterno felt like he might wet himself out of fear. He hunched his shoulders and shuffled forward in tiny steps. Seeing this, Marco laughed loudly and grabbed the back of his neck.
“Argh!”
“Why is a wizard so scared?”
“What does being a wizard have to do with being scared?!”
“Look at him! His legs are shaking!”
As Marco laughed, Dantes glanced at them and spoke:
“Are you off for fun? How noisy.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Who’s making all that noise? Gunter!”
“Me?”
“Then it must be you or Cesario!”
Marco shrugged and turned his head quickly. Cesario, annoyed, didn’t answer. The falcon, which had flown high and disappeared, reappeared and began flying low. Monterno watched its movements and spoke:
“I guess we need to be careful from now on.”
“You should’ve been careful from the start. Oh? Weren’t you careful before?”
“……”
Monterno pouted at Marco teasing him again, a gesture he used to make when his father scolded him. Dantes watched the two, feeling a tightness in his chest.
Why did Roberto insist on choosing such a hopeless fool? It would have been better if Dantes himself had treated him with medicine.
‘Why did it have to be him?’
Dantes disliked Roberto getting close to Monterno. And he hated that the only person Roberto, who had shut the doors to his heart, treated comfortably was this fool—not Marco, Gunter, or Cesario. He hated how the bond of “us” had become a line of “them” and “us.”
‘Damn it. That bastard Roberto.’
What hurt the most was knowing that the root of it all was his own confession. He wanted to say he wouldn’t fall for him again. But his heart wouldn’t listen, driving him nearly insane.
If he hurried the marriage, maybe that would keep Roberto from leaving his side.
After all, the marriage was supposed to be with Demeteria Peril, the only daughter of Count Peril. She had spent her life training to join the royal court. Society considered her exceptionally beautiful and mature compared to other noblewomen.
Dantes knew she was beautiful, with large eyes and a lovely smile. With her careful manners, she would make a perfect empress. He felt no romantic pull—but that didn’t matter.
Dantes didn’t need a lover; he needed the Empress of the Delion Empire. There was no other option.
If Roberto showed the slightest goodwill, they could marry as soon as they reached the capital. Dantes wanted Roberto back that badly.
As Dantes pondered, a falcon swooped in from the rear at high speed. Instinctively, Dantes turned his head.
The falcon slowed as it neared the group, locking eyes directly with Dantes. Dantes didn’t look away. Then the falcon flew past Monterno and struck toward Dantes’ left arm.
“Dantes!”
Cesario rushed forward, but Dantes caught the falcon in his hand. It opened its beak, resisting nothing.
“Huh?”
Monterno looked bewildered. This was one of the four falcons he had raised, and until now, it had obeyed only him. It had never fully submitted even to Monterno.
Yet it obeyed Dantes, a stranger, so calmly… Dantes saw the falcon climb onto his arm with firm yet gentle strength. It dropped what it had been holding in its beak—a piece of a blood-stained prisoner’s uniform.
“That’s Roberto’s, isn’t it? This is definitely his uniform!”
Monterno hurried forward to stand beside Dantes. The prisoner’s uniform was stained with fresh blood. Dantes felt the damp fabric and a sense of urgency.
In the tense silence, Gunter placed a hand on Dantes’ shoulder.
“Dantes. Roberto’s in danger.”
He knew that. But the enemy was right ahead.
“Marco. You go.”
“Me?”
Dantes nodded. Then Cesario grabbed Dantes’ arm.
“Dantes. You don’t really want to do this.”
“……”
Dantes hesitated, unsure if his decision was driven by personal feelings for Roberto or by the situation as a whole. Seeing him hesitate, Marco teased:
“Think carefully, Dantes. Your arm is injured, so you’re not much help, but I am.”
“We must move now. No time to waste on either Terzes or Roberto!”
Impatient Gunter approached Dantes. Reluctantly, Dantes hesitated, then stopped the procession. Turning back, he spoke, commanding the senior knights’ attention:
“The Aventurine family is under attack! I will take responsibility for handling this. Don’t worry—eliminate the enemy and return! Cesario will assume overall command.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As the senior knights dispersed to convey orders, Dantes met the eyes of the Three Musketeers in turn. Marco gave a reassuring wink.
“Leave it to us. We’ll handle everything before you even arrive.”
“Alright. I trust you.”
Dantes said it briefly, then turned toward the Baron Aventurine’s estate. His heart raced.
Roberto. Roberto Brida.
That name always complicated and hastened everything for Dantes.
Rosellina opened her eyes to movement. Port was bringing her a meal, his arms awkward. They could have sent another guard, but with fewer soldiers around, he seemed tense.
Port was among the most skilled of the senior knights. He had been a diligent recruit during Dantes and friends’ second year, so Rosellina remembered him.
‘He’s become an excellent knight. If I’d kept my distance like him, I might have stayed near everyone…’
Rosellina chuckled at her own useless thoughts. There was no turning back time. Just as she closed her eyes, a cold, sharp sensation pierced her side.
“Port?”
Port thrust his dagger deeply into her side. Rosellina didn’t even let out a sound as she pushed him away. Though her hands and feet were injured, she was free to move, the restraints removed.
“……”
The problem was that the blade had gone in deeper than she expected. She gave up removing it and exhaled slowly. Port drew his original sword, clearly intending to strike decisively after the ambush.
Despite the chaos of bleeding, Rosellina tried to assess the situation. If her attacker was Port, and he had allowed Terzes’ people to enter… then the sloppiness of the situation started to make sense. Rosellina narrowed her eyes at him.
“Why did you betray Dantes?”
There was an intense hostility in his eyes she had never seen. Port hesitated briefly at her glare but soon revealed a vile expression she had never seen.
“I don’t betray His Majesty. I just want to cut out the dirty piece that blocks his eyes and ears—like you!”
“You colluded with the enemy under the pretense of helping Dantes?”
“I just needed a little help! Right now, His Majesty and those advisors are going crazy because of you!”
Port rambled, and while he seemed subduable, Rosellina wasn’t sure how long she could hold out. Her injuries were severe. She had rarely been treated in the past six years, and now, everything was compounded.
Even standing on her own legs was thanks to Monterno’s painkillers. As she focused, Port swung his sword and shouted:
“No need for words!”
He seemed to believe this was his only chance to subdue her. Perhaps out of tension, his stance was sloppy. But the prison was cramped, and he wielded a longsword. Rosellina knew she could die in a few strikes.
Death didn’t frighten her. But if she were to die, she had to reveal that Port had betrayed Dantes.
What should she do? How…
As she pondered, Port swung again. Rosellina didn’t dodge, staring at him directly, analyzing how much of him she could leave a mark on her body.
In her mind, fear of death was secondary—what dominated was the name “Dantes.”
