TFR 32

chapter 32

“Your Majesty, shall we stop the march in this village? The expedition party is exhausted.”

Cesario spoke cautiously. Dante, focused solely on moving forward, had gradually increased the pace of the march. But not everyone could keep up with him.

They had passed through the route much faster than expected. The village where they were supposed to stay today had already been passed. According to Cesario’s calculations, the village they had just arrived at was meant to be their stop on the second day.

Yet Dante pressed on, despite the sun setting. Part of it was anger toward Rosellina, but more than that, Dante wished no further incidents would occur within the expedition party. He wanted to stray from every predictable route, schedule, and lodging.

He wanted to get closer to Senreita, where he could control everything. Only then could he protect even one more person. Moreover, with a hostage in their care, there was no option to stop.

Once his goal was clear, Dante charged straight toward it. The forced march was so grueling that both men and horses staggered from exhaustion.

Marco no longer joked. He was thoroughly upset with Dante. He couldn’t understand why Roberto was being treated so harshly, and he felt disappointed that Dante seemed not to trust his own knights. While Port had erred, not everyone present was a traitor.

Gunter had long since fallen to the very back, taking the lagging knights along separately.

It was only when Cesario spoke that Dante turned his head and looked at the faces of the knights. They were all etched with suffering. Dante nodded slowly.

“Stop the entire march! Today, we stay at the Halo household!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

As the march halted, Monterno popped out of the carriage.

“Brother Roberto! Are you okay? Water, please! You can even give water to the prisoner, right?”

But no one paid him any attention. It had become abundantly clear that he was despised by the Emperor. Going near him might risk his neck.

Marco approached Monterno, who had dismounted. He handed him his canteen. Roberto nodded once and drank it down in one gulp.

“Sir Griffin.”

“Monterno Aventurin is right. You say the prisoner should be treated like a prisoner, but if he dies before reaching the palace, who will take responsibility? Will it be you, who needlessly cracked the whip?”

“Eh? Ah, no, Sir Griffin. I haven’t cracked the whip needlessly…”

“Can you swear that? The whipping has become frequent over the past two hours. I could feel you trying to vent your irritation from this march with the whip.”

Marco’s face, as he took the whip from him, was full of irritation. He grasped it briefly and swung it to the ground with force, scattering dirt. The knight’s expression stiffened; he had no argument against Marco’s words.

“You will not change your watch. You are responsible for this whip all the way to the palace. And for the prisoner’s life as well.”

“….”

“Perhaps he might die tonight. You’ll handle it, won’t you? If you weren’t completely thoughtless when you wielded this whip.”

“Sir Griffin, that’s not it—”

“Oh, and you know the prisoner must not see a doctor, right? From today, you will not give him ointment either. His Majesty the Emperor ordered that the prisoner be treated like a prisoner.”

Marco said this and tossed the whip to the ground. Gone was the Marco Griffin who had acted like a neighborly friend at last night’s drinking gathering.

He grabbed Monterno’s clothing from behind as the young knight was bowing to Roberto.

“Ah! Why me?”

“Who told you to speak to the prisoner?”

“No… but—”

“Consider it a favor: you’re saving him before His Majesty would punish you for leaving him be.”

Marco placed his arm over Monterno’s shoulder and headed toward the inn where they would stay. Cesario had already made arrangements: every village along their route had local families prepared to host the Delion Royal Knights. Previously, they had camped due to being pursued, but that was not the case now. Even more so, for the safe transport of the prisoner.

There was the risk of enemy exposure, but having just eliminated the Terzes army, the danger was relatively low. Proper meals and rest would quickly restore strength, which in turn would improve marching speed.

Dante watched Marco and Monterno disappear into the inn, then looked at Rosellina. She looked more damaged than expected. He understood immediately why Marco had become so angry, but he quickly averted his gaze.

“No need for unnecessary guilt. He brought this on himself.”

Dante forced himself to think coldly. He spoke to Cesario deliberately in a firmer tone.

“Pay more attention to the rear guard brought by the butler. They are weak, so place them at the front tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Those who are unwell must see the physician immediately. Tomorrow will be another forced march as today. Once we return to Senreita, they will be given sufficient rest and rewards.”

The knights cheered. Dante had nothing more to say about the prisoner and turned toward the inn where Marco had gone. Rosellina waited until Dante had entered the inn, then collapsed. Her mental limit had been reached.

“Oh? Wh-what should we do?”

The junior knights beside the prisoner looked as though the knight in charge of the watch was the overall commander. The senior knights were simply flustered. Remembering Marco’s firm warning earlier, sweat even ran down their spines. At that moment, Cesario approached them.

“The prisoner will be confined in the village’s public warehouse. No medical attention is allowed, and especially, Monterno Aventurin is strictly prohibited from entering.”

“Yes, Sir Wood.”

Cesario did not comment on whether the knights had done well or poorly. He merely gave orders and left. The knights suddenly found themselves carrying out the duties Port had been responsible for. Sweat trickled down their foreheads.

At first, they thought it was a perfect chance for promotion, but the march was far more grueling than expected. Exhausted, they blamed all of this on Roberto Brida. He was the one who had angered the usually gentle Dante.

As Marco had said, from one or two hours prior, he had indeed vented his frustration through whipping.

“He won’t… die, will he?”

He spoke with regret, but the other knights nearby, of the same rank, avoided involvement. The junior knights felt a sense of injustice, as if trapped in a snare, and looked at the collapsed Rosellina. She was strong: even in a weakened state, she had endured the whipping without a single sound. Her mental fortitude and stamina were incredible.

What if she regained consciousness during the night and tried to assassinate him? The guards, overcome by sudden fear, fled.

Those who remained hesitated to approach Rosellina, until Gunter and the rear guard arrived.

“Dante! We need to talk!”

Gunter stormed into the inn, angered. Cesario continued, reviewing documents.

“Dante went to wash up.”

“I see. Then I’ll talk to him in the bathroom!”

“Gunter, let him rest. He must have a lot on his mind.”

“But I still need to speak! Today, Dante was truly disappointing!”

“Later. Talk later.”

Cesario said it as if speaking now would be useless. But Gunter’s expression was resolute.

“No. I need to talk now.”

“You’re acting uncharacteristically, Gunter.”

“Until the rear guard arrived, Roberto was left on the floor. Treating a prisoner like a prisoner? Fine. If that’s Dante’s way, I’ll follow. But what I saw was treatment worse than a prisoner.”

Cesario raised his eyebrows at this unexpected claim.

“I clearly ordered him moved to the village warehouse.”

“I don’t know! Everyone apparently turned into cowards and just let go. And several senior knights went to the inn. Even the one holding the whip!”

“Sigh.”

Cesario began to understand why Gunter was so angry. Dante’s extreme behavior confused the soldiers: some days, he treated Roberto with utmost care; other days, worse than a beast.

If it stemmed from not wanting to offend Dante, their cowardly actions were somewhat understandable. Now, though they were marching together, the Emperor was originally someone rarely seen, and would return to his high station upon reaching the capital.

Offending him would mean punishment; impressing him would mean promotion. But now, it was impossible to leave a good impression on Dante, as trust had been lost due to Port’s problem.

The knight assigned to watch, unaware of this, had been warned by Marco. Seeing all of it, no one would want their name or face remembered.

“I understand the situation, but I didn’t expect only cowards to be gathered here.”

“It’s serious. This is a matter of discipline across the army. Those chosen for the knights behaving like this is pathetic. All must be severely punished!”

Gunter, who normally did not speak back to Dante, was furious for this reason. He despised cowardly soldiers.

Cesario thought it was not the right time. Dante was already sensitive about matters involving Rosellina. These events had worn him down and angered him. Yet the knights, lacking trust from their superior, were also exhausted. It was a delicate situation, difficult for anyone to punish or judge fault.

“Let’s check everything at once when we return. With Dante in his current state, he might really want to kill everyone and leave. With Port’s issue unresolved, disorder within the army is unavoidable.”

“Mad fools! When we return to Senreita, I’ll fix their minds! Make them anew!”

Gunter, furious, stormed out. But he did not act stubbornly due to his emotions. He despised the knights but did not wish to leave them to die. In all situations, Dante came first—Cesario shared that sentiment.

But what Cesario and Gunter tried to hide, Dante already knew. After entering the inn, he quietly observed Rosellina, collapsed and surrounded by everyone, from the window.

He felt even greater disappointment in his knights, but ultimately, no one could be blamed. It was Dante himself who allowed Rosellina to be treated that way. He continued to watch the open space where she lay, marked by bloodstains.