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Chapter 61
Four Minnows. When a Person Goes Mad (1)
“Move! How dare you interfere!”
“Prince Marc, please step back.”
It wasn’t just words.
Van’s sword tip and Edmund’s ice spear were both aimed at Marc. Marc lowered his eyes to check Van and Edmund’s faces, then let out a hollow laugh.
“Hah, so you finally went mad after getting a little attention from my brother. A mere merchant, daring to give me orders? And you lot too. Do you even know who you’re threatening—”
“I do. Very well.”
Van replied calmly, while Edmund remained silent, instead looking at Maurice and asking:
“Maurice, Ellie—”
“She’s fine. She just passed out.”
Maurice placed his fingers under Ellie’s nose to check her breathing.
It was steady. The blood had come from her split palm. Aside from her ankle, there were no visible injuries. A proper examination would be needed.
Right before she fainted, Ellie had laughed like she was about to cry.
Even in this situation, she could still laugh—Ellie was remarkable. Maurice’s jaw tightened.
The limp Ellie was so light and small—it felt pitifully tragic.
This wasn’t suited for Ellie. Complaining about hardship but effortlessly managing the impossible—that was her nature.
This isn’t your burden, Ellie.
Marc wore a stunned expression. To think they were making such a fuss, clutching a mere maid as if some grave disaster had occurred, seemed insane.
Maurice had already been irritating him. Pretending to grovel and lower his head in front of Marc was just for show. Beneath it, he often looked upon Marc with the disdain reserved for unavoidable trash, showing neither respect nor reverence.
“Know your limits, Maurice. Do you think my brother will protect you forever? He is capricious. The moment his attention strays from you, I will tear you apart myself.”
“Then I guess I’m a dead man anyway.”
“How dare a mere slave…”
Edmund snickered. Maurice did the same. Marc’s neck tensed as Van’s blade pressed against him. A thin blue line appeared on the well-sharpened sword. Van’s voice was low and threatening:
“Don’t move.”
“Hah, go ahead. The moment you scratch me, I’ll kill everyone connected to you too.”
Edmund sneered coldly.
“Every other word out of your mouth is ‘kill, kill’… Don’t just talk, try it. You can’t even move because of the knife under your chin, yet you’re all mouth.”
“You’ll see if it’s all talk, huh! Ugh!”
Edmund’s ice spear pierced Marc’s abdomen, cutting like a knife through cream. Marc grimaced, suppressing a groan, while Edmund laughed even more.
“Seems like he doesn’t like pain.”
“You vermin…”
“You’re no match even for one Van.”
Edmund withdrew the ice spear and approached Maurice and Ellie. He reached for Ellie, but Maurice wouldn’t let go, instead pulling her close.
“Can you treat her?”
“I told you—I can’t use healing magic.”
“Right…”
“I already regret not learning it.”
Edmund mainly used magic for large-scale destruction. Otherwise, it was for everyday convenience.
He had learned destructive magic from the wizard who trained him. The only other magic he knew was minor, practical magic or items Ellie had requested him to create.
He had never cared to heal others’ wounds—or his own.
“We’ll need a healer or a cleric.”
Maurice carried Ellie. Marc couldn’t tolerate it any longer.
How dare they. Not only being ordered by a lowly ex-slave merchant, but being ignored as if they weren’t even worth his attention. Marc shoved Van and tried to kick him, but it was useless. His arm was immediately twisted, forcing him to his knees.
“Guh, ugh, argh!”
“I told you not to move.”
Van’s blade ran along Marc’s cheek and jaw. He lowered his head, whispering into Marc’s ear:
“Don’t think you’re the only one holding back. I don’t know how long I can maintain my composure either, so if you want to live—”
“…”
“Stay still.”
Madness glimmered in Van’s calm green eyes. Marc huffed angrily, and then someone else rushed into the room.
It was Duke MacClure. The moment he saw Marc held by Van, he immediately noticed Elaine lying collapsed.
“Elaine!”
It was only then that Maurice, Van, and Edmund realized she had been lying there all along.
Without a glance at Ellie, Duke MacClure ran to Elaine, his face pale as he lifted her.
Elaine looked dreadful.
Her lips were split from the blow, and her eyelids and nose were smeared with blood. She had been punched, kicked, and thrown. Already painfully thin, Elaine seemed on the verge of death.
“M-my Elaine… ah, my daughter…”
His trembling hands touched her cheeks. MacClure was terrified.
He gently moved her golden hair from her face, and his own twisted with pain. He couldn’t bear to look.
He had never cherished anyone more in his life. He lived only to make Elaine happy.
MacClure’s eyes blazed with rage.
“What is the meaning of all this, Your Highness…?”
“I don’t know. Ask these bastards.”
“…”
MacClure turned to Van, Edmund, and Maurice in sequence. When his gaze landed on Ellie in Maurice’s arms, the fury he had held back burst forth.
“Her again.”
“What?”
“That little rat, jealous of Elaine, schemed against her again.”
Edmund let out a bitter laugh.
“Duke, are you saying Ellie hit her?”
“She’s always waited for me to be away to harm Elaine. Jealous of her being prettier and smarter than me, the wretch. Pretending not to care, but she never changes. How dare she… my daughter…”
“Is he crazy?”
Edmund, abandoning all courtesy, snapped irritably.
Duke MacClure held Elaine like a doll, cursing Ellie.
That Elaine tried to leave him. That she rejected him silently and withered away. That she ended up in such a state while he wasn’t there—all of it blamed on Ellie.
“Open your eyes and see. This bastard ruined your daughter, you madman!”
“I don’t know about that.”
Marc chuckled.
“I was just stopping a maid from attacking my fiancée. They saw that and accused me of threatening the maid. Why she tried to kill my fiancée, I have no idea.”
“Enough, damn it.”
“You’ll pay dearly for forcing me to kneel without even knowing the facts. Now, damn it, get out of my way, you bastards!”
Marc’s pretense of composure didn’t last. As he spoke and made eye contact with Maurice, his true colors emerged. Van pressed his knee into Marc’s back.
“If a prince insists, the truth will follow. Truth never really matters anyway.”
Edmund thought about the stabbing and its cause, but what remained was simply that a slave attacked a noble and fled—just as usual.
Van was familiar with this.
Marc knew it too, which made him bold.
As long as he could spin a plausible story, nothing would stop him from committing any act.
“So, there’s no choice.”
“Finally, some sense.”
“We’ll have to kill you and escape.”
