TTPB 23

Chapter 23

 – What Should I Do?

“Why won’t she open her eyes?”

Arsène pressed impatiently. The princess lying down was growing paler by the moment.

“Let her be. Stop pacing like a puppy that needs to relieve itself—especially with that big body of yours.”

With a sigh, Sabas finally laid a hand on Rose’s forehead, his brow furrowing. In truth, it wasn’t a proper infirmary—they were in the nuns’ quarters. Because a certain stubborn knight had refused to allow the princess to be placed alongside the sick, they had taken over a section of the refuge.

Thanks to that, Sabas, who had been looking after her, was forced into an odd sort of rest as well.

“She only fainted from overexerting herself. She’ll wake up within a few hours.”

Arsène planted himself firmly before Sabas, looking as though he had much to say. He opened his mouth, as politely as he could.

“Master Sabas, Lance is Her Highness’s guard knight. Please allow him to fulfill his duty.”

Sabas cast him a sidelong glance, unimpressed.

“Knights, always the same. Tch. Patients are dying all around us and you speak of guards? Go help the physicians instead. There’s plenty of work for your muscle.”

“There are vagrants among the refugees. What if one of them tried to harm Her Highness?”

Arsène clenched his fists at the thought of the man who had threatened Rose. If he had been a moment later, he didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened.

“Her Highness was nearly endangered.”

“Hmph. Then she should have dealt with it herself instead of relying on you for every little thing.”

Sabas slammed his staff against the floor, his tone sharp and scolding.

“In any case, absolutely not! She didn’t come here to be coddled as royalty. If you don’t like it, leave. I have no use for anyone useless under my watch.”

“You already have Hagen as your guard. Use him. Lance was assigned to Her Highness.”

“That hulking man? He takes up too much space. The room is cramped enough. The boy suits me fine.”

Seeing Sabas unwilling to yield, Arsène spoke in a tone of finality.

“The knights are under my command. You will obey my orders. No matter how distinguished you are, I cannot concede further.”

“You insolent wretch!”

Sabas raised his staff to strike, but Arsène caught it in one hand. Meeting the old man’s glare head-on, he declared firmly:

“Her Highness’s safety is my utmost priority. Do not force me to repeat myself.”

Sabas’s hand trembled with fury at being blocked so easily. Just then, a clear voice came from behind them.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t come here to be treated like a pampered princess surrounded by guards.”

Rose was sitting upright on the bed, her blue eyes shining brightly, as if she had never collapsed.

“Hmph. Hard words from someone who was just lying unconscious.”

“You only say that because you don’t know my strength.”

Rose lowered her gaze to her palm. The sensation of that white light enveloping her hand was still vivid.

“I understand it better now. From the beginning, I came here to use Regeneration. I’ll heal the wounded my own way.”

“Your own way?”

Sabas arched a brow.

“Yes. My fairy’s blessing is Regeneration. I will use it to heal the injured.”

“Heh!”

The old man let out a derisive laugh, the rap of his staff echoing harshly through the room. Rose, however, met his sharp gaze without flinching.

“Do you even know how to control the fairy’s blessing?”

“I’ll have to try. Fortunately, this place is suitable for me to practice.”

“Practice.”

Sabas’s eyes turned icy. This was anger far beyond his earlier scolding.

“That arrogance is the problem. Do you think saving lives is some experiment in a laboratory?”

“You misunderstand me. With Regeneration, many more can be completely healed. I only said ‘practice’ because I lack mastery. Even if it goes wrong, the worst result is that they recover too vigorously. There’s nothing to fear.”

“No. You have no idea of the curse you’re invoking.”

At the word curse, Rose fell silent.

A cursed power?

It was a term she had heard before. She searched her memory.

Ah, the legend of the Kalon Empire…

Yes—the founder Kalon had once called the fairy’s blessing a cursed power. His dying words:

“I do not know if she was my blessing, or my curse.”

“You must never place blind faith in the fairy’s blessing. The more you rely on it, the more the fairy will eat away at you.”

“Like Kalon in the legend?”

Kalon had cursed the fairy’s noble power. His tragic fate was proof of what happened to a man who became a plaything of fairies.

“Exactly. And what of you earlier? You couldn’t control it and simply poured it out. Did you think that made you noble?”

“…”

“Hardly! To me, you looked like a girl bewitched, thrashing in desperation!”

Sabas rose so suddenly his chair clattered to the floor. He paced the room much like Arsène earlier, his agitation plain.

“And in the end you collapsed in disgrace. Thanks to you, those who might have been treated had to suffer through another night in pain.”

“But I saved one who was on the brink of death. If I practice, I’ll stop collapsing and be able to treat more.”

“You’re still clinging to that nonsense. Do you know why I bother brewing anesthetics at all?”

Despite his own ability of Paralysis, Sabas relied on herbs with sedative properties. He only used the faintest trace of his blessing on patients overwhelmed by pain, never indulging in overuse. Rose had assumed it was because of his strict personality.

“The fairy’s blessing always exacts a price. This time it was only dizziness, but next time? Incurable disease, like a sin itself.”

“…!”

“You mean it shortens life?”

Arsène, who had been silently listening, asked in a grave voice. Sabas turned, startled as if he had forgotten he was there.

“Damn it. I’ve spilled royal disgrace for outsiders to hear.”

“…”

“In any case, never rely on it. Only use it when absolutely necessary. No, first you must learn to control it. Hmph. As if I weren’t busy enough, now I have to teach this foolish child.”

His mutterings dwindled into a grumble.

“From tomorrow, watch carefully and learn from me. If you so much as lay a finger on a patient with that so-called Regeneration again…”

“You mean I can’t use my power at all?”

“Did you ever see me healing them with a fairy’s blessing?”

Rose’s vision dimmed. She had no knowledge of medicine. She could already see the trials awaiting her—and the old man’s endless scolding would be the least of it. As expected, Sabas stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Rose let out a deep sigh. Then, seeing the knight standing silently with a dark expression, she gave a small, awkward cough.

“Ahem… Sorry. Because of me, you got dragged into that too, Arsène.”

“…”

“Arsène?”

Receiving no reply, she slid off the bed and waved a hand in front of him. Only then did he lift his gaze. She had thought he was dazed, but his eyes held a heavy weight. Rose froze mid-motion, her hand lingering in the air.

“…What am I supposed to do with you, Your Highness?”

White doves perched atop a laurel tree. In Tèvere, God’s domain, the climate was ever gentle and pleasant. All creatures dozed in peace—until a pure bell tolled, startling the birds into flight.

From the tall spire rang the chime of noon. The quartz-white buildings gleamed, unsullied by worldly stain. In the hushed holy grounds, robed priests walked softly to and fro.

“Heria. Take this message to the Emperor of the Empire.”

The missive, handed down by the Prefect of the Papal Court, was sealed with fine wax, impressed with the sigil of Tèvere.

“And this one, deliver to Her Highness the Saintess.”

Pope Urbano handed over another letter.

“To the Saintess, Your Holiness?”

“You witnessed her consecration yourself, did you not? That sacred light will surely serve our cause.”

The light Rose had displayed was blinding indeed—a strange power said to manifest only in Kalon’s imperial bloodline. Whether or not it was truly holy, Heria could tell the Pope had taken a liking to her.

“Gain her favor as well.”

Since the Levan War, the Kalon Empire had risen, while Tèvere had faltered. Their defeat two centuries ago had been bitter for the Holy See, a setback at the height of their expansion.

The Empire, with its obsession with fairies, resisted conversion. To the Popes of old, it had always been a thorn in the side. Only in Urbano’s tenure did the Holy See finally gain influence—thanks to aiding the current emperor’s rise to the throne.

But the cunning fairy-king emperor had since withdrawn from worldly politics. Now, unexpectedly, another imperial offered opportunity. If they exalted the Third Princess as a saint, she could become the bridge linking the Empire and the Papacy.

“With her, we can reclaim our former glory.”

Tying themselves to the Third Princess could become a foothold to eventually invade Kalon itself. Full sanctification of the continent was nearly within reach. Urbano smiled greedily.

Heria offered a perfunctory bow and left the hall.

“Really, His Holiness wants everything.”

The expansion of Tèvere’s power hardly interested him. He glanced at the two letters, then smirked. For he recalled a fairy dancing beneath moonlight, with blue eyes that had glared at him so fiercely.

The thought of seeing her again pleased him. For the first time in ages, he found himself eager for his mission.

“With the festival coming, I’ll have a chance to play with the princess.”

Kalon’s founding festival was held in September. By the time he arrived, the celebration would be in full swing. Humming a tune, Heria set off on his journey, anticipation lightening his step.