TTPB 38

Chapter 38.

Will You Give Me a Chance?

“Damn it!”

Jade Lambert slammed his fist down on the desk. The wound he had just received tore open further, but he didn’t care. Only a few minutes ago, the finals had begun. His opponent, of course, had been Lafayette. It was one of those rare matches that even members of the imperial family came to watch. Winning it would have cemented his position as the next Commander of the Imperial Knights.

And yet, once again—again!—his path had been blocked by that cursed clan of the Black Isle. The Dunstans had always been nothing but an obstacle. With another loud bang, Jade struck the table.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Lambert, you’d do well to get that temper under control first.”

“Commander!”

Richard pushed aside the tent flap and stepped inside.

“Accepting defeat, too, can be a valuable teacher for the road ahead.”

“Urgh… I apologize. I’ve brought shame to the name of the Imperial Knights. It is disgraceful.”

Richard patted Jade’s shoulder.

“Don’t think that way. No one has asked you to uphold the honor of the Order all by yourself.”

“…”

“And besides—even if you lost, it was still a knight of the empire who won. That in itself is cause for celebration, is it not?”

“A knight of the empire, you say?”

Jade’s red eyes flashed sharply.

“He’s nothing but a lowly islander. Not a Calonne, not a noble, not even a knight.”

“Heh. You’d best change your way of thinking about that sooner rather than later.”

“And why should I?”

Richard looked at the uncompromising young aristocrat with pity.

“I’ll soon be retiring, handing over command of the knights to Marquis Lafayette. You can’t keep grinding your teeth at your superior forever.”

Jade leapt to his feet with a loud scrape of the chair.

“What do you mean, Commander! He already leads a knightly order of his own. And now you mean to make him commander of the Imperial Knights?”

“Yes. I did hesitate, worrying it might be a burden, but in the end, this was the only conclusion to reach.”

“Is it because I failed to win today? Even so, how can you overturn such a decision so suddenly!”

Richard frowned, genuinely puzzled.

“What are you talking about? Your loss in the tournament has nothing to do with my decision.”

“Then how else could you cast me aside in a single day, when I had already been named the next commander?”

“The next commander? You? Who told you such a thing?”

Jade’s voice grew smaller under the baron’s scowl.

“Ask anyone else. They’ll all tell you the same. Everyone believed that I, Jade Lambert, would be the next commander.”

“Hah! What nonsense…”

“Commander, what do I lack? Though I lost this match, I am no less a warrior than him.”

Jade dropped to his knees, almost begging.

“I’ve devoted my entire life to the Imperial Knights. I endured the hell of war for the sake of inheriting the command. I cannot let it be stolen by someone who has barely been in the palace a single year. Please reconsider!”

Richard pressed his hand to his temple, feeling a pounding headache.

“Get up first. I can’t let a wounded man kneel before me like this.”

“Are you truly going to hand command over to Lafayette?”

The old knight groaned. The decision had already been reported to higher authorities; there was no taking it back. And besides, His Highness the Prince seemed to take great interest in Marquis Lafayette.

“Jade, you’re still too young to be commander.”

“I’m twenty-five this year. Only a year older than that Black Isle dog!”

“No… I don’t mean in age.”

Richard sighed and pulled Jade back to his feet. Hoping to soothe the hot-blooded knight, he added,

“The reason I entrust the order to Sir Lafayette is because he has already proven himself to have the qualities of a commander.”

Perhaps it was inheriting the marquisate at such a young age—Arsène was calm and deliberate in every decision. He bore none of the vanity or arrogance typical of warriors his age. Were it not for the stigma of the Dunstan Isles, he would already be a major power in the palace, a pillar of support to the Prince. Richard wanted to give him the treatment he deserved, even now.

“As you know, the empire is far from stable at the moment. What we need now is someone capable of leading the knights with skill.”

“And you mean I am not?”

“Not yet. But with more experience, you too will become a man of equal worth.”

Jade clenched his fists. “Not yet” meant he was expected to wait for an opportunity only after Lafayette had already become commander. But once his peer took the position, what chance would ever remain for him?

“I cannot acknowledge him as commander.”

Breathing hard, Jade stormed out of the tent. Thud! He collided with someone entering. His small frame staggered backward after hitting a firm chest. Jade quickly reached out to steady the other person. For an instant, he felt skin as soft as whipped cream, and then found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes. Hastily, he let go and lowered his gaze.

“Forgive me.”

Offering a stiff bow, he brushed past her. Rose glanced at him, then spotted the Commander of the Knights and asked,

“Lord Officier, where is Arsène?”

“He should be in the waiting room, Your Highness the Third Princess.”

Since he wasn’t in the infirmary, at least he seemed uninjured. Rose, heading toward the waiting room, thought back on the blond knight who had looked so sour.

So, after all that arrogant talk, he lost to Arsène and is sulking in shame.

Jade’s martial skill was outstanding, certainly—his bout with Arsène had been fierce, if not quite as thrilling as the semifinals. Until Arsène’s arrival, everyone had indeed believed Jade would be the next commander.

But the commander of the Imperial Knights will be Arsène. Don’t get ahead of yourself!

Rose, ever loyal to her favorite, scoffed at the proud noble knight. Entering the waiting room, she easily spotted Arsène, surrounded by well-wishers congratulating him as the victor.

“Sir Lafayette, when you receive the Emperor’s reward, you’ll share it with us, won’t you?”

“Do you even know what the commander intends to ask for, to speak of sharing?”

“Ha! Maybe Jade’s swollen head has finally been deflated.”

While the knights joked among themselves, Arsène noticed Rose. He stepped aside from the crowd, and she dashed toward him, leaping lightly into his arms. His broad chest carried the faint scent of sweat.

“You did so well! I honestly didn’t expect you to win it all.”

“I never break a word once I’ve spoken it.”

Buried against his wide chest, she congratulated him—until she caught sight of Lance over his shoulder, staring wide-eyed like a startled deer.

Ack! What did I just do?

Suddenly aware, she sprang back from Arsène. Joy aside, she had just embraced him in full view of the other knights.

“Whoa. Whoa…”

Lance kept uttering silly exclamations. Thankfully, the other subordinates had the tact to move along. Gawain and Hagen led Lance away with a bow.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

“Commander, we’ll take our leave.”

“Very well. Don’t slacken the guard.”

Left alone with him in the waiting room, Rose awkwardly busied herself by checking him over.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“No, I am fine. So please do not think of using your blessing.”

“But I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Even so, you mustn’t. Knights live with their wounds—it is Your Highness who must always take care of her own health.”

Feeling like a student scolded by her teacher, Rose quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, that reminds me, Arsène. This time… will you give me a chance?”

“A chance for what?”

Rose smiled softly, her voice burning with excitement.

“The chance to escort the tournament champion to the eve banquet!”

The banquet hall on the night before the closing ceremony was dazzling. The Great Hall of the Imperial Palace resounded with music for the social dances. Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies brought from across the land. As night deepened, the eve festival grew more rapturous. Soon, the Emperor would raise a toast to honor the champion of the tournament.

“Are you that happy?”

Rose looked up at Arsène. The man at her side was the star of the evening, and he had gladly accepted her request to escort her. The last time they had appeared as a pair had been her coming-of-age ceremony. She could not contain her excitement, eager to see what reward Arsène would ask of the Emperor.

“Of course I’m happy! And you, Arsène—what will you ask His Majesty to grant you?”

“I plan to make my request to His Majesty directly, in a little while.”

“Pfft, so you won’t tell me until then? What grand reward could you possibly be planning to claim?”

The man kept his lips sealed, unwilling to reveal it beforehand. Rose tried to guess what he might ask for. Gold and jewels? Better treatment for the Dunstans? The command of the Imperial Knights? Or perhaps…

“Marriage is off the table.”

Her sharp gaze was a warning. Arsène’s lips curved faintly at the unexpected glare. Though she meant to look menacing, to him she only looked endlessly endearing.

“Even if you’re of age, you can’t just pick someone at random and rush into marriage, just to get it over with!”

“That’s not what I intend.”

Still, she probed him until the end, before turning away with a huff. Imagining him with some beautiful lady by his side made her chest ache.

So this is what it feels like… sending off your favorite character.

Her heart throbbed strangely, plunging from joy into heaviness. Until now, she’d only felt such pangs when she had faced water. The sensation was eerily similar, and Rose tilted her head in puzzlement.

But there’s no water anywhere near here.

She glanced down at her wrist. Perhaps it was because she had taken off the bracelet—unsuited to her gown tonight. The talisman Arsène had given her had proven its worth.

Just then, the Emperor raised his glass of champagne.

“As we bid farewell to the last night of the Founding Festival, raise the cup of rest.”

The nobles present lifted their white goblets high.

“A toast to Arsène de Lafayette, champion of the tournament!”

“A toast!”

Every guest harbored complex feelings. A scorned man of the Black Isle was now receiving the Emperor’s toast. His swordplay had overwhelmed them. He stood here as the champion beside the Third Princess. All eyes, even within the imperial family, turned toward the Remigis Knights.

“Euclid de Calonne, of the fairy’s blood, shall share in the joy of the eve—let the cup of blessing be raised together.”

As the Emperor drank, they all followed suit. Rose clinked her glass with Arsène’s and took a sip. Sweet, with a sharp, sparkling finish. The tingling sensation down her throat was striking. Perhaps because it had been so long since she’d had alcohol, she even detected a metallic tang.

And suddenly—something hot welled up her throat and spilled out.

“Ah…”

What?

She stared at her palm, blank and unthinking. The noise around her dulled to a muffled hum. A hideous crimson spread vividly across her pale hand, crawling outward like insects under her skin.

“Your Highness!”

Rose crumpled to the floor. The banquet dissolved into chaos. Urgent voices called her name, heavy boots thundered across the hall. What poured from her mouth soaked into her gown, staining the hem bright red. Arsène’s desperate voice urging her to hold on grew ever more distant.

Her unfocused eyes wandered—catching, for a fleeting moment, the face of Arachne standing afar.

It was a smile reeking of blood.