CH 9

Carlton looked Luisen in the eye, sword held high. His blue eyes were terrified, but they held no deceit. There was no doubt these were innocent eyes.

Moreover, every single one of his words penetrated Carlton’s heart. They accurately agitated the anxiety and sense of disharmony he vaguely felt. He became angrier partially because there was no way to contradict what Luisen had said.

“Damn it!” Carlton threw his sword onto the ground. At the clanging sound, Luisen deflated like an empty sack.

‘Ah, I’m alive.’

He shivered. Carlton kicked the ground, cursed, and threw off his helmet.

Luisen looked at him rapturously–he had a far more handsome appearance than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t expect such a good-looking face underneath the black helm. His rough, chiseled jawline particularly complimented his fierce aesthetic. His black hair, wet with sweat, was in disarray. It was not neat, but rather than looking dirty, the tousled effect gave off a wild aura.

“Let’s redo it.” Carlton nodded at Luisen’s hand with his knife-like jawline. Luisen looked down; he had been clutching tightly at the white flag this whole time.

“Ah.” Surrender again?

Luisen once again knelt down and offered the flag high in the air. He did not beg for his life’s mercy twice, though. Without speaking, Carlton snatched the flag from his fingers.

Then, raising the white flag high, he declared victory. The soldiers in the barracks cheered loudly. The sun began to rise like a torch burning ceremoniously upon an important event. Luisen, still kneeling, looked at the white flag flying against the dawning night sky. The kernels of the golden wheat grains embroidered on the flag sparkled like stars.

***

After a very plain surrender process, things proceeded like rapidly rushing torrents. Carlton’s army dexterously packed up their tents and demolished their temporary holdings. The soldiers who returned from battle lined up neatly. In an instant, all clean up was finished, and Carlton’s army marched towards the duke’s castle.

Carlton led the army from the front.

His deputy, who followed along beside him, asked anxiously, “Is it really okay for us to just go like this?”

“According to my spy, it’s not a trap.”

“If you say so….”

According to the spies placed in the fortress in advance, the castle was overwhelmed with defending the location and could not afford to lay traps. Carlton had thought of the possibility that Luisen would be pretending to surrender while lying in wait for a devious opportunity, but that situation seemed unlikely. Still, Carlton’s deputy was deeply concerned since the current situation was far from the usual routine.

Were there any others who were obsessed with the propriety of useless procedures as much as nobles? Even if there was no place to run after the castle fell, nobles would definitely declare surrender surrounded by their servants and knights, pretending to be composed and mighty. However, Luisen came with only one servant to kneel upon bare ground?

Incredulous, the deputy kept staring backwards. Luisen slowly followed on a horse. His smooth, pale skin and bright gold hair shone even though they were dirty–smeared with dust and mud. Though he was surrounded by enemies, the deputy felt that Luisen seemed relaxed, as if he were in no hurry.

That leisurely confidence. Perhaps that was the mark of a great lord.

“I’ve heard that the Duke of Anies was a useless pushover. But, seeing him here, nobles really are noble…That composure…”

“What an unlucky man,” some soldier said. Carlton stared at Luisen, irritated.

‘Ugh, did I do anything wrong? Stop staring at me.’

Luisen wanted to cry. Why did he keep staring daggers at him? It was already hard enough trying to ride a horse…

In fact, Luisen was awfully bad at riding. His slow, relaxed pace was actually because he could not go any faster without falling. His upright position was a result of his tense muscles, concentrating hard on maintaining balance.

However, Carlton and his companions would never think Luisen couldn’t ride a horse. Riding was a basic skill of the aristocracy, allowing the nobles to condescendingly look down upon the peasantry from their high seat. Of course, Luisen’s noble appearance also contributed to the illusion.

‘I should have slapped him around a bit first before listening to him.’ Carlton had been in a bad mood since the start of the trip.

Though the civil war was not officially over, the first prince’s retainers acted as if everything was finished. The atmosphere was complacent, noisily dividing their share of war prizes. Those who used to be blood brothers would bite and snap at each other for a bigger share. Of course, on the surface they maintained the image of placid waters, keeping conflicts underwater.

In the midst of that mess, all nobles secretly united under the goal of sprinkling ashes upon Carlton’s future.

‘How dare this peasant not know his place!?’ The nobles were of this state of mind.

Currently, Carlton’s worth was still too big and the first prince still cared for him, so the nobles couldn’t flaunt their hatred openly. They could only sarcastically make remarks behind turned backs, vowing to boil and eat him. These were remarks that Carlton may have poked fun at during the war…but now they held an uncomfortable kernel of promise.

Under these circumstances, being sent to the south to suppress the Duke of Anies had fanned the flames of anger. It wasn’t enough to just merely stay by Prince Ellion’s side and receive one more accolade. Carlton’s head hurt from trying to navigate his relationship with the prince, who was constantly receiving gossip from the nobles regarding his matters.

The nobles were busy gorging themselves upon the joy of victory in the capital. Carlton wondered if he was ordered to clean up the remnants of the war because he was low-class; perhaps if he were a nobleman, he wouldn’t be such a pariah. Now that the civil war was over, would his usefulness come to an end? Beyond obligations, he felt a sense of duty. Besides, the first prince himself commanded him to tie up loose ends–it was impossible to reject this order.

In the face of such powerlessness, Carlton wanted to make an example of the Anies Duchy to declare his undiminished robustness. The Duke of Anies was an existence that symbolized nobility far greater than the mosquitos at the capital. Through the duke’s total domination, he had wanted to imprint fear on all the nobles who began to underestimate him.

But, now that he was at the front gate, Carlton felt uncomfortable.

‘It’s too easy. It’s good that things were easy, but that makes me feel on edge. What’s going on?’ he thought.

The more he thought about it, the less answers he had. Furthermore, he had been delaying victory because of this sense of unease. This feeling had made him abandon his duties as a commander to begin hunting during the night. To destress, to take the time to relax.

He couldn’t have imagined that he’d receive his answers from Luisen Anies, captured during his hunt. Carlton felt even worse now, since Luisen had pinpointed other doubts that he himself wasn’t even aware of.

‘What kind of man is Luisen Anies?!’

He was that stupid fellow who got dragged around by the second prince. It may have been another matter if he was cautiously using the prince for some sort of advantage…but he was a pushover of a man who had spent and lost all his supplies and troops.

Furthermore, his fellow trash lords–the very same friends that would laze about in the capital together–would rather take an oath of service to the enemy future-king. He had lost control to the extent that even his capital friends refused to extend a helping hand. If he were to spend his days wasting at the capital, then he should have built his own political base. It was natural that Luisen had procured a reputation of being a fool who was born with a good umbilical cord and nothing else.

If he hadn’t been born as the duke’s son, or even if the duke had one more child, Luisen would have joined the rats and birds in the streets.

That had been Carlton’s assessment of Luisen…

‘He’s somehow different from what the rumors said,’ he thought.

Luisen’s argument was absolutely essential to Carlton at this point. The war was over. The young first prince would become king. There was no point to discussing who the king would prioritize among the nobles he had history with and the mercenaries he picked up on a whim in the northern lands. Luisen’s comments were tantamount to a sobering poke in Carlton’s careless ribs. He’d returned to his senses.

People everywhere said that nobles were special beings who bled blue. They may have been the same species, but nobles could access a different perspective; as such, it was natural for them to reign over others. The average citizen accepted that they should live as they are told.

Carlton had defied that mindset all his life, but this time he was completely defeated by Luisen’s insight. He couldn’t believe that such a pushover could divine a wisdom which his strength of body could not overcome.

‘You’ve provoked your enemies to your heart’s content, and yet you seem calm. Is that the greatness of true blue blood? That can’t be true…Maybe he was lucky somehow. Maybe someone assisted him.’

Carlton didn’t want to admit that he was somehow worse than Luisen. However, it was true that he accepted Luisen’s surrender after a few words of persuasion. His words were just too plausible to ignore. It was as if somehow Luisen had seen the future and knew exactly what would happen afterwards.

‘…We’ll see. I’ll pay him back for this displeasure at any sight of falsehood.’ Carlton gritted his teeth.

A ways back, Luisen felt a cold chill for no discernible reason.

The procession finally arrived before the front gates. Carlton stopped the army procession and watched the duke’s reaction.

Carlton’s remaining soldiers on the castle walls withdrew, drunk off the relaxed atmosphere. Without warning, Carlton’s blue flag could be seen flying in the air. However, next to the blue lion, a flag emblazoned with golden wheat fluttered as well.

‘Eh? Why is that there?’ the inhabitants of the castle thought. Then, following the flag, they discovered Luisen.

‘Why is our lord over there?’

The castle became a mess. The castle’s denizens began to call for their superiors and were asking what had happened.

“Those guys really are surprised, aren’t they?” the deputy said.

“This isn’t an illusion. Everything’s too chaotic…..They really had no idea that their lord left to surrender,” Carlton agreed with his deputy as he carefully scrutinized the castle walls. “There must have been some internal struggle. The young duke was genuine.”

“The duke seems to be afraid of his retainers. Perhaps he has no real position within the castle?”

Even so, how could the duke run barefoot across the woods to surrender? It seemed as if the internal chaos wasn’t ordinary.

“It’s worth seeing him in such a sorry state.”

“Like this, will the duke not have become a traitor to his people? Perhaps it would be best for us to keep the duke under seclusion…”

“Leave him alone. They won’t kill him.” Carlton chuckled, a bit grumpily–he wanted to see Luisen shaken off his pedestal.