novelraw Chapter 76
Chapter 76
Rhoyce Empire
On the wide training grounds, a bare-chested man trudged forward, a slab of black iron as large as a tombstone balanced on his shoulders. Sweat glistened on his powerful muscles.
Hah… Hah…
His breathing was ragged and heavy. Every step was a crushing weight upon his body. A fiery pain stabbed at his chest. He was at his limit. No. I must beat my last count this time.
1197
Hah…
1198
Hah…
His flushed face was turning a shade of blue from the strain.
1199, he counted silently in his mind. Just one more step. One last step! Move!
1200!
As he took the final step, his face was ashen.
“Tom!” he roared, his voice hoarse.
At his call, a tall figure in silver-white knight's armor appeared beside him. A large hand, covered by a silver gauntlet, lifted the black iron from his shoulders. In that hand, the slab seemed to weigh nothing. He tossed it casually aside. It flew in a great arc.
BOOM!
The black iron slammed into the ground, embedding itself in the dry, yellow earth of the training field.
The weight lifted from his shoulders, the man collapsed onto his back, staring up at the sky. He had a hawk-like nose, a strong jaw, and beautiful blue eyes—a ruggedly handsome, resolute face. His damp, blue-black hair was now matted with dirt, but he didn't care. The solid muscles of his abdomen rose and fell violently with each gasp for air. All he needed now was rest.
The knight looked down at the exhausted Young Master Owen. He reached for a cloth pouch at his waist, slipped two fingers inside, and pulled out a vial. Within the transparent crystal tube was a pink liquid. He reached down and pinched the Young Master's cheeks.
He bit the cork from the vial and pulled.
Pop.
He had used too much force, and some of the potion sloshed out. With a flick of his wrist, the liquid flew in a pink arc before landing perfectly back inside the vial. He tilted the tube, pouring the pink potion into Owen's open mouth. There wasn't much; the vial was empty in seconds.
He gently supported Owen's head and lowered it back to the ground. He stood, tucking the empty vial back into his pouch. They were expensive, but reusable.
“Young Master Owen, your training is too excessive,” the knight said, his voice a low rumble. “What if there's an accident?”
The searing pain in his body slowly subsided as the potion took effect. Owen turned his head and gave his attendant, Tom, a bright, cheerful smile.
“That's what you're here for, isn't it?”
His blue eyes shone with open and unwavering trust.
Tom was silent for two seconds. “Young Master Owen, if an accident were to happen, even I might not be able to guarantee your safety.” The Young Master's training methods were too extreme; he always insisted on pushing past his limits.
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“I trust you, Tom.” The look in those blue eyes didn't waver.
Tom fell silent. He had been with the Young Master for many years; he knew him well. Frank, cheerful, and resolute. He had the same personality as the Old Master and the Young Lady. Once he decided on something, it was nearly impossible to change his mind.
Seeing Tom say no more, Owen felt a quiet victory. The stuffy, nagging Tom was a good partner, and a good attendant. He turned his head, his gaze returning to the sky and the white clouds drifting in the blue expanse.
He had been in the royal capital for over a month now. He wondered how his mother was, and if she was well. An image of her gentle face surfaced in his mind. He truly didn't know why she had suddenly arranged for him to accompany his father here. The royal capital was prosperous, yes, but the atmosphere was too oppressive. Compared to the capital, Valerius was so much better. At least the people there were warm. Here, everyone wore a smile, but their smiles were just like his father's—far too fake.
His thoughts drifted. When he came back to himself, his body had mostly recovered. He pushed himself up with a powerful right arm. He ran a hand over his body. Sticky. He needed a bath.
Seeing his master rise, Tom held out the clothes he was carrying. Owen waved a hand. “Don't bother, Tom. I'm heading straight for a bath.” Hearing this, the knight retracted his hand.
The training grounds were west of the woods, meaning he had to cross through the forest to return to the estate. As he reached the edge of the trees, Owen stopped.
Clank… clank…
His ears twitched.
Clank… clank…
This time he heard it clearly: the metallic sound of armor. He quickened his pace.
The estate soon came into view, but today it was different. Ranks of silent figures stood arrayed before the main gate. They wore silver-white armor, the style of which Owen knew well. It was the livery of his family. These were his family's knights. A quick glance told him their numbers were vast—at least two thousand. That was nearly the entire knighthood of his house.
Why? Why have they come to the royal capital? Rebellion? No. Father would never attempt something with no chance of success. Then…
His blue eyes widened. War.
I have to ask Father. He broke into a run.
As he neared the estate, he saw his father standing on a high platform before the assembled knights, his voice ringing out.
“The beastmen covet our homes! They wish to kill our wives and our children!”
“As knights of the Empire, it is our duty to raise our swords!”
“Drive them out! Crush them! Annihilate them!”
The man on the platform, who looked like an older version of Owen but with black hair, saw him approach. He gave Owen a cursory glance before continuing his speech.
“The Empire's decree has been issued! For every one hundred beastmen heads you collect—regardless of age—you will be rewarded with one thousand gold coins! Collect one thousand heads, and you will be granted the rank of Imperial Knight and a knight's fief of your own!”
“Gentlemen, go forth and slaughter! Slaughter those damned, vile beastmen and claim your glory!”
All the knights raised their fists in unison.
“Glory to oneself!”
“Glory to oneself!”
The powerful chant thundered across the land.
His speech finished, Lord Cassian turned and descended the platform, walking into the estate. The knights would be handled by others.
Owen, who had been waiting, fell into step beside him. “Father, is it war?”
Cassian stopped and turned to his eldest son. The boy's blue eyes were filled with worry. Compared to Thea, Owen is still far too lacking.
“Yes,” he answered curtly.
His father's confirmation struck Owen like a physical blow. He stopped in his tracks, stunned. War is here again. Then Valerius, as a second-line territory… will it not be…?
Ignoring his son's reaction, Cassian continued on. He walked to his study, sat down, and immediately took a letter from his coat.
[Wishing Father a triumphant return.]
Just those few words. The corners of his lips turned up. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Thea… she has grown up.
He sat up straight again, picked up a quill from the desk, and began to write. A short letter was quickly finished. He folded it and placed it in an envelope. He looked down at the silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. He rubbed it with his right. The day to take this off has finally come. He wondered if his own father had felt the same way. He tried to recall his own father's face, but no matter how hard he tried, the features remained a blur. Only the noble's robes and this silver ring in his hand were clear.
Hah… He sighed. He pulled the silver ring from his finger and slipped it into the envelope.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He rapped his fingers lightly on the desk three times. A figure in a black uniform and a white mask appeared in the room without a sound, bowing silently beside him.
“Take this letter to Thea Valerius.”
The bowing figure straightened and took the envelope from the desk.