Chapter 9

 Larque didn’t care what color his hair was. However, whenever Ella would occasionally stare at Endymion with vacant eyes, he wanted to trample him. He wanted to flay his scalp and throw it before her. Larque had no feelings toward his cousin, viewing him like an inanimate object. Endymion was just a comrade and blood brother. But at some point, Endymion started to irritate him. It was an abnormal, abnormal manifestation of emotion. He tried not to reveal himself. But sometimes he couldn’t bear it. It was his fault that he couldn’t protect Ella from the threat. He had set up camp in a wasteland that remained hidden due to its status as a battlefield and kept her by his side. The Remond forces were far from her. He thought no blade would even touch the edge of her sleeve.

 “Am I bothering you again?”

 Endymion asked. He was still staring ahead. The sound of hooves hitting the ground was cheerful. He took his eyes off the fluttering golden hair. Larque’s hair took after his father’s bloodline, a gloomy blue-black. His eyes were grey, and his skin was white and clear like white wax. During his days as a squire—that is, before his limbs grew—it seemed he might have been quite a pretty boy in his youth, taking after his mother, but now as an adult, not even a slightly bright or soft feature could be found on him.

 “Of course not.”

 Larque was cold. His curt response lingered around Endymion’s ear before disappearing. When he said he would cut the throat of the woman who had dumped sewage on Marie, Larque’s reaction was monotonous. Though he was the commander of the knights, the gap between the two of them, the vice-commander, was blurred. When seeking official approval, he only said to handle it somewhere inconspicuous. Endymion didn’t follow his orders. He whipped the woman in the middle of the knights’ and servant girls’ camp before beheading her. When the head separated and rolled on the ground, he ordered a squire to hang it at the village entrance and scattered the body in six pieces on the wild hills. Marie trembled as if she would faint at the sight. The executed woman’s sister couldn’t even register it in her mind. Endymion took the crying Marie into the camp and didn’t come out for half a day.

 Larque seemed to think it was his fault that his servant girl was hurt. Endymion thought differently. The reason his servant girl almost died from being stoned was because he showed such softness. A servant girl was part of a knight. Like arms and legs. Therefore, it was no different from having one’s vital organs damaged. Merely torturing and hanging her was too soft a measure.

“What happened to your servant girl isn’t my fault.”

 Endymion said. Though he wasn’t sneering, to Larque, who couldn’t maintain any composure regarding her, it was as good as picking a fight. But Endymion meant it sincerely. He wasn’t at fault for Ella’s fainting. He hadn’t made any mistakes, neither in someone throwing a stone large enough to kill, nor in Ella happening to be the target.

 ‘Be quiet, Sir Endymion. Stop making noise.’

 It felt like his head was splitting with a ‘crack’. Every word Endymion delivered to him left an unpleasant afterimage in his mind. She had said she was going down to the village since morning to get milk. At dawn. He didn’t like the way her naked body rustled beside him. The color of the night sky was still blue. He held her wrist and wouldn’t let go. Ella was desperate. Larque released her wrist then grabbed her chest and pulled her to him. After kissing each br*ast once, he finally let her go, and her face brightened.

 He still didn’t like it. What would she do with milk anyway. If it’s not enough, you could add your own milk. The joke tickled below his Adam’s apple. He pressed his lips shut and watched the straight back of the woman leaving his side. Though the surroundings were dim, her soft body was white and clear within it. After Ella disappeared into the village, he spent the morning in battle.

 He counted the bodies of allies who had lost their heads and moved the surviving wounded to the lord’s castle. He rebuilt the camp that had burned while defending against the barbarians’ attack the previous evening to capture Pietro de Remond, and wrote one more report to send to the king in the capital.

 His daily routine was ordinary. If only Ella hadn’t been carried back unconscious on a soldier’s back. Endymion’s servant girl who went to the village together had blood on her hands. It wasn’t just a scratched forehead, rather it seemed like her head was cracked. If the patrol making rounds in the village hadn’t found her, she might have died right there. The amount of blood flowing from her head was that enormous. Larque still regretted not tearing that woman apart.

 He should have torn her limbs off while she was alive….. The unconscious woman’s body was stained with blood. That is, that is to say, half of it was. The blood pouring from her forehead had stained her right shoulder, arm, and the hem of her skirt. Sir Endymion’s servant girl held a towel to Ella’s forehead as she entered the camp entrance. Seeing Larque’s eyes grow cold at that moment, Deimos sighed. He gathered the medics and servant girls, and Ella was laid on his bed.

 ‘Kill her, but don’t kill her too cruelly.’

 Larque turned to look at Deimos. Deimos was trying to calm him with firm eyes. Larque passed him by with a look of swallowing his contempt. The medic, who had been an apprentice under a doctor before being drafted into the army, checked her pulse before taking out anesthetic and needles. Larque frowned without realizing it.

 ‘My servant girl is weak to pain.’

 Larque raised his hand to stop the medic. The skinny man heating the needle looked up and bowed. He glared at him with a pale face. He barely suppressed the urge to throw whatever his hands touched.

 ‘My servant girl has never been cut by a sword before.’

 ‘Pardon?’

 ‘I mean what if my servant girl can’t bear the pain and screams.’

 ‘Th-that won’t happen. She’s unconscious and I’ll use plenty of opium tincture.’

 He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again to stop his lower lip from trembling.

 ‘Soldiers and women are the same. You’ve experienced it too, haven’t you.’

 Deimos whispered. Larque knew too. Knights were as familiar with medicine as they were with martial arts. They could basically treat their own wounds. Even knights were human and couldn’t always fight from advantageous positions. To survive, they needed to be able to treat simple injuries. Animal instinct was more important than extensive medical knowledge. It was treating bleeding, not internal injuries. Yet he stood there like a fool, looking down at Ella.

 ‘Let’s leave now.’

 Deimos led him out of the camp, pushing him. Not long after, moaning sounds were heard. Larque, who had been pacing outside the camp, came back in. Deimos followed with a sigh. Ella, who had been unconscious before they left, was half-opening her eyes and wetting below her dry eyes.

 ‘J-just wait a little longer.’

 ‘It hurts. It hurts. Sir! Hic, hiccup….’

 Larque rushed to stand beside Ella. The bloody needle tip trembled in the medic’s hand.

 ‘Didn’t you give her opium tincture?’

 ‘I did.’

 The medic answered immediately. Deimos stood beside him with worried eyes, concerned that Larque might kill the medic. He was ready to block his sword if necessary. However, Larque regained his composure quite quickly. The eyes of the woman lying on the bed were clear. When she had been moaning and whining earlier, but now that her master couldn’t maintain composure, she seemed to collect herself and closed her mouth.

 ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore now. I think the medicine is just taking effect late.’

 Larque said nothing. They left the camp again, leaving the medic and servant girl. No more moaning sounds were heard. Only occasional sounds of suppressed groans. The servant girl’s lips were heavy. She never revealed who the woman who had stoned her was. Larque called for the patrol who had carried her back. The woman was hanged three mornings later. Larque kept the patrol’s towel that had wiped Ella’s blood. Whatever she shed, he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t want to return it to others either.

 “I don’t let any insult to Marie slide.”

 It would take 5 more days from now to reach the royal capital. They planned to unpack at the territories they passed through as they got further from the border. The king had contacted each territory the knights would pass through. Larque glared at Endymion who said this before passing through the castle gates first. Endymion had executed the woman who insulted his servant girl. Because he had executed her, Larque’s punishment had to be lighter. It was a battlefield and they were knights protecting the kingdom. The knights’ blades turning against the kingdom’s subjects rather than enemies should happen only once. Of course, if it were Endymion, he wouldn’t have considered that.

 ‘Your Highness Duke Durac, Your Graces Marquis Gwendel and Count Roymar. Welcome to Castle Roenel.’

As they passed through the castle gates, Count Roenel, the lord of the territory, was waiting with his household. Larque dismounted and received his greeting. A servant standing beside Count Roenel took the reins from him. After receiving courtesy from Count Roenel, Larque looked back. When the procession following the knights stopped, the Count’s castle was filled with soldiers bearing Kylaq’s banner.

 After seeing Endymion, Deimos, and finally Kirion enter, Larque stared at the very end of the procession to gauge Ella’s position. Meanwhile, Count Roenel approached and led him inside. Endymion patted Larque’s shoulder. He moved his steps to enter the Count’s castle.