Chapter 60 - A Gift

“Where have you been?”

Gilberton sounded slightly excited. Steam rose through his thick armor.

The sun was only just rising, yet he was already training that hard. He truly was an exemplary knight.

“Out for a nighttime stroll.”

“What sort of stroll takes all night?”

“You take quite an interest in me. I already have a woman to marry. Even if I didn't, men are out of the question.”

At Galahad's firm declaration, Gilberton tilted his head.

Leaving him looking bewildered, Galahad went inside.

The Fifth Battalion's commander was sitting there as though he belonged. Galahad sat opposite him and gave him a rough account of events.

Glossing over the details, he explained that the Black Magic Society had become an association of miners working the magic-stone deposits.

“Excellent. In that case, I'll deploy more troops to the deposits.”

Mark was quick on the uptake, unlike most northerners.

Just then, a harsh cry came from outside. The door burst open, and Gilberton came in.

“Damn it!”

Mark's eyes widened at his violent entrance. Gilberton bowed to him, then addressed Galahad again.

“I like women!”

“So you're a lecher.”

“... Pardon?”

“Commander Mark, Sir Gilberton says he's exceedingly fond of women.”

“Sir Gilberton, what about Lumian? She's been getting even more irritable lately.”

“Oh, splendid. We can turn our alliance into a family bond, Sir Gilberton.”

“Well... Lumian is a bit...”

“Goodness. Rather picky for such an ugly fellow.”

Galahad chuckled at Gilberton's thoroughly crumpled expression and put a cigarette between his lips.

“I'm not ugly.”

“No, you're definitely ugly. Luckily, you have a likable face, but you're still ugly.”

“I agree.”

“Your ugliness has been certified by majority vote.”

“What? What does certified mean?”

Galahad tapped the ash off his cigarette while Mark sorted his papers. After a moment, Gilberton hurriedly spoke up.

“No, what I mean is, Lumian has far too sharp a temper. And those freckles...”

He rambled on about all the reasons he disliked Lumian.

“Sir Gilberton.”

“There's more. And her eyes are so fierce...”

“Sir Gilberton?”

“Why do you keep calling me? I'm not finished yet.”

Galahad clicked his tongue softly at that unabashed reply.

“When Commander Mark is here, his adjutant Lumian is usually nearby.”

“What?”

Gilberton turned his head.

There stood Lumian, glaring even more fiercely than he'd described. His face went pale.

“I don't like you either, Sir Gilberton. You're ugly.”

“My, that makes three out of four.”

Gilberton tried to explain himself, but Lumian walked away before he could.

He clamped his mouth shut.

“That wasn't a bad reaction, was it?”

“Indeed. Lumian didn't even swear.”

“Well, Sir Gilberton. Quite the heartbreaker, aren't you?”

As Galahad and Mark traded remarks, needling him, Gilberton cautiously spoke up.

“... Really?”

“You were born to be a knight.”

Mark nodded at Galahad's words.

Around then, an appetizing smell drifted over. Galahad tapped the ash off his cigarette and rose.

Upstairs, he found Tom busily stirring a pot. Beside him, Gwen was pouring out fire, sweating profusely.

“Oh, you're back. It's almost done.”

“Fiiiire!”

“Gwen, once you've said the incantation, you needn't keep repeating it.”

“This helps me concentrate!”

Galahad nodded at her answer.

Every Mage followed a different path. There were tens of thousands of them.

He was certain his own method was the correct one, but he didn't bother pointing that out.

Stubbornness like that was proof she was becoming a Mage.

A little later, Tom brought out the pot of finished stew and ladled it into bowls.

“Make that two more. There are some industrious souls downstairs.”

“Oh, I've already prepared theirs.”

Galahad ordered Gilberton to take the stew down.

After discreetly smoothing his hair, Gilberton gathered the bowls and went downstairs with a peculiar expression.

Once he'd finished serving everyone, Tom set down the pot with the remaining stew. Damian immediately plunged his face into it.

When Galahad clicked his tongue, Damian lifted his head again.

“Use a spoon.”

“It's awkward.”

“Now, now.”

Damian ate from the pot with a spoon.

As always, the stew tasted incredible. Galahad was genuinely impressed.

Noticing the tears in Galahad's coat, Tom stood up, saying he would make a new one.

Galahad nodded in satisfaction. Tom ate and slept the least, yet did the most work.

“It says it's hungry too.”

“Who does?”

“There.”

Gwen pointed at Galahad's chest.

“It's much more articulate than before!”

“Is it? What's it saying?”

“Well... What? It's a secret? It says it's a secret!”

Galahad narrowed his eyes as Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth in alarm.

“That's an order.”

“A-an order!”

“Insubordination is punishable by death and a pay cut.”

“... A pay cut! I'll tell you!”

Gwen composed herself. Her face serious, she spoke in a low voice.

“Heh heh... Such power. Even I fear it.”

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Rather grandiose words for an egg that had only just become low-ranking.

THUMP! THUMP!

Perhaps because it had found someone who understood it in Gwen, the thing kept thumping away.

“We are invincible. Together—”

“Enough. You can stop now.”

“Oh! Yes! It says you've hurt its feelings!”

“Tell it to be quiet.”

“Be quiet!”

Tom returned as the meal was drawing to a close, carrying a sleek black coat.

Both its material and cut were better than the last one's. It appeared to be made from the hide of the enormous demon-beast they had killed at the Seventh Battalion.

To think he'd collected the hide amid all that chaos. Galahad was quietly impressed.

“It isn't very good at keeping heat out, so I lined it with mole cricket hide.”

“Excellent.”

Galahad removed his tattered coat. Tom helped him into the new one like a tailor.

“A little attention to the finishing around the collar and cuffs would make it even better.”

“Oh, would it? Is there anything else that feels uncomfortable?”

Since Tom was actually asking for more, Galahad pointed out the necessary alterations. Tom took meticulous notes.

Gilberton finally returned and gulped down his stew as though drinking it.

Once he too had finished eating, Galahad rose.

“Get ready, everyone. The Sixth Battalion is next. We'll continue inspecting the gaps in the front line as His Highness the Grand Duke instructed.”

“Yes! Everything's ready!”

As always, Tom answered briskly.

“Didn't you only just get back?”

Gilberton gave Galahad an odd look as he asked.

“I did.”

“Don't you need to sleep?”

“I'm fine. I've never needed much sleep.”

Gilberton narrowed his eyes at the answer.

Silence lingered for a moment. Galahad considered all the things he had to do.

House Proxel, the upper-echelon Demon, Dawn, Adrianna... There was so much piled up.

Then Gilberton spoke.

“Commander, you always seem to be running from something.”

His words were blunt.

That familiar question brought a host of voices to mind.

[“I'm telling you, there is no Demon King.”]

[“Why are you in such a hurry?”]

[“What a bizarre obsession.”]

He'd heard it often.

No matter how Galahad explained it, no one understood the Demon King.

Everyone denied his existence.

They stupidly prattled on about how no such thing existed.

But universal denial did not turn truth into falsehood.

Galahad was certain he was right.

“Running from something? I'm pursuing it. What a stupid thing to say.”

Galahad clicked his tongue softly at the twitch of Gilberton's face. His voice had come out sharp without his realizing it.

Still, he didn't bother explaining. Gilberton wouldn't understand anyway.

Just then, Tom emerged.

“Let's go.”

Galahad put a cigarette between his lips as he spoke.

At that moment, the window shattered violently. Gilberton hurriedly drew his sword.

A red hawk had flown in.

Or was it a demon-beast?

“It's His Highness the Grand Duke's hawk.”

Even without Gilberton's explanation, Galahad could tell whose it was.

Who but the Grand Duke would keep a hawk that was practically a demon-beast?

The hawk all but flung down a piece of paper and immediately vanished.

Damian picked it up and held it out to Galahad.

“Thank you, Damian.”

Galahad quietly examined the paper.

“Hmm.”

A low murmur escaped him.

That was when Gilberton saw Galahad's face without a smile for the first time.

It was truly chilling.

* * *

‘Why Demon blood...?’

Adrianna's adjutant Lunabirn frowned at the pile of canteens.

Demon blood smelled so foul that human blood hardly compared.

Sealing it in canteens helped a little, but collecting Demon blood still made no sense.

It was Adrianna's order.

‘At the request of Galahad, commander of the Special Operations Unit...’

Lunabirn clicked her tongue at the story that he drank Demon blood.

Mages were incomprehensible creatures.

At first, she'd thought he was just another fellow who would soon disappear.

Instead, he'd stayed and distinguished himself.

Even within the First Battalion, people were speaking well of him.

She could no longer dismiss him.

And besides...

‘Lady Adrianna seems somehow brighter.’

Lunabirn glanced sidelong at Adrianna as she counted the canteens.

Her face remained indifferent, but after serving her for so long, Lunabirn could see the change.

Before, Adrianna had focused solely on Demons and taken no interest in anything else.

For her to show even the slightest interest in something else was an enormous change.

Change wasn't always good.

Lunabirn pictured Galahad.

He was plainly a nobleman. Handsome, always confident and composed in his actions, he looked experienced at a glance.

Adrianna might be a hero of the North, but in romance, she was a blank slate. Her mana-burning nature had left her awkward even in ordinary relationships, never mind romantic ones.

An innocent like Adrianna could fall prey to him.

Of course, that would never happen, but...

Just then, a white hawk flew down onto Adrianna's shoulder. She carefully unfolded the paper attached to its leg.

Adrianna read the letter with an indifferent expression. Lunabirn watched her quietly.

For some reason, she took quite a long time reading it.

After studying the paper for a while, Adrianna looked at Lunabirn.

Usually, Adrianna's face softened ever so slightly when she looked at Lunabirn. It was Lunabirn's greatest source of pride.

Now, however, her expression was utterly serious.

Something terrible must have happened.

Had the Second Battalion's section of the front collapsed? Or were those imperial bastards advancing north? All sorts of worries flashed through Lunabirn's mind.

Then Adrianna spoke.

“Am I cute?”

Lunabirn's thoughts ground to a halt at the earnest question.

Adrianna, asking with a perfectly serious face whether she was cute...

An invasion by the Empire would have been more believable.

Above all, there was something a little cute about Adrianna asking so earnestly.

But Lunabirn could hardly dare to call her cute.

“Not cute at all. You are noble, magnificent, and beautiful, Lady Adrianna.”

“So it was a joke after all. Honestly...”

Adrianna's eyebrows twitched up and down.

Just then, an enormous red bird flew over. In size, it was closer to a demon-beast than a bird. It was the Grand Duke's hawk.

It landed on Adrianna's other shoulder. The two hawks cried at each other.

Adrianna unfolded the thick paper attached to the red hawk's leg.

Her face grew even more rigid.

“What is it?”

“The Imperial Princess has requested duels as a goodwill exchange. His Highness the Grand Duke has accepted.”

... A goodwill exchange?

Long ago, people had forged friendships through duels, but the tradition had since died out.

Even their ties with the Empire had been severed long ago.

Why suddenly revive a dead tradition now?

“His Highness has selected me, the Second Battalion's commander, and the Special Operations Unit's commander. I will depart immediately.”

The choice of participants was rather strange.

Adrianna and the Second Battalion's commander made sense.

Both were among the North's finest fighters.

But...

‘... Why the Special Operations Unit's commander?’

“We'll go to the Seventh Battalion first. We'll meet up with Commander Galahad.”

“Why the Special Operations Unit's commander...? Oh, is that His Highness's order?”

Adrianna did not answer.

‘The Imperial Princess? Why bring her up out of nowhere?’

It was a name she had not expected at all.

* * *

Imperial Princess Lucienne was a shrewd woman.

In circumstances where survival itself had seemed impossible, she had not merely survived but risen in the line of succession.

Her knight, Devan, knew shrewdness alone was not what had kept her alive.

‘Galahad...’

If Lucienne was the most beautiful woman Devan had ever seen, Galahad was the most capable person he had ever met.

He was capable. So capable that no other explanation was needed.

In an imperial court where several people died without a sound every day, he had admirably protected Lucienne as she clung to the edge of a precipice.

As if that weren't enough, he'd even raised her place in the succession.

Devan had thought anything would be possible with him.

Until that happened.

Galahad disappeared without a word, just as he had first arrived.

The next they heard, he was marrying the Grand Duke of the North's daughter.

Neither Devan nor the princess believed it.

He was not a man with time to spare for marriage.

He had even rejected the princess's advances. Devan was convinced he was impotent.

In any event, the rumor had appeared out of nowhere.

Naturally, they'd assumed at first that it was an assignment.

But the rumors persisted.

The princess devised a pretext to meet Galahad.

Unfortunately, her fiancé, a prince from the Alliance of Kingdoms, had recently died, and rumors of poisoning were circulating.

Under those circumstances, leaving the imperial court was both extremely difficult and potentially disastrous.

So the princess came up with an extraordinary excuse.

A goodwill exchange of duels with the Grand Duke.

Good heavens.

Devan squeezed his eyes shut.

Friendship with the Grand Duke would certainly be a tremendous asset.

The problem was that she intended to achieve it through duels.

The princess had proposed three matches. There would inevitably be a winner and a loser.

Her position was precarious enough already. Losing would give her enemies something to tear into.

Winning would be a problem too. The Grand Duke's hostility toward the Empire was notorious.

He certainly wouldn't let them leave alive after they won.

Win or lose, the proposal would bring disastrous consequences.

There was only one reason the princess had made that move.

‘She must be counting on Galahad.’

She believed he had gone to the North for her sake as well.

Devan saw things a little differently, but he was a knight, not an adviser.

Just then, the curtain parted, and the princess emerged.

Her large, blood-red eyes were like gems painstakingly cut by a master craftsman, and her hair, falling past her waist, looked softer than the finest silk.

There was a reason people said she had survived the imperial court because she was its most beautiful flower.

“Is everything ready?”

She asked with the corners of her red lips raised.

Her smile was like a brilliant flower in full bloom.

Her conduct, her smile, her actions—everything was flawless.

But Devan knew.

The most beautiful rose had the sharpest thorns.

“Yes. As you expected, Sir Paul Berian accepted the offer. However, the master of the Twilight Mage Tower has declined, citing unfinished research.”

“Has he?”

Devan swallowed hard.

“Instead, Bunch, a senior Mage from the White Mage Tower, has volunteered. He was Galahad's senior at the academy. He claims to have taught Galahad and is confident of victory.”

“I see. Well, it is Galahad, after all...”

Lucienne softly rolled the name “Galahad” around in her mouth.

As though savoring a piece of candy.

A moment later, she asked as if something had occurred to her.

“Sir Devan.”

“Yes?”

“How do I look?”

Lucienne smiled brightly as she asked.

The princess's question was famous throughout the imperial court.

Anyone who wasn't blind would naturally answer that she was beautiful.

But as always, there were lunatics.

Three people had answered her question with a no.

All three were dead.

Of course, there was one other who had said no. He was still very much alive, but that was a little-known story.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Devan meant it sincerely.

Surely no one more beautiful than her could exist.

The princess beamed.

For an instant, he could almost imagine the scent of flowers in the air.

“What a relief. I was worried because I didn't sleep well.”

At her whisper, Devan merely bowed his head.

“Oh, did you take good care of the gift?”

At her suddenly polite tone, Devan nodded.

“Yes.”

“Please open it.”

Devan carefully opened the box.

Inside the small box was a finger, wiped clean.

It belonged to the prince the Alliance of Kingdoms was searching for.

A large ring encircled it.

“He'll like it, won't he?”

Devan could only nod at the princess's question.

She smiled radiantly.

Unlike her earlier smiles, this one was pure and unfeigned.