CHAPTER 65………………………………………….
Where the villagers had gathered in a cluster, a lone man stood tall, his eyebrows twitching slightly.
The villagers hunched their shoulders under the intimidating aura radiating from him.
“I hope no one will act recklessly anymore.”
One man among the crowd mustered his courage and raised his hand.
“Y-Your Highness, the Archduke…”
Cardin raised his eyebrow, and the man swallowed hard, struggling to speak.
“Then… does that mean the Flower of the Divine does not exist?”
A woman beside him jabbed his side with her elbow.
“What have you heard until now? Didn’t they say the exalted ones searched everywhere?”
“That’s right. There’s no way such a flower would grow along the borders where monsters dwell.”
Cardin frowned at the murmurs, cutting them off sharply.
“The Saint personally confirmed this for your sake. So value your lives.”
Those who had their hands folded politely nodded repeatedly.
Still, Cardin frowned, massaging the back of his neck as if displeased.
“I will periodically send officials here, so do not make the Saint’s efforts in vain.”
Startled by his words, many eyes turned toward him.
“The Kingdom of Helen and the Kingdom of Nicholas respect your decisions, but I hope you won’t stubbornly insist on useless things.”
The villagers rolled their eyes, gauging the situation. Despite his commanding tone, it sounded as if he was saying they could come to either the kingdom or the duchy whenever they changed their minds.
Unable to ask him directly, the villagers hesitated, unsure what to say.
“I know why you chose this place.”
At his words, the villagers pressed their lips together.
“Slavery is gone, and the world is very different from what you experienced. I want to say that… but I know saying this won’t heal the wounds you’ve suffered.”
The villagers lowered their heads, fidgeting with their folded hands, recalling past hardships.
“On behalf of the two kingdoms, I apologize to you.”
For an Archduke—a royal of one kingdom—to understand their pain and apologize—it was unbelievable.
Yet, sensing his sincerity, a few sniffles broke the silence.
“If officials say you need regular treatment, entering the duchy or the kingdom wouldn’t be a bad choice.”
It was something they had all considered at least once—thinking of those who had fallen ill, unable to receive proper care, and died.
“If you dislike both the duchy and the kingdom’s capital, we can look for another territory. Of course, you may stay here, but remember—you always have a place to return to.”
The villagers looked up at Cardin with weakened eyes, shivering as they had when monsters had attacked and he had saved them.
His expression was hard to read, but they could feel that his words were sincere.
Cardin genuinely worried for and comforted them.
Looking down at the villagers, he spoke again.
“If you have further questions, ask the knights.”
Then, as if he had said all he needed to, he turned without hesitation. With broad, fast strides, he soon distanced himself from the villagers.
Cardin spotted Raymon walking toward the village and raised his eyebrows.
“Archduke. Is the discussion over?”
Cardin glanced back briefly and nodded.
Raymon peeked over his shoulder and smirked.
“Well, after saying all that, he probably won’t go back there.”
“The Saint personally confirmed it, so they won’t go there again.”
Raymon recalled the day the Saint left for the temple and how the villagers had looked at her, nodding in agreement.
Cardin and Raymon turned from the village and walked toward the barracks.
“The number of knights in the Perdian Order seems low. Have they already departed?”
Cardin frowned at Raymon’s question, prompting him to shrug while glancing around.
“It’s just the two of us now, yet you can’t even speak comfortably.”
Cardin clicked his tongue.
“The vanguard left first with the villagers.”
“The barracks must be pretty quiet, then.”
“How long do you think it will take to reach Nicholas?”
Raymon, looking at the village still under reconstruction, answered Cardin’s question.
“The kingdom’s knights have already departed, so it shouldn’t take long.”
Walking along the narrow path flanked by dense trees, they soon reached the barracks.
As Raymon scanned the desolate landscape, a messenger bird appeared in his sight.
He whistled at the bird circling, unable to find its master.
The bird flew toward them upon hearing the sound.
Raymon squinted and tilted his head, asking,
“It’s not a kingdom messenger bird. Is it from Perdian?”
Cardin looked up as soon as Raymon finished speaking.
“It’s not our messenger bird.”
The bird hovered in front of them, flapping its wings. Raymon eyed it suspiciously, extending his arm.
He realized it wasn’t a Perdian bird either—smaller and different in appearance from their own.
The bird landed steadily on Raymon’s arm, then spread one wing.
“Huh. It’s asking me to check the letter, I guess.”
Raymon smirked and untied the rolled-up letter, which was quite long.
“Seems it came for His Highness.”
“Indeed. I have no women to send me letters, though.”
“Who knows? Maybe a woman really did send it.”
Just as Cardin was about to reach for the letter, Raymon spoke.
“The Saint sent this.”
At Raymon’s words, Cardin froze, then quickly resumed walking toward him.
“You mean the letter was sent by the Saint?”
Raymon nodded slowly, and Cardin reached for the letter.
Raymon stretched it behind his head and tilted his head, laughing—a playful expression that made Cardin twitch his eyebrows.
“What are you doing?”
“And what about you, sir?”
Cardin, unable to voice that it might be for him, kept his mouth shut.
Raymon laughed, clutching his stomach.
Cardin sighed deeply, prompting Raymon, who had tears in his eyes, to straighten up.
“Sorry, but you’re mistaken.”
Cardin raised his eyebrow, as if daring him to explain.
Raymon, covering his mouth with a fist, smirked again.
“Ahem. This letter isn’t for you.”
“Then why would the Saint send it to you?”
Raymon shrugged and chuckled at Cardin’s reaction.
“Didn’t you just say—who knows if a woman would send me a letter?”
Cardin wiped his furrowed brow, hand returning from reaching for the letter.
“Are you sure it came to His Highness?”
Raymon brought the letter forward and read it slowly, letter by letter, as if reciting aloud.
“‘To His Highness, the Third Prince. This is Sharen Melissa. I hope you are well. Thanks to your efforts, I safely returned to the temple.’”
Seeing that it was indeed addressed to His Highness, Cardin scowled.
“It was meant for me, right? You didn’t assume just because it’s the Saint’s letter that it’s yours?”
Suppressing a laugh, Cardin turned his back.
Raymon followed, deliberately speaking loudly.
“I should sit on a log and read it.”
As he did, his eyes flicked toward Cardin, who suddenly slowed his pace.
