Episode 76: How a Mercenary Joins a Court Banquet (6)
“Why—why? You ignored me when I asked you to join our house and live with me.”
Polime was quick-witted, but she didn’t change her mood for the situation. She cuddled Regina—who was about four years older than her then—and acted cute in that way.
“The door is always open. It’s not too late.”
Promes wanted her too. If this had been a private moment, Promes would have stayed close and taken one of Regina’s arms.
“Ugh!”
Polime let out a surprised squeal when a strong hand grabbed the back of her neck.
“What the—!”
Like a cicada ripped from an old tree, Polime yelled. Valentin, who wore a hunting suit similar dark blue to Regina’s, tilted his head with a rough look.
“Who are you to hug my wife?”
Valentin’s appearance was not well known lately. His messy hair added to that. Polime tried to show her teeth, but Promes quickly shut her sister’s mouth.
You could push down rude noblewomen, but royalty were different.
“Valentin, these are my friends.”
“Duke, pleased to meet you. These are Promes, head of the Pelgberg house, and my sister Polime.”
Polime, who had struggled, calmed and bowed correctly. She studied the only husband of her friend closely.
“I see.”
Valentin did not give them much attention. He only judged whether they were a threat and then was done.
People said the mad prince lacked social skills. He wasted a fine face. Polime nudged Promes, thinking the same.
“Regina, you need ointment on your lips. I don’t see any.”
“Ah, I know. Polime, Promes, see you later.”
Regina led Valentin back into the tent. She didn’t notice the sisters had seen his damaged lower lip.
Husband, lips—though it was a nasty wound, the thought naturally leaned toward something intimate.
“He looks fine enough…”
“What do you mean fine! I saw it myself—worse than I thought. We should make a chance to help soon.”
Promes already had a tight schedule for the year. In other words, Polime was boldly leaving her sister’s side.
“If you need our house’s help, tell us.”
“Of course. We owe our lives to Regina.”
After the Julius couple left, the tent felt heavy and silent. Even breathing had to be careful, like passing through a glass plate.
Only Elba hummed softly. She seemed the only owner of that tent.
“He’s really annoying.”
She crushed camellia petals under her shoes and muttered.
“Especially those eyes.”
Like that child from long ago. Elba kicked off the shoes with petals stuck to them. A maid, holding her breath nearby, quickly rushed with her apron and began to scrub the shoe tips.
“One finger could gouge out that eye.”
Her eyes promised to take Valentin away herself.
Elba breathed on the sharp nails that had once dug into her brother’s eyeball. The soft, warm thought was not entirely unpleasant.
Could those eyes, which stared at her so boldly, be so soft that a fingernail could crush them? She was curious.
“…Like a faithful shoeshiner.”
Elba spoke of the maid with deep brown hair. Days ago Elba had slapped that maid for not cleaning a shoe stain on time.
The maid’s round head brought back a forgotten face. The faded memory tasted only deep disgust.
“Did I say to touch the shoe?”
The maid started and looked up. In that moment she saw Kablen’s sword blade flash toward her.
Blood arced like a fountain and soaked the carpet, swallowing the camellia petals.
Strangely, the drops did not reach Elba or Bertonin. Kablen’s skill was that of someone who’d cut flesh from every angle in the world.
“Oh dear, Your Majesty. It was your maid.”
With a casual gesture, a life ended, and Elba showed not a hint of guilt. Kablen sheathed his sword and looked at the cooling body with no pity.
“Will our son forgive his mother’s mistake?”
Elba asked Bertonin with a fresh, relieved smile. He moved like a broken wooden puppet and said slowly,
“Yes, mother.”
His rising chest proved Bertonin was alive.
But Elba felt no stir of maternal love holding her son. She looked as unmoved as Bertonin.
“Shall we clean this up?”
It sounded like she spoke of the dirty carpet and the cold maid, but also like a question about the legal wife who annoyed her. Maybe it was both to Elba.
“Hmm. Why ask the obvious?”
“The forest is wide. One person lost is not strange. Our occult child knows what bait would feed that sharp mercenary. I have prepared everything.”
“Then bring me a result that satisfies me. Bring me Regina Rofman’s body, torn so no one can find her. No traces left, so we can call it a disappearance.”
The order removed any hesitation.
Kablen smiled as if he’d expected this and stepped into a corner of the tent. He asked his hidden talent,
“You can do it, right?”
He took a box and showed a large gemmed necklace—an attack magic item designed for a purpose.
“Yes, sir.”
The big eyes behind the black mask never blinked in the chill air.
He had watched everything when Regina came for the maid who betrayed her and pushed her off a cliff. He had watched Pinet’s desperate betrayal.
“Oh, and bring me an eye.”
Elba spoke from behind. Kablen gave a small motion to Confe.
Confe, steward of the Julius house, moved only for orders. That was his true life. Everything else was trash to him.
“All of this is for the Occultus.”
Occultus: hidden tools, hidden people. They were Kablen’s and Elba’s talents.
Regina had already found the emergency medicine chest Allen had hidden in the baggage cart.
“It will sting.”
She squeezed a bit of thin ointment and put it on Valentin’s lip. She could have made him apply it, but somehow she became the healer.
“I remember being gentler.”
A mercenary who knew the value of saliva thought ointment was a luxury. Regina’s rough touch was clumsy. Valentin mocked it without filter.
When Regina touched his soft lips, he scolded her.
“You’ll take medicine later.”
She realized the lip’s small area made even a pea-size ointment hard to cover.
She looked for something to wipe her sticky hands on. A white handkerchief felt too precious to use.
“Want me to find something to clean it?”
Valentin took her hand. After a few times of her pulling it away, she knew he’d tease her again. She quickly took her hand back.
He pouted.
“Don’t you like it?”
Is this about liking? Tired of his habit, Regina grabbed Valentin’s hand instead.
“Ha… try it once.”
She would show how weird it felt to have a warm tongue on cold, long fingers. She let her warm tongue touch his cold fingertip, clumsily licking up and down.
Heat rose in the finger. Regina discovered tasting someone’s finger felt odd for the licker as well as the licked.
She had licked candy before, but never warmed a long, cold finger. Pride almost made her stop.
“Enough.”
Valentin gave up quickly.
“It’s strange, right? Do you know why I pull my hand away?”
