TYND 41

Chapter 41

Clutching flint and dry leaves, he carefully took his stance and tapped the steel against the stone. Before long, the leaves curled, and a tiny spark rose.

“At first, letting go was hard. But the more I did it, the less terrible it felt. I erased myself as a lord, erased myself as the chair of the council, erased myself as a duke…”

He blew gently, and the ember grew. Kiel transferred the glowing ember onto the pile of dry leaves and blew a little harder.

“And when I emptied everything out, only one thing remained. Me. Just me.”

As the flames rose, they cast a reddish glow over Kiel’s face. He picked up a brittle twig and stirred the burning leaves.

“When I look back at everything I discarded, I don’t know why I lived so heavily. Even though I already had more than enough to protect, I kept coveting other things—each day was a frenzy. Even raising a hand against you was part of that. I fought and fought for so long that, before I knew it, I’d become a storm strong enough to covet the throne.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret?”

Kiel burst into unrestrained laughter—bright, free of lingering attachments or self-pity.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t regret it. Resisting a wave might mean something, but resisting a tidal wave the size of a fortress? There’s no meaning in that.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was something that had to happen, so there’s no room for regret. The throne was empty, not a single legitimate successor existed, and I held both the strength and authority to claim it. My challenge to the throne was inevitable. Even if I went back, I’d do it again.”

At the provocative words, Lucy reflexively looked up at him.

But unlike the content of his words, the old face reflected in those golden eyes had no hint of ambition—only exhaustion.

Kiel waddled closer to the campfire, soaking up its warmth. After a brief silence, his voice sank heavier.

“I don’t regret it, but I do want to say I’m sorry to you. Honestly, I ignored you. A king? Bringing in some low-born nobody, sitting them on a puppet throne and letting the general seize control—that’s what I thought.”

“I understand. I probably would’ve thought the same.”

“Right? But looking back, the general never needed to do anything like that. His martial prowess was extraordinary, and he held the military tightly. He could’ve just started a rebellion and won. If someone like him brought in a new king, then I should’ve assumed there was a reason. …My thoughts were too shallow.”

Red regret flickered in his wrinkled eyes. Kiel smiled lightly, relieved.

“You’re truly an impressive woman. I’d never imagined you’d run the lapi like that. I still don’t know whether you’re fit to be king, but you’re definitely not ordinary.”

“Can I take that as a genuine compliment?”

“The bitterness of the past was washed away long ago. I may be a man who’s lost everything, but I’m no boor who spits insults at a lady. It’s sincere.”

Amid the warm air, soft laughter drifted. Lucy stepped closer and lowered her voice.

“Duke Kiel. I think our conflict was a clash of ideals. As you said, we were simply swept up in a great current. And you didn’t oppose me because you wanted the throne—you opposed me because you loved Parnassus and saw me as unproven.”

“Get to the point.”

“…I have no hostility toward you. I need you. If you acknowledge me as your lord, I’ll give you a chance to return.”

Kiel stroked his lips, lost in thought.

Wrinkles and darkened marks spread across the thin back of his hand, the unmistakable traces of time.

“When I was exiled here alive, I suspected that one day you’d come with an offer like this. There’s no other reason to keep a traitor alive. You selected me as the one who could unite the provincial lords?”

“You catch on quickly. Saves me from explaining. So—what do you think?”

Kiel rose and let out a deflated laugh. He kicked dirt over the burnt leaves with a motion that was rather rough.

“Find someone else. Maybe it’s because I lived indulging in everything, but living quietly as a vagabond isn’t a bad life. Just leave me be.”

He pushed the extinguished ashes to one side.

Lucy watched him silently before standing. She looked around. Another leaf drifted down into the empty clearing, dancing in the wind.

After emptying her expression, she turned back to Kiel. Then—though she felt petty for bringing it up—she forced out a topic she hadn’t wanted to use.

“Aren’t you curious how your son is doing?”

At the clear, ringing voice, Kiel’s eyebrows twitched. Lucy stepped on a leaf swirling at her feet, stopping its movement.

“Atlynd Kiel is still imprisoned in the command headquarters’ jail. He refuses to eat, saying he will pay for his father’s crimes in your place. I heard he was already a frail man. I wonder how long he’ll last.”

Instead of exploding, Kiel closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. But his clenched, trembling fist betrayed him.

Lucy waited.

Once even the faint smoke rising from the ashes had completely vanished, Kiel finally spoke in a dry voice.

“That is why I cannot accept you. How—how dare you use my son as a hostage!? What crime has that poor boy committed to suffer in his father’s stead!?”

“…”

“If you had defeated me in a humane way, I would have praised you with all my heart. Arsinoe—the daughter of a desert slave—defeated me, overwhelmed me! But instead, you created a situation where you’d already won and then used the general to humiliate me. That is why I cannot forgive you!”

“Why should I need your forgiveness?”

Her reply was utterly devoid of warmth. Kiel stopped speaking. Lucy looked at him with stinging eyes.

“You still only see the world through your own standards. Why did I use your son? Because you tried to steal what was mine. So I used what was yours.”

“That double-edged logic—!”

“And just as you care for Atlynd, I care for my soldiers. The soldiers you tried to annihilate—they’re someone’s children, someone’s fathers. I simply chose the most efficient method to protect their lives. So who has the right to call me inhumane?”

Kiel glared, chest heaving, fury burning in his eyes. He wanted to argue—but every retort was merely petty self-defense. Realizing that, he shut his mouth.

Lucy matched his gaze without blinking. Then she stepped back and fixed her clothes.

“You said you emptied yourself. Seems you still have a long way to go. Take some time to cool your head. I’ll come again later. And—”

“…?”

“Don’t mistake my humility for similarity. I am the one who destroyed you. If you have nothing to lose, conduct yourself however you want. But if you still have something to protect—show respect.”

After leaving him with those final words, Lucy turned without hesitation and walked toward the temple.

Burning eyes followed her straight-backed figure as she left.

* * *

The freshly cleaned royal palace had long been ready to welcome its new ruler, but Lucy refused to leave the headquarters, using “security reasons” as her excuse.

No—more precisely, she refused to leave the commander’s office. As a result, the office was always overflowing with attendants, maids, and soldiers.

The only fortunate part was that the office had three rooms, so at least the different groups didn’t overlap too much.

When the maids were in the study brewing tea with elegance, the soldiers next door were loudly explaining the mechanism of a new mousetrap, using real mice to demonstrate.

That much was fine—but unfortunately, their timing overlapped when leaving the rooms. As the soldiers pushed open the door, an ear-splitting scream erupted behind them.

“KyAAAAH! It went under my skirt!”

“What do we do!? Hurry—ugh! Aaaah! It’s coming this way!”

Amid shouts of “Catch it!” and “We lost it!” came the sobs of maids.

Just from the sounds, it was obvious what chaos had broken out. Walter, sitting at his desk, rubbed his eyes and contemplated how to improve the current situation.