Chapter 100

Chapter 100

Pahell sipped the liquor he couldn't even drink. It tasted disgusting. He couldn't understand how anyone could find it tasty.

"Sister."

Damia was in the royal palace. He could meet her anytime he wanted to.

'I don't have the courage.'

He felt like he was going mad.

Pahell didn't budge from his room. His loyal servant, Phillion, was dead. If Pahell didn't show himself, the nobles would start murmuring among themselves.

'I will become king.'

Pahell looked up. He could see the sea beyond the window.

"Oh, Lou, grant me the strength to overcome this despair."

He managed to get himself up, praying desperately.

"I have a mission."

A light shone from the depths of his eyes. He frowned.

'Remember those who died for me. I've walked a path soaked in blood. Phillion's blood has only been added to it.'

Creak.

Pahell opened his door. The knights outside kneeled.

"I will go see His Majesty."

Pahell donned his cloak and said to the knights. He had put on his mask again.

'Phillion wouldn't want me to fall apart.'

What Pahell had learned so far was how to rise from despair. Escaping despair was like walking a tightrope over a cliff. No matter how scary or dangerous, it never ends if you stop in the middle.

"Prince Varca Aneu Porcana enters."

The palace official in the king's bedroom announced though the king couldn't hear anyway.

Pahell entered the king's bedroom. The room was heavy with the smell of the diseased. He saw his father, who hadn't awakened for two years.

"Father, I killed my uncle with my own hands." Follow the latest novels at novelhall.com

Pahell said to his father as he sat next to him, gently grasping the lifeless hand that was as dry as kindling.

"...You should have taught me more things."

His father was kind to Pahell. With Pahell being a hard-earned son, the king was never hard on him. Even when Pahell skipped lessons or neglected his studies, his father patiently watched, believing there was still time.

'But there wasn't all that much time, father.'

The succession came earlier than the king expected. The king had been healthy and robust until his collapse, and even the nobles thought he would reign for many more years to come. The unprepared succession ended up leading to a disastrous civil war.

"Father, what should I do? How much more blood must be shed? It's becoming unbearable. Every night, my heart feels like it's being torn apart. People I know and cared for are dying."

Pahell said with his voice breaking as he held his father's hand. His thick tears fell onto the bedspread.

"Sir Phillion is dead. He endured all the humiliation and even dragged his soul to the depths for my sake. He sacrificed his soul and body for me, yet I couldn't do anything for him. This guilt is killing me..."

Pahell poured out his heart as if he were in confession.

"You were too kind to me, father. Even when I threw tantrums and acted immaturely, you believed time would solve everything."

The king had absolute faith in his own health. He must have thought he had at least a decade more to rule.

"Princess Damia Lineu Porcana."

The palace official announced. Pahell lifted his head.

Creak.

The door opened and Damia entered. Her face was as beautiful as ever, with a hint of pink on her cheeks.

"There you are, Varca."

The two pairs of blue eyes met.

Pahell didn't know how to react. He bowed his head slightly as he decided to let his instincts take over.

"It's as if our hearts just knew. I never thought you'd come to see Father too."

A laughter spilled out of his mouth. Damia responded with a smile of her own and sat next to him.

"It's been a while since we were both here. We used to visit Father together like this quite often."

Damia overlapped her hand on Pahell's.

'Her hand is warm.'

"Don’t pull that sword out. If you do, you'll die."

"Y-youuu!"

Count Yarp yelled, trying to move his arm, but it wouldn't budge under Urich's grip.

‘What kind of strength is...'

Despite his efforts, Count Yarp couldn't draw his sword.

"I don’t hide behind the prince's favor, I just help myself," Urich said as he gripped Count Yarp’s wrist harder. There was a sound of something snapping in the wrist.

"Keugh..."

Count Yarp groaned and twisted his body. Urich looked down at him indifferently.

'The past me would have killed him already...'

Urich looked around. Killing a noble here would complicate things for Pahell.

'Have I become a civilized man?'

The barbarian Urich would have killed Count Yarp. He never left someone who opposed him alive. Leaving a problem unsolved was a fool's act. Urich had always crushed his opponents thoroughly.

The civilized world was too complicated. He couldn’t kill people as easily as he was used to. With intricate relationships and issues that couldn't be resolved with just an axe, Urich was now understanding this complex world.

"Hmm."

Urich tilted his head, looking at Count Yarp.

Swoosh.

With his other hand, Urich grabbed Count Yarp’s throat. His grip squeezed Count Yarp tightly.

"Chk, chkkk."

Count Yarp seemed like he was on the verge of death.

'Just squeeze a little bit harder, and he would be dead. No big deal.'

Urich felt scared. He must not forget the sensation of wielding violence.

'All I have is my skill in killing.'

What if that skill dulled and he started hesitating to kill? Urich shook his head at the thought. It was a terrifying notion. As a warrior, becoming soft was unthinkable.

"I am a warrior. Warriors kill."

Count Yarp's eyes widened as Urich’s grip tightened.

'I-I’m dying, I’m going to die.'

Yellow liquid dripped from Count Yarp’s trousers as he cried in fear, with tears and snot streaming down his face.

Thud.

Suddenly, the surrounding nobles knelt down. They murmured, lifting only their gazes.

"What the hell are you doing, Urich?"

Pahell emerged from the parted crowd. The nobles greeted the ruler of the kingdom.

"Hey hey, you’re here?"

Urich finally tossed Count Yarp aside. Red marks were left in the shape of Urich’s hand on his neck.

"All of you, leave us! This is not a show!"

Pahell shouted, looking back. The nobles glanced at each other before scattering.

"T-this man assaulted me."

Count Yarp pleaded as he gasped for air. Pahell looked at him with cold blue eyes.

"Consider yourself lucky to be alive, Count Yarp."

Count Yarp’s eyes widened.

"That mercenary may be a friend of yours, but I am your liege. And a liege swears loyalty to those who protect them."

Pahell slowly turned around. His gaze was piercing. Count Yarp, realizing his words had crossed the line, flinched.

"Are you threatening me, Count?"

"...No, my lord. It was simply a piece of advice."

Count Yarp bowed his head and then glared at Urich one last time before leaving.

"Urich, even if it’s you, I can't always cover for you disrupting the order of the royal palace. There are rules here."

Pahell said this while making sure that the nobles had all left. His words scolded Urich, but his eyes followed Count Kanna, who was in a bloody pulp.

'The one who gifted the deer antler powder to Sir Phillion.'

Yet, strangely, Pahell felt no boiling hatred toward Count Kanna. Was it because he hadn’t been confirmed guilty yet?