Ch#38
***
***
Soon, the three of them practiced together every day.
Even though Morte was on the outskirts of the Empire, Carlz always had rumors or gossip to share. The stories he told were enough to pique the interest of the young knights.
The three of them got stomachaches from cooking and eating unknown meat in the square. Leonard, delirious, ran around like a swamp monster, eventually returning embarrassed and filthy.
For the first time, the people of Morte genuinely respected the Little Duke, who was getting into mischief with his peers.
Despite all the trouble he caused, he was only scolded once. It was when they hiked up the mountain in the middle of winter to get griffin feathers.
He located and hunted the griffin with ease, but…
‘How were we supposed to know griffin meat was poisonous?’
The three of them roasted griffin over a bonfire and writhed with stomachaches, eventually having to be carried back by the search party that found them.
Mortheon, who led the search party, carried Victor on his back himself and nagged him the entire way down.
“How could you do something so reckless in the middle of winter?”
“I’m sorry, brother.”
Mortheon sighed.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad.”
His voice was warm.
“Even if you’re fine, your friends could be in danger. You must protect your people, Victor. Your colleagues, friends, and allies. That is the duty of a strong man like you.”
Victor remained silent for a while before nodding. Mortheon adjusted Victor’s position on his back and sighed deeply.
“When did you grow up so much? You’re so heavy I can barely carry you anymore.”
“I’ll carry you next time.”
Mortheon burst out laughing.
“Stop causing trouble, you rascal.”
Victor grinned.
***
Those were the days.
With the affection of his brother, knights, and friends, Victor Morte laughed louder and louder.
A few more years passed, and he grew into a cheerful young man.
Everyone loved the Little Duke, who was tall, strong, and powerful. The apprentice knights admired Victor as if he were a god.
Spotting some trainees secretly observing Victor’s practice, Carlz grew nostalgic.
“I used to be like that too…”
“Used to? You’re still rude to him.”
“What do you mean rude? It’s called being friendly.”
Carlz leisurely picked up the dried fruits the attendants had brought as snacks.
Leonard, who was swinging his sword, clicked his tongue at Carlz as if he were pathetic.
“Did you know the official entrance exam is soon?”
“Leonard, do you think we’re going to fail?”
Morte’s senior exam was different every year and tied to important issues in the territory. This year’s task was to hunt griffins, as the griffin herd had reproduced excessively, making travel difficult.
Carlz shrugged.
“As long as I don’t grill and eat it, I’ll be fine.”
“Did you forget it was Victor who killed the griffin back then?”
“That was years ago! And the Little Duke is still coming with us.”
Carlz arched his eyebrow skillfully.
“You’ll take care of everything, right?”
Victor was silent for a moment before answering.
“I’m not going.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, brother Theon… doesn’t think I need to take the exam.”
Leonard and Carlz tilted their heads in unison.
Mortheon disliked giving anyone special treatment, and Victor was always careful to join the Knights of Morte through the same process as the other knights. It was odd for him to exempt his little brother from the senior exam.
But Victor’s skills were beyond question, so they shrugged.
“If you go with us, we won’t be able to take the test properly.”
“We wouldn’t even need to draw our swords.”
Then they started chattering loudly again.
Victor sighed.
He had a reason for not taking the entrance exam, but he couldn’t tell his friends.
He had already passed in a different way—by defeating Mortheon.
***
On the day the entrance exam was announced, his older brother came to him.
“There’s a way to become a senior knight without the test. Do you want to try it?”
Victor nodded without much thought. After many years, he fought Mortheon with real swords.
And after clashing a few times, he realized his brother was no longer stronger than him.
“As expected.”
Mortheon, sensing Victor was holding back his strength, sheathed his sword.
“Amazing, Victor!”
Victor looked at his brother. He was smiling, but there was undeniable bitterness in his eyes.
Mortheon was the next Grand Duke and Victor’s older brother, but above all, he was a knight.
No knight was happy about losing.
Victor, sheathing his sword, asked carefully.
“Are you mad?”
“I can’t be.”
Mortheon shook his head. The bitterness in his eyes vanished suddenly.
He spoke with conviction.
“I’m proud of you. I always will be.”
“…”
“Now that you’ve defeated the deputy commander, you are a senior knight of the Knights of Morte. Congratulations, little brother.”
His older brother gripped his shoulder. Victor, looking at Mortheon, felt a swirl of indescribable emotions. As he had grown taller, his brother seemed smaller than before.
Still, the hand on his shoulder was large and warm—the hands that had raised him.
Victor nodded, suppressing his pounding heart.
“Thanks.”
Victor kept Mortheon’s defeat a secret, and the apprentice knights went on their griffin hunt without him. Leonard and Carlz returned with top scores.
The three were formally appointed as senior knights.
Feeling Mortheon’s blade on his shoulder*, Victor made a firm resolve.
‘From now on, I will protect you.’
[*E/N: This refers to a knighting ceremony. The lord (or head knight in this case) taps the prospective knight on each shoulder with their sword, usually while giving a speech.]
***
But the days of peace did not last long.
Rumors of war began to spread from the Capital. It seemed the southern nobles, who traded almost exclusively with the southern kingdom, were threatening action as the Empire’s trade dispute with the Southern Kingdom intensified.
Carlz had plenty to say on the matter.
“There’s too much greed. They’re doing trade with unequal profits, so they’re not cooperating.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The trade treaty with the Southern Kingdom favors the Empire because it’s the stronger nation. So why would the Southern Kingdom want to do business with them?”
He clicked his tongue in anger.
“Look now—we call that country the Southern Kingdom. But it has an official name, ‘Indigo Land.’ So how do you think Southerners view Imperials?”
Victor and Leonard looked at Carlz in amazement.
They knew Carlz read a lot of newspapers, but they hadn’t expected such insightful analysis.
Seeing their expressions, Carlz raised an eyebrow.
“What? I’m from the South.”
“I thought you just played and ate there.”
“Hey! I’m the son of a southern count!”
Leonard and Carlz started bickering, derailing the conversation.
Victor brought it back on track.
“Will there be war?”
Carlz’s lively expression soured.
“It’s highly likely. Conscription orders have already gone out. After harvest season, an expeditionary force will be assembled.”
“Do you think it’ll be dangerous?”
Their eyes turned to Victor.
He tried to stay expressionless, but Victor was worried. If an expeditionary force was formed, the commander would be the Grand Duke of Morte*, who was in the Capital.
No matter how distant, the Grand Duke was still his father. He couldn’t help worrying.
Leonard spoke quickly, as if reading Victor’s mind.
“It’ll be fine. The power gap is too wide. The Knights of Morte will need to fight.”
“The Morte knights might not even see battle.”
Carlz chimed in.
“Well, personally, I don’t think war is ideal, but… is it really a big deal? Your father is a very strong knight!”
“…I know.”
Victor agreed quietly. Though he’d never seen him fight, his father was a skilled knight on par with Mortheon.
Even if not as strong as Victor, he was capable enough not to fall easily.
Victor cleared his mind and silently swung his sword.
That was all he could do.
Train hard to become overwhelmingly strong.
He needed to protect his people if war came.
He secretly hoped for it.
***
