I will raise the baby tiger as a squirrel.
Chapter 30.
One corner of Kuhn’s mouth hitched up into a dry slant.
Cutting Gale off cleanly, Kuhn gestured toward the door with his chin.
Gale rubbed the nape of his neck once or twice, then turned and headed toward the office door.
Still grasping the doorknob, Gale peeked back around and murmured the question.
Letting his head droop, Gale exhaled a heavy sigh and stepped out of the office.
***
The next morning, the bright sunlight streaming through the window barely coaxed my eyes open.
Normally, I would have stepped out for a walk around dawn, but today I had no strength for it.
Last night, I had stayed awake until late telling story after story to Hokan before drifting off to sleep.
Perhaps because I hadn't touched a morsel of food or even a sip of water, the inside of my mouth felt parched and split like cracked earth.
Hokan seemed to be in the same listless state.
He slept on far longer than usual.
Knock, knock.
Someone rapped gently on the door, and with a soft click, it swung open.
Jane’s clean, pale face peeked through the gap.
After hesitating for a moment, Jane tiptoed into the room.
She cast a discreet glance at the slumbering Hokan, then whispered to me.
Jane and I exchanged faint smiles as we looked at the sleeping boy.
Trailing off, Jane turned and hurried out of the room.
I simply assumed she was occupied with the meal preparations.
When I gently woke Hokan, he stretched his arms and legs out wide.
“Mm…”
Rubbing his eyes as he sat up, he looked unmistakably like a little child.
Still groggy, Hokan sat upright with a sulky pout.
“Ah…”
So that was why Jane had trailed off.
Hokan had mentioned receiving this punishment before.
The duke must have shared a meal with him the following morning every time.
I gave a slight nod.
His objection certainly carried far less force than yesterday.
Gently patting my stomach, I tilted my head and gave Hokan an imploring look.
Hokan stared up at me, then blew out a heavy breath and climbed down from the bed.
Pouting his lips, Hokan let out an exasperated sigh as if he had no choice, taking a step forward.
Hokan simply nodded and walked toward the door in silence.
I followed closely behind his trudging steps.
***
‘No! No, brother. You can't die. You can't! Please…’
‘Kuhn…’
‘Brother, brother. Pull yourself together. Don't close your eyes. Don't speak, save your strength.’
‘Brother…’
‘Don't speak, brother… Gale! Bring every doctor at once! Bring Rina from the tents as well!’
‘I have… a fa-favor… Cough, hack.’
‘Brother… Please.’
‘Ho-Hokan… Kuhn, take care of Ho-Hokan…’
‘Brother, brother!’
Though the morning sunlight streaming through the window was brilliant, a dark shadow hung over the face of Kuhn standing before it.
The nightmare of that day replayed before his eyes.
Arrowheads had relentlessly targeted a single spot.
The sheer volume of arrows fired until armor shattered had been nothing short of gruesome.
In the end, a poisoned shaft that pierced through the breach had stopped his brother's heart.
By the time Kuhn realized it had been a trap and turned his mount back, it was already too late.
When Kuhn and the elite knights dispatched to the enemy lines arrived, the former duke lay collapsed in the tent, drenched in blood.
They had fallen into a stratagem meant to split Kuhn’s forces from those of his brother, Heston.
Heston Russell Blantiger.
He had been the greatest knight of the Tara Leyton Empire, the guardian of the North, and a great lord beloved by all.
He had also been the family Kuhn loved and relied on most.
What had enabled Kuhn to endure an heir's training bordering on abuse throughout his childhood was the brother who had quietly supported him at his side.
In Kuhn’s eyes, his elder brother Heston had always seemed like a colossus capable of ruling the entire world.
Even while enduring training far harsher than Kuhn’s, his brother had never once let out a groan of pain.
Their mother, currently recuperating on Budna Island in the southern territory, had raised young Kuhn and Heston under constant, relentless comparison.
Yet Kuhn could never bring himself to resent the brother who monopolized their mother's affection.
Heston had never taken that love for granted, always directing it right back toward Kuhn.
‘Your brother got hurt because of you!’
‘Mother, it was not Kuhn’s doing. It was my own rashness. Do not reprimand a young child.’
The unconditional devotion Kuhn had never received from their parents, he had received from his brother.
He had always served as Kuhn’s shield.
Whenever their mother's words lashed Kuhn like a whip, and whenever their father’s physical violence struck him repeatedly, it was always Heston who helped him back onto his feet.
‘You should have died! You instead of your brother!’
Yet when Louisa Ann Blantiger, utterly unhinged by the death of her eldest son, tore an irreparable wound into her surviving son's heart with a blood-drenched scream, Kuhn realized that Heston was truly gone.
An unhealable scar had etched itself deep into Kuhn’s chest.
“Brother. What should I do?”
Kuhn murmured softly toward his own reflection in the window glass.
Mercifully, Kuhn bore a striking resemblance to Heston.
Whenever he looked in the mirror, he searched for traces of his brother.
Kuhn had had no need to hear the rest of his brother’s dying words.
Even until the final flicker of life faded away, his brother’s thoughts had been entirely of his son.
Therefore, Kuhn fully intended to honor that final wish.
To raise his nephew well.
To protect Hokan to the end, even at the cost of his life.
That was the calling he treasured above all else.
Knock, knock.
Someone interrupted his deepening grief.
Turning his head, he saw Maurice step inside.
He replied with a simple nod.
Understanding instantly, Maurice turned and departed the office.
Watching Maurice’s briskly departing back for a moment, Kuhn shifted his gaze to the wall beside his desk.
A family portrait hung there, capturing them all together.
His late father, his mother who was now convalescing, his brother wearing a serene smile, and himself standing beside him.
Along with Hokan as an infant, and the boy's birth mother, who had vanished one day…
Kuhn had always thought the portrait would have been complete if only he were removed from it.
Why was it his brother who was gone instead of him?
Barely stifling the impulse to smear black ink across his own face in the painting, he stepped out of his office.
