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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: 0006_60
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Just before her frail body hit the ground, Cyrus wrapped his arm around Ariana's waist. Before anyone could see, Cyrus quickly carried Ariana into the carriage.
At his sudden appearance, Former Eastern Duchess Caradine's eyes widened, and she froze.
"What's going on? Has something happened to the Princess?"
Harold's voice was heard.
Russell, still massive like a bear, blocked his view, so he hadn't seen Ariana collapse or Cyrus catch her. The same went for Russell and Former Eastern Duke Tiador, who stood with their backs turned.
Cyrus gave a subtle nod, and Caradine snapped out of it, getting into the carriage. Cyrus had already laid Ariana on the sofa and was examining her condition.
"Duchess. We need to leave now."
"Ariana is..."
"She's severely injured. It seems she endured it because she didn't want to show it, so it would be best to head to the mansion."
Caradine nodded and ordered the coachman to hurry to the mansion. Russell and Tiador, who had been outside dealing with Third Prince Harold, were bewildered when the carriage left without them, but that hardly mattered.
"Ariana is hurt?"
"Yes, Duchess. See for yourself."
Cyrus's hand moved to Ariana's abdomen. A glint of silver shone above her wine-colored dress. A sharp blade spotted with red liquid.
Caradine didn't recognize it at once. It was an object utterly unfitting to be lodged in the belly of her young granddaughter, who had just endured a trial.
Her head buzzed, unable to properly process the situation.
She was too distraught to think it strange that the Northern Duke had suddenly appeared, or that he was tending to Ariana with such familiarity.
Once in the confined space, she could smell a metallic, ominous scent. Caradine's eyes changed as she realized it was the smell of blood.
Her wavering eyes, which had been unable to grasp the situation, now shone with the cold, calm resolve of a warrior facing an enemy.
"It's a bread knife."
"Yes."
"Why is something like this stuck in this child's stomach? Since when...?"
Cyrus took a deep breath.
"The scent of blood is strong. It seems it's been lodged there for quite some time."
"But how could no one have known about this?!"
"It seems Ariana hid it herself because she didn't want it known. She must have been afraid that if her injury was revealed, the retrial would be postponed."
Cyrus, as he answered, seemed angry for some reason.
But Caradine had no time to worry about Cyrus's mood.
"Will she live?"
"Normally, yes. But Ariana..."
Uncharacteristically, Cyrus trailed off, looking down at Ariana.
Ariana was so pale and small that it felt as if she might soon scatter and vanish, like a dream, like settled butterflies, like sand slipping through one's fingers.
Anger flared.
More than anyone, at himself.
Even though he suspected Ariana had done it herself, he couldn't understand why he was angry at himself. Without knowing why, he simply resented himself.
If the retrial had been held just a little earlier, if he had gone to the Emperor instead of trying to stage a dramatic scene, this wouldn't have happened.
Watching Ariana in the Western Territory, Cyrus had come to understand her methods better than anyone. Ariana wasn't afraid to harm herself to achieve her goals. She was unhesitant in suffering.
He should have first considered how desperate Ariana must have been after losing the trial and falling into the hands of the Western Duke and Rachel. He should have predicted what a desperate Ariana might do.
"I came with Isaac."
"Isaac? From the Peren Family?"
"Yes. If you go to the mansion, I'll bring him there."
"I'm counting on you, Northern Duke."
***
Russell and Tiador only returned to the mansion when Isaac was examining Ariana's wound. Hearing the news of Ariana's injury belatedly, both of them were utterly shocked.
"Are you saying Ariana hid that throughout the entire trial and still went through with it, Mother?"
"It seems so."
"She did look unwell... but I thought it was because she was with the Western Duke."
Russell looked down at Ariana with a crumbling expression. Tiador murmured.
"How did that child endure such pain? Why on earth was something like that stuck in Ariana's stomach? Was it the Western Duke, that scoundrel?"
"That wouldn't be it."
Only then did Russell and Tiador realize they weren't the only ones in the room. The eyes of the White father and son widened at the sight of Cyrus, who had been standing quietly in the corner.
As Cyrus inclined his head slightly, Russell murmured.
"Cyrus..."
"It's been a while, Eastern Duke."
"Ah, yes... Northern Duke, you... you were a great help in this trial..."
"Eastern Duke, no need for thanks. I merely did what needed to be done."
Russell didn't understand why helping Ariana was Cyrus's duty, but he knew this wasn't the time to question it, so he kept silent.
"It seems Ariana stabbed herself with that knife."
Again, Russell wondered why Cyrus was calling his daughter by her name so intimately, but he bit his tongue and asked another question.
"Is there a reason Ariana would do that to herself?"
"That... it would be best for the Eastern Duke to ask her directly."
"How is her condition? Will she wake up soon? She was only stabbed with a knife, so she'll get up quickly, right?"
While Russell, who could take multiple sword blows on the battlefield and remain unfazed, might think so, Ariana was different.
Isaac, who was treating the wound, spoke.
"Piercing the skin with a dull knife must have caused considerable pain. And moving around with it still in has damaged the tissue inside. Fortunately, the knife was short, so no organs were harmed, but she lost a lot of blood."
"Surely she's not going to...!"
"Oh, it's not that serious. I've finished disinfecting it, so I'll stitch it up now."
Isaac began stitching Ariana's wound with a sharp surgical needle. Each time the needle pierced her white skin, those present flinched as if the needle were piercing their own bodies.
Isaac, having skillfully stitched the wound, took out an ointment and applied it to the affected area. Having finished the treatment, Isaac took several bottles of medicine from his bag and arranged them on the table, speaking as he did so.
"This red one is to increase blood volume, this one is to restore her stamina. And this one helps the wound heal quickly. You need to give her these three medicines twice a day. Duchess... Since the Princess hasn't regained consciousness yet, you can gently lift her body and spoon it into her."
"When... will she wake up?"
Russell asked, his voice thick with emotion. Isaac gazed at Russell with a curious expression.
Having only seen the Bronte family, who had tormented Ariana so severely, seeing Russell made him realize he cared for his daughter more than he could have imagined.
Isaac smiled faintly and said,
"She should wake up in two or three days."
Russell quickly went and sat by the bed. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face as he looked down at Ariana.
Cyrus, who had been watching, left the room with Isaac, and Tiador followed them out.
"Northern Duke. Thank you, truly."
"You can call me as you used to."
Tiador smiled.
"Then will you call me as you used to?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
Isaac's eyes widened as he stared at Cyrus, but Cyrus ignored him. Tiador said,
"Will you stay in the Empire, Cyrus?"
"Yes. For the time being."
"When Ariana wakes up..."
"I'll visit. You must be very worried, so please go back inside."
"Alright, Cyrus. Isaac. You two go carefully as well. Don't fall."
At Tiador's last words, Cyrus's face contorted. It was what Tiador used to add at the end of his goodbyes whenever Cyrus visited the Eastern Territory in his childhood.
Those warm, peaceful days came to mind.
His vision had been clouded by the sorrow and hatred from his parents' deaths, making him forget that the White Family were these kinds of people. Only when he saw that desperate letter Russell had sent to Rachel did those forgotten memories slowly begin to return.
Don't fall.
Such a worry, unfitting for a grown twenty-year-old man, brought back the time when his parents were alive.
Those peaceful days he had thought would last forever.
"Yes, Grandfather. I'll see you later."
***
While riding in the carriage, Isaac kept pouting his lips, opening and closing them. Cyrus quietly gazed out the window.
Isaac raised a hand.
"Cyrus, I have something to say."
"Don't."
"You said it yourself. Now that you're a Duke, you'd treat the Western Duke or the Eastern Duke like dirt. You said you were so curious to see the expressions on those old men's faces when a young pup like you spoke casually to them. You even laughed like a demon king when you said it."
"..."
"Yeah, well. I guess. It would be a bit difficult to treat the Duchess's father, grandfather, and grandmother rudely. They're going to be your in-laws someday, right?"
Cyrus glared silently at Isaac. But Isaac didn't stop talking.
"Oh, of course, you're just using them. I know, I know. This time, you used the Duchess's custody trial to subtly drive a wedge between the Western Duke and the Emperor. Yes, I admit the Duchess is very useful. Your judgment was right. The Duchess has value as a tool."
"Right."
"But does that mean you need to be *that* respectful to the Eastern Duke? As if you have plans to become their son-in-law, or even grandson-in-law, someday?"
"Isaac."
"Oh, of course, this must all be part of your grand plan. You need to maintain good relations to use the cards the Eastern Duke holds, right?"
"Right."
"But if that's the case, isn't it the same for the Western Duke? Wouldn't you have a chance to gain something if you buttered up a villain like the Western Duke?"
Cyrus's eyes gleamed ominously.
"Call that scoundrel, the Western Duke, Grandfather? The one I wouldn't be satisfied with even if I chewed his bones?"
"Have you forgotten that just a few months ago, you treated the White Family the same way you treated the Western Duke?"
"Well, I tend not to dwell on the past."
"Ah, I suppose so. Still, they're good people, you know. I haven't said anything until now because you suspected the Eastern Duke was involved in that incident back then, but they treated my father really well. And when I visited occasionally, they bought me a lot of gifts."
"Right, you're the kind of guy who'd sell his soul for a handout."
Isaac muttered a curse under his breath, then asked,
"How's the Emperor? Does he seem disappointed in the Western Duke?"
