Chapter 9 – Part 9

“It’s a bit unclear, but…”

“It’s exactly as it sounds. I looked into his personal activities as an individual.”

Glenn felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of tea. Given Illehan’s meticulous nature, the investigation was likely thorough, which only increased Glenn’s anxiety.

“What normally works in the Duke’s favor became a weakness this time. Can you guess what it might be?”

“This is too difficult; just tell me.”

“It’s his sword.”

“His sword?”

Glenn’s eyes widened slightly. Illehan tapped his finger on the table intermittently, as if choosing his words carefully.

“The Duke is known for being extremely thorough. When he hunts down sorcerers, he often works alone. He may hide his eyes and appearance with a robe or disguise, perhaps even concealing his height. But he can’t hide the wounds his sword leaves behind.”

Glenn immediately understood what Illehan was getting at.

Sword wounds. Among swordsmen, these were often a kind of ‘signature.’ Not every swordsman could recognize them, but those who reached the level of a Sword Master typically could. Their judgment was nearly infallible.

“I’ve traveled extensively, especially during the time the Marchioness was missing, more so than before. But as I wandered, I heard things. People talking about sword wounds they’d never seen before… Techniques that were unheard of.”

Illehan pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and spread it out in front of Glenn. It was a detailed drawing of a wound.

“But this wound wasn’t inflicted by the Duke. I’ve seen many of his sword wounds myself.”

“Did you happen to see the body of Buck Rodley, the one the Duke dealt with at the royal palace recently?”

Glenn clenched his fist under the table. At that time, he had been too preoccupied with protecting his master and carrying out orders to pay attention to Buck Rodley.

“When you’re my age, you develop a certain intuition. I requested to see Buck Rodley’s body from the Emperor.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The unintentional accusation slipped out. Illehan folded his hands respectfully on the table, as if apologizing.

“As I said, it was an inexplicable intuition. The Duke’s whereabouts were just as unclear for half a year as the Marchioness’s. I feared there might be a connection between him and those wounds.”

“So… was there a connection?”

Glenn had a sinking feeling that he already knew the answer. It felt like his chest was being compressed by a cork.

“Do you know? Everyone says the Duke’s swordsmanship is ruthless and savage, but to me, it’s almost like an art form—clean, without excess. Quite gentlemanly, you could say. That’s what this old man, who’s held a sword for seventy years, sees. In other words… the Duke has never, officially, fought with his true swordsmanship.”

“You knew this?”

“I did. I just assumed it was part of his strategy.”

Illehan produced another piece of paper from his inner pocket: the autopsy report for Buck Rodley. Glenn was speechless.

The mysterious swordsman’s wounds matched those of the Duke. Glenn’s anxiety grew.

“What were the bodies? What were the circumstances? Don’t tell me the Duke is some kind of terrible murderer…”

“They were all sorcerers.”

“…Sorcerers?”

“Undocumented ones, not reported to the palace. Apparently, their neighbors and families kept quiet, fearing they’d be accused as well.”

Glenn grasped his head, letting go as his already unruly hair became more tangled.

“But… wasn’t that his job? There must have been unavoidable circumstances.”

“I think so too. But then why…”

For the first time, Glenn regretted asking Illehan to investigate. He feared that once he heard the rest, he would never be able to see Marsden the same way again.

“Why did he take the forbidden books that the sorcerers had?”

Forbidden books of magic? Glenn had only heard of them. These books supposedly contained everything from the basics of magic—black magic—to advanced techniques. The only person who could possibly use them now…

“They weren’t reported to the palace…”

“They weren’t.”

Glenn shot up from his seat. He needed to find Olivia.

“The reason the Marchioness was injured was because of magic. Troy Marsden hurt her!”

“Calm down, Miles.”

“How can I be calm? I’ve served the House of Charbert my entire life, but my parents, the previous Marquis and his wife are all gone. The Marchioness is all I have left! I’ve cared for her as if she were my sister, even my daughter, since long before I became a swordmaster. Why should I… Why should I lose Olivia too?”

For the first time, Glenn uttered Olivia’s name aloud. Illehan rose to his feet as well.

“Glenn, just because the Duke took the forbidden books doesn’t mean he’s the Marchioness’s enemy. There must be a reason.”

“Is he some kind of god? Is everything he does justified?”

“He lost his family to magic. Do you really think he would use it to harm the Marchioness?”

“Are you forgetting? He’s also a suspect. A suspect who may have tried to kill the Marchioness!”

Glenn’s rationality was already slipping, and it was impossible to calm him down now. He pushed past Illehan and flung the door open.

“For so long, both the Marchioness and I have waited for the Duke to be honest. But if that patience puts the Marchioness in danger, then I must protect my master.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Illehan staring out the window with a worried expression. His lips, dry from anxiety, murmured words tinged with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Troy. I feel the same as he does. Olivia is all I have left too.”

***

Cotton followed closely, like the well-trained knight he was. Though he was clearly in pain, given the hole in his abdomen, Olivia tried to console him by saying it was a miracle his organs hadn’t spilled out. Unsurprisingly, this offered no comfort at all.

Instead, Cotton’s face soured, which only made Olivia tease him more.

“Make sure you have your story straight. We’re not helping for free, you know. You’ll need to pay us back… with interest for the medicine and our labor.”

Cotton thought it would be easier to repay the debt in money, but knowing she was someone he definitely didn’t want as an enemy, he held his tongue.

“And first, let’s go to my place and clean up. We can’t go to the palace looking like beggars…”

“My place?”

Cotton bristled at the word “beggars,” but Marsden reacted even faster. The idea of going to Olivia’s place fueled his jealousy, which had already been simmering due to Cotton’s casual demeanor toward Olivia.

“Why should we go to your place? We’ll go to the Duke’s residence, where you’ll clean up.”

“No, I’m going alone; which explains why I’m taking him in front of the  Emperor. If we’re seen coming and going from the Duke’s residence, the clever Emperor will figure it out immediately! I’ve told you, pick your moments to be jealous!”

“You stuck close to him, knowing I’d be jealous.”

Cotton wondered if he should just leave them to it. He found the sight of these two bickering increasingly irritating.

“I’ll just take care of myself…”

“I should have come alone.”

“If you had, do you think you could’ve treated this guy? Honestly, I was pretty useful, wasn’t I, Buddy?”

“If you hadn’t been, you’d be lying in some ditch right now!”

Cotton was exhausted. But as they finally left the rough, winding path and approached Flatd Castle, he felt an odd sense of relief. Reflecting on how quickly he had come to rely on Olivia, he noticed a figure in the distance.

“Glenn?”

The figure walked toward them without any attempt to conceal his presence. It had to be one of their people, and it was.

‘Something feels off…’

Cotton instinctively realized he was standing in the eye of a storm. Only the Marchioness, blissfully unaware, seemed confused by the situation.

“Glenn, what are you doing here…?”

And Cotton’s ominous feeling was spot on. Glenn swiftly drew a sharp sword and aimed it at Marsden.

“Glenn, what are you doing?”

Cotton leaned against a nearby tree. It was best not to get involved in family disputes.

“I said, what are you doing?”

Olivia stepped in front of Marsden, trying to push the sword away, but Glenn didn’t budge. She was utterly bewildered, knowing Glenn wouldn’t act like this without reason.

“As it turns out, someone like the Duke is extremely rare. Many who pursue sorcerers become addicted to their power. And once addicted, they live in agony, as if their flesh is being torn apart.”

“…Did Bay tell you this, Glenn?”

“Take off your gloves, Duke.”

Ignoring Olivia, Glenn pressed Marsden for an answer. Marsden remained calm, simply standing and staring back at Glenn.

To Glenn, his composed demeanor appeared shamelessly defiant. His anger boiled over.

“Take off your gloves, Troy Marsdenden! If you don’t, one of us will die here and now.”

Olivia struggled to stay calm and make sense of the situation.

Though she hadn’t been in this world for long, she trusted Glenn as much as she trusted Marsden. He wasn’t the kind of person to draw his sword without a valid reason.

‘He told him to take off his gloves.’

If magic had degenerated into magic because only black magic remained, then the side effects of magic were caused by black magic, not magic itself.

Surely not. Olivia looked into Glenn’s resolute face.

“Glenn, how much did Bay tell you?”

Bay had grown up being forced to learn magic under parents addicted to it. Glenn had taken him in and trained him as a knight. While he didn’t know as much as Marsden, he knew more than the average person, and Olivia felt reassured by him presence.

But Glenn kept his eyes on Marsden, saying nothing. Olivia, now desperate, raised her voice.

“Answer me, Glenn Miles!”