Chapter 34

Serin pressed his lips together, keenly observing the subtle nuances in Kennard’s expression.

“What did Leto tell Elena to coax her into venturing to the village with him?” Kennard grumbled, the frustration evident in his tone.

“He must have dangled the village hot springs in front of her again. Ever since she arrived in Terra Demorte, she’s taken an interest in them. She asked me to pass on her request to stay in the village,” Serin explained.

Kennard couldn’t suppress his confusion about why someone with no recollection of their own identity would go out of their way to be considerate or express gratitude, pledging to return the favor. The entire affair seemed like a nonsensical puzzle to him.

Never once had he pressed her to recognize the debt she believed she owed him. It was him, and no one else, who wanted her to recall her memories. His initial plan had been to patiently await the return of her memories, but with each passing moment, impatience clawed at him.

And now, she was leaving.

Their footsteps echoed through the cave as they descended the spiral stone staircase. With each step, Kennard’s anger swelled.

“She’s leaving the castle for the allure of hot springs?” Kennard scoffed.

“Surely, it can’t be that simple. Perhaps my words were just a flimsy excuse,” Serin replied, his gaze locking with Kennard’s bewildered expression.

As the spiral descent continued, the anger within Kennard swelled.

“If hot springs are the obstacle, then we can construct them within the castle,” Kennard suggested.

Serin swiveled towards Kennard, his jaw slackened, eyes reflecting incredulity. “What’s this about building? Hot springs? You didn’t spill such nonsense to Elena, did you?”

Kennard scoffed, “Are you out of your mind? I mentioned it casually. But if push comes to shove, I can make it happen, can’t I?”

Serin, hand pressed to his forehead, emitted an audible sigh. “Your Grace, do you realize how strange you’ve become? Do you actually have feelings for Elena, or else why would you say such a ridiculous thing?”

Navigating the corridor leading to the study, Serin and Kennard walked in tandem, their strides synchronized. Kennard released a series of continuous sighs, prompting a sarcastic retort from Serin, “Take a breather before you run out of air.”

Kennard shot him a glare, clicking his tongue in response. He was fully aware of the absurdity of his statements. 

“Don’t forget, Miss Hazel is in this castle right now.” Serin reminded him, taking a step forward before swinging open the door to the study. As Kennard entered, he followed suit, closing the door behind them. Kennard settled on the desk with only his backside, crossing his arms and massaging his temples with one hand.

“What does Hazel have to do with this?”

Serin approached, his fingers closing around a handbell resting on the side of the desk. A crisp chime filled the air, and the door to the adjoining room swung open with almost uncanny timing.

“Did you call, sir?” Lassino entered, offering a respectful bow of his head.

“Lassino, fetch the headache medicine Leto left behind,” Serin instructed, motioning toward Kennard. Lassino’s eyes shifted to Kennard.

“Understood.”

Swiftly assessing Kennard’s troubled expression, Lassino closed the door behind him and vanished from the study. Serin moved to a table bathed in the soft glow of daylight near the window, producing a cup of herbal tea.

“It might be a bit cold, but please have some tea for now,” Serin suggested as Kennard accepted the cup, downing its contents in a single gulp. The warmth had all but dissipated, leaving the bitter undertones more pronounced on Kennard’s tongue.

As Serin poured himself a cup of tea and approached Kennard, he began his discourse. “Regardless of your intentions towards Miss Hazel, the arrangement was made by His Majesty. It’s not a matter easily brushed aside.”

Kennard retorted, “No matter what His Majesty desires, if I don’t agree, it won’t happen. Spare me the repetition.”

“It’s not that straightforward, and therein lies the problem. If His Majesty misconstrues your refusal as being linked to Elena, what do you think will happen?” Serin’s words hung in the air, causing Kennard’s outstretched hand to freeze in mid-air.

Kennard, his gaze fixed on the tea, tinged with a reddish hue, fell into a contemplative silence. Even without hearing it, Serin knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“If the news spreads that Archduke Kennard den Devel has abandoned the dignity of his dukedom, fixating on a woman of unknown identity and a lost memory, what do you think the people of Baruchella will murmur?” Serin persisted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kennard replied, his tone terse.

“Why doesn’t it matter? Isn’t that the reason you’re letting Miss Hazel meddle with Elena?” 

“Nonsense.”

“Then why let it happen? You bristle every time their names are mentioned, yet you remain silent. I don’t understand.” Serin’s voice edged up a notch.

Kennard couldn’t bring himself to confess his subterfuge. Each encounter with Elena ignited an unexplained surge of anger within him. No, he knew the source all too well. Her amnesia, her intent to leave the castle, her proclivity for danger without seeking his help–all these elements stoked not just anger but a fiery rage.

Whenever Hazel treated Elena with disrespect, an overwhelming desire to twist her neck surged within him. Yet, he feigned ignorance, secretly hoping Elena would turn to him rather than acting independently.

If that happened, whether Hazel was the duke’s daughter or a contender for marriage proposed by His Majesty, Kennard could have ended her life right then and there.

“You, the brother of the Baruchella Empire’s emperor and an Archduke overseeing Montefiano, the empire’s largest territory—plus, in recent years, you’ve brought Terra Demorte under your sway. Have you no inkling of the towering expectations people harbor for you?”

Kennard, lost in contemplation, harshly placed the teacup on the desk. The forceful movement caused the tea inside to surge and spill across the surface.

“What does that have to do with me? Just because they harbor expectations, do I have to pander to them? Must I be mindful of what they anticipate? Me? Of all people? I must be out of my mind,” Kennard retorted, his tone defiant.

“Even if you were to imprint yourself on one of the nobility, it wouldn’t satisfy the common folk. Your Majesty undoubtedly carries a nobility that surpasses mine. However, someone like Elena, who is…” Serin continued.

“Serin.” Kennard’s call interrupted him.

At the beckon, Serin fell silent. Kennard, using his fingertips to graze the exposed cuff under his frock, locked eyes with Serin.

“It seems like you’re less noble than me, as you put it.”

“What?”

“It appears you’re about to taste the whip soon,” Kennard remarked, stretching one corner of his mouth into a smile.

Yet, within his pupils, there was no hint of mirth; instead, a chilling glint lingered. Sensing the need to retreat, Serin raised and lowered both eyebrows, closing his mouth in acknowledgment of the looming tension.

A resounding knock echoed through the room, prompting both of them to turn their heads toward the door.

“Come in.”

At Kennard’s invitation, one of the knights who had been out scouting in the forest entered. Though it wasn’t yet time for their return, the urgency in the knight’s hurried breaths suggested pressing matters.

“What’s the matter?” Serin inquired.

“We found traces of blood in the northwest forest, similar to the last time,” the knight reported, catching his breath.

“How many?”

“Two locations in total.”

As the information sank in, Kennard swiftly transformed into a black wolf. Serin and the knight followed suit, morphing into gray wolves. The knight, comparatively smaller in stature, assumed the lupine form alongside Kennard and Serin.

Another knock interrupted the moment, and the door to the adjoining room opened. Lassino entered, holding a silver tray bearing headache medicine and a glass of water.

“Your Grace?”

Kennard cast a brief glance at Lassino before wordlessly heading toward the balcony door. Lassino, still holding the tray, followed. 

“Your Grace, please take the medicine before you leave,” he implored.

As Lassino trailed behind, Kennard, accompanied by Serin and the knight, descended from the balcony. Their feet touched the ground with a resonant thud, yet their movements were agile, almost as if traversing the clouds.

***

Kennard surged through the Northwest forest of Terra Demorte, a relentless force driven by urgency. Without the need for guidance from the reconnaissance knight, he tracked the scent of blood and pheromones left by the White Fox Tribe, etching their territorial presence in the wilderness. The knights, despite their determined effort, struggled to match Kennard’s unparalleled speed. Only Serin managed to maintain a pace close to Kennard’s.

The forest, awakening from winter’s grasp, revealed patches of melted snow wherever sunlight caressed the earth. Yet, much of the landscape remained veiled in knee-deep snow. Fortunately, the packed snow in Terra Demorte offered a firm surface, preventing them from sinking too deep with each determined step.

As Kennard, Serin, and the knight darted through the forest, their rapid movements sent snow cascading in all directions. The normally tranquil woods sporadically erupted with the startled flight of birds, their wings disrupting the otherwise silent realm. Moonlight struggled to pierce the darkness, casting the forest in shadows.

How far had they traversed this frozen terrain? As they neared the northwest border, the distinct pheromones of Kennard’s subordinates brushed against their senses. Soon, they arrived at the location where the subordinates awaited.

Recognizing Kennard’s unique pheromones, the kneeling knights lined the path they had taken. As Kennard passed by in his wolf form, each knight rose to their feet. Transforming back into his human form, Kennard continued, and the knights followed suit, falling into step behind him.