MBOMEN 16

Chapter 16. The Prince of Searow (3)

“Amber?”

Lyla turned around, a little surprised. After a moment of contemplation, she responded.

“You mean the kind that sometimes has bugs trapped inside it…?”

Marquis Himierd stared at Lyla with a look of unexpected interest.

“Yes, that’s correct. So you knew.”

Lyla felt herself blushing, though she hadn’t said anything wrong.

It occurred to her that it was only natural for Marquis Himierd to assume she wouldn’t know what amber was. After all, she looked like a shabby, country bumpkin girl with nothing refined about her…

After hesitating briefly, Lyla said in a casual tone,

“It’s often used in witchcraft. Not just amber—various crystals and sometimes even emeralds are used.”

The marquis’s brows twitched slightly. Was it because her confident tone now seemed impertinent? Or was it the word witch that bothered him?

Whatever. Lyla didn’t care. She had experienced too many absurd things in quick succession, and mentally, she was exhausted.

As she watched the marquis’s frown deepen, she felt like she was being petty, but she couldn’t take back the words she had already spoken.

“Lady Chrislad. I thought it couldn’t be, but… are you truly of witch blood?”

“Even after seeing my hair and eyes, you still had doubts?”

“Your eyes are unique, yes, but His Highness the Prince brings many unusual companions, so I thought it might be just another case. And hair can be dyed, after all.”

Lyla slightly curled the corner of her lips and shrugged.

“I wish it were just that. But unfortunately, this really is my natural hair. So yes, as you said, Marquis… I am truly of witch blood. My mother was a witch, and though I never met her, my grandmother was one as well.”

Marquis Himierd opened his lips, then hesitated, his gaze shifting several times before he looked back at Lyla. But in the end, he said nothing, pretending to be nonchalant.

He doesn’t look pleased. Lyla thought. Well, that’s to be expected…

“Marquis, the bath is ready.”

A servant, forehead slightly damp from heating the water, bowed politely.

Watching the servant behind the marquis, Lyla suddenly had an odd thought—how did the servant’s apron remain so crisp and spotless despite what must be an exhausting day’s work in the royal palace?

“Lady Chrislad, your bath is ready. While you bathe, I will go check if we have clothes prepared for you. Follow Mel—she will escort you.”

“…All right.”

Mel quietly bowed her head, her eyes cast downward even in Lyla’s presence. As Lyla followed her, she suddenly turned back to Himierd as if remembering something.

“Thank you… Marquis Himierd.”

Just as he was about to leave the room with the others, Marquis Himierd paused. But he didn’t turn back to face her.

“There’s no need to thank me. I’m only following His Highness the Prince’s orders. If you feel gratitude, tell him yourself.”

Lyla stood there, speechless, watching the door slowly close. The hem of a nameless woman’s dress, the last thing to slip through the doorway, oddly stuck in her mind.

Yustar passed through the central corridor of the royal palace and entered the audience chamber. The ancient pillars and walls, reconstructed to preserve Searow’s traditional architecture, always filled him with a quiet sense of reverence.

On the ceiling was a mural of the five gods, including the chief deity Sersita, gathered in council at the Radiant Round Table. It was a masterpiece unlike any other, crafted from intricately interlocked minerals and stones of various colors.

Yet that majestic and beautiful sight did nothing to change the fact that the throne at the top of the dais was empty. The guards stood at attention with expressionless faces like statues, while three scribes gathered around a desk in quiet conversation.

“Ah, Your Highness the Prince!”

Hugo Rinkel, the chief scribe of Searow’s royal family, rose in surprise upon noticing Yustar. The three scribes bowed deeply, and Yustar nodded back with a faint, somewhat bitter smile.

“Has His Majesty not come to court today either?”

“We’re terribly sorry. He held a brief meeting this morning with Count Rubio and other administrative officials, but his headache worsened, so he is resting now.”

“I’ll go see him myself. Will that be all right?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I will escort you.”

Hugo stepped forward, but Yustar shook his head.

“No, I’ll go alone. You all return to your work.”

The scribes glanced at one another before bowing again.

Yustar passed them and entered the small hallway that led directly to the king’s bedchambers. He heard the scribes sigh behind him but chose to ignore it.

He knocked on the door at the dim end of the hall, where no light reached. A harsh, irritable cough answered from within. Yustar frowned just as the king’s chamberlain opened the door.

“Your Highness the Prince, you’ve returned.”

A bitter smell of medicine and herbs hit him the moment the door opened. The lingering aura of an unhealed illness seemed to float through the room like a heavy specter.

“Baso, you should be more careful. What if it hadn’t been me? You opened the door without checking.”

Yustar joked deliberately. The old chamberlain, who looked like he’d been drowning in gloom, managed a faint smile.

“No one else uses this door but you, Your Highness. Surely this old man would know that.”

“Well, anyone who managed to fool you would likely never see sunlight again. In that sense, I’m reassured.”

With a more relaxed expression, Baso stepped aside to let Yustar enter.

The king’s bedchamber was just as lavish as the audience hall, but most of the lights were off, and thick curtains blocked the windows, leaving the room dark despite the midday sun. Yustar took a long breath of the stale air before approaching the veiled bed.

“Brother, it’s me. Yustar.”

Another coughing fit came from within. A ghostly silhouette moved slowly behind the veils.

“Baso, draw the curtains.”

When the chamberlain pulled the veil aside and secured it to the canopy, the man sitting up in bed was revealed. Odd Hieronmorik, the current King of Searow and Yustar’s older brother.

He looked much older than Yustar. Though they were fourteen years apart in age, Odd wasn’t even forty yet—but he looked like a ruin crumbling into old age.

His once golden hair had faded and was streaked with gray, giving it a dirty appearance. His once-strong build had withered, and his thin body seemed lost within his loose robe.

Odd doubled over with another fit of violent coughing. Yustar moved quickly to support him and gently wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Are you all right, brother? I was told your headache worsened, but your complexion is far worse than that.”

“I’m fine.”

His voice was hoarse and raspy like scraping metal. Every breath made his chest sound like it was full of holes.

Yustar looked at the chamberlain.

“Baso, has the royal physician visited?”

“Yes, Your Highness. He prescribed new medicine and drew more blood.”

“He draws blood every time, yet still hasn’t found the cause. What about the investigation I asked for?”

“It is still…”

Odd raised a hand to interrupt them.

“That’s enough. Leave us, Baso.”

The chamberlain looked hesitant but obeyed. Once the room was quiet again, Odd’s expression softened.

“Yustar, would you open the curtains a bit? I’m suffocating.”

Yustar immediately stood and drew the heavy curtains. Harsh midday sunlight came pouring in.

Under the light, Odd looked even more pitiful than before. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his lips were cracked and dry.

“You need water, brother.”

“No, I’m fine. More importantly… tell me. I had a feeling you’d return. What of the one you were searching for?”

Yustar was silent for a moment, then forced a smile and nodded.

“I found her.”

Odd raised his sunken eyes to his brother. His face remained expressionless, but his gaze held complex emotions.

“A real witch?”

“Yes, without a doubt. And a powerful medium. Even if we searched the entire continent, we wouldn’t find another like her. So rest easy, brother. With her help, we can restore this kingdom—Searow—to its former glory, and quickly.”

“Restore it… yes, we must. We must.”

Odd’s labored breathing echoed in the silence. Then, turning his gaze away in thought, he asked,

“Where is she now?”

“She’s with Marquis Himierd. I thought she’d be exhausted from the journey, so I let her rest first.”

“Well done. I’d like to see her—when would be a good time?”

Yustar hesitated, blinking in thought. Lyla meeting Odd…

It was inevitable, now that she was here in the capital. But he didn’t want to burden her today. What she had already endured was more than enough.

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll bring her tomorrow.”

Odd blinked. His drooping, thin eyelids made him look reptilian.

After watching Yustar for a moment, Odd spoke.

“Very well. Do that. You should go for now. I’d like to dine with you, but I don’t think I can today. Let’s postpone it until tomorrow.”

“Understood, brother. Please rest.”

Odd nodded.

Yustar looked at his wheezing brother one last time, then left through the main chamber doors. Through the opening, he saw Chamberlain Baso bowing deeply.

Odd stared ahead with bloodshot eyes and murmured quietly to himself:

“A witch… yes, we need her. You need that witch, Yustar.”