Chapter 238

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 238
Chapter Title: Twisted Affection
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Three days had passed since Alfonso hastily departed for the battlefield under urgent orders.

Raphael waited at the garrison, but there was no sign of Alfonso's troops returning.

“Young Marquis. Today is already the end of the month.”

A merchant from the Boccanegra Guild cautiously urged Raphael.

“It took longer than expected to come inland.”

“…”

“If we don't depart now, it will be difficult to reach Valianti before our trade ship returns.”

The Boccanegra trade ship had dropped them off at the port of Valianti before heading further south into the Moor Empire to deliver goods.

On their return journey, they were scheduled to stop at Valianti on a designated date to pick up Raphael's party and bring them back to Etruscan.

Sir Elko added a word.

“You should return, Young Marquis.”

With all of Alfonso's troops deployed, only Sir Elko, who had lost an arm and an eye, remained at the garrison.

At Sir Elko's words, Raphael looked at him with a complicated expression.

In their youth, among the prince's circle of friends, Elko and Raphael had been like oil and water.

As Elko was six years older, they normally wouldn't have had reason to fight, but Raphael was an aristocrat who couldn't stand sharing a table with a commoner, and while he had since learned to hide his true feelings, back then he was a brat who would vehemently argue that he had done nothing wrong.

As he was the prince's playmate, no one dared to reprimand Raphael.

Sir Elko's temper was no less formidable.

If he had simply bowed his head and accommodated Raphael, things might have passed without incident, but Elko, who was more childish than young, absolutely refused to use honorifics or speak formally to Raphael.

At the time, he hadn't even been knighted, making him a true commoner. Raphael would never have tolerated that.

The two were constantly at each other's throats.

Raphael was someone who observed certain boundaries, so he never ganged up on Elko or demanded that Alfonso cast him out, but he refused to exchange a single word with the incredibly rude Elko.

“…”

But seeing Sir Elko again after so long, his spirit was completely broken.

This was Elko, who had endured on the pride of his swordsmanship alone.

Now he was one-armed and one-eyed, forced to put down the sword he had cherished so dearly and take up an unfamiliar pen.

To Raphael, with whom he had an awkward relationship due to years of no contact, Sir Elko naturally used formal speech and honorifics.

This made Raphael feel strange as well.

“…Is there any word on when His Highness might return?”

“It seems they've engaged in a pursuit.”

Initially, the main force mobilized because the enemy appeared near the garrison, but the battle itself ended anticlimactically with the enemy retreating.

“Among the scattered retreating groups was a commander His Highness had been targeting.”

Sir Elko added.

“This happens often. Now that the war funds have arrived, I wish he would stop taking prisoners for ransom…”

Raphael had handed over the gold coins to Sir Elko, who demonstrated a clean and transparent handling of the matter.

He counted the full amount with Raphael, recorded it neatly in Alfonso's troop ledger, and then proceeded with the necessary external payments.

He seemed much more relieved to be able to settle all the outstanding debts.

Raphael thought that Sir Elko had become quite the quartermaster, but he didn't say it out loud, feeling it would sound too disrespectful.

Sir Elko continued.

“It's truly difficult to find a trustworthy ship on the Ratgalin Peninsula.”

Many of the ships sailing near the Moor Empire were pirate vessels, and even merchant ships would turn to piracy if a chance for big money arose.

“That's why we couldn't return home in the early days.”

For Prince Alfonso, who would become the most valuable hostage on the Central Continent if captured, choosing a ship for the return journey was not easy.

The Boccanegra Guild's ship had the disadvantage of lacking combat strength, but it was at least trustworthy.

As long as they didn't encounter pirates—that is, if they concealed the prince's presence and returned secretly with a small group—they might make it back safely.

As this thought crossed his mind, Raphael asked abruptly.

“His Highness has no intention of returning now, does he?”

Sir Elko smiled bitterly.

“He won't go. He has more mouths to feed now.”

Nearly 200 new faces had joined Alfonso's command.

All of them were nobles or knights.

They were men who couldn't return home without achieving some tangible success in this war.

Sons of noble families with low succession priority, or young knights seeking to make their own fortunes, they had flocked here hoping to achieve fame and success by distinguishing themselves in battle, having no lands or titles to inherit.

“Given the prince's character, he won't return until he can provide something for them.”

“…That's just like Alfonso. A virtue for a monarch.”

Raphael felt a slight sense of relief.

“He is overflowing with benevolence. Thanks to which, I feel like I'm going to die.”

A deep sigh from the man in charge of provisions escaped.

“In any case, thanks to you bringing the war funds, Young Marquis, we can breathe a little easier. His Highness will probably recruit more men now.”

“More than this?”

“Yes, there were some coveted talents… He wanted to accept more, but we had to turn many away due to our financial situation.”

Sir Elko added.

“That's why he always argues with Sir Manfredi. Sir Manfredi insisted on accepting only the most capable men, but His Highness prioritized those with nowhere else to go.”

“Tsk, tsk.”

Raphael clicked his tongue. He could picture the situation perfectly without seeing it.

“If the unit's capabilities fall short and they die in battle, it's a dog's death. You should gather the best men you can.”

“He must trust in himself. Prince Alfonso has earned a reputation here as the 'Undefeated Knight'.”

Sir Elko's voice was slightly excited.

“The Undefeated Knight?”

“He returns with achievements from every battle he enters. There is no other commander like him in the entire crusade—no, not even among the Moorish forces. He always wins the battles he's expected to win, and sometimes, he even wins those he's not.”

Sir Elko said with enthusiasm.

“Of course, there are impossible situations. In those cases, he'll at least capture an enemy commander.”

“That's incredible.”

“It's as if he's not human. I used to be conceited, thinking I was stronger than anyone when I held a sword.”

He looked down at his right arm with a slightly dark expression.

“Looking at the prince these days, it's laughable how absurd that thought was. Even if I grew two more arms, I doubt I could match His Highness's valor.”

Sir Elko was not normally a talkative man, but when the topic turned to Alfonso, he couldn't stop talking, like a mother boasting about her child.

It seemed that respect and affection for Alfonso had come to occupy a large part of Sir Elko's daily life.

Raphael stood up from his seat.

“That friend Manfredi, it's a shame I'll leave without seeing him.”

“Are you leaving?”

“You told me to, didn't you?”

Raphael smiled.

“Since I'm leaving anyway, it's best to go right away now that we've spoken of it. It's not too late; if I leave after lunch, I can get quite far by evening.”

Sir Elko nodded.

“Understood. Do you have any regards for the prince?”

“Ah. I have something for you to deliver.”

Raphael took a thick envelope from his coat. It was a letter from Ariadne to Alfonso.

For the past three days, Raphael had been berating himself for not delivering it to Alfonso immediately.

It was his own selfishness, wanting to hide the letter for fear of losing in the battle for her affection, and it was a dishonorable act.

If asked whether he wanted to push Alfonso aside and take Ariadne's hand, Raphael could still only answer yes.

He couldn't possibly give up without even trying.

But ultimately, it had to be her choice.

A victory won through lies, sowing discord, and stabbing a friend in the back was nothing but a castle built on sand.

It could collapse at any moment. That was the conclusion Raphael had reached over the past few days.

And so, he could now willingly entrust Ariadne's letter to Alfonso.

“Deliver this to the prince.”

“What is this?”

“A letter.”

Sir Elko's eyes asked who the letter was from. Raphael answered lightly, without much thought.

No matter what anyone said, Sir Elko was now one of Alfonso's most trusted confidants, entrusted with managing the treasury in his absence.

“It's a letter from the prince's beloved. If you tell him this arrived, Alfonso will run barefoot from the garrison gate to his tent.”

Raphael felt a sense of relief after handing over the letter.

‘I've done what I had to do.’

He had fought against the dark thoughts in his heart and won. Victory, if he could achieve it, would be won in a direct confrontation.

Lost in his own thoughts, Raphael didn't notice the strange look in Sir Elko's eyes.

“When you say his beloved, do you mean Lady de Mare?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Sir Elko took the thick envelope.

“I will keep it safe and deliver it to the prince.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Tell Alfonso.”

Raphael cleared his throat and said.

“Tell him to do his best. That I wish him luck in battle and good health.”

Because he, too, would do his best. Wishing him 'luck in battle and good health' instead of just 'good luck' was a small act of spite.

***

That evening, after confirming Raphael de Valdesal's departure and finishing all his daily tasks, Sir Elko sat in his tent and ripped open the envelope Raphael had left.

Indeed, it was a letter from Ariadne de Mare. Sir Elko's hands were merciless as he tore it open.

「To my dearest A in all the world.」

Sir Elko's remaining eye narrowed in displeasure. He read through the parchment.

The letter was filled with her heartfelt longing and worry for her lover, Alfonso, the reason she had sent the 10,000 ducats, the situation in San Carlo, and her frustration over the lack of communication.

“Damned woman.”

Sir Elko's hand trembled.

“If the prince receives this and decides to return home, what will I do?”

Sir Elko had told Raphael that the opinion to 'select only the finest among the volunteers' was Sir Manfredi's, but in truth, it was the point he himself argued most strongly.

Since losing his eye and right arm, Sir Elko had only one purpose in life.

To make Prince Alfonso de Carlo the greatest monarch on the Central Continent.

To have his fame resound throughout the entire continent, no, the entire world including the Moor Empire, so he could become the undisputed king of Etruscan, create a great Etruscan nation, and sweep away the Gallican trash.

No, why be satisfied with being a king? If he became the victor of the holy war that conquered Yesak, ascending to the throne of an emperor was no mere joke.

Of course, the commander-in-chief, the Grand Duke of Oldenburg, was the most likely candidate, but in terms of noble blood, none could match Prince Alfonso.

Moreover, Alfonso's military achievements were growing by the day.

With these 10,000 ducats, they could expand the size of their force to a scale incomparable to its current state.

They could grow beyond operating as a detached unit to a size where they could demand to lead the vanguard—no, even if the center was too much, they could demand command of the left or right flank.

“I won't let you have your way. You painted devil.”

He ground his teeth in hostility toward Ariadne.

That woman had already lured Prince Alfonso once before, driving him into a life-or-death crisis.

To save Prince Alfonso at that time, Sir Elko himself had sacrificed his left eye and right arm.

Never, never again would he fall into her evil clutches.

The scent of a woman that makes a man lose his reason. It was an evil that must be rejected.

Without hesitation, Sir Elko threw Ariadne's letter into the brazier burning in front of the tent.

*Fwoosh!*

The parchment was instantly engulfed in flames and turned into a pile of ashes.

He stared for a long, long time at the flickering flames that had devoured their new meal.

While Sir Elko was staring intently at the brazier, a commotion arose from the entrance of the camp.

*Hee-hee-hing!*

*Clop-clop-clop.*

Startled, Sir Elko looked toward the source of the sound. A group of men was approaching through the twilight.

“Hey, Elko, been well?”

“We're back after another big score!”

“Where's our guest?”

The prince's knights who had gone to battle had returned.

Sir Elko quickly wiped his hand on his trousers, brushing off any soot that might have clung to it from the brazier.

“His Highness?”

Sir Elko asked for Alfonso's whereabouts first.

“He'll be here right after stopping by the Commander-in-Chief's.”

Sir Elko's heart began to race. There was still something he hadn't taken care of.

“I'll just be a moment inside…”

“Ah! The prince is coming! Say hello before you go!”

Prince Alfonso, clad in ash-gray armor that bore even more minor scratches, was walking slowly toward the tents, cradling his helmet to his chest.

“Your Highness, have you already finished your report to the Commander-in-Chief?”

Sir Elko managed to ask, feigning a smile.

“It was late. When I stopped by his tent, he looked very tired, so we decided I'll give my report tomorrow morning. Where is Raphael?”

The prince immediately asked for Raphael. Sir Elko replied calmly.

“Unfortunately, Your Highness. The Young Marquis Raphael left around noon today.”

“Ah…”

Alfonso's expression darkened.

“We barely had a chance to talk…”

Sir Elko had hoped Alfonso would give up and turn his attention elsewhere, but Alfonso asked again.

“Sir Elko, did Raphael leave anything for me? A letter, perhaps?”

Sir Elko replied without a flicker of expression.

“Nothing.”

Alfonso looked greatly disappointed.

“I see…”

“He did leave a message.”

“What did he say?”

“He wished you luck in battle and good health, and told you to do your best and return.”

Alfonso smiled.

“Those are kind words.”

But his expression seemed a little empty.

They were clearly welcome words, but it seemed they weren't what he had wanted to hear.

Sir Manfredi, who had accompanied him to the commander-in-chief's tent, chimed in.

“Sir Elko, aside from that, where is the letter that came for the prince? When we were at the commander-in-chief's tent just now, he mentioned a letter had arrived for His Highness after a long time!”

“Ah, yes.”

This was the very topic Sir Elko had wanted to avoid.

Suppressing his irritation at Sir Manfredi for bringing it up, he answered dutifully.

“There are two.”

One was the proof of funds bearing the seal of the Holy See, which Raphael had given to the Grand Duke of Oldenburg.

The Grand Duke had been holding it and had only just given it to Alfonso.

The other was a letter whose sender Sir Elko had not yet confirmed.

‘That can't be a letter from San Carlo…’

If another letter from Ariadne de Mare had arrived, and if it contained something like, ‘Did you get the letter I sent with Raphael?’, Sir Elko would be in for a world of trouble.

“First, you should wash up…”

“No, I'll see them now. Can you bring them to me?”

Sir Elko felt his palms begin to sweat. But there was no way to refuse.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“No, they're inside, aren't they? I'll go in and see for myself.”