Chapter 6

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 6

Chapter Title: Whispers of the Curse

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey. The current king's only sister, who's supposedly so steeped in curses that she even devoured her own parents."

"A curse?"

"Was it ten years ago? The previous king and queen were on their way to visit their young daughter when they died. The king perished, the war they were winning went up in smoke. There was a huge uproar for a while, everyone saying it was all because of the princess."

The man snorted.

Baldina was renowned for its small but valiant military, but it seemed they weren't particularly bright.

Just look at how they'd made such a fuss over one little girl.

"You believe that?"

"Well, no, but the timing was too coincidental."

Garo shrugged.

"I thought only Cheonji was full of fools, but apparently Baldina has its share."

"That's too much."

Garo clutched his chest as if wounded, putting on a dramatic show.

"A curse, huh..."

A silhouette reflected on the glass window.

The shadow stretched long across the floor, backlighted by the sun.

"And these fools haven't even witnessed a real curse, yet they wag their tongues endlessly."

The tip of the shadow trembled faintly.

"Your Highness—no, Boss. I—"

Garo's smirking lips froze like stone.

The man lowered his head. His fingertips had turned deathly pale.

"Your Highness, what should we do?"

Three years ago, Cezare, the first prince of the Kazen Empire, massacred the Kique tribe on the empire's outskirts.

It happened while annexing the petty kingdoms encroaching on the southern borders.

"These Kique bastards are utterly mad. They were summoning some unheard-of evil god, grabbing people left and right for sacrifices. And get this—they'd roast and eat the offerings after the ritual! Said it was to properly absorb the grudges."

There was no mercy left for those who had forsaken even the barest dignity of humanity.

"Burn them all."

His silver sword and shield were caked in dark crimson blood.

Even the power of the evil god the Kique fanatically worshipped couldn't evade spear or blade.

Farmlands, villages, temples.

Flames roared up everywhere that murder and cannibalism had been as routine as meals.

"Aaaagh! You black and wicked fiend! Even demons aren't as vicious as you! The grand primordial darkness shall not forgive you! Aren't you afraid?!"

The tribe chief screamed with bloodshot eyes.

"It's not 'black and wicked fiend,' it's Cezare. Tell your god not to forget the name of this land's master."

Cezare snorted from atop his rearing steed.

His words placed even the Kique's evil god beneath him—an utter arrogance.

Yet no one could deny it.

That the radiant, majestic youth like the sun would become master of this vast empire.

"Cezare! Your blood shall cool as blue as your eyes, your heart blacken and harden like your mind. Even if your brilliant talents and ambitions fulfill every desire and fell every foe..."

Black smoke rose from the chief, lashing at Cezare like a whip.

"...you won't stop your own flesh from withering away!"

"Your Highness!"

And when Cezare awoke, the chief's curse had come true.

The sword that once cleaved foes faster than wind grew sluggish. His beast-like instincts dulled noticeably.

Sometimes, seizures brought up blood, and his body would stiffen like stone, robbing him of consciousness.

On the third seizure, Cezare finally had to admit it.

That something had changed in him since the day he exterminated the Kique.

The army physician said,

"Your Highness's body is petrifying. At this rate... three years at most."

But he didn't believe it.

He sought the continent's finest doctors.

"A disease where the body gradually cools and hardens... Even I, hailed as a divine healer, have never heard of it. Kill me for it."

They all shook their heads.

Cezare went to the Holy Kingdom.

He sought their priests, renowned for the strongest holy power.

"A truly vicious curse. I sense primordial darkness in Your Highness."

"Forgive me. Even if you kill me and wage war on the Holy Kingdom, it's impossible. The natures don't align. No holy power, however strong, can touch the primordial."

It was the answer he'd wrung out at swordpoint to the Pope's chin—no lie there.

As he desperately searched for ways to dispel the primordial darkness, the Kique curse progressed slowly but steadily.

"Long live First Prince Your Highness!"

Another seizure struck during his triumphant return parade.

"Your Highness!"

Rumors spread across the empire: the first prince had contracted some local disease in the war and was doomed.

The emperor suspected some scheme, probing his son's intentions.

His brothers rejoiced at the fall of their greatest rival.

"Pathetic."

A true curse should do at least that much.

It had to topple the soaring heavens themselves to dare claim the name.

"True enough. That's why Baldina's still in this mess despite those elite knights."

Garo's face lit up with its usual cheer, as if nothing had happened.

"Anyway, seems the princess—who's hated inside and out—has awakened. Great momentum, but can she really keep the head maid down?"

Mischief danced in Garo's tawny eyes.

"Boss, should we keep eyes on the Princess Palace too? Finally, some entertaining spectacle."

"Got time on your hands?"

The icy question made Garo flinch involuntarily.

"Found the shaman yet?"

"Ah, still tracking. But her last sighting was definitely here in Baldina. Trail vanished near the border."

When every method to lift the curse had failed, one priest muttered,

"A shaman of the Shadeia tribe might know how to dispel primordial darkness... They can read scriptures written in primordial light."

Like grasping at straws.

But it was the last remaining hope.

Cezare roamed the continent disguised as arms dealer Facade, searching for the Shadeia shaman.

"That's all?"

"Come on. You think it's easy tracking a ghost from a long-extinct tribe? Even the Pope and previous emperor gave up."

Garo's cheeks puffed out.

"Watch your tongue."

"Damn it, we've scoured every inch from the Baldina border. She's definitely in this capital! I stake my neck on it. Happy?"

He bellowed. Cezare's eyes narrowed as if annoyed by the noise.

"You'd better be right. Or else."

Keep your neck clean. Cezare's eyes gleamed coldly.

"A-alright! Got it!"

Under the grim threat, Garo bolted from his seat.

"And Boss, you're entering the palace this week, right? Don't forget on your way out."

Garo tapped the table as he left. A silver half-mask lay on the round table.

"Annoying as it is, don't forget. If Prime Minister Sise learns your identity, old ties or not, he'll try to split us in half."

Cezare glanced down at the mask.

"Hate covering your face that much?"

"..."

Once the silver plate covered it, he was no longer Kazen's first prince who kept the continent on edge—he became mere mercenary Facade the arms dealer.

A sliver of freedom, yet it felt unwelcome. Why was that?

"Boss, truth is, you think you're the handsomest, don't you? Hate hiding that pride behind a mask—"

"Long-winded. As ever."

"Eek, I'm going! I'm gone! Ack!"

Garo finished and slammed the door shut, tongue firmly tucked behind fine lips.

A honed dagger flew and embedded in the closed door—at the height of where Garo's mouth had been moments ago.

The dagger remaining in Cezare's fingertips spun in a graceful arc.

Princess Palace.

"So you just stood there watching the princess leave?!"

A woman's shout echoed through the palace.

"It was so sudden, she just—"

The maids stood in a line, heads bowed, enduring her tantrum.

Her fiery crimson hair resembled smoldering branches, twisted around her scowling, youthful features.

Mariyu. Medea's closest maid.

The latest fashion dress cinched tight at the bodice made her look less like a princess's attendant and more like a noble young lady fresh from a ball.

'How long I've waited to see him again! If he's hurt, stay in bed and rest—why get up and stir trouble!'

Recalling the princess's naive face only fueled her rage.

"I told you to track her every move and report back—did I or didn't I?!"

Her venomous hand repeatedly slapped the bowed maids' cheeks.

"Huh?! All wanna get fired?! Get your acts together?!"

The biggest reason Mariyu could rampage like this was that she was the daughter of the wet nurse who raised the princess.

When the nurse lay dying, she'd entrusted her daughter to the princess, who tearfully closed the nurse's eyes herself, swearing Mariyu was like her own sister.

"What do we do? If something happens to Her Highness because we weren't there—"

"Shut your mouth!"

Unable to contain her temper, she grabbed a vase to hurl.

"Your Highness—!"

A frantic maid spotted the approaching figure and cried out.

"Your Highness, where have you been? It's so cold out!"

Mariyu, realizing the princess had returned, whipped around with a changed expression. She hurried toward her in quick steps, then froze, eyes widening at the bewildering sight.