“Take it.”
Heinrich brought out a scroll that looked precious even at a glance. At first, he thought the alchemist Kurd made it, but upon closer inspection, it was an antique.
“What is this?”
asked Akkard upon receiving it. Heinrich lowered his voice and answered.
“A teleportation scroll. If you tear it apart, you can come back to the palace again.”
“… … a magic scroll? I thought they were all gone.”
The once glorious age of magic and alchemy was long past. It was only because he was a crown prince that Heinrich could have one of the few remaining alchemists like Kurd.
Naturally, all the various magic scrolls that dominated the past were now exhausted, so only a few remained. When an ancient scroll was discovered by chance, it was immediately designated as a national treasure, exhibited, and stored away.
“Yes, I only have two, so please use it sparingly. Don’t use it unless it’s a real emergency.”
Heinrich emphasized again with a face that looked like he was about to die from regret. Upon hearing this, Akkard’s heart became very heavy.
‘Such a precious item.’
Once again, the importance of this mission touched him. The end of this long fight depended on whether he succeeded or failed to rescue the real saint.
“Aside from all the jokes, let me tell you one thing.”
“What?”
Uncharacteristically, Heinrich frowned and said,
“That scroll, it’s for two.”
“What?”
For a moment, Akkard did not understand the meaning of those words. Reluctant, Heinrich smirked and explained,
“In case of an emergency, you and the ‘real saint.’ Just in case. It’s something for the two of you.”
A surprised expression crossed Akkard’s face, who belatedly registered his words. Even if he roughly counted the number of people who would infiltrate the High Temple, it was well over five.
The three elite knights of the royal palace, then Calix, who could sense the direction where the real saint was trapped, then there was Owen Primula, who would be the guide, and Akkard himself. If they even found the ‘real saint,’ they would be lucky…
… The shadows in the garden grew long in the evening.
“Are you saying that if things go south, only I and the saint should get out of there?”
To Akkard’s disbelief, Heinrich answered with a grimace.
“Didn’t I say ‘just in case’? Of course, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I’m serious.”
Things often don’t go according to plan. As desperate as one side was, the other side was just as desperate.
Even if Heinrich tried to distract them with a deal and Akkard pretended to be on vacation, they were only temporary tricks. He knew not to neglect defense.
Heinrich always had to be prepared for emergencies. When faced with an unavoidable situation, he had to decide in advance which shoots to cut and which branches to leave in the end.
Because that was a leader’s duty.
“You, my right hand, and the ‘real saint’ who can put an end to this matter, the two of you must get out.”
And the rest… … . Heinrich, muttering something, bit his tongue and closed his mouth in agony. Closing his eyes tightly, he wiped his face with his hand and then resumed speaking in a bright tone:
“Well, I hope that doesn’t happen. It will probably work out. Because I’ve prepared so well.”
‘Right?’ At Heinrich’s riposte, Akkard nodded reluctantly. Suddenly, the weight of the scroll in his hand felt as heavy as gold. His shoulders slacked.
“I’ll excuse myself.”
At this moment, only one face appeared before his eyes.
‘Damia.’
Owen Primula was not included amongst the Crown Prince’s ‘branches to be saved.’ In retrospect, it was clear that Heinrich had this in mind from the beginning.
He had said to an anxious Damia:
‘Lady Damia, I will definitely reward you for the dedication and loyalty you and your family have shown.’
For wouldn’t it have been more appropriate to say, ‘I’ll make sure nothing happens to your father, so don’t worry’?
But Heinrich made no impossible promises. He had been fighting in the political arena since he was an infant, so he knew better than even to mumble a word that would later be used against him.
So his right-hand man, Akkard, knew. If plans went awry and it was impossible to escape the High Temple, Owen Primula would be abandoned.
And Heinrich will give Damia that damn ‘reward’ or whatever.
‘But what good is that?’
Owen Primula was Damia’s only family. If he didn’t come back, Damia would be completely alone.
Akkard’s heart pounded as he recalled her tiny face squeezing together, trying to hold back tears from the fear of what might happen to her father.
Wasn’t it just moments before he ranted and raved to reassure her? He was truly a pathetic man before Damia.
“Take it.”
Heinrich brought out a scroll that looked precious even at a glance. At first, he thought the alchemist Kurd made it, but upon closer inspection, it was an antique.
“What is this?”
asked Akkard upon receiving it. Heinrich lowered his voice and answered.
“A teleportation scroll. If you tear it apart, you can come back to the palace again.”
“… … a magic scroll? I thought they were all gone.”
The once glorious age of magic and alchemy was long past. It was only because he was a crown prince that Heinrich could have one of the few remaining alchemists like Kurd.
Naturally, all the various magic scrolls that dominated the past were now exhausted, so only a few remained. When an ancient scroll was discovered by chance, it was immediately designated as a national treasure, exhibited, and stored away.
“Yes, I only have two, so please use it sparingly. Don’t use it unless it’s a real emergency.”
Heinrich emphasized again with a face that looked like he was about to die from regret. Upon hearing this, Akkard’s heart became very heavy.
‘Such a precious item.’
Once again, the importance of this mission touched him. The end of this long fight depended on whether he succeeded or failed to rescue the real saint.
“Aside from all the jokes, let me tell you one thing.”
“What?”
Uncharacteristically, Heinrich frowned and said,
“That scroll, it’s for two.”
“What?”
For a moment, Akkard did not understand the meaning of those words. Reluctant, Heinrich smirked and explained,
“In case of an emergency, you and the ‘real saint.’ Just in case. It’s something for the two of you.”
A surprised expression crossed Akkard’s face, who belatedly registered his words. Even if he roughly counted the number of people who would infiltrate the High Temple, it was well over five.
The three elite knights of the royal palace, then Calix, who could sense the direction where the real saint was trapped, then there was Owen Primula, who would be the guide, and Akkard himself. If they even found the ‘real saint,’ they would be lucky…
… The shadows in the garden grew long in the evening.
“Are you saying that if things go south, only I and the saint should get out of there?”
To Akkard’s disbelief, Heinrich answered with a grimace.
“Didn’t I say ‘just in case’? Of course, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I’m serious.”
Things often don’t go according to plan. As desperate as one side was, the other side was just as desperate.
Even if Heinrich tried to distract them with a deal and Akkard pretended to be on vacation, they were only temporary tricks. He knew not to neglect defense.
Heinrich always had to be prepared for emergencies. When faced with an unavoidable situation, he had to decide in advance which shoots to cut and which branches to leave in the end.
Because that was a leader’s duty.
“You, my right hand, and the ‘real saint’ who can put an end to this matter, the two of you must get out.”
And the rest… … . Heinrich, muttering something, bit his tongue and closed his mouth in agony. Closing his eyes tightly, he wiped his face with his hand and then resumed speaking in a bright tone:
“Well, I hope that doesn’t happen. It will probably work out. Because I’ve prepared so well.”
‘Right?’ At Heinrich’s riposte, Akkard nodded reluctantly. Suddenly, the weight of the scroll in his hand felt as heavy as gold. His shoulders slacked.
“I’ll excuse myself.”
At this moment, only one face appeared before his eyes.
‘Damia.’
Owen Primula was not included amongst the Crown Prince’s ‘branches to be saved.’ In retrospect, it was clear that Heinrich had this in mind from the beginning.
He had said to an anxious Damia:
‘Lady Damia, I will definitely reward you for the dedication and loyalty you and your family have shown.’
For wouldn’t it have been more appropriate to say, ‘I’ll make sure nothing happens to your father, so don’t worry’?
But Heinrich made no impossible promises. He had been fighting in the political arena since he was an infant, so he knew better than even to mumble a word that would later be used against him.
So his right-hand man, Akkard, knew. If plans went awry and it was impossible to escape the High Temple, Owen Primula would be abandoned.
And Heinrich will give Damia that damn ‘reward’ or whatever.
‘But what good is that?’
Owen Primula was Damia’s only family. If he didn’t come back, Damia would be completely alone.
Akkard’s heart pounded as he recalled her tiny face squeezing together, trying to hold back tears from the fear of what might happen to her father.
Wasn’t it just moments before he ranted and raved to reassure her? He was truly a pathetic man before Damia.
