The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 24

The carriage pulled up to the gates of the Langbart estate.

The moment she stepped out, Lynette’s body swayed. Seeing her struggle to find her footing, Quill swept her up into his arms.

“I can walk. I have to walk, at least a little…”

“You can do plenty of walking starting tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Please, just let me play the part of the gallant fiancé for a moment.”

Lynette’s body felt hot against him. She was perspiring heavily. Perhaps to keep the heat from stifling her, the buttons at her chest remained undone, leaving her collar open wide. Quill pointedly averted his eyes.

He called for Nicola the moment they entered the foyer. His mother and Adele appeared, alerted by his raised voice, but he bypassed them without a word and headed straight up the stairs.

Nicola had apparently been preparing Lynette’s room and came rushing out. She looked ready to shout her usual greeting, but she caught her breath at the sight of Lynette cradled in Quill’s arms. She instantly shifted into a calm, professional focus.

“Your orders, sir?”

“Help her change, please. Call for me when you’re finished.”

“Understood.”

Nicola opened the door. Quill stepped inside, sat Lynette down on the bed, and promptly took his leave.

When he returned to the hallway, his mother and Adele were still standing there. Adele was clinging to her mother’s skirts, looking frightened.

Despite the commotion, his sister-in-law was nowhere to be seen; she had likely left the Langbart house temporarily to avoid the fallout.

“Something happened here as well, didn’t it?”

He directed the question to his mother. She simply shook her head with a faint smile.

“Nonsense. Nothing worth worrying about.”

“…Addie?”

If his mother wouldn’t speak, he would try his sister. He knelt to meet her eyes. Adele bit her lip, trying to be brave, but eventually, tears welled up and spilled over.

“They said Lady Lynette is sick. They said… that an engagement not made by the Royal Family was wrong, and that’s why this happened.”

“I see. And our sister-in-law?”

“She’s fine,” his mother interjected. “I sent her on an errand to her parents’ home.”

I’ve brought trouble to the Langbart name. Quill apologized with a look, but his mother only returned a soft, reassuring smile.

Just then, his father came up the stairs.

“Quill, a word if you please.”

He was home from the assembly much earlier than usual. Feeling a heavy sense of foreboding, Quill followed his father into the study.

“A re-purification?”

Quill repeated the words as he sank into a sofa in his father’s study. His father sat opposite him and nodded.

“The Cathedral has made the decision. The assembly is largely in agreement. They plan to spend one month at each of the four shrines.”

A four-month “abbreviated pilgrimage.” The duration was significantly shorter than the usual two years; performing a full, formal pilgrimage a second time would cost an astronomical amount of money.

Even if it was abbreviated, if she redid the ritual, would the emotions Lynette was finally regaining vanish once more? Quill couldn’t bring himself to agree immediately and pressed his father for answers.

“Does the Cathedral have no explanation for this situation?”

“They will never break the seal of secrecy regarding the Holy Sword and the Saint.”

His father let out a long breath.

“The Prince informed me that you intend to maintain the engagement.”

“That is what I told him.”

Confirming Quill’s answer, his father crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. After a moment of visible inner conflict, he suddenly slapped his own cheeks with both hands.

“Father! What’s wrong?”

“…I have many things to apologize to you for, Quill.”

With his cheeks slightly flushed from the impact, his father met Quill’s eyes with an expression like a man who had just swallowed bitter medicine.

“First of all. Your birth mother, Lady Olga, was not of the Eiklant bloodline.”

“…What?”

“Quill, you are a full-blooded Betzyraft. When I took you in as my ward, I fabricated the story of you being a half-blood to suppress the backlash from those around us.”

Quill nearly stood up from the sofa, staring at his father’s pained face in disbelief.

“But… my eyes. They were the color of amber.”

Until the age of twelve, Quill certainly had amber eyes. A yellowish-orange. Those eyes, so uncharacteristic of a Betzyraft, were supposed to be the proof of his mixed heritage.

“That was because your parents had sealed your sorcery. I was the one who broke that seal. Olga had begged me to keep you away from the blood of magical beasts, because their blood awakens the curse. And yet…”

His father leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.

“That wasn’t your fault, Father.”

Coming into contact with the beast’s blood was something Quill had done by recklessly rushing out on his own. He had never imagined that the tantrum he threw as a twelve-year-old was still tormenting his father.

His father didn’t look up. With his face still hidden, he continued in a muffled voice.

“You know what sorcery is, don’t you?”

Quill had heard of it from Geis while studying magic with the Knights.

Sorcery is a power that interferes with the soul. It is fundamentally different from Eiklant magic, which amplifies the forces of nature.

The soul dwells within all living things, governing the spirit and emotions. This is the cornerstone of sorcery—a concept magic does not possess.

Betzyraft sorcery acts upon that soul to manipulate the spirit of others. Commanding magical beasts is but one application of it.

Whether the target is a beast or a man, sorcery can sicken the mind, turn one into a puppet, or heal.

“Lady Olga possessed a rare form of sorcery: Dispel—the ability to break hexes and charms. Ah, did I mention she was the savior of Lars and the Prince?”

“I only heard that my mother saved them.”

“Those two mischievous boys touched the Holy Sword and their souls were ensnared. Lady Olga exhausted her own life force to bring them back. That is why she passed away so young.”

“I don’t quite understand, but… surely that isn’t something for you to apologize for either. In fact, Father, what are you getting at?”

He had assumed this was about Lynette’s pilgrimage and their future together. Instead, he was being told about his lineage and the past. He didn’t even know how to react to stories about a mother he didn’t remember.

“This is vital. Quill, it appears you have inherited Olga’s power of Dispel.”

Seriously, what is he talking about?

Before the gaping Quill, his father finally looked up. His face, previously twisted with bitterness, now added a layer of sorrow. With a complex expression, he traced the table with a sigh.

“The sorcery that was sealing Lady Lynette’s emotions… you broke it, didn’t you, Quill?”

Suddenly, it felt as if a massive weight had settled on his shoulders. A cold shiver of realization ran through his chest.

“Dispel is a power Olga tried to hide, a power she feared would be passed to you. And… it is a power that His Majesty, who wishes for the dismantling of the Cathedral and the Holy Sword, covets above all else.”

His father stood up and walked to the writing desk by the window. He opened a drawer, took something out, and returned with an uncharacteristically stern expression. It was the first time Quill had seen such a face on his usually gentle father.

“Before a pilgrimage begins, His Majesty and Lady Lynette must always meet face-to-face. It will be nearly impossible to hide her regained emotions from him. If he notices, your power of Dispel will inevitably be discovered. By then, it will be too late.”

His father sat back down, composed himself, and placed an object on the table.

It was a key.

An old key, its handle adorned with the royal crest.

“It is the key to the Forbidden Archives, in the deepest reaches of the Royal Library.”

Wary, Quill reached for the key. As it settled in his palm, it felt icy cold and far heavier than it looked.

“The Holy Sword and the Saint. Betzyraft, Eiklant, and Ringdell. The true history where everything is intertwined lies within those archives.”

“The… true history?”

“For your sake, and for Lady Lynette’s. Now that you have come into this power, it is better that you know. The Prince has given his consent as well.”

His father’s hands enveloped Quill’s as he held the key. He gripped so tightly that the veins stood out on his hands.

“This key requires either royal sanction or a letter of permission from two Marquises to be used.”

Quill felt a sudden chill settle deep in his mind.

As a man without a title, seeking royal sanction was impossible for Quill.

To gain permission through the House of Lords, his status as a knight would be a hindrance. Aside from the Knight Commander, knights are forbidden from petitioning the assembly. This was a restriction originally set to prevent the young noble sons in the White Knights from disrupting political order, but it was applied to the Black Knights just the same.

If he wanted to use this key and open the Forbidden Archives…

“Are you telling me to quit being a knight?”

He looked at his father in disbelief.

He thought his father, more than anyone, understood the affection he held for the Knights. Even though his father grumbled about how rarely Quill showed his face at the Langbart home, he had never once denied Quill’s path.

Feeling a sense of betrayal, Quill turned his face away. His father’s hand reached out and gave his head a rough ruffle.

“What! What was that for, all of a sudden?”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you.”

His father bowed his head so low his forehead nearly touched the table.

“Despite the great debt I owe Lady Olga, I failed to protect you from sorcery. Now, I am even trying to take away the place where you belong. Even so, I will not let you fall into His Majesty’s hands.”

“…Why go so far?”

“Years ago, His Majesty used Lady Olga who had very little time left until she was entirely spent, all for the sake of her Dispel. I will not let the same happen to you. Leave the Knights for now and rely on Prince Leonard.”

His father’s voice was full of care, yet his words were a clear command. This was perhaps the first time since becoming a Langbart that Quill had been forced to accept a decision like this.

Is my situation truly that precarious?

He stared at his father, who remained bowed. To truly understand his father’s words, he would likely have to use this key. Right now, Quill was too confused to make sense of anything.

However.

He knew how much the House of Langbart had been his shield. He knew how much his father must have agonized over handing over this key. He knew the desperation that had led to this meeting.

He knew that much.

After all, he had been the second son of the Langbart for twenty years.

Key in hand, Quill stood up from the sofa.

“Give me some time. I can’t decide right now.”

“The day the pilgrimage departs. I believe that is the limit of our time.”

With a short bow, Quill left the study.