AceGreen
patreon
TRAS Chapter 123: Just a Jest
🕑 Added 2025-06-19 14:33:00 +0000 UTCThe journey to Calum had taken longer than Ciel could bear. Every moment away from Bea sent her mind racing toward the worst. Eating was a struggle. Sleep had been impossible.
Neither the walk to Smercraig, nor the ride to Calum had been physically easy.
With Gorwin’s help, she’d been able to rent a horse and handler to travel as swiftly as possible. But by the time she and the handler departed Smercraig, the sun had already nearly set. Murmurs of renewed banditry along the mountain pass gave the handler—herself a young woman—reason to err on the side of caution. And despite Ciel’s desperate desire to press on without delay, she held her tongue.
She knew all too well how dangerous that road had once been.
Consequently, Ciel did not reach Calum until the following afternoon. She immediately set to determining the movements of the Azure Knights—who had likely unwittingly taken her daughter—before learning of the negotiations between Varant and the imperial family.
Upon arriving at the Great Hall, she was astonished to find that the young Duke eum-Creid had not even attended the negotiations.
More astonishing still was the sound of Bea’s voice echoing through the auditorium.
‘When Cant… makes me stressed… It’s good to nap.’
For the first time in three days, Ciel felt a swell of relief.
Bea was safe. She wasn’t crying or hurt. She was with someone who took care of her, and for some reason she was wistfully offering the imperial family advice on how to handle big emotions.
The Azure Knights seemed bizarrely oblivious to the duke’s current location. Odder still, the retainers of the third imperial prince seemed to know roughly where he was. Ciel didn’t question it. She just wished to see Bea.
And when Ciel finally saw her by the fountain, three of her stuffed friends clutched in her arms as per usual, she called out, rushed over and pulled her into an embrace.
“Bea! ” Ciel tenderly held her daughter who’d begun to wail. “I was so frightened. I missed you so much…”
“Mama…” Bea rasped out, in-between her tiny sobs. She buried her face into her mother’s shoulder, too emotional to speak.
There was so much Ciel wished to ask—so much she longed to say. But for now, Ciel just quietly took in the sight of her daughter safe in her arms once more, the rest of the world slipping into the background.
Only dimly did she notice the presence of the duke and his knight.
“Ciel,” Ailn greeted her. Then he gestured with his hand. “This is Dame Camille. She’s family—cousin to me and Sigurd.”
“Miss… Ciel,” Camille gave a respectful, nodding bow. She seemed troubled, for reasons Ciel couldn’t fathom.
“...Thank you. Both of you,” Ciel said softly. It was such an extraordinary situation she didn’t even know what else to say. Bea was starting to get drowsy in her arms. “For taking care of her.”
Ciel turned toward Ailn. “There’s no wo—”
She trailed off. A debt of exhaustion which she’d been refusing to pay suddenly caught up with her.
The truth was all Ciel wanted to do at the moment was take a nap with her daughter.
“Looks like you’re running on fumes,” Ailn said, sympathy evident in his voice. “I’ll make sure you get a room at the ark-Chelon estate. Or you two can just use mine for now. I have a feeling… I’m not going to return tonight.”
There was a graveness in his tone which gave Ciel pause. He looked as if there were something he wished to tell her.
“We… need to talk about Sigurd for a moment,” Ailn said.
_____________________
There was a second reason Amière was said to hide behind the gates of the west. The city was nestled into a crook of a mountain chain, the surrounding peaks guarding it like an enormous fence.
The natural way to approach the city was through a valley, flanked on both sides by two particularly towering peaks.
Militarily, it was folly. The so-called “titan’s porch” had once been guarded by a fortress manned with archers. The Azure Knights never even considered approaching from that direction. Instead they traversed the natural trails of the surrounding mountains—steep and winding.
To do so, they first routed the Argent Guard. The Blancs’ knights were overconfident—certain that merely knowing the lay of the land and boasting superior numbers would suffice to stymie the Azure Knights.
If their resolve had been stronger, perhaps they could have. They had not expected the strength of the divine blessing, nor the fearlessness or relentlessness of the Azure Knights.
Though most of their knights were still capable of fighting, the Argent Guard retreated. Few returned to Amière where they only saw certain slaughter. Instead, the order abandoned its city entirely.
By the time the Azure Knights arrived, all that remained were rabble.
Such were the battles which had transpired seven years ago. In the present, Sigurd weighed his options for approaching Amière alone.
The fastest approach would be to ride his steed through the valley—the titan’s porch. It was certainly tempting. Sigurd was unsure if the Argent Guard were even conspiring against him—and even if they were, it was difficult to believe they’d gathered in such force that they could afford to man an abandoned fortress.
Not only that, but his armor was adamantine. Steel arrowheads would have difficulty piercing it. He wondered if he might fare best simply using his strength, and taking the initiative.
And yet…
Sigurd’s instincts told him to traverse the mountain pass.
If this truly was a plot of revenge, then adamantine arrowheads were not beyond the pale. They were too costly to tip every arrow—but with even a quiverfull, the valley truly would be an impregnable deathtrap.He sensed it—the invitation to take a reckless charge through the titan’s porch, driven by emotion and blinded by the hope of an easy miracle. But Sigurd never underestimated his opponents.
Suddenly, the obnoxious image of his younger brother Ailn flitted through his mind.
…Sigurd rarely underestimated his opponents.
_____________________
Having explained what he could about the situation to Ciel—who took him up on his offer to rest in his suite with Bea—Ailn considered his options. Camille stood next to him impatiently.
They were right at the outskirts of the ark-Chelon estate. A broad, paved avenue of marble passed straight through, leading to its front parlor, from which the Great Hall was immediately accessible.
“Time is of the essence, milord,” Camille said. Lately, she tended to smile a lot less around Ailn, and she currently regarded him with a subtly judgmental grimace.
No credit to him for uncovering the conspiracy against Sigurd, of course.
“Just… give me a second to think. This could make a world of difference,” Ailn said. “You have to be tactful when you ask for favors. Don’t you know the devil’s in the details?”
Camille was a knight who, if nothing else, operated with an abundance of tack. She did not take kindly to his words.
“The real devil… perpetually hides details,” Camille gritted out. “Leaving the rest of us to flounder in Hell.”
Actually, Ailn sort of agreed with that. Perhaps that very moment, said little demon was moseying about the estate, delivering salads.
Ailn needed to retrieve his knights.
The smartest thing to do was to gather the largest force possible. He’d only brought a couple dozen knights in his retinue—just enough knights to fend off ambushes, like the one just before Sussuro.
But the Azure Knights weren’t the only knights in town. Calum’s White Knights were on good terms with Varant, and apparently raring for action. Just how many knights would Ashton be willing to spare?
…The problem was, could he really trust Ashton in the first place? So Dame Alera had alleged, but Ailn wasn’t too eager to put himself into a situation where Calum’s forces were surrounding his in the middle of nowhere.
If Ashton really were involved in the revenge plot, then that would mean game over right then and there.
An interesting alternative presented itself. Every imperial prince and princess retained their own retinue. If Ailn convinced just one of them to accompany him with their small army, then there’d be little opportunity for Ashton to rugpull the Azure Knights.
Of course, the problem there was he’d clearly earned their ire by skipping the negotiations. Princess Isolde in particular sounded like she was having a stroke. Every so often one of her words would have this strange growling and rasping quality.
It sort of reminded Ailn of smoker’s voice. Did she indulge? Could he possibly earn good will by inviting her for a relaxing smoke?
Ailn sighed.
They were likely all still in the midst of negotiations. And even he felt a little awkward about waltzing in and declaring he needed to take his knights, after just ghosting them all day.
“It should be fine if I just go in-person and apologize a bit,” Ailn muttered.
Suddenly, his echo stone chimed. It certainly hadn’t brought him any joy today, but holding it in his hand, afraid of what he’d hear when he pressed the button, Ailn somehow got the sense he was about to hear something disastrous.
_____________________
About half an hour before Ailn would hear the ominous chime, Kylian was attempting to close out the day’s negotiations.
He’d been given a near impossible task: maintain Varant’s dignity, safeguard The Dragon’s Promise away from those who might undo the empire, and keep his head above his shoulders.
Despite Severus’s claim that the emperor was nothing more than a phantom, perpetually adrift in a fugue state, the imperial siblings seemingly still felt compelled to respect his title. It seemed they’d all decided to fight again, another day.
“What’s mine will come to me,” Isolde promised, projecting a similar confidence to what Severus had in the perimeter chamber. “That includes the successorship, The Dragon’s Promise. And my chance to show Duke eum-Creid his proper place.”
She said it lazily, as if all she had to do was wait.
“I do hope you’ll warn him,” Isolde said, smiling at Kylian. “I would not enjoy it if he didn’t see it coming. If he did not have the opportunity to… consider his own failures.”
“The message will be duly delivered,” Kylian said flatly.
“Then the discussions will begin anew, when simple confirmation from the emperor arrives,” Evgeni said. “At that time… I expect that Duke eum-Creid will appear.”
If he didn’t, Kylian really would quit.
Severus and Millie seemed to hold no interest in these closing remarks—perhaps wishing to swiftly return to their private room.
Ashton ark-Chelon, meanwhile, seemed curiously detached. There were times during the negotiations when his presence had faded into the background. But he had always looked alert—appraising, even when passive.
Now he was just waiting for the meeting to end. It seemed the day had finally exhausted its surprises.
The moment Kylian let himself relax, however, a familiar sound jarred him into vigilance—one that had dogged him all day.
The echo stone chimed once more. And a terrible feeling crept over the knight.
“It would appear Duke eum-Creid has graced us one with final message,” Ashton said dryly. “Perhaps he and his toddling assistant bring urgent counsel on the perils of neglecting one’s vegetables.”
By now, the imperial siblings were bored of it. Just as Isolde’s continual use of The Dragon’s Roar seemed to inculcate a certain mental resistance—or at least undercut its spirit-breaking nature—Ailn’s irreverent messages had lost their ability to get under everyone’s skin.
When Ashton played the message, however…
‘This is Ailn eum-Creid speaking.’
It was… certainly an odd way to begin the message.
‘I just want everyone to know. I have a little surprise for all the princes and princesses in Calum. All you knights for Varant: don’t come to the Great Hall tomorrow if you don’t wanna get caught up!’
Said princes and princess turned to Kylian with painfully accusing looks. But there was yet more to the message.
‘First, it’ll be those imperial brats! Then, it’ll be the emperor! I might try to be the emperor himself!”
The Great Hall was silent—at least for a full minute. But that minute drew out to an eternity for Kylian, whose sharp mind and unflappable demeanor had finally met their match.
“Uh… I… This is…” Kylian fumbled, his words crashing and falling like a horse that had galloped straight into a spear. “It’s, uh…”
And finally, having absolutely nothing else, Kylian offered a remark even he knew bordered on idiocy.
“He’s… likely jesting,” Kylian sputtered out.
Comments
Arthefom
The third-party voice-use scheme strikes again!! Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Thanks for the episode.
Folly!
Uh Oh
