Chapter 32
“Hey, Craig. You look absolutely grim. Is it because of His Highness’s illness? Or is it because you’ve been granted the honor of accompanying him on his journey?”
It was Mavolo—the man who had once competed with Craig for the position of the second prince’s attendant—who addressed him.
When an enraged Craig tried to walk away, Mavolo—the same man who had somehow, through absurd luck, secured the position of the sovereign’s attendant—blocked his path and began to coax him in a smooth tone.
“It’s unfortunate that things turned out this way. But you must also find a way to survive, mustn’t you? His Majesty is not a cruel man. He has been giving great thought not only to his brother’s situation but also to what would be best for you.”
With that, Mavolo abruptly handed Craig a small pouch containing herbs with violet petals.
“Yes, this is an herb that helps one fall into a deep sleep. The medicine the physician has been giving the second prince is made from this very plant. But there’s a side effect—if taken continually, it causes one to see and hear things that aren’t there, and eventually to grow violent. The prince will surely show such symptoms during his travels. When that happens, take this…”
He then handed Craig another bottle—a strange liquid that gave off a musty scent.
“With this, you can ease your master’s suffering.”
“Good heavens! Are you insane?!”
Craig gasped and quickly looked around to make sure no one had overheard them.
“Craig. Keep your voice down. This is the best solution His Majesty could devise. Don’t act rashly.”
Scolding him instead, Mavolo continued his explanation.
“It’s not that you’re going to use it right away. Only when His Highness begins to show such symptoms, that’s when. And according to the physician, he may… lose his life to seizures before the symptoms of poisoning even appear.”
“……”
“So this is merely a precaution—for the worst-case scenario, understand? His Majesty wishes for his brother to remain as graceful and serene as he has always been. And he has even considered you, a mere attendant. Tell me, what greater honor could there be?”
“His Majesty is thinking of me? What do you mean by that…?”
“Oh, it’s too soon to speak of that, my friend. Just keep that in mind for now…”
Now Craig understood the will of the king.
He understood clearly how King Aidan truly regarded Declan.
“Let me go! Wait—wait, put me down for a moment!”
Craig shouted desperately as he hung over Fionechta’s shoulder like a sack of grain.
Then, over Fionechta’s back, his eyes met those of the maid, who was staring at him blankly.
“Who called for you?! This is all your fault, you wretched girl! …Hey, listen. Just set me down for a moment. I have something urgent to say. I swear I’ll never go back into that room again. Alright?”
Despite Craig’s discriminatory outburst, neither Fionechta nor Maeve so much as blinked.
“Maeve. Follow behind us, but at a distance.”
Instead of replying to Craig, Fionechta spoke to Maeve.
Maeve nodded at his words and followed a few steps behind them.
Still slung over Fionechta’s shoulder, Craig leaned toward his ear and whispered urgently.
“Listen. I’ll leave on my own two feet, so just grant me one last request. No, it’s not even a request—it’s a proposal. A good one for you, too. If you do exactly as I say, you’ll receive a reward far greater than any commission fee. I’m telling only you this, understand?”
Fionechta remained silent.
Only when they reached the first floor of the inn did he seem to change his mind and set Craig down.
“Maeve, go to the merchant company and bring someone.”
Maeve nodded at Fionechta’s order and went outside the inn.
Left alone, Craig took out a small vial of poison from inside his coat.
“You must have noticed by now, haven’t you? This journey was nothing but a formality from the start. His Highness has been taking poisonous herbs regularly. Before long, he’ll begin seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. And that won’t be the end of it—he might lose himself and turn violent, threatening you all. Ah, as someone who cares for him most dearly, I cannot bear for his end to be so pitiful…!”
“Get to the point.”
Craig gave a servile smile and pressed the small vial into Fionechta’s hand.
“Before that happens, make him comfortable. You won’t be able to continue this journey for long anyway. So before then, please…”
“……”
“Just bring the body straight back to the capital. Then His Majesty—no, the court—will reward you. The payment will be nothing like the last one you received, I assure you.”
A brief silence fell. Craig prayed that this thick-headed mercenary possessed even half the cunning he did.
The middle-aged mercenary, streaks of white showing through his hair, only stared at him in silence.
Then, without a word, he uncorked the vial and poured its contents into a nearby flowerpot.
“You—you madman…!”
“I do not resort to such crude methods.”
“You damned fool…! What? Wait—what do you mean by that—?!”
Ignoring Craig’s squawking, Fionechta once again hoisted him over his shoulder.
Then, with his usual composure, he walked toward the entrance where the merchant caravan’s wagon was waiting.
Maeve, who was already waiting at the entrance, turned to look at them.
“They said we’re leaving right away.”
“Good.”
Without breaking stride, Fionechta passed Maeve and tossed Craig into the cargo wagon of the merchant caravan.
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