Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 43

My vision is blurred.

I couldn’t gather my senses, as if I had barely emerged from a deep sleep. The first sense to clear was my hearing. My ears keenly caught the surrounding sounds. Splosh. It was the sound made every time a shoe churned through the mud.

It was familiar. Ah, because he had been hearing that sound until just moments ago. He had been at the damp, moss-covered lakeside. Thinking further, he had been fishing. No fish were biting. As he grumbled internally, a member of the party spoke to him.

Right. There was the party.

Slosh, this time the sound of footsteps was a little closer.

At the same moment, the dull pain he had forgotten pierced him. His left temple hurt as if it would break. That was because the party member he had traveled with had suddenly turned on him, struck him, and knocked him unconscious.

He had passed out. He had just woken up, and his fragmented situational awareness was returning, fitting together like a puzzle.

His vision was still blurry. The reason was a blindfold had been put on. Something like a white cloth occupied his entire sight. Prince Declan realized that his mouth, along with his eyes, was also gagged by something. Both of his arms were bound behind his back. Only his legs were free, but when he tried to move them even slightly, he heard the disgruntled snort of a horse.

He was laid over the horse like a sack of luggage, wearing a blindfold, gagged, and with both arms tied.

Once he realized the situation, the mental shock belatedly rushed over him. Why? Why suddenly?

“…Yes.”

A familiar voice was heard nearby. The voice that tried to emerge reflexively in protest was blocked, reduced to a small “Mm!”

“You don’t need to worry about the other riff-raff. The ones who might interfere have already been left behind.”

The speaker, fortunately, seemed unaware that Prince Declan had regained consciousness. Prince Declan belatedly judged it would be better to keep pretending to be unconscious and squeezed his eyes shut under the blindfold.

It was Fionechta. The old mercenary was conversing with someone. Earlier, he thought he heard only one set of footsteps, but did another person arrive in the meantime? Including the horse he had ridden, there were a total of two horses, which was a good situation for two people to ride.

Betrayal was an emotion that one never got used to, no matter how many times it was experienced. In fact, if asked whether he felt enough affection for this mercenary to feel betrayed, the answer was no, but Prince Declan had, in his own way, trusted him. Along with betrayal came fear. The sense of horror and helplessness that arose just from having his eyes covered and his mouth gagged was crushing his newly awakened mind.

“Resistance? There was no resistance. I knocked him out cleanly before he could. …Yes. I’ll take him alive, as you requested.”

No matter how much he listened, he couldn’t hear the voice of the person Fionechta was speaking to. Fionechta was speaking as if exchanging conversation with someone, like a madman. Fionechta was, of course, sane. Throughout their short journey together, Fionechta had neither shown annoying aspects like Rory nor acted overly emotional like Craig.

He had thought he was just a mercenary who quietly did his job. He was resentful that he had been unilaterally fooled when he heard the story of the wife and daughter Fionechta had supposedly left somewhere—which now seemed to be a lie as well.

“It’s a relief that we got rid of that attendant first; it saved us a lot of trouble. Even if the king belatedly sends pursuers, we won’t be here anymore.”

Prince Declan tried his best to strain his ears and take in the story being poured out from that side without any caution, missing nothing. From what he heard, Fionechta was clearly not associated with Aidan.

Although he had joined this party after receiving money from the Crown, it was clear that he served a different master than Craig.

And Fionechta’s mysterious master had ordered Fionechta to bring Prince Declan to him alive.

“Only his left temple is injured; there are no fatal wounds. No matter how foolish and sloppy he is, he has quite a substantial build. Yes. I’ve bound him and loaded him onto a horse now. We’ll be going back faster than scheduled. …Stop grumbling and gather your things and come.”

Fionechta was conversing with someone who was not present here.

Prince Declan recalled all the strange items Aidan had purchased from wizards. It was an era where bizarre magical objects existed, such as a goblet that automatically filled with wine just by holding the handle, or a lock that, once fastened, could only be undone by dripping the person’s blood onto it.

Wizards were a tricky bunch, and unless one was royalty of a nation or a renowned famous person, they would not easily hand over their possessions, no matter the price.

Therefore, perhaps Fionechta’s master was…

“Yes. Meet me in Ballinoor. That would be better.”