Chapter 145:
Strangely Agreeable
Not far from the Yursear palace, Neema’s often quiet demeanor was nearly shattered as she yelled at Holland from across the table at their safe house, having rested for the night to prepare to leave for Eva’s the morning of. Holland, however, had other plans with Captain Laurent. The mid-afternoon journey was doomed before it even started.
“Holland, your injuries haven’t even finished healing yet! Don’t even think of going to that palace!” Neema slammed her hands on the table, her face nearly red as she yelled at her foolish companion. Saoirse nearly held her arms back, watching as her sister’s nose flared. “Besides that, what part of you thinks it’s a good idea to bring him?” She pointed at Beau with an accusatory throw of her finger. “Do you want to die? I’m not joking!”
Beau, stuck sitting awkwardly in the room with the arguing teammates, attempted to minimize his appearance as much as possible as Neema glared at Holland, her small face scrunched like a child eating sour candy. At this point, his ears were ringing, and he nearly wished they would end his life the more he listened.
“You seem to forget, Neema, that I follow my own rules. I listen to Eva out of respect.” Holland grabbed his satchel, having already filled it with enough supplies to support himself and a companion for the short journey. “Right now, there’s something more important to do. Keeping me here won’t change anything.”
Neema’s cheeks were puffed, her words dripping with anger. “I don’t care what stupid escapade you want to go on, but your health is my responsibility, and you’re unfit to fight!” Neema slapped the table, her palms slapping the wood with an audible echo. As she lifted her hands, her expression grew bitter, her palms red and sore from the force of the hit.
Holland shrugged, “If I die, it’s my own fault, Neema.” He grabbed his satchel, throwing his sword onto his waist with natural movements. “Besides that, he’s coming with me.” He pointed to Beau, who was still tied up, sitting on a chair in the small room.
“I already told you, no! Absolutely not-” Neema started to yell, but Holland had already walked over to Beau and lifted him out of the chair by his shoulder, untying the man with swift movements. “Why did you untie him, Holland!?” Her palm nearly swallowed her face, her expression falling darker and darker the more Holland spoke.
“You’ll have to earn your own sword, Captain.” Holland said, “Untying you is the best I can do for now.”
Beau, surprised that the man who vilified him allowed him to join so readily, asked, “Why are you taking me? Do you really trust me this much?”
Staring at the other man, Holland laughed, his smile full of malice. “We’re both aware of the consequences of betrayal. Besides, having a helping hand get me through the palace isn’t so bad.” He shrugged again, his seemingly lackadaisical appearance full of danger. “I need to find someone, or make sure they made it out on their own, at least. You’ll be a useful tool to help me find them”
“Who?” Irritated, Beau asked directly, adjusting his own satchel, full of the bare minimum of items to keep him alive.
Holland stared forward, a genuine smile resting on his lips. “I guess you could say he’s my little brother.”
The mental image produced by his words was enough to make Captain Laurent fall silent, his face full of dark lines. “I see.”
Staring at Beau’s ever-changing expression, Holland added, “We’re not related, if you were wondering.”
One Holland Joey was enough for this word. “Good. One of you is enough.” Beau replied with a flat frown, his feet moving forward, moving towards the door. “Enough talking. Are we leaving for the palace or not?”
“Of course.” Watching Beau walk ahead of him, Holland could not help but laugh, increasing his pace slightly to walk behind the captain, his eyes watching him with a dangerous caution that made even the captain wish he was taken in front of Eva, rather than dragged along by Charon himself.
Wordlessly, Neema and Saoirse could only watch the pair go, anxious for Jasmine and Vaan’s return from their scouting mission. When the group was together again, it would be difficult to explain to them just what Holland had done, taking the infamous captain with him.
“Jasmine will kill him the moment he returns.” Saorise said, flopping into the wooden chair next to the table.
Neema sat with her head in her hands, taking the other chair as her own. “You’re explaining it. Jasmine will most likely follow after him as soon as she finds out.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Not without losses, however.
…
More time had passed on Silas’s group’s final journey to the palace, and without their supporting troops, the journey felt arduous in the developing summer heat. There was little escape from the sun’s heat, even under the cover of the shaded underbrush, and Silas’s cheeks were flushed red, sweat trailing down his brow like stray tears.
It was only when Silas asked to stop for a short rest that Maeir allowed it, watching as Clarence caught up to the two, nearly panting himself out of breath, his back full of the heavy equipment Maeir forced him to carry without allowing it to be dispersed amongst them. They could only quietly sip their canteens, retrieved by the prince, who drank on his own, as if he were a dehydrated man in the desert.
In reality, the journey to the palace felt arduous without the spare companions, and Maeir was bitter towards Clarence for his involvement. In their place, Maeir made Clarence carry the extra items in his satchel, not attempting at all to help him, as if punishing him for being stupid.
Before they continued their journey, Silas spoke up, finally forcing Maeir to treat the prince fairly. “Clarence, pass me the canteens.” Silas said, reaching out his hand towards the prince to carry the heavy water canteens. “The other stuff is heavy enough.”
Staring at Silas’s hands, Clarence was enamored by the pale, soft-looking skin. His fingers, perfectly shaped with shallow callouses from holding swords with small, petite fingernails, were gentle looking, almost dainty. Even the faint pink flush on his knuckles made the prince tempted to kiss each individual knuckle, a thought he was tempted to act on in private, that space most likely his dreams.
With his mind elsewhere, Clarence passed the canteens on their leather strap with little awareness, causing Silas to accidentally brush his fingers against the prince’s warm palm. If Silas’s grip was any less, the canteens would have fallen to the ground between them, but thankfully, Silas took the canteens and placed them away in his satchel, saving Clarence the embarrassment of dropping them.
Once the items were redistributed, Maeir stopped abruptly by a tree, a heavy gash carved into one of the thinner branches, nearly hidden under the cover of leaves. As she stared at the cut, her expression fell as she released her grip on the branch and spoke. “We’re just short of a mile to the meeting point. Make sure you use your gem this time, Clarence.” Maeir turned to the prince, her expression somehow less fierce than before. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
“I will.” He responded directly, holding the small purple gem in his hand, moving it in between his fingers as the gem glowed and grew warm, using the mana Clarence clumsily injected into it to prepare this appearance change as soon as they were near the meeting point. He closed his eyes, thinking of when Silas taught him how to use the gem with a grimace of determination.
There was only a short distance left to the palace, but Clarence felt his nerves growing day by day. As they reached the outskirts of the palace, in the very forest Silas and his troops hid in ten years ago, he felt a gripping anxiety that made it difficult for him to move forward without feeling nauseous. He was not sure what the feeling was, but he was overwhelmed, daunted, and nearly frozen with a welling feeling of dread the closer he moved to the palace.
“Clarence, it’s time. Are you ready?” Silas spoke in a quiet tone, just loud enough for Clarence to hear him. “Do you remember how to use the stone?”
Nervously, Clarence swallowed the dry spit in his mouth and nodded. “Let me try.” Lifting his hand, the gem embedded between his thumb and pointer finger, the air around the three lightened in color, and soon, the prince was surrounded by dancing, light purple orbs of light. They were not large, but they gave the appearance of butterflies dancing, and they slowly began to shuffle around the prince, soon changing his appearance piece by piece, nearly unnoticeable under the swirling orbs.
Watching the light fade around the prince, Clarence’s eyes shifted, making him appear more elven, and his once bright navy hair changed to a warm orange tone, curled with a bouncy wave. His features hardened slightly, making him appear older as he slowly opened his eyes, a pair of amber orbs staring back at Silas.
It suits him. With his eyes focused on the prince’s features, Silas found, even staring at his modified appearance, his eyes were still the same, regardless of their color. Maybe it was then, when he found himself mindlessly staring at the other man, that his heart soundlessly skipped a beat, and a strange, nearly forgotten feeling began to dwell within him.
Maeir’s eyes fell over Silas, her brow knitted with a sinking feeling in her gut as she patted her son’s shoulder, motioning for the two to move forward. “Come on. They’re just this way.” After Maeir moved Silas forward, Clarence followed behind, feeling a little happy Silas’s gaze held on him for so long. Though he felt strange in his new disguise, he was happy someone enjoyed it at least.
That feeling of warmth could only remain for a short time, however, as the small group approached the waiting party, their figures swallowed by various anticipating gazes, no words exchanged until the shadows of their figures overlapped in the setting sunlight.
As the two groups met, there was a noticeable tension in the air. “Where are the rest of the troops?” The lead of the rebel party asked, staring at the three weary people with concerned expressions. “They should have been with you.”
Silas stared over to Clarence, who had already used the gem to hide his original appearance, and said, “We were ambushed by a group of Yursinean knights. We were the only three that made it out.”
“I see.” The group fell silent all together, remembering with sudden weight that this battle could end many lives, more than just the enemies’. There were many soldiers with families that would never return home, but they could only swallow such bitter thoughts, knowing the battle was far more important to their families than their safe return home.
Soundlessly, the group slowly gathered and completed discussing the final plan, relaying what had already been said in a practiced fashion, knowing full well what the last steps were. “The three of us will be going in the palace to take care of the royal family. The rest of you will be stationed inside to find Malcolm.” Maeir said in agreement with the rebel leader, having already memorized the map prepared by Eva for the assault. “When will we be going in?”
The rebel leader adjusted his sword. “The troops found a weak spot in the stone barrier around the palace. We’ll be using that as an entrance the moment it gets dark. Once the lights are out and the soldiers change shifts, the battle will begin. There’s no turning back now.”
“Yes sir!” Some of the rebels cheered, excited at the thought of spilling Yursinean blood.
Glancing over his shoulder, Silas saw the tips of Clarence’s fingers trembling, and his face growing nearly bloodlessly pale. With a sigh, he reached up his hand and grabbed the prince’s hand, staring into his colored eyes. “You’ll be okay.”
Clarence, staring down at the hand holding his, nodded his head weakly. “I think so.”
Silas squeezed Clarence’s fingers for a moment before he retracted his hand, his expression unchanged. “We’ll be here with you.”
For once in his life, Clarence felt truly assured everything would be okay. At that moment, the warmth in his hand had faded, but the assurance of the man in front of him was enough to soothe his anxious heart, even if for only a moment. This time, that martyr he once saw was on his side. There was nothing to be afraid of.
In their designated groups, the troops began their forward pursuit towards the palace, using the cover of the night to sneak through the palace’s weakened defenses and into the castle while the infantry began its attack outside of the palace, occupying the troops as the true battle began.
Now, it was finally time to find Malcolm and kill him once and for all, saving Clarence’s family in the process. Once the two objectives were completed, it was difficult to know their next steps, but, as he snuck inside the palace with Silas at his side, Clarence felt strangely assured that everything beyond his point would fall into place.
Using the map Clarence had been careful to help prepare, the rebels scaled the walls and annihilated the standing guards at their elevated posts as they were attempting to hold back the attacking rebel infantry. Their bodies were thrown from the towers and to the ground like discarded garbage, some tainted with mana attacks and smoke bombs the rebels had carefully prepared.
The knights were numerous, but there was not enough manpower to hold back the rebels from breaking into the palace, and soon the palace defenses were swiftly shattered. “Enter here!” The rebel leader shouted, slashing down a knight as he kicked open the entry door to the palace, allowing them entry to the third floor.
Glass windows and other items had long since been shattered and thrown into disarray inside as they were rushed inside, avoiding the flying arrows and light of burning torches as they ducked their heads, their ears full of the screams of dying men, and their noses tainted with the scent of burning flesh and blood. There were scattered, intact body parts at some places, making it difficult to look forward without a wince of pain.
“My god.” Clarence muttered, holding his mouth and nose shut with his hand to keep out the strong scent, afraid of gagging. Bloodied bodies of servants, rebels, and knights alike painted a scene of death no one had prepared for. The reddened carpet was soaked with blood, causing their steps to squelch beneath their feet every time they stepped on the soaked runner through the hallway. It was sickening in every sense of the word.
Silas could not help Clarence at the moment, as they were running down various halls, fighting stray knights as they appeared with the help of Maeir, who seemed very much tired of dealing with the spray of guards. “Where is the hidden path? We can’t keep fighting like this!” She sliced down a large knight, her expression grim. “They’ll be killed at this rate! Where do we need to go?”
Pulling himself away from the distractions, Clarence returned his alertness. “This way!” The palace was in disarray, but the prince would never forget where the emergency trail was. It was too important to ever forget, even in the second wave of chaos within his home, caused by the very people he once hated in the first place.
There it is. The prince motioned for the two elves to follow him as he turned down a short, abandoned hall on the same floor and moved a painting of a gorgeous goddess on the wall, exposing a hidden tunnel underneath. “This way. The guards would have already alerted my family of intruders. They’ll be hiding in here.”
“You first.” Maeir said, her back turned to the two men as she monitored the end of the hall for other knights. Once the prince entered, Silas moved quickly, waving his mother through. As the door to the painting closed, a large wave of soldiers ran down the hall, beginning a heated battle with the rebels that had entered the palace with Maeir’s group.
The sounds of swords clashing slowly faded through the narrow hall as the prince continued forward, his hands touching either side of the dirt walls as he stepped forward, his heart beating in his chest as he thought of his mother and siblings, unsure of their desire to see him. Before he forgot, he retracted his mana filling the gem, returning to his normal appearance to greet his family.
Going in disguise would have been a poor decision. Lord only knows my mother would have attacked me. Maybe they would not mind being saved by a group of elves after all, now that their lives were at risk? Clarence could only hope, walking through the trail towards the safe room where his family laid hidden, awaiting their rescue.
…
Inside one of the Yursear kingdom’s many cities, there was a small, nondescript carriage parading down the main street, led by one servant leading the reins. The person inside had the curtains drawn on the simple carriage, peeking out from a narrow slit in the fabric. The sky was dimmed by an array of dark clouds, threatening a heavy downpour and a chilly breeze with it, marking the start of a dark afternoon.
“He couldn’t have gone far. This is the only place he could be so well hidden.” Malcolm flashed a smile, his hand resting under his chin, his golden, thin framed glasses sat on the tip of his pointed nose, the glasses chain brushing against the sharp edges of his chin. His long black hair had been tied behind his head in a neat fashion, his clothes prepared as if he were meeting his noble fiancée, but it was nothing of the sort.
The carriage driver felt a chill travel down from his spine, well aware of the many guards secretly trailing the carriage. He felt it was foolish for the noble to send such a large squad to retrieve one of his own, but he could not speak his own thoughts for the fear of his tongue being removed entirely. He could only agree with the man’s words in silence, his own fear silencing him.
As the pair turned down an alley, an array of guards swarmed the shadows, locking down the narrow path to the infamous building down the way. The green pillars outside were enough to mark the type of building they would soon infiltrate, shattering the delicately covered doors, the incense-tainted air, and the sea of women, all waiting to earn their keep in this treacherous world.
An array locked carriage would soon follow with Malcolm, tearing down the very safe home Theresa had built for the girls in the city, and the home Alywin had come to know since childhood. There was nothing he wanted more than to watch the young marquis’s world shatter around him, causing Alywin to come crawling back at his feet, begging for mercy for his foolish actions.
Such a sweet thought made Malcolm’s face smile madly, his joy far from evident. The dangerous gleam in his eyes was enough to ensure a dim future for those caught in his hands.
The rebels will be attacking the palace soon. It would be best for me to lay low, return Alywin by my side, and allow the knights to clean up the palace before my return. There’s no point in returning to risk my life for this kingdom. He scoffed, his fingers tapping his cheek with impatience. Maybe then, Clarence will show his rat-face again, and once he’s captured, I’ll kill him like the dog he is. Maybe that elf he hated so much can take his life. It’d be a delightful scene. Quite entertaining.
Soon, Malcolm’s thoughts were interrupted. As the carriage drew to a stop, the driver announced in a low voice. “We have arrived, sir.”
“Wonderful.” Smiling wickedly, Malcolm adjusted the dark cloak over his head, unable to hide the noble temperament hidden under the simple cloth. “Please park the carriage at the stables. We’ll be here for some time.”
His footsteps rung out in the empty alley, his eyes lifted under the hood with dangerous intentions as his hand brushed aside the delicate curtain covering the open door frame, his mind calm as he smiled at the women in the front, his delicate face nearly sweet.
“I’m here looking for someone.”
…
So much to cover, so I went a little less descriptive to hit all my required points this week 😀 Finally, we’re inside the palace, and finally, my other cogs are moving in the direction I want. I planned to end YMtK officially after the palace arc here ends, but I think I need a little more relationship development before we move into the extras. I don’t want the extras to be the romance building, as I don’t think that’s quite fair. There’s a lot of love flying around here now, we just need it out in the open ;D
Also, Hunny has alerted me that she won’t be able to help with the extras as she thought, so some things may just not be written 🙁 But it’s not main plot, it’s side character things. I’ll focus on those later. YMtK’s lore is too thicc.
I’m currently teaching beginner Japanese classes at my store outside of my day job, so my time is gone, but very much fun. My store focuses on alternative learning (working adults/ disability-focused learning), so I make a lot of accommodations for my students. When you have a disability, people tend to think less of you, so I’m glad my store can be a safe place ;u;
See you all next week! I have some old sketches I plan to share from around 2019 I’ll post if I can find. In the meantime, I hope you continue to enjoy YMtK >y<♥♥ Thank you
Edit: Weakly edited.
Clare is embracing his elvenhood.
Nice to see their cooperation working well.
Thank you.