Chương 13: Venting Out

Arlan's morning started early as well due to the nightmare he had in the night. Just like Oriana, he could not go back to sleep and spent the night sitting in bed, staring at the ticking hand of the longcase pendulum clock on the other side of the room.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

His mind was filled with the most horrific memory from his childhood.

Although almost two decades had passed, those memories still hurt him the same, and even as he grew into a full-fledged adult, the wounds of the past continued to bleed, with anger and his thirst for revenge being the only outlet.

Until he successfully killed the ones behind his mother's early demise, there was no escaping the hauntings of her death.

Her wide eyes lifelessly staring at him, the tears of guilt and relief streaming down her face—

'Mother, I….'

The rest of his words faded. He didn't know what exactly he wanted to say to her.

After what seemed like an eternity, morning finally came. The mild sun rays started to shine through the curtains, filling the chamber with light. As the brightness chased away the shadows, a bit of vitality returned within the prince's deep blue eyes.

Relief washed over him. Night was over. The nightmare was over.

Nobody knew that the always so confident and charming Crown Prince had always hated the darkness, only given his status, he never showed his weakness to anyone.

He stepped out of the bed, and without calling for the servants, readied himself to go outside. He chose to wear the most comfortable attire available in his wardrobe before grabbing his sword on his way out.

'The training grounds should be empty around this time,' he thought as he tightened his grip on his sword pommel.

When he stepped out of the chamber, the knights guarding outside his door were about to follow him but he raised his hand which was a signal for them to stand down.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

To their greeting, Arlan merely smiled before continuing on his way. It was not his usual good-natured smile but a cold one that gave them shivers.

His knights who were familiar with him could see it was one of those bad days when their liege would either brutally train them or harshly punish them for the smallest mistakes. This kind of Crown Prince was normally quiet and calm, but it was precisely this quiet prince that frightened the people of the capital.

On days like these, people would be most wary of him, and those who had plans of offending him would think twice before doing it.

One of the knights left his post, intending to warn the captain and their fellow knights about their liege's mood.

Slash!

Stab!

Slash!

Inside the indoor training ground, a man with long ash brown hair brought down his sword as if he was facing a ferocious beast, each of his movements overflowing with bloodlust. There was no beauty or elegance in his moves—there was only pure violence in his strikes, as if he was mutilating the image of his mother's assassin in front of him.

Arlan practiced with the sword again and again, to the point his shirt was soaked with sweat and he had to cast it aside.

Slash!

Some time later, Imbert and Rafal arrived but did not disturb him, only relaying to the rest that no one was allowed to go closer to the training ground. Imbert and Rafal wordlessly stayed at a distance, watching Arlan vent his negative feelings through his swordsmanship.

Time passed by slowly. The taut lines of Arlan's half-naked body glistened with sweat, his movements somewhat slowing, showing his exhaustion, yet his sword strikes remained frighteningly brutal. He didn't stop for a moment even though two hours had passed.

Within the dining hall, Duke Rhys and Duchess Alvera were waiting for the Crown Prince before starting their morning meal, but there was no sign of him.

"The Crown Prince is not joining us today?" the Duke asked as he looked at his wife.

"I am wondering as well," she replied and asked the butler who already had information relayed to him by a royal knight.

"His Highness has been at the training grounds since dawn."

It was nothing unusual for the prince to be training his sword, but it was rare for him to forget giving advance notice that he would not be eating with them. Alvera got the hint as she knew her brother well. She looked at her husband. "Let's have our meal first."

His wife's worry could not be hidden from the Duke. "He will be alright. It's not the first time."

She nodded and began eating.

Once the husband and wife finished their meal, the Duke of Wimark left for work, while the Duchess left to go to the training grounds.

The moment Alvera stepped inside the indoor training hall, the sight of her brother's violent swordsmanship welcomed her. Even from a distance, her heart shook at the ferocity of his strikes.

The moment Imbert and Rafal saw her, they bowed their heads. "Greetings, Duchess."

"He's been at it since dawn?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry for her brother.

"Yes, my lady. More than two hours of nonstop training," Imbert answered, a worried sigh escaping him. The ice cold knight hardly related to anything, but as a swordsman himself, he could strongly feel the emotions being vented by his liege.

The three went inside the hall and stopped in their tracks near one of the benches. Alvera's gaze was fixed at her brother. "He doesn't look like he plans to stop until he passes out."

Imbert understood what she meant. "Shall I help His Highness vent?"

Alvera nodded and Imbert walked towards the center of the training ground. He pulled out his sword from its scabbard and swung it leisurely to warm up.

Arlan, who was immersed in his own world, didn't notice what was going on around him.

Clash!

Any other person would have staggered at the sudden attack, but Arlan's sword effortlessly received the knight's downward slash, his footwork steady as his body moved out of pure instinct.

Arlan's cold gaze didn't flicker even for a moment and he accepted the challenge from his knight. Alvera and Rafal watched as Arlan and his guardian knight sparred, the loud sounds of their sword being brandished against each other filling the entire training grounds.

Be it strength, technique, speed or response, Arlan was vastly superior to Imbert. However, Imbert had the advantage of experience and stamina. At this moment, Arlan was being pushed back and he was showing more and more gaps. Imbert was not polite and attacked all those openings.

The fearless knight did not show any mercy on his exhausted liege.

Thwack!

Clang!

As expected, the spar ended with the prince's loss.

Arlan's sword flew out from his hand. Like a puppet with its strings cut, his body fell backwards, and he remained lying on his back. The tip of his knight's sword was pointed at the defeated prince's neck.

Arlan closed his eyes as he continued to lay on the ground. His upper body was covered in sweat and dirt, his chest heaving up and down. Only then did he realize he was tired to the bones.

Imbert put his sword back in its scabbard and did not say a single word, simply waiting for Arlan to get up on his own.

After a span of silence, Arlan opened his eyes and gave an imploring smile at his knight. Imbert offered him his hand which Arlan accepted and he was pulled upright.

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Chương 14: Rats

Arlan saw his sister among the audience and walked towards her.

"Good to see you are still alive," she said while eyeing him from head to toe.

Arlan simply shrugged. His response sounded curt. "Let's head back."

Rafal handed him the shirt he took off earlier, and after wearing it, their group headed back to the main mansion of the estate.

The uncomfortable silence made Alvera inwardly sigh.

"Again, the nightmares?" she asked.

Arlan merely nodded but said nothing more.

Alvera knew responding to her was a big deal at this moment and didn't ask him more questions.

"A hot bath will make you feel better and get rid of your tiredness. I told the servants to prepare everything you like for this morning meal and had your food sent to your room."

Arlan looked at his sister but before he could say a word, she said, "I know you don't feel like eating, but you have to. For my sake."

The prince merely gave her a hollow smile. They then parted ways upon returning to the mansion.

Upon returning to his room, Arlan ordered all the servants to leave. He even dismissed the ones waiting outside along with his knights.

While lying within the pool of hot water, Arlan tried to empty his mind, but it kept drifting to the scenes of his nightmare once more. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something which would divert his mind—work.

The work of a Crown Prince was tedious but rewarding. It concerned supporting the decisions of the King, as well as protecting the royal family from the hungry eyes of the nobles in sheep's clothing. His schedule would either be packed with social gatherings, public events, expeditions, court meetings and paperwork, along with the endless reports sent by his network of spies.

As he tried to think about his plans for the day, the image of someone appeared in his mind. His dinner date…or rather, his drinking buddy for tonight

The owner of that mischievous pair of hazel eyes, the woman who spilled his royal blood not once but twice.

Each and every expression of that pretty face, from frowning in displeasure to smiling in joy appeared in his mind. The memories of their first meeting in the forest up to their market tour flashed before him. He did not even realize that the corner of his lips had lifted.

'I wonder what that shortie is up to. Will she show up tonight to get her knife back? She seems the kind of person who would not go after useless things but would chase the things dear to her. I believe that knife has sentimental value to her.'

After he finished changing into a fresh set of clothes, the butler, John, came knocking with the food his sister sent him. The butler quietly stood on one side, as if to declare he would report to the Duchess if Arlan refused to eat.

Though not willing, Arlan ate the food for the sake of it, for the sake of his sister so she would not worry for him.

His knights came as soon as the empty dishes were taken away. "Good morning again, Your Highness," Rafal greeted him while Imbert did not say anything.

Arlan simply stepped out of the chamber and his two knights followed his lead.

"Did that rat say anything useful?"

Arlan was referring to the spy they caught at the salt merchant Albert's shop.

"Duke Wimark's men made sure he received the best hospitality the estate has to offer, but he seems to be a tough nut. His body showed signs of drug abuse so it appears his memory is not to be trusted."

"Hmm," was all Arlan said and they went towards the prison where that man was kept.

In the underground torture chamber of the prison, there was a line of men hanging off iron shackles from the walls, all of them looking to be in terrible conditions due to the physical torture they had gone through.

Arlan stood outside their cells and glanced at them one by one, his cold emotionless gaze sweeping past their gaunt faces. One of them was the servant of the salt merchant.

Aside from the servant of the salt merchant, Albert, all the men imprisoned within were spies captured within the estate, planted by enemies of the Wimarks.

"These rats, no one wants to talk?" Arlan said, his nonchalant voice reaching every ear within earshot. Some of them shivered. The prisoners inside could hear from that voice his utter disregard of human life…as if…as if the man standing in front of them would not even blink an eye to have them killed.

"Yes, Your Highness," the man in charge of torture replied.

Arlan walked along the row of cells, the sound of his boots ominously echoing within the narrow walls of the underground prison.

"Rats but so bad at being one," Arlan commented. "Dirty hateful creatures. We should let them reunite with these animals they so adore."

"Yes, Your Highness," Imbert said and gestured at Rafal. The younger knight went out for a couple of minutes before returning to Arlan's side.

Even before the two huge cages were brought inside the prison, the nerve-wracking noise of hundreds of rodents already made some of the shackled prisoners scream in fear. Others pissed in their pants, while a handful had passed out. The sounds the rats were creating together was a living nightmare.

"These fiends have been starving for two days now, Your Highness," Rafal timely informed.

"Begin," Arlan simply said as he walked towards a nearby chair and leisurely sat on it.

There was no need for Arlan to give out detailed instructions as his knights knew what they should do.

Rafal pointed towards one prisoner and ordered the two prison guards nearest him, "Bring him out."

The prisoner crawled away as far as he could within the limits of the iron shackle on his limbs.

"No, no! Get a-away! Get away from me—"

The guards acted deaf and dragged him out of the cell. Under everyone's watch, without a single warning or chance given to the man, he was thrown inside the cage full of hungry rats.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The entire underground prison was filled by the dying screams of the pitiful man, which eventually turned into sobs, and then whimpers, until disappearing after what felt like an eternity.

The man had died, but sounds of rats munching on the dead body pervaded the prison.

Without batting an eyelid, Rafal signaled towards the guards. "Next."

As if knowing it was their turn, the rats inside the second cage started to riot in impatience, triggered by the scent of fresh blood from the first cage.

The guards knew who the next target was. They entered the cell of the salt merchant's servant. His dirty face morphed into the most horrid expression the moment the guards loomed over to grab him.

"N-No, wait, you cannot do this with me!" he spoke as if the fear of such nightmarish death flushed all the drugs out of his system. "No, please—"

Amidst his futile struggles, the guards easily dragged his battered body out of the cell.

"Ah—stop! No! I will tell everything I know! Don't feed me to the rats! I will tell you! Please! No!"

The guards didn't stop dragging him as there was no reaction from Arlan, as if he was not interested in what the man was saying.

The man hurried to say spill what he thought the Crown Prince wanted just as one of the guards held onto the latch of the cage.

"Next week! Next week a shipment will arrive at the ports of Selve City. It contains smuggled banned herbs! The ship belongs to Master Albert. Those who paid me also bribed the second mate of the ship. Master doesn't know his ship is also being used to smuggle those herbs. I was bribed to prevent Master Albert so he does not discover our secret dealings with those people. I was instructed to do it, but I don't know anything else."

However, Arlan still did not react. The spy grew more frantic as he was brought nearer to the cage.

"It's Merchant Fionn! He is the one who bribed me to smuggle the herbs! I don't know where it's headed or why Fionn, that vermin, wants those herbs! That's really all I know! Please spare my life!"

Arlan remained quiet, not even glancing at the man.

"—let me go. Please, Your Highness!!!"

Arlan stood up to leave, deaf to the man's begging.

The sound of the cage door opening was followed by the man being thrown into the starving crimson-eyed fiends. His blood-curdling screams reverberated within the entire underground chamber, leaving the surviving prisoners frightened out of their wits.

The Crown Prince of Griven was a busy man. Since that rat made him come to get work done himself, then the value of his life was the cost for wasting the prince's precious time.

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