The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 108

Even as the sword flew through the air, the Pantege knight commander blinked, unsure whether it was he or his opponent who had been disarmed.

At last, a nearly pristine weapon—more ornamental than used—clattered to the stone floor. Only then did the knight commander look down at his now-empty hand.

Alexio didn’t miss the opportunity. Tightening his grip, he thrust his sword deep into the man’s chest.

“Urgh…!”

“You won’t reach paradise, even in death.”

A man unworthy of knighthood. Alexio muttered as he looked down at the knight’s bloodshot eyes. By the time he pulled out the sword that had pierced the man’s chest, the Pantege knight was already dead.

So this despicable man would not even reincarnate—his body must be burned in sacred fire until not a trace remained. Resolute in his thoughts, Alexio suddenly looked up.

A loud shout rang out from the stairs leading to the castle gates. As Alexio instinctively raised his sword, expecting the Pantege knights to rush in—

“To all knights within the court!”

It wasn’t a Pantege knight. It was the captain of the royal guards of Largo who gave the order.

“Protect His Highness the Prince! I will apprehend the cowardly royal assassin myself!”

As he shouted, the guard captain grabbed Maurice by the collar just as the latter tried to flee. Maurice screamed insults and flailed, demanding release, but to no avail. At that moment, the golden crown atop the king’s head wobbled and fell to the floor.

The golden crown clattered and rang with sharp metallic clangs as it tumbled down the stairs—until it came to rest at Alexio’s feet.

Alexio glanced at the gleaming crown, then looked up at Maurice. With his ceremonial cloak torn away and restrained by the guard captain, his uncle no longer bore even a shred of dignity.

Without hesitation, Alexio turned away and rushed toward his soldiers still locked in battle. Pulling out the venom rooted in the court and restoring the shattered royal authority—this duty of a sovereign was far more important than any polished display.

From the moment fighting broke out, Stella had fled the chaos and taken shelter in a dimly lit space illuminated only by a few candles.

At last, blood had been spilled. And during a royal funeral, no less—a time when those who craved blood risked losing something precious or invoking a terrible curse.

Stella tightly shut her eyes. Even from this distance, she could still hear swords clashing and imagined the spray of blood vividly.

She had never believed they would reclaim peace in Largo without spilling a single drop of blood. Still, the image of Alexio facing a Pantege knight in gleaming silver armor tormented her, nearly driving her to faint.

Dora, who had taken refuge earlier, tried to console her, saying it would be all right. But the unrelenting sound of the clash pierced her ears, and the worry for her brother only grew. On top of that, Alexio wasn’t even in good health…

Sitting on a long bench, Stella clasped her hands tightly.

She prayed—for divine aid, for Alexio’s safety, and…

Then, suddenly, the man who occupied part of her heart appeared in her thoughts. Stella covered her pale face with both hands.

Frightened and anxious, she kept thinking of Islay. The man who had always offered his arms without hesitation. As long as she remembered him, the fear of losing her newly reunited brother wouldn’t consume her entirely.

And she prayed for his safety too. Though he was a man who could heal from any wound, she wished even the smallest scratch would spare him. That his heart, too, would not suffer.

As she recalled the faces of those she loved, one by one, Stella slowly raised her head.

A massive statue behind the altar seemed to look down upon her. Carved from smooth marble, it was a familiar sight. So were the faded banners adorning either side and the neatly arranged pews…

“…Ah.”

No wonder the place had seemed familiar. This was the monastery where she had spent her childhood.

But there was no time for nostalgia. With most clergy banished, this abandoned place offered only one thing Stella could do: breathe in dust and pray that Alexio would not be hurt.

“Your Highness.”

It was then she heard a strangely familiar voice.

Sitting on the dust-covered bench, Stella looked up. Recognizing the person who had approached, her tearful eyes widened.

“Father Gabriel?”

“Do you remember me?”

Though even older than the last time she saw him, she could not fail to recognize the gentle priest with his ever-kind smile. Father Gabriel had taught young Stella how to read and even played with her—a man like family.

“Of course I remember…”

Like a broken dam, her long-suppressed emotions burst forth. Stella threw herself into his arms. She had missed him so dearly that she’d once searched for traces of him even in Father Padro.

“I’m so glad you’re safe… truly, truly glad…”

“I still vividly remember you as the little princess. And now you’ve grown so noble and strong.”

His hand gently patting her back was filled with warmth.

“I didn’t expect to meet you so soon. I heard I might see you once I returned to the homeland, but…”

“It is thanks to His Highness the Prince’s thoughtful arrangements.”

“Alexio…”

“He will return soon. He is a strong man, after all.”

Gabriel’s voice, as if already informed of everything, was firm as he spoke without any lengthy explanation. A priest could not foresee the future, but the faith carried in his voice was so unwavering that Stella found herself nodding without realizing it.

Just as Father Gabriel opened his mouth again, about to speak further, he fell silent for a moment. He looked quietly into the princess’s tearful eyes. And just as he was about to speak again—

“Shh! Everyone, stay quiet.”

Roderick, who had been guarding the door, whispered as he reached for the hilt of his sword. A group of unknown people was approaching steadily from outside. Whoever they were, it meant the battle in the court had finally come to an end.

Roderick stepped toward the door and listened carefully. Soon, a rhythmic pattern of knocks echoed against the door. Exchanging a couple of indistinguishable signals with someone outside, Roderick turned back toward them with a relieved expression.

“It seems it’s over.”

“O-oh… my brother…?”

“His Highness is safe.”

Roderick replied in a tone that suggested he’d never been particularly worried and opened the monastery door, which had been firmly locked.

Evening light slipped through the narrow crack of the door, stretching long shadows across the monastery interior. Bathed in the crimson hue of the sunset, Stella squinted and shielded her eyes with the back of her hand. And the moment she saw Alexio standing against the twilight, she could no longer hold back her tears and ran toward him.

“Brother…!”

“It’s all right, El.”

Alexio, who had walked to the hideout himself to reassure his sister, pulled her into an embrace with one arm. Thanks to that, Stella was able to hold back from sinking into despair, from believing this was only the beginning of another tragedy.

At least for now, having confirmed that he was safe.

***

It took less than a day to bring down Maurice, who had long occupied the throne.

Strange herbs were found in the bedroom of a servant who had closely attended the royal couple. It was revealed that Maurice had ordered him to poison the wine of the late king and queen.

Only a few days had passed since the queen’s murder, so he had not yet had time to dispose of the evidence. Perhaps he had grown complacent, believing the world was his to control.

Maurice, with the absurd claim that he had only followed orders, confessed his long collaboration with Pantege. He said they had handed him the poison, promising to grant him power over Largo through his own hand.

Fueled by long-held resentment toward his half-brother, Maurice had sold out the country for his own gain.

On the day of mourning for his mother, Alexio declared that he would not stain the ground with that wretch’s blood. Instead, he sentenced Maurice to drink the same poisoned wine. It was a fitting end for someone unworthy of even a formal execution.

Then, invoking the words of the Largo royal guard captain, he rounded up every Pantege knight who had hidden in the court like rats and demanded their surrender. None of them resisted to the end, so the purge proceeded swiftly and without any loss of their own people.

Thus, the forces that had once thrown Largo into turmoil were removed, and a brief peace returned to the palace that had welcomed back its rightful master. Though it would take much longer to restore complete peace…

“Don’t think about anything tonight—just sleep.”

After bringing Stella to her bedroom, Alexio made sure to watch her lie down in bed. Stella looked up at him with sorrowful eyes, seeing he still hadn’t removed his armor.

“And you?”

“There are many who wish to hear the whole story. For nearly ten years, I’ve been considered a dead man.”

He meant that all attention would be focused on him rather than her, so she could rest easy. Still, Stella couldn’t let go of his sleeve.

“Hey… Do you think the empire will eventually invade?”

Alexio gave no reply. Letting the silence linger, he eventually whispered in a gentle voice, just like always.

“Just sleep for now.”

Gently brushing her round forehead once, Alexio turned and walked slowly away. Dora, who had been waiting at the doorway, bowed hurriedly to him. Leaving a few words entrusting Stella to her care, Alexio left the room.

“His Highness is right. Even just for tonight, please try not to think and get some rest.”

Dora hurried over and pulled the blanket up to Stella’s neck. She briskly shut the window, drew the curtains, and turned off all the lights except for a single thin candle.

“I’ll stay by your side.”

“…Mm, but you mustn’t stay up all night. Come up here and sleep too.”

As Stella patted the wide bed, Dora giggled. Where else in the world would a princess invite her maid to sleep in the same bed?

“What if I fall asleep before you?”

Stella simply nodded and slowly closed her eyes. Incredibly, sleep came quickly. Dora held her breath as she watched her mistress’s gently lowered lashes.

Only after hearing her steady, peaceful breaths did Dora quietly leave the room—carrying a letter meant for Mikel, held carefully to her chest.