To Queen Gilsis, Krald was a good son with no flaws. Not only did Franz make his son so angry, he even dared to touch him. The more she thought about it, the more his stomach turned and the angrier she became.
“Don’t worry, this mother won’t leave him alone no matter what. I will make the Duke of Vergy and that bastard kneel down in front of you and pray. My son, you can trust your mother, right?”
Krald twitched his face as if he couldn't bear it because he was dissatisfied. Soon he couldn't control his frustration and started kicking the bed as he tripped, tearing the sheets.
Despite his unruly attitude, which seemed like a child's, the Queen felt sorry for her son to the point of death. As the scars on his face came into view again, she reached out her hand to Krald's shoulder with tears in her eyes. Her long, white fingers like whitebait gently touched Krald's forearm.
“The Duke of Vergy's son is a combler trainee.”
The Queen whispered softly.
When comforting her son who was acting out, her usual arrogant and nervous tone was nowhere to be found. On the contrary, while she was conspicuously humbled as if she was flattering him, he felt the unique dignity of a powerful person who knew how to use the power in her hands at the right time and in the right place. Funnily enough, the only time Queen Gilsis spoke most queenly was when she was comforting her son.
“Becoming a combler is the most honorable thing for a military officer. Because it’s not something that anyone can become. However, I cannot allow someone who is a member of the noble royal family of Rotair and who raises his voice against my son to become one of the King's elite soldiers in the future.”
Krald then glanced at his mother, the Queen. Although he didn't usually pay much attention, he knew that all those who wanted to become the King's knights dreamed of being able to join the Combler.
Not everyone who applied would be accepted as a trainee, and even if they successfully completed the long and difficult training, not all trainees could become a combler. If you did not pass the final test, you could not receive the certificate given only to comblers. If you gave up on training or were discharged due to an unpleasant incident, you could never apply to become a combler again.
“Isn’t it a good thing that that reckless and arrogant bastard showed his true colors before he became a combler? We almost put such a person in the position closest to the King.”
Queen Gilsis hugged Krald's head, which was still full of dissatisfaction, and stroked it affectionately. The omnipotent power she wielded was entirely for the benefit of her son, Krald. The Queen gritted her teeth, saying that if Krald ascended to the throne, or rather to the position of Crown Prince, she would repay the wounds her son suffered today tens or hundreds of times.
***
“What on earth does that mean!”
After hearing the story from Bartholomew, who returned from the royal palace, the Duke of Vergy's complexion suddenly worsened.
“It’s just as you heard, father.”
“Are you telling me to believe you that Franz assaulted Krald?”
“It might be hard to believe, but what can I do when it’s true?”
Bartholomew shrugged his shoulders, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the sofa. The Duke of Vergy had a strange expression on his face as if he didn't know whether to laugh or be angry and kept making noises like "huh."
It wasn't the first day or two that Krald had been rude to Franz. He didn't know how to accept the fact that Franz, who had so far tolerated the almost insulting attitude without even getting angry, lost control even for a moment and beat up Krald. It was even said that the reason was because of Judith.
“Honestly, I felt refreshed.”
Bartholomew's downturned eyes were round and round, like a mischievous child plotting a prank. The stunned Duke of Vergy laughed and glared at his son. However, there was not much rebuke in his gaze.
“Your feelings may also be my feelings, but it’s not something I’ll just like. Will the Queen just overlook this?”
“Her son did the same thing and got beaten by her older brother. Even if she has ten mouths, she shouldn’t have anything to say.”
That was the answer, but Bartholomew didn't look very relieved either. Damage will be done not only to Franz but also to Judith. Franz would have rushed to eat her alive, but it would have been difficult for Franz to protect both Judith and himself alone.
“It’s not just about Franz and Her Highness falling. You too...”
The Duke of Vergy's words became blurred. Although Bartholomew only stopped Franz, the Queen's son, whom she cherished like a treasure in her hands, was injured, so the Queen Mother must be in a state where there is nothing left to see. Since it happened because of Krald's fault, Franz and Judith might have left it untouched to cover it up, but they could have tried to attack Bartholomew as an example.
But Bartholomew was calm when it came to his own story. In fact, things like yelling at Krald had long since been erased from his mind. Even if that wasn't the case, he wouldn't have considered it a problem because he thought he was just saying what he had to say.
"Your Excellency."
At the sound of a knock on the half-open door, the Duke's secretary entered the study. This was the secretary who accompanied Franz when he brought Judith from Tien.
“Heimrad, what’s going on?”
The Duke of Vergy, who responded calmly, felt his heart sink as soon as he saw that his secretary's expressionless expression had darkened somewhat. He had a premonition that something unpleasant must have happened.
“A knight from the Combler wants to see you.”
“Combler’s?”
The Duke of Vergy's eyebrows twitched. The next moment, Bartholomew also felt the same anxiety as his father.
Combler's knights do not move without orders from the King. Most of the time the knights moved, it was when there was a crisis in the kingdom. They were not leisurely enough to go out and meet nobles privately for insignificant matters.
“I will go now. Bring the guest to the parlor.”
“I understand, Your Excellency.”
Heimrad bowed politely and then disappeared without a trace. The Duke let out a heavy sigh, touched his forehead, and looked at Bartholomew with even darker eyes.
“Bartholomew.”
Bartholomew could not answer. The area around her neck, where the veins were prominent, was throbbing with tension.
“Yes, father.”
“Have you done anything to deserve the Combler to come see me? At the training center.”
“Don’t you, Father, know best that that can’t be possible?”
It was a firm answer. The Duke of Vergy nodded his head slowly as if he had expected that to happen.
“...Yes, I guess so. Then why would the Combler knight come to see me? Do you have any guesses now?”
“If you say it’s a guess...”
Bartholomew's eyes widened as he spoke. The unidentifiable anxiety that had struck him as soon as he heard the word "combler" from Heimrad came to him more clearly this time.
“But father, no matter how the Queen is, she can’t move the comber this easily.”
“That is short thinking of yours. Now that Your Majesty is unconscious, all of the authority is in the hands of the Queen. Comblers are those who must follow the King more faithfully than anyone else. In that case, they must also be loyal to the current Queen, who is the King’s representative.”
"But!"
“Once you meet the knight, you will find out what is going on. If you want to follow me, follow me, but if you plan on making a fuss, don’t even come near me in the first place.”
After finishing speaking, the Duke of Vergy left the study with his mouth straightened. Bartholomew, who was worried, also followed his father into the drawing room with a determined look on his face.
When the knight waiting in the drawing room saw the Duke of Vergy, he bowed his head respectfully and took off the light helmet he was wearing on his head. Since they were always fully armed even when not in a war situation, he was also wearing the shiny silver armor of the Combler Knights.
There was a pattern symbolizing the Combler all over the plate, starting from under the shoulder armor, which was tightly woven as if the scales had been cut and glued together. Bartholomew gazed at his armor with eyes almost admiring, but the moment their eyes met, he reflexively straightened his posture.
“Your Excellency the Duke, nice to meet you. My name is Neos Bibiyu, and I am in command of the 2nd Combler Knights.”
“Welcome, Spear of Rotair.”
There was only one military officer who commanded all of the Combler's knights, and was given the title 'Rotair's Sword'. Those who command the Combler Knights below that level are given the title of 'Rotaire's Spear'.
Neos bowed politely once more to the Duke of Vergy's greeting and stared intently at the tall young man standing behind him. It was Bartholomew.
“I have come to convey the orders of the Queen Mother on behalf of His Majesty the King, the morning and light of Rotair.”
He knew it. The Duke's expression darkened. He glanced at his son standing behind him. Bartholomew also seemed to have already anticipated the words that would come out of Neos' mouth as he lowered his head with both fists clenched. The Duke's trembling breathing, unable to overcome his anger, was heard in the Duke's ears.
Neos said.
“The eldest son of the Duke of Vergy family, Bartholomew Triggy Verge, due to his defeat and short temper, committed an unreasonable crime against a member of the royal family who was supposed to support him with loyalty. From this time on, he has revoked all authority and qualifications as a combler trainee. Deprived.”
At that moment, Bartholomew bit the inside of his lip so hard that blood pooled. If his father hadn't quietly reached out, he might have lost control of his boiling anger and thrown something in the living room, breaking it.
Neos looked at Bartholomew, who was shaking all over with his fists clenched, for a long time and then spoke.
“Exercising patience was a good choice, Trainee Bartholomew.”
The moment he heard his words, a puzzled expression appeared on Bartholomew's miserable face. The same was true for the Duke of Vergy.
“Try to explain what that means.”
“A person without dignity and patience cannot wear the Combler's badge on his shoulder, no matter how outstanding his skills may be. If he couldn’t control his anger and started making a fuss or yelling, I would have stopped him even if he had the chance to come back someday.”
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