Chapter 11
“Both of you, enough! Must you fight even at a time like this?”
Only then did Lysen and Alex halt their scuffling. For all of Seren’s usual gentle demeanor, they knew entirely too well how terrifying he became when truly angered.
“First, we retrace the tracks, piece by piece, with care. Lysen!”
“Sir!”
“This is your assignment.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“And Alex.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Go search for any potential eyewitnesses.”
They bickered constantly, yet they were still the top two knights in the entire Order. It was precisely because of their unmatched prowess that they each commanded their own sub-division as squad leaders.
Lysen and Alex led their respective squads and dashed out of the headquarters.
As the knights swarmed out, leaving a sudden quiet in their wake, Seren moved out with the few remaining men.
Lysen, a former ranger, possessed an uncanny knack for tracking. Alex, having crawled his way up from the very bottom of society, had a rare gift for handling people; a few moments of conversation with him, and people invariably found themselves spilling secrets they had buried deep within their hearts.
And Seren? Seren could achieve what neither of them could.
He could navigate the bureaucracy and request cooperation from every department in the capital.
“My head hurts already,” Seren muttered to himself.
He was moving under the absolute certainty that Grand Duke Kyte had been abducted, but he highly doubted the rest of the bureaucracy would see it that way. The Grand Duke had simply caused far too many scandals over the years for anyone to take his disappearance seriously.
And as it turned out, Seren’s intuition was entirely correct.
His first stop was the Capital Guard.
“Uh, well… so you’re saying His Grace, the Grand Duke Gracia, has vanished?”
The Captain of the Guard’s face was a transparent map of disbelief. Liar! his expression screamed. It was clear the man had a mountain of things he wanted to say.
“Could he not have simply stepped out for a moment? I mean…” The Captain chose his words with agonizing care, clearly valuing his own survival. “He is known to wander off quite frequently, isn’t he? Besides, the man is the Empire’s living Sword Master. Who on earth would dare touch him?”
If it were a rival Sword Master, they might have stood a chance at capturing him, but there was simply no motive. They weren’t at war. What would anyone gain by capturing Kyte?
Moreover, the man was notoriously temperamental. He was hardly the type to be subdued quietly without leaving a trace of destruction behind. From the Guard Captain’s perspective, agreeing with Seren’s theory was an impossible leap of logic.
“Even so, I am formally requesting your cooperation,” Seren pressed.
The Guard Captain narrowed his eyes at him. Do you have a conscience? Seriously, do you actually believe the Grand Duke was taken against his will?
“I request your cooperation,” Seren repeated, unblinking.
He stood his ground like an unyielding wall. It was obvious he had no intention of leaving until the Captain yielded.
Ultimately, worn down by the relentless repetition, the Guard Captain let out a defeated sigh. “…How exactly can we assist you?”
“Lend me the Guard.”
“How many men do you require?”
“All of them.”
The Guard Captain barely managed to swallow the word that threatened to burst from his throat. Madman.
This Seren fellow looked perfectly sane on the outside, but he was cut from the exact same cloth as Kyte. The Guard had an endless list of daily duties, and he was asking for the entire force.
“That is out of the question.”
“Then give me half.” Seren’s tone had subtly dropped its formal edge, slipping into an assertive familiarity.
“Fine, half. But you must return them within twenty-four hours.”
“I shall do my utmost.” Whether that utmost would amount to anything remained to be seen.
Having successfully secured the guardsmen, Seren was not a man to rest on his laurels. He proceeded to hit several other departments, utilizing the exact same relentless tactic.
Once he had secured a massive workforce and a string of promises, he issued his command:
“Scour the capital. Leave no stone unturned.”
If it were up to him, he would have placed the capital under total lockdown. However, the Emperor’s birthday gala was fast approaching, making it impossible to shut the city gates completely.
In truth, with everyone already frantic over the upcoming festivities, it was a miracle in itself that Seren had managed to commandeer this many auxiliary troops. Had Kyte not been the current Emperor’s maternal uncle and primary benefactor, the task would have been nigh impossible.
Slowly, imperceptibly, the capital began to stir. Yet, the common folk remained entirely oblivious to the undercurrents shaking the city. The only people privy to Kyte’s disappearance were those Seren had roped into the search and the high nobility.
“They say crazy masters only breed crazy servants, and they weren’t lying.”
Jagro, the Imperial Chancellor, pressed a hand to his forehead, letting out a pained groan. The Empire’s sole Sword Master had vanished, and they were looking for him this flagrantly? If foreign nations caught wind of this, they would be dancing in the streets.
“Can that man not go a single day without causing a catastrophe?”
It was as if Kyte were under some cosmic curse that compelled him to court disaster. The Chancellor didn’t buy the abduction theory for a second; the Duke was undoubtedly out there right now, instigating some unfathomable crisis.
Worse still, the timing was maddening. With the Emperor’s birthday looming, foreign emissaries were already arriving in the empire. Everyone was worked to the bone, and for this to happen now was enough to drive a man insane.
Jagro could state with absolute certainty that the recent thinning of his hair was entirely Kyte’s fault.
As he fretted over his receding hairline, a young boy with hair like spun gold stepped up beside him.
“Chancellor.”
“Your Majesty.”
Jagro was fiercely loyal and diligent to a fault. The moment he had learned of the situation, he had immediately informed the sovereign.
“Do you truly believe this to be factual?”
When asked, the young Emperor, Leonhardt, offered a strained, awkward smile.
“Do you honestly believe that monstrous man suffered an mishap at the hands of another?” Jagro pressed.
“To be frank, I find it hard to believe myself. He is my uncle, after all.”
The Mad Dog of the Empire. A walking, breathing calamity. Could such a man truly be captured?
“Precisely, Your Majesty. We must recall the mobilized personnel immediately.”
“No, let them be for at least a day. One can never be too sure.”
“Sure of what, Your Majesty! Who could possibly touch a man like that? And even if someone did, what more could we possibly do from here?”
If a foreign power had targeted Kyte with absolute intent and succeeded, throwing raw numbers at the problem was meaningless. It would be far wiser to deploy a select group of specialized investigators and keep the rest of the forces back to ensure the Emperor’s own safety. Though Jagro cursed Kyte’s name daily, the Duke was still the mightiest blade of the Empire. If that blade had vanished, they needed to fortify their own defenses, not scatter them.
“Once a day has passed, you may do as you wish, Chancellor.”
“Your Majesty!”
“Just consider this single day as my way of doing right by my uncle.”
After all, it was solely because Kyte existed that Leonhardt was able to sit upon the throne today.
Faced with such heavy words, Jagro could no longer argue. He merely let out a long, deeply weary sigh.
At that very hour, Kyte rose from his seat and began to leisurely inspect the room. He searched for any clue that might betray the identity of his captor, reaching out to pull a book from the shelf.
“Madame Javely’s Garden.”
The title sounded vaguely familiar. Kyte tapped his fingernail against the cover before flipping it open. On the surface, it appeared to be a mundane romance novel, but a few lines in revealed its true nature. It was what people commonly referred to as a “red book”—an erotic novel.
Come to think of it, Alex had a penchant for this sort of literature. When Lysen had once accused him of reading smut, Alex had hollered back, insisting it was high literature.
Why is a book like this here?
Kyte slotted it back into place and pulled out another. It was no different from the first.
Alex would have a field day in here, Kyte thought dryly.
But it was entirely wasting its pages on him. Having been controlled and manipulated from an early age by his mother, Saraen, Kyte harbored a deep-seated aversion to such carnal matters.
He felt the same toward anyone who approached him solely for his looks. To them, Kyte was nothing more than a beautiful doll, a mere echo of his mother.
The memory soured his mood instantly. Whoever had locked him in this room clearly harbored foul intentions. He found himself wishing he had been captured and tortured by an enemy state instead—at least that would be straightforward.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a soft knock rattled the door, followed by the voice of the maid, Mary.
“Would you care for some tea?”
Kyte stared into the empty space of the room for a beat before answering.
“Very well.”
The door creaked open cautiously, and Mary appeared, once again pushing her wooden trolley ahead of her. It seemed she intended to keep her distance, just as she had during mealtime. Watching her approach, Kyte tossed the book he was holding onto the surface beside him with a dull thud.
