WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈

Chapter 29: Galahad

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“Hngh...”

Galahad came to with a throbbing headache.

His head felt as though someone had split it open with an axe. When he exhaled like a cough, a disgusting stench filled his nose.

Rotting meat, filth, and half-burned ashes...

Muttering a curse, Galahad put a cigarette in his mouth.

Snap, snap. He flicked his fingers twice, and mana stirred. The air filled with the scent of lemon.

[It smells like lemon? Is that supposed to be an insult, you fucking bastard?]

He laughed as though coughing at the crude insult. The cigarette slipped from his mouth, and his eyes slowly closed.

Damian picked it up and placed it back between his lips. He was meticulously covered in blood.

“Should I kill you?”

“I’m fine. There’s too much to do.”

“Yes.”

After answering sweetly, Damian crouched beside Galahad.

Galahad quietly puffed on his cigarette.

Absurdly enough, the remaining pyres were still giving off heat.

Corpses and piles of ash lay in long rows beside them. It was horribly quiet.

‘My body won’t last at this rate.’

Galahad frowned at the pain coursing through his entire body.

‘Even when I was worked to the bone in the Intelligence Bureau, it wasn’t this bad...’

Clicking his tongue, Galahad spat. His saliva was thin and red.

“Ah, I’m hungry...”

Galahad smiled bitterly at Damian’s indifferent complaint.

“Didn’t you eat a lot earlier?”

“I moved that much.”

“That’s true.”

As he answered, Galahad looked Damian over.

Damian had his mouth open as he stared into the sky. The snowflakes drifting down through the hazy night looked like ash as they landed in his open mouth.

‘Mental interference had no effect on Damian at all.’

Amanda’s mental interference had been high-level. Galahad had needed to be prepared to blow out his own brain.

Yet it had not worked on Damian even once.

It was not something that could be avoided simply by having simple thoughts.

“What exactly are you?”

“Damian.”

“I see.”

Galahad chuckled.

Damian stared at him, his cheeks moving.

“Spit it out.”

A piece of bread, so rotten it had gone mushy, fell from Damian’s mouth. When had he even eaten that...?

“Eat this. It’s jerky Tom grilled.”

Damian opened his mouth wide. The jerky Galahad tossed vanished right into it.

“I think Tom is the best.”

“I agree.”

Galahad nodded at Damian’s pure admiration.

“When we get back, we’ll have a company dinner right away. Sir Gilbert said he’d pay, so eat as much as you want.”

“I’m really hungry.”

Damian blinked, which was rare for him.

“Sir Gilbert is in serious trouble.”

The two of them silently watched the fiercely burning pyres.

Galahad thought back on Amanda’s words.

‘That person...’

If a Demonkin used such extreme honorifics, then the person had to be someone of higher rank.

Amanda said to bring him back alive. They were not simply trying to kill Galahad.

It was unfortunate that he had not had time to win Amanda over.

‘Is it Dawn? Or just another Demonkin?’

A high-ranking Demonkin was after him...

‘I should contact Eight separately.’

Even if that was not the case, there would surely be movement from that side.

At that moment, the Egg of Pain trembled.

‘The Egg of Pain drank Demonkin blood.’

The Egg of Pain vibrated as though writhing.

Something familiar emerged from the briefly trembling Egg of Pain.

‘...Mana?’

It was definitely mana. Highly concentrated mana.

Galahad doubted his senses. The Egg of Pain had stolen Demonkin blood, then spat out mana?

He hurriedly gauged its concentration.

‘It’s denser than ordinary mana, but less concentrated than when I drink Demonkin blood directly.’

Still, it did not bring the pain of his veins burning as Demonkin blood did.

It drank Demonkin blood and spat out mana. It felt as though the Egg of Pain had digested it for him.

Though it seemed to take quite a large cut for itself...

‘Interesting.’

Galahad moved the mana with a fascinated murmur.

Mana gained from Demonkin blood was violent. If he lost focus for even a moment, it felt as though it would devour him.

In contrast, the mana spat out by the Egg of Pain moved obediently according to his intent.

‘What is this...?’

Forgetting even his pain, Galahad focused on the unknown mana.

He moved it and formed a Mana Arrow. Since it was so concentrated, the Mana Arrow formed without much mana at all.

At this level...

Galahad swallowed.

He had used Demonkin blood in one-time bursts before, but he had never stored mana drawn from it.

Its nature was simply too violent. If he stored it carelessly, his own mana might be devoured instead.

‘But if it’s this mana...’

His hesitation was brief. He pushed the mana beneath his heart. It settled without resistance, just as mana from the air did when he stored it.

“It works!”

Galahad shouted without realizing it and sprang to his feet.

If this mana could be stored, he would not need to use Demonkin blood in one-time bursts. He could build it up.

Of course, it would be less efficient than drinking Demonkin blood directly, but even considering that, it was an astounding ability.

Anything lacking could be solved by drinking more.

‘First, I need to confirm it.’

Galahad desperately kept himself calm.

Excitement was poison to a mage.

He needed to confirm he could use the mana he had stored.

Galahad looked up at the sky. Snow was still falling.

It was not good weather, but if the mana concentration was high enough...

“I should call Sir Gilbert.”

The corners of Galahad’s mouth rose.

* * *

“Sir Gilbert.”

Tom called to Gilbert, who looked deeply displeased.

Gilbert had been like that ever since the captain had disappeared with Damian. He was obviously worried about the two of them.

“You needn’t worry. The captain will be fine.”

“Worried?”

Tom flinched at Gilbert’s sharp question. If he was not worried, why was he sulking?

“Why did he take Damian instead of me?”

Gilbert seemed displeased at being passed over for Damian.

“He had no choice. Isn’t Sir Gilbert too famous? He must have thought that if you went with him, the enemy would tremble in fear and run away.”

Gilbert’s eyes softened slightly at Tom’s words.

Ahem. Gilbert cleared his throat and tapped the hilt of his sword. Tom sighed softly in relief.

Then Henry, the Seventh Company commander, approached while spinning an axe.

“I think there’s something over there.”

Where Henry pointed, snow was piled up like a mountain.

It was a landslide caused by the blizzard. He seemed to think the missing Fourth Company had been trapped beneath it.

Gilbert shook his head.

“No, it’s this way. The captain found a clue.”

Henry’s expression turned strange.

“You trust a mage’s word? If we don’t dig them out right away, the soldiers will freeze to death.”

Henry’s argument was reasonable enough.

A landslide had happened right along the company’s route, so it was natural to suspect that location.

To refute him, they would need to say they had received a letter from a Demonkin, which would make things troublesome.

Tom considered how to resolve the situation.

Then...

Thick bolts of lightning split into hundreds of branches as they fell from the sky. Tom gaped at the lightning decorating the heavens.

A brief silence fell at the sight.

“Let’s go there first. They won’t die just because they’re under some snow, will they?”

“Understood! Everyone, move out!”

With such clear proof, the argument ended quickly.

* * *

‘It works.’

Galahad smiled as he looked at his tingling fingers.

The mana had been successfully stored. There was no problem drawing it back out, either.

It was even cleaner than his original mana.

It was less concentrated than drinking Demonkin blood directly, but the important part was that he could store it.

Using Demonkin blood to cast magic came with too many risks. It had been a one-time measure from the start.

If he could store it this way, lower concentration was not much of a problem. He could simply drink more.

Of course, there was the minor condition that his heart would be eaten if he did not kill Adrianna, but he had a separate way to deal with that.

He felt sincerely grateful to Corton.

‘He said it was a byproduct of a high-ranking Demonkin... If a byproduct has this kind of ability, then a high-ranking Demonkin must be an entirely different creature.’

If the byproduct had this much effect, he could not even imagine what a high-ranking Demonkin might offer. His mouth watered.

Galahad shook his head.

He had barely defeated Amanda after risking his life. It would not be wise to encounter a high-ranking Demonkin whom Amanda spoke of so respectfully right now.

Crunch!

Pain rose around his heart. It was a harsh demand to fulfill his oath quickly.

‘There’s a minor side effect.’

Galahad smacked his lips.

Then something grew noisy nearby.

Gilbert, the unit members, and the northerners were running toward him from afar.

Their momentum was downright murderous.

“Kill those filthy Demonkin! Tear off their heads and drink their blood!”

Henry raised his axe and shouted fiercely. The northerners behind him let out strange battle cries as they charged. Snow flew wildly with every step.

They looked ready to march into war.

‘Hmm. It’s already over.’

Galahad let out a low groan.

Gilbert was at their head. Perhaps he had been swept up in their mood, because he too let out an odd shout.

“Knight Gilbert!”

Gilbert raised his sword high. The blue aura flowing from it rippled brilliantly.

Was he always like that? Galahad clicked his tongue.

Their shouts reached their peak as they entered the village.

“Filthy Demonkin! You hid in fear!”

With Gilbert at the front, they charged straight to the square.

Only after reaching the square did they fall silent.

Gilbert spotted Galahad and quickly ran over.

“...Where are the Demonkin?”

“Over there.”

Galahad pointed at a clumped pile of ash.

Gilbert frowned.

“What happened?”

“Can’t you tell by looking?”

At Galahad’s answer, Gilbert looked around the square.

Horrific corpses and piles of ash were scattered everywhere.

Anyone could see the situation was over.

Gilbert gave a small, awkward cough and sheathed his sword. His face was quite embarrassed.

“You worked hard. Are you all right?”

“Do I look all right?”

“All four limbs are still attached, so you’re fine.”

Galahad chuckled.

“Would you like some? It’s excellent for pain.”

Gilbert held out a canteen. The scent coming from it was impressive.

Galahad had wondered where Gilbert spent all that pay. It seemed he spent it on good liquor.

“No.”

“Yes, well.”

Gilbert casually brought the canteen to his own lips.

“What did you do to deserve a drink?”

“I ran here with all my strength.”

“Damiaaaan!”

A small scream rang out. Gwen clung to blood-covered Damian and sobbed loudly. She seemed to think he was dead.

“This is ttumbagwi herb extract. It should help your recovery if you apply it.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Tom handed Galahad the crushed herbs, then headed toward Damian.

The moment Tom took out jerky, Damian, who had been lying with his eyes closed as though dead, sprang up.

Gwen’s eyes went wide.

Then Henry approached.

His face was twisted like that of a demon. The northerners behind him wore similar expressions.

They looked as though they wanted to beat someone to death immediately.

Gilbert stepped in front of Henry.

“...What happened?”

Henry asked in a tightly controlled voice. The hand gripping his axe trembled.

The evidence was spread plainly in every direction. He could not be too stupid to understand it.

The missing company had become servants of the Demonkin and attacked those who had come to rescue them. Was there any greater dishonor?

Henry must have realized it, too.

Galahad flicked ash from his cigarette as he answered.

“They were taken by the Demonkin. I broke the Demonkin’s trick with magic, and we fought bravely together.”

“...I see.”

Henry nodded, his voice still tightly restrained.

It was a stupid lie that would fool no one.

“We will carve this kindness into our bones.”

‘Carve it into their bones...’

It was a grim turn of phrase befitting northerners.

“Thanks to you, they will be remembered as honorable warriors. Their families will receive at least some money.”

“You make the most obvious things sound remarkably convincing.”

At Galahad’s remark, Gilbert frowned.

Then the northerners gathered the corpses while talking and laughing loudly. There was not a trace of gloom in the air.

Some of them brought wood from the surrounding area. They did so as naturally as though it were expected.

A pyre larger than the previous one was built. The place was noisy like a festival.

A great blaze rose. Everyone held canteens to their mouths, danced, and talked about the dead men’s bravery.

It was an even greater festival than before.

Then Henry approached Galahad again.

“Let’s dance.”

“No. I hate dancing.”

An invitation to dance from a man covered in hair...

When Galahad refused in disgust, Henry laughed as though he had been stabbed in the stomach.

The strong smell of alcohol wafted from him. His eyes were clear.

“If you wish, I’ll even give you my wife.”

“I don’t need her. I’m already engaged.”

“Ah! That’s right!”

Henry laughed again as though he had a hole in his stomach. It was a laugh that suited his fierce appearance.

“If you call, I’ll come running anytime.”

Henry pointed behind him. The red-faced men, drunk on liquor, let out meaningless cheers.

“By the way, are you married?”

“Not yet.”

“I see.”

Cackling, Henry returned to the pyre.

Galahad simply puffed on his cigarette.

The northerners did not cry. Instead, they talked, laughed, and danced noisily.

Only one person was crying amid that warm atmosphere.

Gwen.

“Why are you crying?”

Galahad asked sincerely. He could not understand why she was crying over the deaths of people whose faces she did not even know.

“P-people died.”

Galahad let out a low sound at Gwen’s answer.

That made sense. It was a plausible reason.

Still, tears did not mean much.

“If I had been stronger, they might have lived.”

“...What?”

Damian nodded.

Gwen looked flustered, then cried even harder.

“It’s not the captain’s fault! The Demonkin are the bad ones!”

“Hmm, what are you talking about? Of course it isn’t my fault.”

Galahad said as he forcibly peeled Gwen away from himself.

Gwen’s face went blank for a moment. Galahad’s reflection in her eyes was expressionless.

“I’m talking about what happens when you lack strength. Damian could have been the one lying over there.”

Damian nodded again.

Gwen’s crying stopped abruptly. She looked as though someone had punched her in the face.

The soldiers continued talking and dancing loudly.

Galahad smoked as he watched them. Gilbert kept taking sips from his canteen, while Tom comforted Gwen.

“When we get back, we’ll have a company dinner. Of course, you’re paying.”

“Yes, well.”

Gilbert nodded reluctantly.

Then Damian clutched his stomach and spoke.

“I’m so hungry.”

For the first time, fear appeared on Gilbert’s face.

* * *

‘Hoo...’

James let out a quiet breath.

Today was his first day assigned to a department.

‘The Operations Division!’

He had been assigned somewhere that sounded impressive from the name alone. Even the agent name was Galahad, a name James had admired.

It felt as though everything would go well from now on.

The moment he opened the door, James bowed deeply.

“From today onward, I’ll be working in the Operations Division. I’m Ja... no, Galahad!”

“Oh, you’re the new recruit.”

A gentle voice greeted James. When he raised his head, he saw a woman with a kind face.

“I’m Hennet. I’m your senior.”

“Ah! Nice to meet you! I’m Galahad!”

“You’re full of spirit, aren’t you? It’s all right. The Operations Division has a lot of work, but the atmosphere is good. Just don’t cause any major problems.”

James nodded vigorously at the woman who introduced herself as Hennet.

Behind her, people sat at desks. In the dark room, they relied only on Mana Lamps as they read or wrote something.

No one even paid attention to him. No, they did not seem to have the time to look up.

James swallowed.

“Everyone’s busy with their own work. Come on, this way first. Let’s greet the Operations Division Chief.”

“Yes! Understood!”

Sharp gazes stabbed into him. Hollow eyes pricked James all over.

“Shh. Raising your voice here is forbidden.”

“Yes... Understood...”

“Good. You’ll adapt well. I’m a good judge of character.”

James grinned at her gentle smile.

He had met such a good senior. His life in the Intelligence Bureau would surely go well.

Hennet led James to the innermost room. Its windows were all tightly covered.

“The Operations Division Chief is sensitive, but they call him the core of the Operations Division. If you handle your work cleanly, he won’t bother you. And his ability goes without saying.”

Hennet’s voice was full of respect.

The Operations Division Chief was clearly an impressive person.

“Knock on the door and say your agent name. Tell him you’re the new recruit.”

“Yes...”

James checked his clothes and cleared his throat.

‘All right, James. Your life in the Intelligence Bureau starts now.’

Muttering to himself, James knocked on the door with force.

Bang, bang!

“Who is it?”

A bored voice came from inside. Hennet whispered, “Say your agent name...”

James shouted energetically.

“Galahad! The new recru...”

The moment he said Galahad, James unconsciously lowered his voice.

Just as he thought he had done rather well...

“Galahad?! There’s no way Galahad would be here! Don’t lie to me!”

A sharp scream burst from beyond the closed door. The man fiercely denied Galahad’s name.

“Fuck! Why me? You bastard! Retirement? After how hard I worked? Fuck!”

He began shouting in fury. Bang! Something struck the door and shattered.

“Galahad! I was going to help too! I was even putting together a special team! It’s true! I... I’ll accommodate you as much as I can! I’ll help you!”

His voice suddenly became sweet, like a merchant proposing a deal.

“Ahh! Galahad! You know how hard I’ve worked... Please, I can’t retire here...”

Now he sounded choked with tears. His voice dripped with them.

Something was clearly wrong.

“Um... Something seems strang...”

James turned his head and doubted his eyes. Hennet was running away in the distance.

Then the room fell quiet.

“Yes, Galahad. With you here, I suppose I can’t avoid retirement. What an honor, to be retired by you.”

The voice that had been crying moments ago was calm.

The door slowly opened.

A man with hollow eyes stood there. His dazzling uniform and the medals on his left breast emphasized how extraordinary he was.

James understood at once.

“Who are you? Where’s Galahad?”

His life in the Intelligence Bureau had gotten completely fucking tangled from the very start.

Footnotes:

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