Chapter 99: Father...

“Are you planning to play the fool for much longer?” asked Daemon.

“Since when did you notice?” replied Siegfried.

“I already had doubts during our meeting in the Catacombs,” he explained calmly. “You claimed that someone had killed your companion while Conrad was specifically trying to eliminate me and had no reason to attack the Eastern Empire. Then, your way of fighting is far too disciplined for someone who implies he never trains… Your dodges on the first level were too perfect to be accidental.”

Daemon paused, a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as he recalled a particularly annoying detail. “And your notebook that keeps listing all the hot girls of Hundun was really over the top for creating this idiot image from scratch… And above all, you saved me from the third level of the Catacombs when everything was collapsing… Crossing two floors infested with Third Sense Draugrs while carrying an injured person is a feat technically impossible for someone who only has the First Sense.”

Siegfried let out a short laugh. “Indeed, it was me who killed the son of the Duke of Norman… Dedric was a nuisance to my mother’s plans and his death in that labyrinth was an opportunity I could not ignore.” He set down his glass and straightened up.

“You’re quite the keen observer, Daemon…”

“Not really… after being betrayed quite a few times, I ended up understanding that blind trust is a luxury I can no longer afford,” retorted Daemon.

“Hmm, I see… and so, the fact that I saved your ass several times won’t make us sworn brothers-in-arms?” asked Siegfried with a hint of mischief in his gaze.

Daemon looked at him out of the corner of his eye while laughing: “Indeed… so I won’t ask you why you killed him, because the affairs of Byzantia’s nobility are not my problem. But I need to know one thing… what exactly do you want from the Sword Clan?”

Siegfried remained silent for several seconds.

“They often say at court that I was born of a concubine and that my mother has always been ashamed of my mediocrity…”

“Yeah, that must be it… the fairy tale of the misunderstood prince,” cut in Daemon as he stood up abruptly. “Spare me your monologue about loneliness… I already have my fill of problems to deal with.”

Siegfried smiled again.

“Okay, okay… The truth is that my mother loves me more than anything in the world. Her goal is to make me the Emperor and she is ready to do anything.”

Hearing these words, Daemon sighed loudly while checking the fastening of his father’s katana at his belt. “So you want to usurp the throne?” he asked with disdain. “Sorry, but the Sword Clan already has enough problems as it is without having to get involved in an imperial coup… Safe travels, Prince.”

“Our greatest ally and my master was Lloyd Lancelot Dagon,” called out Siegfried before Daemon reached the flap of the tent.

Daemon froze. He slowly turned around, truly annoyed: “What kind of bullshit are you telling me now?” he spat.

Siegfried stood up in turn, his expression becoming serious. “You’ve often wondered why your father was so rarely at the Winter domain and spent all his time in the No Man’s Land, haven’t you? It’s because Lloyd was the first knight of the Round Table. The ultimate goal of this organization being to seek the Holy Grail, the relic made from the blood of El, somewhere in the depths of the No Man’s Land.”

Daemon remained silent.

He suddenly recalled his father’s constant absence. The Round Table was a legendary group composed of twelve Chi Users of various origins who led the most perilous expeditions beyond the continent. Of course, to protect their families from the reprisals of infiltrated Eaters or political plots, no one except the supreme leaders of Hundun knew their true identities.

“You say that my father was your master… How can I believe you?” asked Daemon, his voice trembling slightly. “You could very well be lying, you already do it well enough.”

Siegfried calmly advanced toward Daemon, then, with a precise gesture, he formed a circle with his right thumb and index finger in front of his own eye. Then, he hid his other eye with his left palm.

“He taught me that when many things make us unhappy, it is enough to focus on what we love and forget the rest,” murmured Siegfried, who instantly recalled to Daemon the tone of his father’s voice.

Daemon felt his legs buckle.

He knew immediately that Siegfried was not lying… no one outside of him knew that gesture of Lancelot.

‘So Lancelot had been close enough to this prince to pass on not only his techniques, but also his philosophy?’

“That’s…” stammered Daemon, his gaze lost in Siegfried’s, who decided to continue.

“The family of Emperor Arthur was originally a simple ducal family… they managed to seize the throne only after the real Dragonslayers were exterminated during the coming of the horsemen of the apocalypse, five centuries ago.”

“But not all perished in the massacre… my mother, Guinevere, was one of the last direct descendants of the original imperial line. Some, outside the emperor himself, were aware of this secret… it is precisely for this reason that Arthur took her as a concubine, in order to legitimize his own reign when everything was discovered two decades ago.”

Daemon remained silent for a moment, processing this information that upended everything he thought he knew about the balance of Hundun. He ran a hand through his black hair, feeling a migraine.

“This story is giving me a headache…” murmured Daemon as he exhaled slowly. “So, to make it brief, the empress is counting on you to reconquer this throne that is yours by right through the blood of your ancestors. And you need me and the influence of the Sword Clan as allies for your ascent, while you continue to play the incompetent fool so as not to arouse the suspicions of your brother Admon and the emperor.”

Siegfried sketched a smile. “You’re wrong about my immediate intentions. What I want above all is your help to avenge the one who was my master…”

“What are you talking about now?” spat Daemon. “My father was killed by the Eaters in the No Man’s Land seven years ago… that’s what everyone knows at the Winter domain.”

Siegfried drew closer, his stature suddenly appearing far more imposing. “The year of my master’s death, there was no official expedition into the No Man’s Land, Daemon… absolutely none.”

“You mean…”

“All the knights of the Round Table survived that year… all, except my master Lloyd and his closest friend, Lord Tristan of the Spear Clan. What does that look like to you, such a coincidence?” asked Siegfried.

“An ambush?”

Siegfried slowly nodded. He bent toward the ground, near the foot of the bed, and picked up the sword Gram. The purple blade with the golden dragon pommel shone with a sovereign gleam. He held it out to Daemon, the hilt forward.

“This weapon belonged to your father upon becoming a knight of the Round Table. Without meaning to seem awkward, it was also mine for a certain time… he taught me everything I know about the art of fencing. So if you want it, you can take it back… it is yours by right. But in exchange, help me discover who, within Hundun or the Round Table, is truly behind all this.”

Daemon observed the sword for long seconds. He saw his own reflection in the purple steel. Finally, he placed his hand on the scabbard, but did not take it. He gently pushed the weapon back toward the prince.

“I already have one… and this one suits me perfectly for now,” declared Daemon as he pointed to the black katana.

“I don’t fully trust you yet, Your Majesty… but thank you for telling me everything.”

Daemon remained motionless, his face tense. He had not expected to have to talk again about his father’s death under these circumstances. His mind went back to that fateful day when everything had shifted, when his energy center had been sealed.

‘Was my father betrayed by his own brothers-in-arms… or was there a darker reason linked to the Mark of the Beast that I bear?’ he wondered bitterly, after all if the Great Witch knew about that, others might know as well.

“So, what do you plan to do from now on?” inquired Siegfried as he sheathed Gram at his belt, resuming a slightly more detached air.

Daemon stood up, straightening his shoulders. His gaze unwavering.

“To know the whole story… I no longer have a choice. I must become a knight of the Round Table myself.”

Siegfried watched him leave without a word, a slight smile of satisfaction stretching his lips. Daemon left the medical tent, head held high.

However, as soon as he had crossed the perimeter of the camp and found himself alone. He leaned against the rough trunk of a black pine and, despite all his efforts to remain solemn, he burst into tears.

“Shit! I’m an adult now… I shouldn’t cry over this kind of nonsense…” he murmured between sobs.

He quickly wiped his cheeks with the back of his sleeve, fearing that a patrol might catch him in this state of weakness. He took a deep breath, stabilizing his erratic chi, then raised his eyes toward the immense sky.

“Father…”