TMBIPYMEN Chapter 16

"Amber?"

Layla turned around, her face showing slight surprise. She paused in thought before speaking again.

"The kind that sometimes has insects trapped inside... Is that what you mean?"

Marchioness Hymierd stared at Layla with unexpected eyes.

"Yes, exactly. You knew about it."

Layla felt her face flush red despite having done nothing wrong.

It suddenly occurred to her that it was only natural for Marchioness Hymierd to assume she wouldn't know what amber was. Of course she would think that—a shabby-looking country bumpkin reeking of backwater villages...

After a brief hesitation, Layla spoke in a voice that suggested it was no big deal.

"It's used extensively in witch's spells. Not just amber, but various crystals and sometimes emeralds too."

She saw Marchioness Hymierd's eyebrows furrow subtly at her words. Was it because her suddenly assertive tone seemed impertinent, unlike before? Or was it the word 'witch' that bothered her?

Who cares. Layla thought. She was mentally exhausted from experiencing too many absurd things in succession.

Watching Marchioness Hymierd's furrowed expression made her feel like she was engaging in childish revenge, but she couldn't take back words already spoken.

"Miss Chrysrad. I hoped I was wrong, but are you truly of witch's blood?"

"You saw my hair and eyes and still doubted?"

"Your eyes are distinctive, yes, but His Highness the King's Brother brings many distinctive companions, so I thought perhaps. And hair can be dyed."

Layla shrugged, the corners of her lips turning down slightly.

"I wish that were the case, but unfortunately this is genuinely my hair. So, yes. Marchioness... As you said, I truly am of witch's blood. My mother was a witch, and though I never met her, my grandmother was a witch too."

Marchioness Hymierd's lips moved. As if trying to say something, she glanced away several times, then looked back at Layla, but ultimately turned her gaze away without any reply, feigning composure.

Not a pleasant expression. Layla thought. Well, naturally...

"Marchioness, the bath is fully prepared."

An employee with sweat beading slightly on her forehead—perhaps from heating the water—bowed respectfully and spoke.

Layla, who had been watching from behind the Marchioness, suddenly felt an absurd curiosity arise. If royal palace employees had work overflowing all day, how could their aprons be so crisp and clean without a single wrinkle?

"Miss Chrysrad, they say the bathwater is ready. While you wash, I'll check if there are suitable clothes for you to wear. Follow Mel. That's the girl's name."

"...All right."

Mel stood quietly before Layla, head bowed and gaze cast downward. As Layla followed her, she suddenly remembered something and turned toward Hymierd.

"Thank you. Marchioness... Hymierd."

Hymierd, who had been about to leave the room with the others, stopped walking. However, she didn't turn her head back toward Layla.

"You needn't thank me. His Highness the King's Brother commanded it, so I'm simply following orders. Tell His Highness when you see him later."

Layla stood staring blankly at the door sliding shut, forgetting any reply. The trailing dress of the last unnamed woman to exit left an oddly vivid impression on her mind.

Yustar passed through the central corridor of the royal palace into the entrance leading to the High Throne Chamber. The antique pillars and walls, constructed to faithfully restore Sierrow's traditional architectural style, always filled a corner of his heart with satisfaction.

Additionally, the ceiling bore a work depicting the five gods, including the chief deity Cersita, gathered in meeting around the gleaming white 'Round Table of Solemnity.' It was a masterpiece incomparable to other ceiling murals, as each element was meticulously crafted by interlocking different colored minerals and stones.

Yet despite that majestic and beautiful scene, the throne on the high dais stood empty. Guards stood expressionless as plaster statues, and only three scribes gathered around a desk, engaged in conversation.

"Oh, Your Highness the Crown's Blood!"

Hugo Lincoln, the chief scribe of the Sierrow royal family, belatedly discovered Yustar standing motionless and jumped to his feet in surprise. When the three scribes bowed deeply in greeting, Yustar nodded to them with a somewhat bitter smile.

"His Majesty hasn't come to the throne room today either?"

"My apologies. He held a brief meeting with Count Rubio and other administrative officials this morning, but his headache worsened and he's resting now."

"I'll go see him myself. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I'll escort you."

Hugo stepped forward, but Yustar shook his head.

"No, I'll go alone. You do your work."

The scribes glanced at each other's faces briefly, then bowed to him politely once more.

Passing them, Yustar entered a small corridor that led directly to the king's bedchamber. He heard the scribes sighing behind him but tried to ignore it.

When he knocked on the door at the end of the dim corridor where no light entered, a peevish cough came from inside. Yustar's expression furrowed as the king's closest aide, the chamberlain, opened the door.

"Your Highness the Crown's Blood, you've returned."

As soon as the door opened, the bitter smell of medicine and herbs wafted out. He could feel a deep illness that would not easily be cured drifting through the bedchamber like a massive specter.

"Baso, you should be more careful. What if it hadn't been me—opening the door without even checking?"

When Yustar deliberately joked, a faint smile appeared on the lips of the elderly chamberlain who had been sunk in gloom.

"Only Your Highness the Crown's Blood uses this door. Surely this old body wouldn't be ignorant of that fact."

"True, if anyone other than me tried to deceive you, they'd never see daylight again. I can rest easy about that."

Chamberlain Baso stepped aside for Yustar with a more relaxed expression.

The king's bedchamber was as splendid as the throne room but kept nearly dark with minimal lighting, and curtains hung in layers making visibility poor even during the day. Yustar took a long breath of the stagnant air, then approached the bed with veils drawn on all sides.

"Brother, it's Yustar."

Another cough sounded. Beyond the veil, a ghostly silhouette moved slowly.

"Baso, draw back the veil."

When the chamberlain who had stepped back drew the veil and fixed it above the canopy, the figure of a man sitting up on the bed was clearly revealed. Ode Haienmorik, the current king of Sierrow and Yustar's older brother.

He looked much older than Yustar. Though the two brothers were indeed fourteen years apart in age, King Ode looked aged like a crumbling ruin despite not yet reaching forty.

His hair, originally blond, had faded and mixed with gray to look dingy, and his once-sturdy physique had withered until the gaunt body inside his loose loungewear was pitiable.

Ode tried to speak but doubled over, coughing severely. Yustar willingly supported his sick brother's body and personally wiped the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Brother, are you all right? I only heard your headache had worsened, but you look worse than that."

"I'm fine."

Ode's voice cracked with a metallic rasp. With each breath, a sound like holes pierced through his chest could be heard.

Yustar looked at the chamberlain.

"Baso, has the physician been here?"

"Yes, Your Highness. He prescribed new medicine and drew blood."

"He keeps drawing blood yet still hasn't identified the cause of the illness. What about what I asked you to look into before?"

"That's still..."

Ode raised his hand, cutting off their conversation.

"Stop. Enough. Baso, you may leave."

Though the chamberlain wore a somewhat cautious expression, he faithfully obeyed the royal command. Once only the two of them remained in the dark room, Ode's expression softened slightly.

"Yustar, would you open the curtains a little? It's stifling."

Yustar immediately rose and pulled open the heavy curtains. Midday sunlight rushed in violently.

Ode's appearance revealed under the light looked even more wretched than in the darkness. His under-eyes were sunken and blackened, his lips parched and cracked everywhere.

"Brother, you should drink some water."

"No, never mind. More importantly... Let's discuss what's important first. I had a feeling you'd return. What happened with what you were searching for?"

After a moment of silence, Yustar forced a smile and nodded.

"I found it."

Ode raised his hollow eyes and gazed steadily at his younger brother. Though expressionless, the emotion contained in his gaze seemed complex.

"Is she truly a witch?"

"Yes, without doubt. And a powerful medium. Even if we searched not just the kingdom but every corner of the continent, we'd be hard-pressed to find a medium this powerful. So rest assured, Brother. With her, we can restore this country—restore Sierrow—much faster."

"Restore it... Yes, we must. We must indeed."

Ragged breathing could be heard for a moment. Ode, who had been lost in thought with his gaze turned from Yustar, spoke.

"Where is she now?"

"With Marchioness Hymierd. She seemed quite travel-weary, so I've arranged for her to rest first."

"Good. I'd like to see her—when would be suitable?"

Yustar blinked, momentarily lost in thought. Layla meeting Ode...

It was unavoidable since he'd brought her to the royal palace, but he didn't want to burden her immediately today. What had already happened was confusing enough.

"If you're well enough, Brother, I'll bring her tomorrow."

Ode's eyes blinked. His eyelids, so thin from flesh loss and wrinkling, looked like reptilian membranes.

Watching Yustar steadily, Ode spoke.

"Yes, let's do that. You should go now too. I'd like to dine together, but it seems difficult today. We'll have to postpone until tomorrow."

"Understood, Brother. Then rest."

Ode nodded as if telling him to leave.

Yustar watched him for a moment sitting on the bed wheezing, then exited through the bedchamber's main entrance rather than the door he'd entered. Through the opening and closing door, Chamberlain Baso could be seen bowing toward Yustar.

Ode muttered quietly, his bloodshot eyes wide open.

"A witch... Yes, that witch is necessary. You need that witch, Yustar."