A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 55

※The Common Thread※

[Klima] "It’s a labyrinth down there. Torches are useless; the air will swallow the flames before they can light your way. You must count your steps. Since your sense of direction will mean nothing in the dark, you have to trust your stride completely."

He gave her meticulous directions toward the castle.

Liene had never imagined the foundations of Nauk Castle ran so deep, nor that such a subterranean network existed beneath her feet.

[Liene] "Even the Kleinfelters are blind to this, then."

The secret had died with Knight Henton—or so they thought. He had used this very path to spirit Prince Fernand away.

Given that Henton belonged to the Gainers’ elite Guard, this route was likely a privilege shared only among the inner circle—a desperate lifeline reserved for the royal family’s darkest hour.

[Liene] "The Royal Guard perished to a man back then. No one left to tell the tale."

Except for two. And now, including herself, three.

The passage was narrow, a suffocating throat of stone that seemed to stretch into infinity. As she moved, her fingers brushed against peculiar shapes protruding from the masonry.

[Liene] "It’s not a door, nor is it a simple wall. Why on earth would they build it like this?"

She wished for a sliver of light to inspect the carvings, but the darkness was absolute.

[Liene] "I doubt the archives hold any record of this place. This was a secret passed from lip to ear, never to ink."

She pulled her gaze from the faint, shifting silhouettes and refocused on the rhythm of her feet.

[Liene] "I wonder if the fires are out..."

Klima had promised the diversion wouldn’t turn into an inferno; it was merely a lure to draw eyes away. That thought offered a thin veil of relief.

[Liene] "Still, the palace must be in an uproar. They know I’ve vanished by now. I wonder..."

She didn't dare finish the thought. The implications were a cold weight in her chest. Her ankle buckled, forcing her to a halt.

I have to think, she scolded herself.

Black didn't know why she had disappeared. He was likely tearing the kingdom apart looking for her, but he hadn't discovered the truth yet.

He wouldn't believe she had left by her own choice. But if she said Klima kidnapped her, he would be executed.

Did Black even know that Knight Henton’s family was still alive?

No. If he knew, he wouldn't have remained idle.

If he knew Henton’s son was being used as a puppet assassin by the Kleinfelters, he would have razed everything.

Her head began to throb. She drew a jagged breath, trying to steady the frantic pounding in her ribs.

I have to hide it.

If I tell him I met Klima, he’ll realize I know his true name.

I don't know Prince Fernand. I only know the Commander of Tiwakan.

I have to... we have to marry quickly.

I must hand over the sovereignty. That is the only way.

To reach that end, she had to scale the mountain known as the Treaty of Risebury.

The Kleinfelters had to fall. They were the axis upon which the six families turned. If they were removed, the power of the remaining five wouldn't just diminish—it would collapse.

I finally see the Treaty of Risebury for what it is. It’s a debt forged into the crown.

The crown her predecessor wore was the price of treason. The six families were the ones who had placed it there. From that moment, the Arsak crown had ceased to be a symbol of rule; it was a leash.

Liene finally understood why the former king had been a puppet to the nobility.

[Liene] "So that’s it..."

That was why the Kleinfelters acted with such arrogance, looking down on her with thinly veiled contempt. To them, she wasn't royalty. She was an accomplice.

[Liene] "I’m done. I’m breaking free."

She would shed the shackles of a crime committed twenty-one years ago. The six families—no, the seven families—would finally pay the blood price for their sins.

Liene clenched her fists.

I will set this right with my own hands. That is my atonement. 

Or perhaps, it was something closer to love—a fierce, aching resolve that tightened around her heart.

---

[Fermos] "Wrong again, My Lord. She isn’t here either."

[Black] "...I see."

Black turned to survey the sprawling estate. Every room had been ransacked; even the last wine casks in the cellar had been upended.

Thirty-six hours had passed since Liene vanished. For every second of that time, the Tiwakan had hunted, scouring every crevice where a human could be tucked away.

They had hit the Temple first. Black was certain the Kleinfelters were behind this, which meant they would be too clever to hide her in their own manor—at least, not initially.

At dawn, they had gutted the undefended Temple, confirming there was no trace of Liene or the "servant" who served as the Kleinfelters' errand boy. In the process, the temple stairs—already half-repaired—were reduced to rubble once more.

Next was the House of Rosadel. It was the head of House Rosadel who had accompanied Ellaroyden to visit Kleinfelter in prison.

Black intended to dismantle every house linked to that name.

As they marched toward the Rosadel estate, their private guards had intercepted them, babbled some nonsense about the Treaty of Risebury.

It was the only time Black had smiled.

It was a faint, mocking curve of the lips that no one else noticed, but he found the sheer naivety of the men blocking his path genuinely dark-humored.

These men clearly didn't understand what "Tiwakan" meant. They had never stopped to wonder why their leader was called the bastard son of the God of War.

[Black] "Step aside."

Black drew his blade. Fermos sighed, signaling the mercenaries to hold back.

[Fermos] "Doing this solo, My Lord? We’d enjoy the show, certainly, but don't waste too much strength on them. They aren't worth the effort."

The mercenaries grumbled, their blades rattling with disappointment.

There were sixteen guards from the House of Rosadel. One look at how they gripped their hilts told Black everything he needed to know. To him, they were nothing more than children playing with steel.

[Soldier] "Agh...!"

The slaughter took seconds. In a war, they would have robbed the bodies, but even the dumbest mercenary knew not to steal while Black was this angry.

[Tiwakan] "Hey, one’s still kicking. The one with the dangling arm. Do we leave him?"

Black answered personally. He flicked the blood from his blade, reversed his grip, and stepped back to silence the man’s throat.

[Black] "We’re going to the Kleinfelter estate."

He shifted his strategy.

[Black] "If we tear that house down stone by stone, someone will crawl out of the wreckage."

Regardless of who held Liene, once he demonstrated his resolve to decapitate every living soul involved, they would return her.

He had tried to honor Liene’s wish to avoid a civil war with the six families, but that sentiment had evaporated.

He should have razed them long ago. He should have convinced her that some things only end when they are obliterated.

Liene wanted to stop Nauk from splitting in two, but sometimes, a gangrenous limb had to be amputated.

When the Tiwakan arrived at the Kleinfelter manor, they didn't wait for an answer at the gate. They simply smashed through.

Those who dared defend the masterless house were cut down with surgical efficiency. Like the Rosadel guards, they were amateurs, but their numbers bought them a few extra minutes of life.

It took less than three hours to seize the entire estate. The front courtyard was transformed into a grisly tableau of headless corpses, survivors trembling in the dirt, and terrified house servants.

[Black] "Find someone who can talk. Tell them that even if the name Kleinfelter is erased from this earth, their heads will remain on their shoulders if they speak."

[Tiwakan] "Understood, My Lord."

The Tiwakan were efficient. In the art of recovery, speed was the only currency that mattered. Over a decade of war, they had mastered the craft of taking—and finding—hostages. Black’s method was the fastest.

[Fermos] "To be honest, I thought the 'servant' might have been hiding here all along."

Fermos approached his leader.

[Fermos] "If we couldn't find him after all that searching, it meant he was somewhere we wouldn't look. I figured the people visiting Kleinfelter in prison were relaying orders to the kid here, and that’s how he pulled it off."

Fermos wasn't wrong. He just didn't know that the place Klima had taken Liene wasn't the manor itself.

[Fermos] "I was hoping he’d be simple-minded enough to double back here."

His voice trailed off, lacking its usual bravado.

[Fermos] "But that brat... he’s clearly been trained. The way he handled the Cardinal—it was either incredible luck or a terrifying proficiency for murder."

Black’s brow furrowed. Seeing this, Fermos quickly added a clarification.

[Fermos] "Of course, being trained doesn't mean he's smart. If he were actually brilliant, he wouldn't be playing errand boy for the Kleinfelters under a fake identity. The payoff doesn't match the risk."

To Black, who knew Klima’s true identity, those words carried a sharper sting. Even without Manau’s pleas, he had no desire to kill Henton’s eldest son.

Henton had spilled too much blood to save a single royal life—including the blood of his own second son.

Like it or not, as long as Fernand lived and breathed in Nauk, a debt was owed. He intended to pay it.

[Black] "...I suppose I have no choice."

But the moment Liene was involved, the scales shifted. The weight of Henton’s sacrifice vanished.

[Fermos] "No choice about what, My Lord?"

Just as Fermos asked—

[Tiwakan] "My Lord! We found something!"

The word finally came.

Whish!

Before Fermos could even exhale in relief, Black was already a blur of motion, the sound of his movement like a whip crack in the air.

---

[Tiwakan] "In here."

Thud!

The Tiwakan had uncovered a hidden crawlspace in the annex. It was less of a hideout and more of a torture chamber.

Tucked beneath the bed of a cramped servant’s quarters, the space was barely wider than a coffin.

When the trapdoor was wrenched open, it revealed a nauseatingly tidy arrangement: a prayer book and a frayed whip.

[Fermos] "So this is where the brat crawled into. Charming."

He spat the words.

[Fermos] "Who uses this room? Bring them here."

[Tiwakan] "Already on it. Over here!"

At Tiwakan’s gesture, another soldier dragged a woman in by her arm.

[Tiwakan] "She’s the occupant. But don't expect much. They say she’s lost her wits. Hasn't uttered a word in years."

Bang!

The soldier released her, and the woman collapsed to her knees.

She was skeletal, her skin clinging to bone.

Even though the soldiers hadn't been overly rough, she was paralyzed with a terror that made her completely unresponsive.

Her hair was a shock of white, her face a map of deep-set wrinkles, but Black recognized her instantly.

She was Knight Henton’s wife. This was the leverage—the reason the Kleinfelters could use Henton’s son as a living weapon.

His eyes burned with a frigid, electric blue.

[Black] "...Where is your son?"

[Henton] "...?"

She lifted her head as if struck.

[Henton] "N-no... no..."

[Black] "Tell me where he is. I won't ask twice."

[Henton] "...!"

Her mouth fell open, but no sound escaped.

She recognized him, too. She saw the small, young prince who had disappeared twenty-one years ago, dressed in her own son’s clothes, led away by her husband’s hand.

There was no way in this world to forget those pale, piercing blue eyes.

Her second son had worn those clothes for the last time—if it weren't for those eyes, she might have convinced herself that the child dying by her husband’s sword was the prince.

But those eyes told the truth.

She could never forget. And she could never mistake him.

Prev

Chapters

Next