The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate-Chapter 162. Pajar Sultanate (2)

Color had returned to his brother's once-pale complexion. That bizarre method of treatment, stabbing him with that ominous sword, had actually worked.

"Dame Nadia, my brother—" Samir said, but was cut off.

"Say no more, Prince Samir. I will listen to your explanations after I have killed that traitor," Nadia said. In her rage, she failed to notice the change in the Crown Prince's condition. All her focus was locked onto the insolent rebel before her.

"Should you really be speaking to a prince so carelessly?" Caron asked with a smirk. "Aren't you supposed to be his guardian? You're being awfully rude."

The insufferable traitor spoke as if he was mocking her.

But Nadia wasn't fooled. She knew that this was just a stalling tactic. That man had his hand over the Crown Prince's chest—he was doing something.

"Stop what you're doing immediately, traitor," Nadia ordered coldly. "Do so, and I will grant you a painless death."

"I'm almost done, so just be patient," Caron replied lightly. "Whether I die now or later, the result is the same, isn't it?"

Whoosh.

A dark blue light surged from Caron.

Narrowing her eyes, Nadia studied him carefully. She thought, ...Is he a 7-Star?

She could feel the powerful mana emanating from him. But it was unlike anything she had encountered among the swordsmen of the Pajar Sultanate. Every knight of the Sultanate was trained to wield blazing crimson mana—she herself was no exception.

Yet this man's power glowed with deep blue light, something that was far rarer.

It's not dark mana, she thought. If it were, she would have recognized it instantly.

Her voice dropped to a murmur as she said, "...You are no knight of the Pajar Sultanate."

She was certain of it. And that dark blue mana—something about it felt familiar.

"You have sharp instincts," Caron said, chuckling. "As expected of an 8-Star knight. But you do know, don't you? If you move carelessly... The Crown Prince might never wake up. I do have the skills to make that happen."

He wasn't bluffing. If they fought, Nadia would win, but the Crown Prince was still his hostage. If she failed to cut him down in a single strike, the Crown Prince would die.

That was why she couldn't act recklessly. All she could do was glare at him, silently biding her time.

Moments passed, and finally, Caron lifted his hand from the Crown Prince's chest. He said with a grin, "Thank you for waiting."

Then, with a casual motion, he pulled the sword out from the Crown Prince's thigh.

"Saintess, the Crown Prince needs some vitality, so can you give him some?" Caron asked. "You should at least be able to do that."

"Yes, I will do so," Seria replied.

Flash.

A brilliant light flared from the Saintess, seeping into the Crown Prince.

Caron watched the scene with satisfaction before casually turning his head toward Samir. "Well then, dear client, everything is—" he said, but was cut off by a sudden motion.

In an instant...

Schiiing!

Seizing the opening, Nadia thrust her blade at Caron.

As if anticipating the attack, Caron swiftly parried it. He struck her sword at the last possible moment, twisting its trajectory.

But Nadia hadn't aimed for Caron's neck. With a swift motion, she lifted the Crown Prince from the bed and retreated to the back of the room.

Caron let out an admiring nod and remarked, "Prioritizing the hostage's rescue? As expected, you live up to your reputation."

Thud, thud, thud!

Dozens of armed soldiers stormed into the Crown Prince's chamber.

Handing the Crown Prince over to them, Nadia adjusted her grip on her sword and said, "Tell me who sent you."

"If I comply, will you spare me?" Caron asked.

"I will at least make your death less painful," Nadia answered.

"Wow, how merciful," Caron scoffed, grinning.

Raising a hand to his face, he lightly tapped his cheek. In that instant, the scars on his skin disappeared, revealing the face of a strikingly handsome young man.

Seria cautiously approached him from behind, her voice hushed. "What will you do now?" she asked. "At this rate, you'll be executed for treason. You do have a plan, don't you?"

Caron flashed a bright smile and nodded, then said, "Of course. Everything is going exactly as planned. Don't worry, Saintess. There's always a way out of situations like these. Just trust me."

Then, he turned back to Nadia and said, "Killing me here would be a mistake."

"How predictable. You start rambling the moment the situation turns against you," Nadia scoffed. "I don't know which powerful figure is backing you, but I swear I'll tear you—"

"I've heard plenty about you, Dame Nadia," Caron interrupted smoothly. "I am Caron Leston, youngest of the Ducal Family of Leston. I believe you're acquainted with my great-aunt, Lady Sabina. She's spoken of you before, you know. She once told me that a lone scorpion, venomous and deadly, roams the desert. Hah!"

In urgency, use the family name, Caron thought. That was the most valuable lesson he had learned in this life.

As if to reinforce his sincerity, he placed Guillotine on the ground. Then, raising both hands in surrender, he looked straight at Nadia.

"I surrender," he announced. "See? I've even disarmed myself. Are you still thinking about killing me?"

Nadia's jaw clenched, her expression darkening. "I've heard that the youngest grandson of Duke Halo was insane," she muttered. "But you're far worse than I imagined."

Caron Leston was the youngest member of the Ducal Family of Leston, and also the empire's most celebrated rising hero. But she recalled hearing about him from Sabina. She wondered what this mad dog was doing in the enemy kingdom's palace.

Although a storm of thoughts whirled in her mind, one thing was certain: She couldn't kill him here.

The moment I kill him, things will spiral out of control, Nadia thought.

At worst, it could even spark a war.

Having made her decision, Nadia turned to her subordinates and ordered firmly, "Restrain the prisoners immediately."

"Yes, Commander!"

Her soldiers moved swiftly, forcing Caron, Seria, and Samir to their knees before binding them tightly with specially crafted ropes.

Caron looked up at Nadia with a smile and said, "A wise decision, Dame Nadia."

Nadia gritted her teeth at the smug expression on his face. She retorted, "Don't fool yourself. You won't die here, but you will die on the gallows."

At those words, Caron beamed and replied, "Well, I suppose we'll see about that."

For some reason, his words didn't feel like mere bravado.

"...Take the prisoners to the dungeon," Nadia commanded. She would soon find out what his true objective was.

And with that, Caron was arrested within the royal palace.

***

The prison lay deep beneath the royal palace of the Pajar Sultanate.

Saintess Seria bit her lip as she stood with her hands bound. Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Caron, who sat in front of her, smirking as if he had not a care in the world.

"Caron Leston, was this your plan all along?" Seria asked.

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"Well," Caron mused, tilting his head slightly. "I was a bit short on time, but I'd say this was at least a half success."

"Truly impressive," Seria said dryly.

"Thank you for the compliment, Saintess," Caron replied.

"It was sarcasm," Seria said.

"Ah, then it was high praise indeed. I appreciate it even more," Caron said in a bright tone.

It was bright enough to make Samir, bound beside him, let out a sigh heavy enough to shake the very ground. He asked, "So even taking my brother hostage was part of your plan?"

"Prince Samir, I think you might be asking the wrong question," Caron replied.

"What do you mean?" Samir asked.

"You should be asking whether I had a plan to begin with," Caron answered.

"...It seems I misjudged you," Samir muttered.

"Besides, wasn't it you who practically dragged us in there? I merely made the most rational decision given the circumstances," Caron added.

He had created a mess on his own, and then had the audacity to blame others.

Samir clenched his fist as he stared at Caron. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to drive his fist straight into that insufferable face. But instead, he exhaled sharply and said, "Regardless, I won't waste time placing blame. What matters now is my brother's condition. He seemed to be recovering."

Caron smirked and nodded, then said, "The procedure was successful. We removed the source of the curse plaguing the Crown Prince, so he should heal quickly. And the Saintess enhanced his recovery as well. Isn't that right?"

Now, all that remained was for the Crown Prince to wake up. If he didn't...

That could very well lead to war, Caron thought.

Not only would Caron and the others face execution on the sultanate's gallows, but their deaths could also ignite conflict between the two nations. After all, it would appear as though an imperial hero had assassinated the Crown Prince of a rival nation.

But Caron wasn't particularly worried. The Crown Prince would wake up. He was certain of it.

"That's a relief," Samir murmured, finally allowing himself to breathe. He said, "So long as my brother wakes up, it doesn't matter if I'm executed as a traitor."

Caron let out an exaggerated sigh and said, "What a touching display of brotherly love. If only my uncles could learn a thing or two from you." Then, he added, "But, Your Highness, the Saintess and I don't particularly want to die here. Right, Saintess?"

"...If only you hadn't done something so reckless..." Seria muttered.

"Now, now, Saintess. Ever heard of shared fate? Where's your sense of loyalty?" Caron said.

Just as their conversation reached that point, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the prison.

Click.

A polished shoe struck the stone floor, then another, then another, until a man finally appeared outside their cell. The scent of his heavy perfume seeped through the iron bars. With a slow, deliberate grin, the man turned his gaze to Samir.

"Samir," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "So you've finally lost your mind? Not that I'm complaining. I never imagined you'd be so kind as to throw your own life into the gutter for me. Hehe."

His laughter slithered through the cell like venom.

"Tell me," he continued, his tone cruel. "Did you finally decide that our dear, half-dead brother was too pitiful to keep alive? Did you think you'd be doing him a favor by sending him to the afterlife faster?"

Samir glared at the man before him. "...Amin," he said coldly. "What brings you here?"

"I came to mock you before your death," Amin sneered. "I heard you've been conspiring with the empire's filth. And that man next to you... He must be the famous Caron Leston." He studied Caron's face for a moment before smirking. "Not bad-looking. But of course, not as handsome as me. Hehe."

It was Prince Amin, the Third Prince of the Pajar Sultanate.

Caron regarded the unexpected visitor with a look of utter boredom. "Your Highness," Caron said, turning to Samir. "Is this idiot really your third brother?"

"...He is," Samir admitted.

"Oh, so he's the notorious scoundrel who won't stop harassing the palace maids and treats his own people like trash? The one with the mind of a child trapped in a man's body? Huh, I guess the rumors were true. There's no smoke without fire," Caron said.

Caron's words were entirely accurate, but Samir couldn't bring himself to nod in agreement. No matter how wretched Amin was, he was still family.

"Seeing no response, I'll take that as an agreement," Caron said with a shrug. Leisurely, he got to his feet and strolled toward the bars of the cell.

Incensed, Amin jabbed a finger at him and yelled, "How dare an imperial lap dog insult me? Fine! If death is what you wish for, I'll be more than happy to grant it!"

"Bastard Prince Amin," Caron said, his voice casual, "I have an incurable disease."

Amin frowned and asked, "An incurable disease? What nonsense are you spouting now?"

"It's a disease where I simply can't ignore a worthless scoundrel when I see one. And I promise you—if I ever walk out of this place, you'd better watch your back. Because you're next," Caron replied.

Amin instinctively took a step backward, rattled by the sudden wave of killing intent emanating from Caron. His voice wavered as he stuttered, "T-There's no way you're getting out of here..."

But just then, a firm, commanding voice rang through the corridor. "Prince Amin, stop provoking the prisoner needlessly."

A woman in crimson armor stepped into view. It was Dame Nadia.

Now that Caron got a good look at her, he took in her features—she appeared to be a pale-skinned and brown-haired young woman. If Nadia was acquainted with Sabina, then she, too, had to have reached the pinnacle of 8-Star and regained her youth.

"Dame Nadia! You're just in time!" Amin hurried toward her, his face lighting up. "That wretched criminal insulted and threatened me—"

Nadia interrupted, sighing as she brushed off his words. Then she turned her gaze to Caron and said, "The Sultan wishes to see you."

Amin's face instantly drained of color.

Meanwhile, Caron chuckled and said, "Well, if I've been summoned, I suppose I must go."

"You will remain in restraints," Nadia added.

"No complaints here," Caron said.

Nadia unlocked the cell, and Caron stepped out, flashing Amin a smile before leaning in to whisper, "See you later."

For one of them, this was the beginning of hell itself.

Having just given Prince Amin a moment he would never forget, Caron then turned to Nadia and said, "Shall we go collect my winnings?"

"...It's an audience, not collecting winnings. Mind your choice of words," Nadia said.

"Ah, my apologies. I do have a bit of a careless streak," Caron replied.

Judging by how things were unfolding, his little gamble seemed to have been successful.

What should I squeeze out to make it seem like I hit the jackpot? Caron thought.

After all, life was all about hitting it big in one go.