"...Sir Diarca, it seems the treatment for today is all finished..."

Kiolle's unpleasant musings were abruptly cut off by the cautious words of other knights nearby. Annoyed, he turned his head only to hear the sound of a polite knock coming from inside the Crown Prince's chamber.

With an icy expression, he ordered the door to be opened. A middle-aged man with graying hair stepped out, smiling warmly in gratitude.

"I am always grateful for your consideration."

"How is His Highness the Crown Prince today?"

"Much improved. He didn't even smash the mirror when we showed it to him."

As proof, the man held up a small wooden hand mirror he had carried with him on previous visits. Until very recently, it had been shattered into countless pieces; today, it was intact.

"His Highness has a constitution that resists external treatments, perhaps because of his inherently sturdy nature, like a lone tree standing tall. But there was a significant change today, so it seems he'll be able to have dinner without any issues. He even listened calmly to the steward's talk about the upcoming party."

"..."

If this was true, it was an astonishing change in a short amount of time. The knights around him showed signs of surprise, but Kiolle only scoffed.

"Ha! We'll see if that's true. Anyone can talk big."

"Of course, you're correct."

"Did you use the same treatment on His Highness today as before?"

"Yes, I did."

"I can't understand it. To me, it seems you're just lighting candles and mumbling to yourself."

Barely avoiding a direct insult, the middle-aged man maintained a kind smile.

"My 'treatment' involves neither divine power nor medicine nor magic. I light a few fragrant candles in a dark room, approach the afflicted, and murmur something as I rub their forehead or body, and engage them in conversation."

It was hard to believe that such absurd treatment could work, yet the Crown Prince had shown actual improvement. It was unsettling.

"Of course, Sir Diarca, it may appear that way to you. But sometimes words can be a better cure than any divine power. I simply know which words can help which people."

"Is that so? I'm very curious about these magical words."

"If you're curious, would you like to participate in a treatment session? His Highness might even allow it next time."

'Is this insignificant man mocking me now, thinking I'm too harmful even to be present during treatment?'

"..."

Kiolle swallowed the retort that had risen to his throat and shot the middle-aged man a glare before abruptly turning away and walking off. Even in his small actions, it was abundantly clear that he had no respect for the healers and loathed them intensely.

As Kiolle pushed the healers out of the palace without a word and turned to leave, one of the young men following the middle-aged man spoke up in a concerned whisper.

"Is this really okay, wise one? We came trusting the promise of Duke Diarca, but the heir of the Diarca family disdains us so... I'm worried things won't go well. Perhaps we should even use our abilities on him, risks of being discovered notwithstanding..."

All the young people nodded in agreement at the words. However, the man called the sage simply smiled.

"Duke Diarca can do nothing to us, so don't worry. Didn't you see the Crown Prince today? Let's only think about what's best for him. That's enough."

Not long after the healers left, Kiolle received word that Prince Katchian had summoned him and his attendants. Meeting the Crown Prince face-to-face for the first time in quite a while since his appointment as a bodyguard, Kiolle felt a strange sensation. The prince’s complexion had darkened, yet his eyes shone a peculiar shade of red.

Was he always like this? I don't remember him being so... unsettling when he was in high spirits. Just as Kiolle pondered this, the Crown Prince slowly opened his mouth.

"Since the healer has gone, I feel much clearer in my mind. It's as if I've awakened from a nightmare. Everyone... you must have suffered a lot because of me."

"No, Your Highness," the attendants replied in unison. The Crown Prince, his lips slightly upturned, exhaled deeply and continued.

"We must send our thanks to Duke Diarca for aiding me. My body still feels weak, but I wish to attend the upcoming party. Could you convey my request for him to assist with the preparations?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Additionally, I'd like to have dinner in the dining room today. Make the arrangements."

"Understood!"

The attendants quickly bowed, their faces filled with enthusiasm. Kiolle also saluted to indicate his compliance and exited the room.

Everything really did go as the healers had promised. Kiolle was still annoyed that he couldn’t fully trust them, but he had a message to deliver and headed straight to the Diarca estate.

Upon hearing the news Kiolle brought, Duke Diarca expressed his surprise.

"Is this true, Kiolle? The Crown Prince said this?"

"Yes."

"Those healers really are something. To think they even managed to cure the Crown Prince..."

The nobles surrounding Duke Diarca started to murmur amongst themselves. Among them was Baron Durmand, who had been treated for migraines by the healers and had maintained contact with them ever since. He couldn't hide his delight upon hearing the news.

"Didn't I say so from the start? They are extraordinary people. Ha-ha. The one who cured my migraine mentioned that mental ailments are harder to treat, but the new one seems even more skillful. They pulled it off."

"We shouldn't let our guards down yet," Duke Diarca said, quickly tempering the elation.

The nobles immediately silenced themselves. There was a weight to Duke Diarca’s words that could not be taken lightly.

"Is the 'gift' we planned to give to the Cavalry at the upcoming party ready?"

'Gift?'

As Kiolle felt puzzled by the unfamiliar word, a known noble nodded and replied, "Yes, there won’t be a problem."

Duke Diarca picked up his pipe from the side, lit it, and continued to speak.

"Considering they've done such an outstanding job hunting monsters, we should provide a fitting 'gift.' Be careful not to get caught..."

At that moment, Kiolle, standing next to the Duke, suddenly flinched and looked down at his hand.

"Kiolle? What’s the matter?"

"...Nothing. May I be excused now?"

"I recall telling you earlier that you should stick around and observe what this old man is up to..."

Kiolle answered urgently.

When Duke Diarca looked closer, Kiolle did seem quite fatigued; his complexion wasn't good. It made sense, given that he had spent another day dealing with the commoners he so despised.

Duke Diarca clicked his tongue and nodded. "You must be tired from dealing with so many people. Go and rest."

As Kiolle bowed his head and retreated, the nobles by the Duke's side rushed to praise him.

"Kiolle has truly matured lately, becoming an impressive knight. Your Grace, you have nothing to worry about for the future. Haha."

"He's still far off. A guy who complains about how hard it is to put up with the filth."

Though his words were dismissive, Duke Diarca's expression was not displeased. The nobles quickly sensed this and continued to praise Kiolle to elevate the Duke's mood.

Meanwhile, Kiolle entered his room and took a deep breath, rolling up his sleeve. The sudden sense of drowsiness and the faint pain emanating from the oath mark on his wrist were the reasons he had returned so abruptly.

From past experiences that had rapidly depleted his stamina, almost luring him into eternal sleep, he deduced that this was a warning sign for potentially violating the contract.

'Why now? I haven’t said anything this time!'

He quickly reviewed the vows of the contract in his head. He had never revealed his deal with Yuder Aile to anyone, nor had he issued unilateral commands or insults to his father or any nobles.

Then that left only the third term.

'Kiolle da Diarca will, within his means, assist Yuder Aile.'

"... Could it be?"

An ominous thought suddenly sprang up in Kiolle's mind, accompanied by the echo of his father's recent words.

'Considering they've done such an outstanding job hunting monsters, we should provide a fitting 'gift…’'

Though he had lived a life swinging his sword as he pleased, he had a good idea of what that meant. His father was planning to send a message to the Cavalry, more precisely to Duke Peletta and the Emperor behind them. Given the hints, it seemed likely they would target the individual who had performed best in monster hunting to send their message. Normally, this would not bother Kiolle, but now that the contract was in question, he couldn’t just let it slide.

'Damn it...'

A silent curse escaped his lips like a scream.

…

"Why is that, Yuder? Did someone call for you?"

"... No, I think I was mistaken."

Yuder turned his head toward Kishiar's call and walked over to him. More than halfway through their vacation, they found themselves on Karl Lorwick Street, located in the Fourth District.