Circumstances of a Fallen Lord - Side Story 1

Side Story 1 – Reason for regression

 

The cold wind blew hard. Shrouded in a snowstorm, the old, small cottage looked quite precarious.

 

However, the room inside was warm; firewood was piled up high. Dozens and dozens of candles were lit up, making the interior bright as day.

 

There were two people in the room: a one-armed pilgrim and a clearly ill man.

 

The man’s skin was dry and leathery like the bark of an old tree; his body was so thin that all his bones could be seen.

 

He struggled to breathe, and even that was too much effort; his breathing stopped occasionally.

 

That man’s name was Luisen Anies.

 

He was Duke Anies and once enjoyed great power and authority. However, he had lost everything in one mistake. Now, he was stuck in a situation where his illness couldn’t be managed and it would be difficult to save his life.

 

His ethereal beauty had disappeared without a trace; his mind was ill as well. His overflowing wealth had dissipated like dust. The honorable figure once known as the ruler of the golden fields was nowhere to be seen. He had been driven out of the ancestral castle where his family had lived for generations and had barely managed to find shelter in the old cabin he had borrowed for a while.

 

The contrast between his past glorious life and his pitiful, unremarkable end starkly demonstrated his downfall.

 

He was about to die. Both Luisen himself and the one-armed pilgrim next to him were aware of this fact.

 

The air within the room was heavy.

 

Rattle–!

 

The window rattled. The one-armed pilgrim briefly tore his gaze away from the deposed lord and looked at the window.

 

‘It was just the sound of the wind.’

 

Perhaps because of the draft, the candles near the window had been extinguished.

 

‘I’ll need to light up the room more. He’s afraid of the dark.’

 

The one-armed pilgrim approached the window, made sure that the shutters were well-secured, and rekindled the extinguished candle. Though none of the pilgrim’s efforts could hold onto a life slipping away, it might provide a bit of comfort.

 

As the candles were lit, the one-armed pilgrim’s face was briefly illuminated in the window. Wanted posters with his face–the traitor Carlton’s face–were still scattered around. If Luisen saw this face, he would immediately recognize it.

 

The true identity of the one-armed pilgrim as Carlton must not be revealed to anyone. Luisen would die from shock if he were to find out that the person he called saint, revered, and followed was Carlton, the enemy who had led the deposed lord to ruin.

 

Carlton fiddled with his hood, taking care to hide his already covered face.

 

Luisen’s eyes were still closed; he looked like he had already become a corpse. Carlton felt nauseous. Luisen exhaled short, laborious breaths; only then did Carlton release a deep sigh. The deposed lord was still breathing, but how long would this last?

 

They had anticipated Luisen’s death for a few days. Luisen had become severely ill around the time the cold wind began to blow, and he gradually lost strength and control over his body. He lost consciousness for extended periods of time. Doctors had been called, and potent medicine was administered… But, his condition showed no signs of improvement. He had become so frail that there was nothing more to be done.

 

At the very least, Carlton wanted him to pass peacefully.

 

So, he rented this cabin and went around buying candles to illuminate the room brightly even at night. Carlton stayed by Luisen’s side the whole time, but it was more like he was waiting for the deposed lord’s moment of death rather than nursing him.

 

It felt like his blood was drying out, little by little. When Luisen looked as if he was feeling a little better, Carlton’s expectations rose before plunging back into despair. The emotional rollercoaster exhausted him. Anxiety and unease overwhelmed him.

 

‘Why am I like this?’

 

It shouldn’t matter if Luisen lived or died. No, in fact, it would be better if he died. He was truly useless.

 

Carlton had discovered Luisen by pure chance a year ago. He had picked up the nearly dead drifter, not realizing that the man was the once powerful Duke Anies. At the time, Carlton was looking for opportunities to avenge himself on those who abandoned him after he fled the court, branded as a traitor. Carlton had hoped that Luisen could be of use in exacting his revenge.

 

But Luisen was more broken than Carlton had realized. In both body and mind. To make use of him, he needed to recover first. Carlton took care of him earnestly, treating his body and pretending to be a merciful, benevolent pilgrim to open his heart. Despite the challenging process, Carlton believed that even if the Duke Anies had fallen so low, the deposed lord must still be useful.

 

And, through that effort, Luisen’s condition gradually improved. In the blink of an eye, the deposed lord trusted and followed Carlton around, calling him a saint.

 

‘He doesn’t even know that I was his enemy.’

 

He inwardly sneered at Luisen’s naïveté, but when Luisen nodded unconditionally at his words, a bit of Carlton’s shattered pride–after being abandoned by the king–was slightly restored. It was quite gratifying to have someone purely and wholly respect him.

 

Accompanying Luisen wasn’t so bad. It was for this reason that Carlton didn’t throw the deposed lord away even though Carlton realized that Luisen would be of no help in his revenge. Perhaps the deposed lord could be used like a human heater when they had no choice but to sleep outside.

 

One annoying thing Carlton was forced to contend with was that he had to listen to and grant requests for good-for-nothing people in order to maintain his image of a merciful pilgrim. As a result, he was involved in a number of strange incidents, but, as he resolved them, his name became known. A heretic inquisitor from the church approached him first.

 

According to that man, the strange phenomena happening all around the world were manipulated by the demon worshippers. 

 

He also claimed that the Death Knight, who Luisen dismissed as a mere delusion, was in league with them. 

 

Carlton had already killed the Death Knight by then. Not long after rescuing Luisen, he realized that someone suspicious was lurking around the deposed lord.  Deeming the being annoying and possibly dangerous, Carlton dealt with him early on. The heretic inquisitor had said the Death Knight was Luisen’s servant back when he was alive.

 

‘Ah, that guy.’

 

Carlton remembered him. The servant who tried to block his way when Luisen made his midnight escape. Despite being a servant, he was skilled in swordsmanship, managing to break through Carlton’s encirclement and escaping during the chaos of the monster-filled fight that night. Luisen had steadfastly believed that the servant had died that night, which had honestly befuddled Carlton.

 

Only then did Carlton realize that someone had been involved in Luisen’s downfall. But, he kept that fact from the deposed lord; Luisen knew nothing of the demon worshippers or his servant’s betrayal–he knew nothing. Carlton thought the Luisen wouldn’t be able to handle the truth and die from shock.

 

He knew Luisen wouldn’t live for long, but… just a little longer. Carlton wished he’d have a little more time.

 

At first, Carlton was definitely going to use him. He had taken care of Luisen–paid so much attention to him–because the deposed lord was so fragile. 

 

But, over time, Carlton’s heart began to change. 

 

Like a mother caring for a baby, Carlton carefully fed, dressed, and put Luisen to sleep. It wasn’t easy for Carlton to take responsibility for a person, but the more he suffered, the more he became attached.

 

Had he ever cared for someone else so deeply before?

 

He hadn’t.

 

Luisen was unique.

 

Carlton took care of him so much, but, this was how the story ends?

 

Carlton buried his face in his hands; a sense of helplessness washed over him. Like a slowly melting candle, his heart seemed to melt away as well.

 

“…Revered saint…”

 

Carlton looked up. Luisen’s eyelids shook; the deposed lord managed to open them with great difficulty. His eyes looked the sharpest it had in days. Carlton’s heart grew heavy–this was not a good sign.

 

“…Revered Saint. I want…to confess…my sins…”

 

Carlton nodded. Luisen mumbled, confessing all the sins he had committed in his lifetime. Carlton already knew it all. Luisen would mumble these stories incessantly when he was suffering from delusions or nightmares. Still, Carlton listened carefully.

 

After finishing his story, Luisen let out a deep breath. He moistened his throat with the wine Carlton had handed him, “Thank you, revered Saint.”

 

They both knew that this was the end. Like a blind man, Luisen reached out into the air; Carlton quickly held that hand. Then, Luisen smiled, relieved. Even though he lacked sight, the deposed lord was secure in his faith in the one-armed pilgrim–here, he thought that nothing could go wrong. Smiling, Luisen closed his eyes.

 

Carlton looked solemnly and quietly at Luisen’s face, which looked tranquil in its final rest.

 

Thank you? What did he mean by that? Did he even know who he was thanking? The man thanked his enemy, and died while holding that enemy’s hand….And Luisen would never learn that truth. To be honest, Carlton felt sorry.

 

At the same time, he felt ashamed. At least Luisen had been honest about his sins in the end. He had repented for his sins until the last moment. Compared to him, had Carlton ever been truly righteous?

 

A teardrop slid down Carlton’s cheek; he took off his hood. He should have taken it off earlier. Now, it was too late–there was no Luisen in this world who could look upon his true self.

 

***

 

After Luisen’s funeral, Carlton found himself with time and energy to spare. With one less mouth to feed–and now that it was no longer necessary to take the effort to nurse the deposed lord, he considered resuming the revenge he had put on hold. Yet, for some reason, he lacked the motivation. It was as if Luisen’s departure had taken his hatred and desire for revenge with it.

 

Carlton just wandered on the roads recklessly. Wherever he was, he felt lost. He began to notice things he never did before.

 

He saw the dire situation of a kingdom with no foreseeable future and the suffering denizens within.

 

He saw demon worshippers thriving within this chaotic world.

 

Once he saw the truth, it was hard to let this all pass. It wasn’t like Carlton was filled with some heroic spirit or thoughts of sacrifice. It was just…. the sight of innocent victims gradually overlapped with his memory of Luisen. When he was praised as a saint for helping people, Carlton couldn’t help but be reminded of Luisen. So, he just continued to lend a hand to people, one by one.

 

As a result, Carlton became the demon worshiper’s most formidable adversary. He experienced many things and collaborated with various people, uncovering the truths and the forces behind the demon worshipers.

 

Once Carlton learned the truth, he couldn’t forgive them. He and Luisen both were completely manipulated by those individuals.

 

Thus, he waged war against the demon worshipers. It was not an easy task to eradicate them. Over the years, their influence and might had grown significantly, bolstered by Duke Doubless’s support. The man was the king’s confidant and the Southern Great Lord; with his power and money, the heresy’s touch reached all over the kingdom.

 

A long, arduous battle ensued. The war took long enough for a young man to become a powerless, weak old man. Though there were many sacrifices, Carlton succeeded in driving all the demon worshippers out of the land.

 

The people called him a saint; the church acknowledged his efforts and praised him for his hard work. As peace arrived in the world. Carlton thought he should finish his long journey. He was determined to finish his unresolved tasks.

 

One day, he visited an old church. When he was a child, he learned to read, write, and recite doctrines from a priest there. When he arrived, no one who remembered him was there. 

 

As he entered, the priest who guarded the church recognized him and paid him respect, “Revered Saint.”

 

Carlton bowed slightly. The priest quietly exited the chapel so that Carlton could be alone.

 

‘Saint? What saint.’

 

It was still difficult to get used to that name. When people respectfully called him ‘Saint,’ Carlton kept recalling someone else: Luisen, the first to call him by that name. Though memory of Luisen’s appearance was blurry with the passage of time, the memory of the deposed lord’s voice was vivid as ever.

 

Carlton kneed in front of the altar, body heavy. Even such simple movements were no longer easy. He clasped his hands as if in prayer.

 

“God. Can you hear my voice?”

 

His voice was awkward. Though called a saint, Carlton had never prayed with sincerity. He still felt no respect or reverence for the divine. But at this moment, he became the humblest person in the world, clasping his hands like a desperate sinner. After all, those with regrets tend to become humble.

 

When he was officially appointed a saint by the church, the Pope had personally told him something: God himself will listen to Carlton and repay his work in defeating heresy with a miracle.

 

What could he ask for in recompense? He thought about various things, but his thoughts were concerned with that man… Luisen Anies…

 

Looking back on their youth, both he and Luisen were fools. They were both responsible for the fall of the Anies duchy, which spelled the end for the kingdom.

 

For far too long they wasted the time they had, not knowing who the real enemy was. Still, they were lucky enough to be given the chance to atone. He corrected his wrongs and was able to walk the right path. Shouldn’t Luisen be given the same opportunity?

 

Luisen was ignorant of his privilege, but at least he, as a person, was purer than Carlton. His naive faith transformed Carlton from a vengeful butcher into a saint who saved the world. If God valued Carlton’s life, then Luisen, who stood at the beginning of the end, deserved salvation as well.

 

“There is only one thing that this dying body desires. God, if you are to bestow a miracle upon me, then please. Give that person a chance.”

 

At that moment, Carlton prayed and begged with all his heart.

 

A divine and profound voice resonated through the air. The voice sounded like his mother who he could barely remember or like the priest who had taught him to read and write. The air around him quivered, yet the voice gently touched his ears.

 

[If so, you’ll lose everything you’ve built so far.]

 

God answered his prayers. Carlton was startled.

 

[Nothing might change.]

 

[Rather, the future may worsen.]

 

God sternly warned.

 

[Nevertheless.]

 

[If your resolve is unwavering; if you have no ounce of hesitation, then…]

 

From beyond the cross, a dazzling light poured through the stained glass; it so bright Carlton could hardly believe that this was mere dawn light. As the light filled the narrow chapel, it felt as though the floor and ceiling had vanished, and everything was enveloped in a warm glow. The radiance was so overwhelming that Carlton instinctively closed his eyes.

 

[Then, I shall make that wish come true.]

 

Carlton smiled at that answer. He didn’t hesitate until the end.

 

At that moment, time moved backwards; Luisen Anies’s soul woke up in his master bedroom back in the Anies Duchy.