The next day, Marquis Julien and his partner Andrian were married in the eyes of the Gods, and the treaty with the Beastlands was confirmed. It should have been a time of joy and celebration, but of course, things can never be that simple. I’d known that there was more to the Marquis’s situation than a simple arranged marriage, but I hadn’t learned the full truth until the night of the wedding banquet.

That night, the Duke of Ramport was convicted for inciting the war, as well as the deaths of all those women along the borderland. It was then that I finally understood why the Marquis had been hiding under the cover of being a mute. His accusations caught everyone off guard, and their raw, unprepared reactions served as proof of his claims. I’m not one for politics and scheming, but even I could see that he had successfully played a poorly dealt hand. 

Much to the relief of the Royal kin, His Highness, the Second Prince, was exonerated of the Duke’s crimes. He would be insufferable for a while, but that was just his ego rebelling against the realization that he had been used as a pawn in the Duke’s schemes. Although his attempts to sabotage the treaty hadn’t gone unnoticed, that was a matter that could be dealt with in private.

Without delay, a covert unit of Palace guards was sent in secret to arrest the Duke’s men, falling upon them in their accommodations without warning. Swiftly and brutally, the Duke’s men were arrested and thrown into the dungeon, where they would await their departure to the Beastlands for execution. 

Personally, I was delighted by this turn of events. Even before their crimes were exposed, I would have been happy to see them imprisoned and executed. The image of Sir Herace, beaten beyond recognition, laying unresponsive in the Palace infirmary, still haunted me. 

Testing the might of the Knights of the Golden Palace? A training accident? Certainly not. There was no justification for that kind of violence. 

However, the southern Duke held great influence over the King, and Sir Herace’s family were café owners with very few connections. There was little that the Palace knights could do to pursue the situation once the King had accepted the Duke’s excuses.  

With the Duke of Ramport and his knights in custody, that should have been the end of it. Justice was imminent, and their executions all but assured. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until late the next morning that we realized that someone was missing. One of the Duke’s men was still at large, and his whereabouts were unknown. Worse still, Marquis Julien had also gone missing.

We spent the afternoon searching the Palace to no avail. There were too many wings, too many rooms, and too many secluded locations. It could take multiple days to search the entire Palace properly, if they were still inside the Palace at all. The Marquis didn't have that kind of time. It felt hopeless.

Finally, late into the evening, good news arrived. The Marquis had been found, badly injured, but alive. The man who had evaded capture and kidnapped him was dead, slain by the Marquis’s own hand.

The knights sent to retrieve the body counted no fewer than fifty stab wounds on his body, almost all of them in non-lethal areas. It was said he must have suffered greatly before he died. I couldn't help but feel he deserved it, and my already high regard for the Marquis increased. 

However, by the next morning, the Marquis still hadn’t awoken. According to Lord Erris, he had fallen into a coma and it couldn’t be predicted when he would wake. Lord Erris assured us that it was just a matter of time, but there was still a heaviness in the air that refused to dissipate. 

That night, I found myself unable to sleep. 

I barely knew the Marquis, but he was someone that I hoped to one day call a friend. Knowing he’d suffered so much when he was supposed to be under the protection of the Palace knights left a bitter weight in my chest. The mix of concern and guilt were enough to keep me awake long after descent gave way to ascent.

Rather than restlessly lying in bed, I decided to go for a walk around the Palace grounds in an attempt to settle my mind. 

After wandering aimlessly for nearly a full movement, I found myself at the training grounds. The dark field stretched across my vision, bathed faintly in the glow of the Golden Palace. 

Under the vague illumination, I spotted a lone figure lying on the grass.

Curious, I walked toward the figure. As I approached, they stirred, sitting up abruptly and scanning their surroundings with bleary eyes. They looked around vigilantly, before seeing me standing off to the side. Our eyes met, and in the dim light, I realized it was Vargas lying in the field. 

His bloodshot eyes met mine and he muttered, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I inquired, eyeing the empty liquor bottle beside him, “Alcohol is prohibited on the training grounds.”

“Prohibited, my ass!” Vargas slurred, his intoxicated state becoming even more obvious the longer I observed him, “I ain’t a fuckin’ knight. Can’t even fuckin’ –hic– be a damned guard without fuckin’ it up, so how could I be a knight? Huh?! How could I? …I’m a failure, Evan. A worthless fuckin’ failure. And you! You’re here to laugh at me, ain’t ya? Well, whatever. Don’t matter if you are. I fuckin’ deserve it! C’mon Evan, tell me how shitty I am…”

Oh boy. He was a wreck. Though, funny enough, I kind of understood how he felt. 

I sighed and sat down beside him, “You’re not shitty, Vargas. No one expected this. You did everything you could.”

“And it weren’t fuckin’ good enough, was it?” he badgered, swaying unsteadily. 

Up close, I could see his red-rimmed eyes clearly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he’d been crying. I couldn’t imagine the loud, wild-eyed beastman shedding tears over anything, but I guess that showed how little I knew him. 

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” I pointed out, hoping to calm him down.

“No thanks to –hic– me, that’s for sure,” Vargas muttered, suddenly subdued as he stared at the ground, “He– he’s already been hurt so much. We were s'posed to keep him safe.”

“I know. But there are over two hundred knights in this place whose sole duty is to protect the people within these walls. You’re just one man, so how can you hold yourself accountable for something that was our responsibility?” I inquired softly, a quiet guilt rising in my heart. 

I hadn’t even been on duty at the time, but still, I couldn’t help but feel that it was equally my fault. We had all failed him. 

“But… how do I face him?” Vargas asked pitifully.

“How could you not?” I shot back, “If you’re his friend, then be his friend. When he wakes up, be there for him. The Marquis has been through an ordeal and will need your support. Instead of wallowing in self-indulgent guilt, stand by his side in the aftermath.”

Vargas narrowed his eyes and spat, “Bah! Fuck you. What do you know? Just leave me alone.”

He fell back onto the grass, staring up at the sky, faint tears glistening in the low lighting. 

I didn’t say anything else, but I didn’t leave either. 

For a few moments, there was only silence, but then the soft sound of sobbing broke through the stillness.

“I can’t– Fuck, I can’t even be upset,” Vargas gasped between sobs, turning his back to me and curling up in a ball, “I didn’t keep him safe. Andri’s so fuckin’ messed up right now, and I ain’t got no right to make it about me. I’m shit. I’m a shitty friend. I don’t deserve either of them.”

On impulse, I lay down beside him and wrapped an arm around him from behind, “You’re not shit, Vargas. You’re allowed to be upset and you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Having never comforted someone before, I felt incredibly awkward as I hugged the crying beastman. Thankfully, my clumsy efforts seemed enough to calm him, and his sobbing eventually subsided. 

“Come on,” I said, sitting up and gently releasing him from my embrace, “Let’s get you to bed.”

Vargas nodded and let me pull him to his feet. 

I wasn’t sure how much he’d had to drink, but it was more than enough to render him incapable of walking back on his own. 

Resigned to my fate, I helped Vargas wrap an arm around my shoulder and began leading him back to the wing where the beastmen were staying. If I had no experience comforting someone, at least I had experience carrying drunken knights back to the barracks. It took us half a movement to get there, with Vargas stumbling blindly and nearly causing me to lose my balance on multiple occasions, but we made it to our destination without any major tumbles.

By the time we reached the top of what felt like an endless mountain of stairs, I was out of breath and sweating.

"That one," Vargas mumbled, pointing at one of the many doors lining the hallway. He seemed to have sobered up a little during our long trek. 

I opened the door to a simple looking room, one that seemed out of place within the Golden Palace. But its lack of decor seemed more suited to our beastmen guests than the ostentatious guest rooms the nobility resided in. 

I navigated us to the bed and unceremoniously dumped Vargas on top of the mattress. Finally relieved of my burden, I took a few moments to catch my breath. 

Vargas lay on the bed, silently watching me gasp for air, a slight smirk tugging on his lips as his eyelids drooped from drunken fatigue.

"Get some sleep. Clear your head," I told him, then I turned and left without another word.