The Weight of Responsibility
The lord, who had been watching Barcas’s expression with a stiff face, scratched the back of his head and offered an awkward smile.
“I’ve overstepped. My apologies if I’ve offended you.”
Barcas regarded him with cold eyes, then crossed the courtyard. At the castle gate the cavalry stood ready, horses saddled and banners furled for departure. He swept his gaze over the ranks and spotted Thalia crossing the dirt path; he halted at once.
Her neatly braided light-brown hair caught the autumn sunlight and gleamed like burnished gold. Fatigue shadowed her pale face. Barcas handed his reins to a squire and approached her from behind. The woman, already gripping the carriage door, turned and glared at him like a cornered animal.
“What… what do you want?”
Barcas had been about to help her up; he slowly withdrew his hand. His wife looked at him as though he were a natural predator. Meeting those frightened blue eyes, something deep in his chest gave a small, inexplicable spasm. He studied her face for a moment with narrowed eyes, then took a deliberate step back.
Only when the tension visibly left her body did a bitter taste rise in his mouth. Ignoring the strange reaction, he spoke in an even tone.
“From today onward I will ride. I’ll station an escort beside the carriage. If anything happens, call for me.”
A flicker of relief crossed her face. She hid it at once, lowering her long lashes, and answered curtly.
“Do as you like.”
She climbed inside as though fleeing. Barcas stood by the open door, watching, then exhaled softly and turned away. All his careful efforts to accustom her to his touch appeared to have been undone in a single night. Given his own impulsive behavior, her reaction was hardly surprising.
……Best not to touch her for a while.
She was as skittish and wary as a young wild horse. To lower her guard, he would have to keep his distance for some time yet. The bitter taste lingered as he swung into the saddle.
“Once again, thank you for accepting the invitation, Your Grace.”
The lord, who had been waiting a short distance away, approached once more. Barcas turned his horse toward the head of the long column and gave a brief nod.
“The bandit problem will be dealt with as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you. Then I shall visit Kalmor in due course.”
The man’s voice rang out across the courtyard. Barcas spurred his mount at once. The cavalry followed through the gate in tight formation; the night’s revelry still clung to them in the heavy scent of wine.
Barcas scanned the riders, then addressed Tairon, who rode at his side.
“Bring Lucas forward. Until we reach Kalmor, I will personally oversee his training.”
Tairon sent him a worried glance, as though fearing Barcas might harm the inexperienced youth. Barcas’s mouth curved in a faint, humorless smile.
“Must I repeat myself?”
“……I’ll fetch him at once.”
Tairon wheeled his horse and rode toward the rear. A short while later Lucas approached, his face set and rigid. Barcas looked him over with cool detachment, then jerked his chin.
“From now on you will serve as guide. Take the lead.”
Tension tightened the boy’s still-smooth features; he seemed to sense the ordeal ahead. Barcas nodded again.
“Well? Move.”
After a brief hesitation Lucas spurred forward. Barcas’s voice followed, sharp against his stiff back.
“Henceforth you will not leave the formation or stray from my sight without permission. Fail in your duty and you will answer for the consequences.”
“Your Grace, the young master still lacks experience……”
“Tairon El Drakan.”
The man fell silent at once. Barcas delivered his warning in a voice like ice.
“Interrupt me again and you will pay the price.”
A chill settled over the ranks. Every rider understood the warning was meant for them all. Barcas’s gaze swept the column once more before returning to Lucas.
“Now ride.”
Lucas glanced back over his shoulder, then spurred ahead. Barcas followed at once. Their route would carry them in a wide arc through the northeast before turning south toward the old borders of the Arex Kingdom, then west again through the southeast, and finally northwest until they reached Kalmor. At most a fortnight remained—ample time to school an immature brother.
He stayed close behind Lucas, watching the terrain but leaving the boy to lead unless real danger threatened. Lucas held the prescribed course well enough, yet his lack of experience showed; he often chose narrow side paths without thought for those behind him. Each time the column had to retrace its steps, Lucas’s shoulders slumped a little more.
“Study the map properly. We must reach the vicinity of Brinak by tomorrow.”
They arrived at the campsite only as dusk fell. Barcas dismounted, led his horse to the water, and spoke without turning.
“Any delay in the schedule is your responsibility. Keep your wits about you and do your job.”
“……Why should it be my fault?”
Barcas stopped. Lucas glared at him, rebellion bright in his eyes.
“The schedule slipped because of Your Grace’s childish tantrum yesterday!”
Sharp intakes of breath sounded from the surrounding riders. Tension lined Lucas’s face as well, yet he held his chin high, certain he would not be struck. Barcas let out a long breath and walked slowly toward his brother. Lucas thrust his jaw forward and glared, all bravado.
Barcas gave a dry laugh, reached out, and smoothed the boy’s tousled dark-brown hair. Lucas flinched at the unexpected touch. Barcas’s hand closed firmly at the nape of his neck and drew him close until their faces were inches apart.
“If I had truly wished to vent my anger, I would have stood you in the training yard rather than waste time on this tedious exercise.”
The color drained from Lucas’s sun-browned face. Barcas’s voice remained soft, almost gentle.
“Be grateful you are not yet a man and that you are my brother, Lucas. Otherwise I would have placed you exactly where Alex Gutban now stands.”
“……”
“If you understand, apologize properly.”
“……I’m sorry, brother.”
“Good. Your rudeness is forgiven.”
Barcas released him and continued in the same mild tone.
“You will also apologize to my wife for your careless tongue. For now she does not wish to see your face, so I am leaving the matter alone.”
Lucas bit his lip, humiliation staining his cheeks. Barcas looked down at him for a moment, then let his hand fall away.
“Now do your duty.”