Chimera of Batius - Chapter 2
He paced for a while but felt no cold. Partly because he’d grown used to the northern climate, but also because the oppression he’d felt in the banquet hall made his bl00d boil. After circling the castle several times, Ruzerolt went to the garden. Perhaps the scent of flowers would clear his mind.
He passed the entrance guards and entered the garden. A maze of paths and arches covered in ivy stretched before him. Snow still lingered in the corners. Heinsley Castle’s outer garden was full of life, with evergreen trees and red flowers blooming despite the cold.
Ruzerolt’s gaze settled on a tree. A red ribbon was tied around its trunk, a tree his mother had loved. He’d lost his mother at ten. The former Grand Duchess, a princess of the kingdom of Operta, hadn’t been suited to the north’s harsh nature. Yet the Grand Duke had respected and loved his wife, so different from himself. He also cherished Ruzerolt, who resembled his mother. His silver hair and green eyes, inherited from her, were another reason he was loved.
After the Duchess died of illness, the Grand Duke remarried. Though he had a son and daughter with his second wife, he still longed for his first.
Perhaps the Grand Duke’s longing had given Ruzerolt a justification—as if it told him he didn’t need to live like a northerner, that it was fine to preserve the natural temperament he had inherited from his mother.
Still, he was also part of the Heinsley family. Even if he didn’t seem like a typical member…
“Do you find northern customs repulsive?”
Ruzerolt ran a dry hand over his face. Was it because of the long walk through the forest? He felt an endless fatigue, unlike anything before.
“I’d better turn in early.”
His exhale formed a plume of white smoke. Just as he was about to leave the garden, watching his breath disperse, he saw a horse on the lake shore. Not far away, a patrolling guard was talking with a man. The man’s crimson velvet cloak and the silver ornaments on his shoulders were the symbols of the Grand Duke’s Knightly Order.
The man, noticing Ruzerolt, approached.
“Captain.”
Recognizing the familiar face, Ruzerolt’s expression became as calm as ever.
“Are you finished with everything, Reym?”
“We’re almost done.”
Ruzerolt raised an eyebrow, a gesture asking why he was here if the work wasn’t finished. Reym stepped closer and lowered his voice.
“There’s something you need to see.”
Reym, though a northerner to the core, was one of the few nobles Ruzerolt got along with, as they shared certain similarities. That he, so meticulous in his duties, sought Ruzerolt like this meant the matter was of utmost importance. At Ruzerolt’s look, Reym glanced around and pulled a sheaf of papers from his inner pocket.
“When we examined the bones and enemy records, we found something interesting: the Kim bear we hunted and the bears that live only in the south are very similar.”
The papers held anatomical drawings of bear skulls and full skeletons. There was also a map marking their habitats.
[Unique habitat: Meldine region, south of the Catanel Empire.]
“Meldine?”
“Yes. Thanks to Jake, we found it. Both the peculiar skull shape and the markings.”
Reym turned another page; a drawing appeared of a red bear with white spots, like a dairy cow.
“Doesn’t it look similar?”
Ruzerolt stared at the drawing for a long moment, then rolled the papers and handed them back to Reym.
“We must send a request for cooperation.”
“I’ll ready a messenger at once-”
Sh.
Ruzerolt cut him off and raised a hand. Both men looked at the horse on the lake shore. Beside the drinking animal stood a person in red. Reym’s hand went to his sword hilt.
“Looks like a stranger. I’ll check.”
The red cloth fluttered in the slightest breeze. From the silhouette, the figure seemed quite slender. In the northern winter, few foreigners wore such striking attire. Ruzerolt stopped Reym.
“It’s fine. It must be a dancer invited by Dexler.”
“A dancer?”
Reym’s expression darkened further.
What is he doing here?
Ruzerolt approached the lake shore. Reym took his hand from his sword and followed. Their steps, thanks to training, were quieter than most, yet Reym’s armor clanked louder than usual, radiating displeasure.
The dancer kept gazing at the lake. Only when the two stopped beside the horse did the stranger turn. Indeed, it was the same dancer from the banquet hall.
Seen up close, he was taller than Ruzerolt had thought—taller even than Reym, a rarity in the Grand Duke’s army. Ruzerolt asked:
“Aren’t you the dancer invited by Dexler?”
The dancer inclined his head.
“I am.”
His voice, heard for the first time, was clear yet deep—surprising, given his delicate features and deep eyes.
His aura differed from that in the bright ballroom. Still, the fluttering cloth evoked images of his provocative dance. Ruzerolt feigned calm.
“Why are you here when the banquet is in full swing?”
“That is…”
The dancer didn’t answer. Reym stepped forward, suspicious.
“How did you know of this place? Did you know Sir Ruzerolt was here? Why approach my horse?”
“I meant no harm. I only… wanted some fresh air.”
“Fresh air?”
Reym’s tone sharpened. The horse snorted.
Though Ruzerolt expected eye contact, the dancer kept his head down, fingers clenched. Ruzerolt’s green eyes fixed on him.
“Lift your head.”
At the order, the dancer gripped his long fingers, uncomfortable, then raised his face. Ruzerolt’s brow furrowed. One cheek, perfect in the ballroom, was now swollen and red, a scab at the edge of his lip.
Ruzerolt clicked his tongue softly.
Dexler again…
It wasn’t the first time he had abused his lovers. Now, as Ruzerolt looked at him, the dancer’s face was swollen and his eyes red from crying. From the dancer’s expression alone, Ruzerolt could roughly guess what had happened, but Reym remained unaware.
When the dancer bowed his head again and stepped back, Reym’s hand returned to the hilt of his sword. The horse instantly sensed its rider’s tension.
The animal lifted a foreleg and whinnied loudly. The dancer, standing close to the lake’s edge behind the horse, lost his balance at the sudden movement.
“Ah…!”
Splash.
It all happened in a split second. Ruzerolt rushed to the lake and shouted:
“Reym! Calm the horse.”
“Whoa… hey, hey! Easy, easy!”
While Reym soothed the horse, Ruzerolt stretched out his arm.
“Take my hand.”
The dancer instinctively reached for it, then hesitated. Ruzerolt didn’t miss that pause.
A delicate man like him might feel ashamed of northern bluntness. Perhaps he didn’t want to take the hand of yet another northern brute…
“Planning to stay in there forever?”
When Ruzerolt offered his hand again, the dancer cautiously extended his arm. Lifting him with one hand took more strength than expected; he was heavier than he looked. Ruzerolt hid his surprise and pulled him from the lake. The dancer staggered and fell into Ruzerolt’s arms.
“Thank you.”
He instinctively lowered his gaze. His thin clothes were soaked, clinging to his body. A cold gust made him shiver. To make matters worse, the snow that had stopped began falling again.
The castle lake, though artificial, was fed by the Yakli River and as cold as a winter stream. Reym, having calmed the horse, bowed to Ruzerolt.
“I’m sorry, Captain. It’s not like him to act this way… It’s my fault.”
Ruzerolt moved the dancer away from his body.
“Reym, go. Don’t worry about this.”
“And the dancer…”
Ruzerolt removed his cloak and draped it over the dancer’s shoulders. The man flinched at the heavy fabric.
“Put it on.”
“There’s no need, Sir. How could I-”
“Put it on.”
Ruzerolt pressed the dancer’s shoulders firmly. At last, he slipped into the cloak and lowered his eyes.
“Thank you…”
Reym gathered the reins and looked at the dancer with disdain.
“Captain, I’ll have my servants escort him.”
Hearing Reym’s reluctant tone, Ruzerolt gestured toward the garden gate.
“Fine. I’ll handle this, so go.”
Reym moved his lips as if to protest, then nodded.
“…Very well.”
Watching him leave obediently, the dancer shrank back. His fingers, stroking his own arm, trembled pitifully.
Ruzerolt watched in silence. Noting the dancer’s soft, scarless hands, he recalled the amber eyes he’d met in the banquet hall.
“Filthy nobles. Disloyal knights. Vile Heinsley. You, who are here, are no exception.”
Meeting those eyes again, eyes that seemed to see right through him, he felt a knot in his chest. Shaking his head, Ruzerolt turned away.
“Follow me.”
***
A servant hurried along the second-floor corridor of the Grand Duke’s castle. The boy, his freckled cheeks flushed, spotted Ruzerolt and quickly draped the cloth he’d been carrying over his arm.
“Sir Ruzerolt! I hadn’t heard anything about a guest arriving. Why did you suddenly order the room cleaned…?”
Then, noticing the dancer half-hidden behind Ruzerolt, he fell silent, clearly startled. His eyes widened at the cloaked figure, and he gave the dancer a sidelong glance. Ruzerolt flicked the cold sleeve of his coat and called to the servant.
“River.”
“Yes?”
River blinked, surprised. Ruzerolt pointed to the room, his face unreadable.
“Put more wood on the fire and bring a change of clothes.”
“Yes! Right away!”
Still puzzled, River hurried down the stairs. Ruzerolt stepped first into the room at the end of the hall. Flames crackled in the ornate fireplace. Near the door, the dancer hugged himself, unsure what to do. Ruzerolt approached the fireplace and looked at him
“Come here.”
The dancer toyed with the edge of his cloak, silent. His red lips had gone pale. He looked like a wounded doe Ruzerolt had once brought down in the forest. Ruzerolt pointed at the fireplace again.
“Must I repeat myself?”
Cheil edged closer. The sparks snapped louder; he shrank back, stopping just short of the hearth. Ruzerolt didn’t urge him nearer. He studied the dancer the way one studies a startled deer, then spoke.
“What’s your name?”
Cheil answered without lifting his eyes.
“Cheil… I’m Cheil.”
His long lashes fluttered. Ruzerolt sat in the chair.
“You know who I am. We met in the ballroom.”
Cheil nodded. Ruzerolt sat perfectly straight.
Crackle, crackle.
The red of Cheil’s dress bled into the fire’s glow; Ruzerolt’s green eyes took on the same hue.
“I hear you belong to the troupe Dexler hired. Where are you from?”
Cheil tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. His cheeks were fuller now; Ruzerolt noticed.
“It’s a company of wanderers. If you ask where I’m from, it’s hard to say, but if you mean where we last performed… before coming here, we spent a few months in the Southern Lands.”
He huddled, and the corner of his damp cloak slipped down his arm. The fabric clung to his skin, making it almost translucent.
“I see.”
Ruzerolt’s gaze fixed on Cheil’s damp chest. The mask was still in place—never removed while dancing, not when he fell into the water, not even now.
“You’d better take it off.”
Ruzerolt mimed removing a mask. Understanding, Cheil rubbed the wet edge with long fingers.
“I… can’t take this off except on special occasions.”
Ruzerolt raised an eyebrow. Cheil spoke carefully.
“Taking it off… means I’m willing to serve you in bed.”
“Ah.”
Ruzerolt looked away at the flames, uncomfortable. He’d lived apart from such customs and hadn’t known the rule. He cleared his throat and poured more wine into the empty glass.
“First time in the North?”
“Yes.”
A swirl of purple spun inside the cup as Ruzerolt turned his wrist.
He studied Cheil with calm eyes: a dancer hired by Dexler, a plaything Dexler had touched, a stranger brought to Heinsley by Dexler. Whatever his manner or character, he was Dexler’s man, and therefore someone Ruzerolt must not trust.
“If you want to avoid misunderstandings, don’t wander without reason. Especially looking like that.”
He pointed at Cheil’s clothes. The dancer’s bright hair and costume made him look like a migratory bird blown off course. Seeing him shiver, Ruzerolt looked away.
“Even as an invited performer, if you walk the castle alone dressed like that, we’ll have to watch you closely. Remember that.”
Knock, knock.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door and River entered with clothes and a towel. At a nod from Ruzerolt, he set the items on the table near the fireplace.
“Stay here and warm up. You don’t have to return the clothes.”
“Your Excellency, I’m very grateful for your kindness. But I can’t cause you any more trouble.”
“Part of what happened today was my fault. If you get sick, you’ll be the one in trouble. Besides…”
Ruzerolt looked at Cheil’s cheeks and sighed.
“While you’re here, you’re like one of my brother’s people. So think of it as care for him.”
He remembered the image of the dancer being harassed by Dexler. In Cheil’s eyes, he too must have seemed a libertine, like any other northern resident. Just as he, for no reason, saw the dancer as one of Dexler’s people.
Recalling the stares he’d received at the banquet, his throat still felt dry.
“Thank you, Your Excellency…”
Cheil toyed with his fingers, quietly voicing his thanks. His gestures, for a while now, had seemed far from decadent. Yet appearances could deceive. After all, he was just a company member Dexler had hired for entertainment.
Ruzerolt, avoiding the cheeks that drew him so, added another instruction for the servant.
“River, fill the wood in the quarters where that company is staying.”
“Yes, Sir Ruzerolt!”
River hurried out. Ruzerolt rose and headed for the door. Passing Cheil, he brushed against him.
From his still-cold body wafted a fragrant scent. Drawing closer, Ruzerolt identified it clearly: lavender.
Why? From this man, so libertine and dissolute as any northerner, came a faint scent like his mother’s. A trace of her, a beautiful woman who had always walked the right path.
…What a crazy thought.
Ruzerolt gave a bitter laugh and looked away from the dancer.
“When the fog comes, this castle will close its gates for a month. Snow will cover everything. So, before it closes, leave.”
Cheil’s amber eyes widened.
“The company’s been paid for two months of performances. If they ask me to return the money now…”
“You don’t need to return it. I just want you all out of this castle. Wouldn’t that be better for you too?”
Ruzerolt strode to the door.
“But…!”
Cheil, about to protest, froze. Green eyes fixed on him. In the gaze that rested on Cheil’s swollen cheeks was a mix of compassion, pity, and a cold, superior judgment of something wrong.
“Pack and leave in a couple of days.”
With that, Ruzerolt left without hesitation.
***
The crackling firewood warmed the silent room. Alone in the spacious chamber, Cheil no longer trembled.
“Ruzerolt Heinsley…”
Slouched in the chair, he spoke the man’s name and tossed the cloak over the back. It was soaked and stained dark.
Cheil, with his back to the fireplace, reached into the air. Comforting heat wrapped his body. He watched the fabric’s edges dry and lighten, remembering what he knew of Ruzerolt.
An alpha, the Grand Duke’s eldest son and rightful heir to Heinsley. Also commander of the northern knights.
Still heir due to the Grand Duke’s long life, he’d soon own these lands. Rumor said he resembled the late Duchess. Handsome, but cold as ice, as his looks suggested.
Or maybe not. Seeing how he treated a stranger, he didn’t seem so.
Ruzerolt revealed bits of his story in his eyes each time he looked at Cheil: doubts about family, conflicts with his brother, identity crises, fear of showing it.
The “target” Cheil had to seduce was far more complex and delicate than imagined, seemingly immune to corruption. Cheil ran a hand through his hair and gave a wry laugh.
“…It won’t be as easy as I thought.”