Regas Vol 1. Chapter 7

Clatter, clatter. Crunch, scrape.

The sounds of eating resonated loudly in the expansive dining hall. This room, usually reserved for high-ranking nobles and distinguished guests, housed a long dining table capable of accommodating dozens. Now, it seated only two individuals, but only one was partaking in the al.

lmond could only gaze at the opulent spread before him without partaking. His abstention wasn't out of reverence for the hospitality extended after 15 years at the palace; quite the contrary. The court attendant had vanished after showing them in, leaving behind only a sneering absence. It was as if they were telling him to be thankful for this treatnt and to continue performing well.

He thought he had shed all pride during his tenure at the palace, but evidently, so still lingered. lmond glanced at his untouched plate then up at Abel, who sat across from him, having cleared his own plates and now eyeing lmond’s leftovers with interest.

“Do you want to eat?”

“Oh, no. If you’re not going to eat, should I bring it to master?”

Abel’s giggling response irked lmond further. That foolish boy. He didn’t even realize he was being sidelined. It all began when he accepted Truyde’s proposal without any hesitation.

“Do you even have any thoughts?”

“Excuse ?”

Abel, wrapping snacks in a handkerchief, looked up in confusion. lmond suppressed a sigh and lowered his voice in reproach.

“Truyde’s proposal was for you to beco the prince’s Regas. Do you realize the danger? No Regas has managed to stay by the prince's side for more than a week. Rumors say the prince has indulged in killing since he was eight. So even suspect he has vocal cord issues, as he has never spoken. He’s not in his right mind, rejecting everyone who approaches. How will you handle a prince who can’t even communicate, within a month?”

Truyde had tasked him with becoming the prince’s Regas with a one-month deadline to show noticeable results or withdraw. Surviving that month was doubtful, let alone making a significant impact. lmond sighed.

“If you fail, it’s not just your problem. Our faction, which has barely maintained a few Regas and kept our lineage, will take the bla and might never enter the palace again.”

lmond's expression was fraught with worry, but Abel rely smiled faintly.

“But what the Duke said is right. If master wants to avert the disaster he foresaw, the prince needs a proper Regas. And I think master would be happier than anyone if it were .”

“You don’t seriously believe you’re a proper Regas, do you?”

Despite knowing better, lmond couldn’t help but ask. If Abel failed, it could disrupt his own stable and peaceful life. Whether Abel understood lmond’s concerns or not, he carefully tied up his handkerchief of snacks and nodded.

“I believe so. Because it’s what my master thinks of .”

“....”

“I will do well. Don’t worry too much. The Duke has agreed to support everything you need. He also said he would grant my first request soon.”

lmond found no words to retort when Abel expressed his confidence. He was especially taken aback when Abel ntioned that Truyde would fulfill his first request.

When asked, “What do you want?”

“Please let enter the Dragon Forest,” was Abel’s response.

The attendant’s pained expression at that mont was the only refreshing thing for lmond, but he also worried it might anger Duke Truyde.

The Dragon Forest was a place feared by common folk for its curses, a sacred land steeped in legends of dragons and knights. It was said that no one who entered without royal permission returned, hinting at so mysterious power within.

If Abel beca the prince’s Regas, his qualifications aside, what good would access to the forest do? lmond kept his skepticism to himself. While he didn’t understand Abel’s motives, it was clear he needed the forest, as everything Abel had learned related to it. Trying to remain positive, lmond was caught off-guard by Abel’s hesitant voice.

“Um, when should I wake up?”

“Huh?” lmond turned, following Abel’s gaze to the setting sun.

“I wanted to refuse the al to deliver this news to master. But I couldn’t say anything; the attendant’s expression was too intimidating.”

The plate of the man who wished to refuse the al was as clean as new. lmond briefly glanced at the empty plate and rose from his seat, eager to leave behind the unsettling ntion of the attendant.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Abel responded energetically, as if relieved by the chance to relay his news to the master. He smiled at lmond before turning to leave first.

“I will work hard. I won’t be a bother to you, lmond.”

lmond returned the smile.

“You’re already a nuisance.”

His hand pointed to the napkin bundle on the dining table that Abel had forgotten.

Their return ho was delayed by the uneaten al, making Abel impatient to move faster and lmond wary of the darkening road. They were more tired than usual by the ti they arrived, but they quickly disembarked to deliver the news to the master. As lmond attempted to unhitch the horse, he noticed the hitching post in front of the stable was oddly positioned, not always on the left as usual.

lmond, ticulous to a fault, imdiately sensed soone had tampered with it. The house was empty, yet sothing felt amiss. After securing the arrangent, he was about to head ho when another anomaly caught his attention—the back door was ajar.

Typically, the warped door required a firm kick to shut completely, a task lmond always perford. But now, it was improperly closed, as if soone else had attempted it.

Strange, he thought, tilting his head as he entered the house. He passed by the warehouse first, checking inside just in case, but found nothing amiss. If a thief had been here, the place would have been ransacked. Relieved yet suspicious, lmond decided he was being overly cautious and moved on.

Too much had happened today to dwell on this mystery. He was eager to see Wiedel’s reaction to Abel’s news about becoming the prince’s Regas. lmond imagined Abel was already deep in explanation by the ti he entered the living room.

However, instead of finding Abel in Wiedel’s room, he was sitting in a chair, lost in thought.

“What are you doing here? Hurry and give your master the news. What’s wrong, were you scolded and kicked out?!”

lmond exclaid in surprise, and Abel slowly turned his head. His face was expressionless, but sothing in his usual tone made lmond’s heart skip.

“Master isn’t breathing.”

Abel, raised «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» in a border region plagued by invasions, was no stranger to death. From a young age, he’d attended nurous funerals with his mother. But now, his family was gone, and there was no one to bury them properly. It seed the peaceful years spent training with Wiedel had made funerals feel foreign.

“Are you okay?”

lmond’s question snapped Abel out of his daze. He looked up from the ground.

“I don’t know.”

It was hard to believe. His master was now just beneath the freshly turned red soil, forever out of reach. In this surreal mont, Abel regretted one thing profoundly. He pulled a bundle of cookies from his pocket—the ones wrapped in the handkerchief.

“If you’re going, you should eat what you brought.”

lmond turned away to hide his moistened eyes as he spoke bluntly. Abel unwrapped the handkerchief with his dirt-stained hands and bit into a cookie.

Crunch, crunch.

The sound was loud in his ears, but he tasted nothing. The palace food had seed so sweet and delicious.

****

As the King’s Heart faction began to consolidate power, the grandest palace was transford into the Regas Palace. Though intended for trained Regas to serve the king, the group—numbering over 200—was little more than a harem.

The n, adorned in heavy makeup and lavish costus, were striking enough to turn heads. They aid to captivate the king, but despite their skills and sweet words, none held his attention for more than three years.

The only bond for those unable to bear children was the king’s favor. To maintain this lineage, the Marquis Norhox’s family supplied new Regas. Unbeknownst to him, he spent more ti in the Regas Palace than in his own estate.

“He’s just a rustic man with a clumsy body and a fickle face. He stutters and doesn’t seem to pose a big problem. He’ll endure a few days at most, then run away crying.”

Norhox, now in his forties and still robust from frequent swordplay with knights, had no visible fat. His stamina was evident; despite having climaxed several tis, his arousal was again being attended to by a Regas. Norhox casually touched the bodies of other Regas beside him. Though they were ant for the king, Norhox saw them as re subjects for his tutelage.

“Truyde gave that Regas a month?”

“Ah, yes. But...”

“Damn it. Don’t you see? This is Truyde’s warning. It ans if the Regas we trained are useless, we are too.”

The officer hesitated, but Norhox wasn’t listening. His family had risen to power and wealth through the King’s Heart initiative, all thanks to the Regas. If their Regas proved ineffectual, he feared losing everything.

“Should I take care of him in advance?”

Hearing the low suggestion, Norhox intensified his actions, his grip firm, ensuring the Regas couldn’t escape until he was satisfied.

“No. Let it be. If he fails, he’ll flee, and if he sohow normalizes the prince, then we’ll deal with it then. By then, it’d be cause for celebration.”

Norhox sneered.

“So you better help that bastard.”