Pherenike - Chapter 53

He stared at Viano’s subordinate expressionlessly and asked again, “Thion. What did you just call the daughter of my master?”

The daughter of my master.

Deucalion severed all the years he had grown up with Pherenike, their childhood betrothal, and the times they were lovers, leaving behind only a very simple relation between them.

With that, he asked dispassionately. He chose not to mention her status as his half-brother’s wife or her position as the queen.

Traditionally, their lord detested foul language in the camp. The soldiers still thought the prince was merely reprimanding the lancer. However, those who had observed the prince closely for a long time sensed that something was terribly twisted.

The prince and his friends had many teachers growing up, always referring to them as ‘our master’. But there was one exception – General Vassilios.

Who among the soldiers didn’t know of the legendary General Vassilios? Who among the prince’s friends didn’t know why General Vassilios took Deucalion as his only disciple?

“…..She fits the name of a dirty woman who knows no chastity.”

“Thion!”

Viano urgently called his subordinate’s name. But his subordinate had already given up in the face of terror. He was ignited by what he believed to be courage and righteousness.

“Whether she’s the daughter of General Vassilios, or the daughter of a goddess, anyone truly loyal to you would say the same.”

“Thion, shut your damned mouth. Lord Paetusa, please—”

“That w***e betrayed Lord Paetusa.”

That was the end of it. Deucalion walked to a nearby soldier, reached for the practice spear strapped to his back.

With one swift motion, the prince grabbed the spear. With the precision of throwing a slender javelin, he hurled the massive spear. The blade penetrated diagonally through the kneeling lancer’s head. The lancer died with his eyes open.

The murder was instantaneous. The thick s***t of the spear, unbelievably thrown from such a close distance, even protruded from the back of the lancer’s head. It was an overwhelming force.

The Orthea, now fed with blood, flared with a dark blue light from the tip of the blade before returning to Deucalion. Only a very few could ‘discern’ it, but the camp held its breath.

Deucalion walked to the corpse with an utterly composed face. His eyes still appeared half-crazed, but his face was calm.

The body of the lancer didn’t collapse but remained suspended in mid-air. Deucalion, standing still, kicked the body of the dead lancer, causing it to fall backward.

The spear, reaching the ground faster than the falling body, pierced the head of the corpse in the opposite direction. The body couldn’t lie flat completely.

Deucalion yanked the practice spear from the lancer’s head and tossed it back to the soldier it originally belonged to. The soldier barely caught it while trembling.

“Let this be a lesson.”

“…..”

“Mouths should be sealed, always.”

In the aftermath, a hush fell over Paetusa’s camp. No one dared speak out of turn. But fear and silence are not eternal.

To execute a loyal soldier over a woman who betrayed him?

Eventually, someone voiced dissatisfaction, others quietly agreed, and yet more pretended not to hear. The rest suppressed the faint dissent with profound loyalty.

In fact, whatever it was, it was exhausting. It was an unnecessary crack. In the end, dissatisfaction didn’t erode loyalty. They didn’t want to resent Deucalion.

“I feel sick to my stomach.”

“Feeling sick?”

“That woman is actually pregnant.”

“Ah, that.”

The conversation took on a dry tone. Viano continued, unperturbed.

“It’s revolting. Everything about that Vassilios woman gets more disgusting by the day.”

“Watch your mouth. We’re still in Lykke.”

“Dexi. I still think about the day Thion died.”

“…”

“He should never have died for such a trivial reason.”

Dexicos agreed with Viano’s sentiment. It wasn’t a deed worth death.

A beating would have sufficed, and no one would have questioned it. After all, dishonoring the Vassilios family, no matter what Pherenike did, was out of the question. It was a just cause.

So, the ‘cause’ of Vassilios’s honor was fitting. Although the prince’s intentions might have been slightly suspect.

“His Highness still wants that w***e, doesn’t he?”

“If you think so, how about keeping it to yourself? I don’t like the word ‘w***e.'”

Dexicos replied nonchalantly as they passed under the city gate, glancing back at the long avenue inside the city one last time. The image of Pherenike’s final appearance crossed his mind.

He felt a bitter taste. Blinking indifferently, Dexicos turned around sharply.

Viano complained.

“Dexi, you’re always too soft on that woman.”

“I just don’t like my ears to be dirtied, that’s all.”

“Pretending to be noble, are we?”

“It’s thanks to your noble company.”

“Just like His Highness. Even though that woman stabbed us in the back, you can’t stand a single petty word against her.”