The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate-Chapter 156. This Place is a Mess Too (2)

Samir bin Sultan Kajir Pajar, the Fourth Prince of the Pajar Sultanate, stared out the window and sighed, the weight on his chest pressing tighter with each breath.

"This isn't good," Samir said.

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It had been two months since his eldest brother collapsed. The finest sorcerers and the most renowned doctors—none of them had been able to cure him.

Samir recalled the conversation he'd just had with the saintess from the Holy Kingdom.

"We'll do our best, but... if dark mana has corrupted his soul as well... There are limits to what we can promise."

He had invited her as a last, desperate hope, grasping at straws to save his brother's life. The process of bringing her to the Pajar Sultanate had been far from easy, too. He had borne the fierce condemnation of his second and third brothers.

"Brother cared for them so deeply. How could they repay him with betrayal?" Samir muttered to himself.

Since the Crown Prince's collapse, the two brothers had wasted no time showing their ambitions. Samir couldn't shake the suspicion that they had been involved in his fall. Everything pointed to that.

The fiercest opponents to summoning the Holy Kingdom's saintess had bbeen those two. And their reasoning had been sound—on the surface.

Like the Orias Empire, the Holy Kingdom had long been the Sultanate's enemy. Declaring Pajar a land of heretics for clinging to superstition, they condemned the Sultanate's ways.

Samir wondered if it was even possible to have a good relationship with or trust zealots like them. The only silver lining in this storm was that Saintess Seria had agreed to his invitation. The political pressure on Samir had been immense, but he didn't care.

"As long as Brother wakes up," Samir said resolutely.

That was all that mattered to him—protecting his eldest brother, the Crown Prince.

"Samir. Stand tall. You are my brother. No one can look down on you. I will always stand by your side. You just follow your dreams. Understand?"

"...Brother," Samir repeated.

No one had ever supported him like that. His eldest brother had always been his greatest defender, even though they were only half-brothers. For a brother like that, Samir would do anything. Even if it meant reaching out to their ancient enemy, the empire.

They say the Imperial Academy has brilliant scholars. Maybe they would know a solution? Samir thought. That idea planted firmly in his mind, he straightened up and called out, his voice firm with resolve, "Is anyone there?"

If there was a chance to contact someone from the empire, he would take it. He didn't care if it made him a traitor. As long as his brother could be saved, nothing else mattered.

"Anyone?" he called again.

But no one answered, and only silence pressed back against him.

A chill crept down Samir's spine. His attendants should have been stationed just outside the door. They were always there. But there was no sound, no trace of movement.

No... It can't be, Samir thought. They would never have left their post.

His hand moved to the desk. From its hidden compartment, he drew a small revolver. The golden firearm gleamed in his hand, loaded with specially crafted bullets. Samir exhaled slowly, scanning the room as tension coiled within him.

Given the circumstances, there was a high chance that an assassin had infiltrated the place. And if someone had managed to slip through the tight security of this place, it wouldn't be an ordinary killer.

This could be the worst-case scenario, Samir thought grimly.

He wondered if it could have been his second or third brother who sent the assassin. The assassins of the Pajar Sultanate were renowned across the continent. Expert bringers of death, they moved only on royal command. If one of them had indeed come here, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Damn it, Samir thought.

Gripping the revolver tightly, he kept his eyes on the door, nerves coiled like a spring.

Why... Why has it come to this? he thought.

In that suffocating moment, something unbelievable unfolded before his eyes.

"Excuse me," a man said as he rose from the shadows of the desk.

Samir's breath caught in his throat. The scene before him defied all logic. He couldn't even muster the will to pull the trigger. His eyes widened as he stared, frozen, at the uninvited guest.

The man wore a mask, and he lifted a hand in an easy wave and remarked, "Prince Samir, I presume?"

"...Who are you? Did my brothers send you?" Samir asked.

"Hmm, I'm still a bit shy about introductions," the man said.

Samir had never seen nor heard of someone traveling through shadows. Even the royal sorcerers had never shown such an ability. He could immediately tell that the man before him was a formidable figure. The air around the man spoke volumes. His confidence, the way he carried himself despite having snuck in—such composure belonged only to the strong.

"You don't need to be so wary," the man said. "I've only come to talk."

"And I'm supposed to just believe that?" Samir asked.

The masked man chuckled, his voice light as he replied, "If I had any intention of killing you, why would I bother showing myself like this?"

The words were arrogant, but Samir found himself nodding. He replied, "Fair point." Samir said.

"Now, about that revolver. You might want to put it down. A toy like that won't kill me," the man said.

"Figures," Samir agreed. With a bitter smile, he set the weapon back on the desk. His voice dropped low as he said, "This is the first time anyone has entered my chambers uninvited. It was awfully quiet outside... Did you kill them?"

"I didn't kill them," the man replied cheerfully. "Just put them to sleep for a bit. I'm not some mindless murderer... Shut up, Guillotine. I'm talking. Apologies, my sword keeps interrupting me."

Samir didn't know who this man was, but one thing was clear.

He's insane, he thought. The wild glint in the man's eyes left no doubt.

Sighing, Samir eased himself into his chair. Insane or not, he had to hear the man out. Fixing his gaze on the stranger, he asked, "Why did you come to find me?"

He already knew his life hung by a thread. Pleading would change nothing. So he sat tall and regal, every inch a prince, even on the brink of death.

"You're the most impressive royal I've met," the man observed. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Fear changes nothing. If I die, I'll die as a prince," Samir answered.

The man's eyes gleamed with admiration as he said, "I like you. Why don't we have royals like you back home?"

He dragged a chair over and sat down across from Samir. His tone grew lighter as he said, "I heard the saintess from the Holy Kingdom came by recently. The Crown Prince is ill, isn't he?"

"There's no point in hiding it. It's common knowledge," Samir replied evenly.

"Is it dark mana?" the man asked.

Samir's face hardened, then he asked, "...How do you know that?"

The man grinned and said, "If you've reached out to your old enemy, the Holy Kingdom, it wasn't hard to figure out. Anyway, I'd like to offer my help."

"You break into my chambers uninvited, and now you're offering help? You're audacious," Samir said.

"Why don't you hear me out first?" The man leaned forward. "It's a good deal—for both of us."

And with that, the intruder began his tale.

***

"...So, you're saying that stabbing my brother with your sword will cure his illness?" Samir asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

"Not stabbing—just a quick jab. One clean jab is all it takes. My sword is quite the expert when it comes to these kinds of medical matters," Caron said cheerfully.

Samir narrowed his eyes and said, "I already knew you weren't sane, but now it's clear you've completely lost your mind. I see no reason to listen any further."

The Fourth Prince's tone was resolute.

In truth, Caron had expected as much.

"If a complete stranger appeared out of nowhere claiming to cure your brother by plunging a blade into his body, would you let them do it?" Guillotine asked, and it had a point. Even Caron found it ridiculous.

Even in a relationship built on strong trust, that wasn't something that can be easily accepted. So from the beginning, Caron hadn't particularly expected much.

"It seems you don't trust me," Caron remarked.

"We've known each other for less than thirty minutes. Plus, you're an intruder who broke into my chamber—of course I don't trust you," Samir replied coldly.

"I understand," Caron said, then studied the prince closely, his gaze sharp.

Though Samir could be no older than his early twenties, his eyes carried a depth beyond his years. Even in a situation where his life was being held hostage, watching him stay composed made it clear—the prince truly was exceptional.

"How do I earn your trust?" Caron asked.

Samir scoffed and replied, "What I can't understand is why you're so desperate to convince me. If power was what you wanted, you could have killed me right here and taken my head to my brothers. You're skilled enough to pull it off, aren't you?"

Caron chuckled and said, "That's not my style. I only kill those who stand in my way."

Besides, killing a prince would spark a war between the Orias Empire and the Pajar Sultanate. The risk far outweighed the reward.

And more importantly, he liked this prince in front of him. Had Samir been a wretched fool, Caron would have considered a more... pragmatic option.

"There's only one thing I want. I want to enter the Ali Oasis," Caron said.

"The Ali Oasis?" Samir's brow furrowed. "You are truly an incomprehensible person. What in the world are you trying to do in the most sacred place of the Pajar Sultanate?"

"Everyone has their reasons. But I promise it won't cause you significant trouble," Caron said.

Samir stared at Caron in silence, his dark eyes gleaming like polished onyx. After a long pause, he spoke firmly. "Do you know the first step to building trust?"

"I'm listening," Caron said.

"Facing each other and exchanging greetings comes first. You've already started on the wrong foot," Samir explained.

"Oh, so that was the problem. Just a moment," Caron said as he removed the mask he was wearing, revealing his bare face. Of course, it was a face disguised through the Doppelganger Mask.

"Better?" Caron asked.

Samir shook his head firmly and replied, "Show me your true face."

"How did you know?" Caron asked.

"My ring detects magic. It's a gift from my brother," Samir explained.

"Just from that, you figured out it was a disguise spell...? Ah," Caron paused, realizing that the prince's words just now had been a simple leading question.

He thought the prince was pretty clever to stay so composed even in such a dire, life-threatening situation, because that wasn't something an ordinary person could do. Caron liked Samir's courage, and thought he had the makings of a great man.

"If I show you who I really am, you'll be shocked. Will you be alright?" Caron warned.

"After being threatened by a lunatic who snuck in here, I doubt anything could surprise me more," Samir said.

"The more I see you, the more I seem to like you," Caron said, then paused for a moment to think. He considered what kinds of variables it would create if he revealed his identity to Prince Samir, and carefully considered the potential aftermath.

However, his hesitation didn't last long. After all, Caron already had the prince's life as a hostage. There wouldn't be any greater rudeness than that, as the prince himself had said.

And so, Caron removed the Doppelganger Mask.

Swishhhhh.

Caron's true face was revealed, along with his golden hair that was radiant like threads of sunlight, and his eyes that were a striking, mystical blue. Gone was the mercenary's rugged guise, replaced by the face of an impossibly handsome youth.

Samir studied Caron's features, then murmured, "You're younger than I expected. Blond hair, blue eyes, and skilled enough to breach my guards... Now I know who you are."

"Oh really? Guess who I am," Caron asked with a smile.

In response to the question, Samir looked straight at Caron. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "Caron Leston."

"Correct. How did you know?" Caron asked.

"I am very interested in the empire, since I have to know my enemy to avoid defeat," Samir answered.

Caron adjusted his clothing, grinning as he bowed deeply. He said in introduction, "My name is Caron Leston. It is an honor to meet you, Prince Samir of the Pajar Sultanate."

Samir sighed, then said, "I've heard plenty about you from our spies." He gestured to a chair. "Sit, Mad Dog. Let's see whose throat you'll bite—mine, or someone else's."

"Your spies are impressive. Everyone in the empire thinks I'm a hero, but alright," Caron said as he sat down. He rubbed his hands together and flashed a bright smile, then asked, "Shall we start negotiating?"

And with that, Caron's silver tongue began its work.