KTD Chapter 2 (Part 1)
by Bree2.
Before leaving for the capital, Jaynie visited the information guild. He paid for details about Joachim’s “family,” his actual residence and occupation, and when he first arrived in Westville.
The guild’s branches spanned the entire nation. Answers to his inquiries would be available at the guild in the capital.
Upon his return to the Blurwin estate in the capital, the residence welcomed a new guest. Joachim became the second young guest Jaynie had taken in. Like Berner, the first, Joachim was an enigma—someone whose purpose or origin was difficult to discern.
Since his capture, Joachim had become compliant, so Jaynie no longer needed to kick him into submission.
“Give him a suitable room to rest in. And bring me a communication crystal. No… letter paper will be better,” Jaynie said.
Joachim, in his previous life, had performed a miracle and been summoned to the temple. Upon becoming a priest, he had chosen a life of service to the less fortunate.
Jaynie couldn’t understand it. How could this Joachim transform into such an admirable person in just a few years?
He believed people didn’t change easily. Without a significant event, people rarely, if ever, changed.
What had been Joachim’s turning point?
“The temple that summoned him.”
Something must have happened at the Marwyn Temple, where Joachim trained after receiving his ordination as a priest.
Jaynie unfolded a sheet of letter paper. After organizing his thoughts, he dipped his pen in ink and began writing.
The High Priest of Marwyn Temple had no direct ties to Jaynie. Though Jaynie’s status allowed him to demand communication from anyone, there was no need to make a poor impression on someone as influential as the High Priest.
While communication crystals had become widespread, formal correspondence was still conducted through written letters.
Jaynie wrote a polite letter and handed it to Hansen.
Hansen took the letter but hesitated to leave.
“What is it?” Jaynie asked.
“Will you sponsor this boy as well?”
“What boy have I sponsored before?” Jaynie asked genuinely confused, though his tone came off as indifferent. Hansen looked flustered.
“Didn’t you send the slave to school? And you’ve taken in Berner as well.”
The servants, reluctant to call Berner “young master,” had agreed to attach an honorific to his name instead.
Jaynie frowned but didn’t correct the form of address.
“I’m not doing anything grand like sponsoring anyone. Both of them will be gone soon.”
“‘Both’ meaning Berner and this boy?” Hansen asked carefully.
“Yes.”
Hansen wanted to ask what would become of the slave Jaynie had sent to school but stopped himself when he caught Jaynie’s sharp gaze. The meaning was clear—don’t meddle in your master’s affairs.
Lowering his head, Hansen excused himself.
Once in the hallway, he entered his own room, wrote a letter, sealed it, and called for an errand boy.
“Deliver these two letters,” Hansen instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
Hansen had been Jaynie’s caretaker since he was a child and served as his butler and protector while he stayed in the capital estate.
Though the Duke had left Jaynie in the capital to fend for himself, he had always demanded reports on how Jaynie was doing.
Hansen had always complied with that order.
“Report any notable developments,” the Duke’s directive had stated.
Jaynie was acting out of character, and Hansen let out a long sigh.
* * *
Jaynie looked down at the dusty arena. From his shaded seat, he had a clear view of the young riders below.
Bare-chested riders on horseback clashed with each other, vying for dominance. A rider holding a red flag raised his arm high, only to be struck in the face with an elbow by another rider reaching for the flag. Their shouts and cries carried through the wind to Jaynie’s ears.
Amidst the chaos was Leandro.
His broad back and strong arms were unmistakable. He circled the entangled riders widely, keeping his distance while observing.
Other riders, hesitant and cautious like him, rode their horses in wide circles, biding their time for an opportunity.
Jaynie wasn’t watching the rider who had lost the flag, nor the one who had snatched it only to be thrown off his horse and eliminated moments later.
He was focused solely on Leandro—on the way his black hair caught the breeze and fluttered freely, on how he seized the flag in one decisive motion and galloped around the arena without losing momentum.
It was a breathtaking sight, like watching a predator sprinting across open plains.
The spectators erupted in unison.
“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”
The arena reverberated with their chants. The ground beneath Jaynie’s feet and the spot where his hand rested trembled with the thunderous voices.
Leandro held onto the flag until the final count, his pace unbroken. His horse outpaced all the others as he completed the circuit.
The announcer shouted,
“The winner is the knight of Blurwin!”
“Leandro! Leandro! Leandro!”
The crowd’s cheers rose like a wave, and Jaynie felt the tingling vibrations on his skin.
People stood, throwing garlands and handkerchiefs into the arena. It was as if flowers were raining down.
Leandro snatched a garland from the air.
Another round of cheers erupted. Every move he made seemed to stoke the crowd’s excitement.
Jaynie could see Leandro smiling. The spectators waved their hands and screamed his name until their voices were hoarse, but Leandro didn’t stop his horse to bask in their admiration. Instead, he galloped directly toward the stands.
He was looking at Jaynie. Those unforgettable crimson eyes were locked onto him.
“Leandro! Leandro! Leandro!”
“Lord Jaynie!”
Leandro dismounted with a radiant smile.
“All my victories and glory are dedicated to you.”
The young rider holding the flag was blindingly beautiful.
The crowd roared and stomped their feet. The arena floor thundered with the sound. It felt as if the world itself was shaking.
But the vibrations didn’t stop at the ground. They resonated within Jaynie’s body, drumming against him like a heartbeat.
It felt as though his heart might burst.
* * *
Jaynie opened his eyes.
He clutched his chest, curling into himself. His entire body throbbed, his heart pounding violently.
With trembling hands, he pulled the cord to summon a servant. When the servant entered carrying a tray of water, Jaynie drained the glass in one go, but the excitement still wouldn’t subside. The echo of cheers for Leandro lingered in his ears.
He pressed his forehead against the bed, waiting for the phantom noise to fade. His hand struck and clawed at his chest, but he hardly felt the pain.
When the feverish excitement ebbed like a receding tide, a splitting headache took its place. Every movement made his skull feel as though its contents were sloshing around, intensifying the pain.
Tears streamed down his face as rage swelled within him.
How could I dream such a thing?
People don’t change. Jaynie knew this better than anyone. And of all people, he was the least capable of change.
He had resolved not to love the slave. He had deemed himself a fool for even entertaining the notion.
How am I any different from Yerenia, the Grand Princess, who threw away her honor and child for a foolish romantic escape?
Yet he couldn’t stop his heart from moving. He had no idea how to halt it.
He had fallen into a foolish love, and no matter what happened, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of it.
“No,” he whispered.
He rubbed his forehead against the bed, as if trying to crush the thoughts weighing down his mind. The pressure in his head felt like a small crown tightening around his skull.
“No.”
He would kill Leandro.
Just as Leandro had done to him—he would use him, discard him when he was no longer useful, and cast him aside.
A servant entered to refill the glass of water. Jaynie drank the second glass, emptied it, and then forced himself out of bed.
It was a miserable morning.
* * *
Jaynie was in a foul mood all day. The servants, sensing his displeasure, stopped their usual chores to avoid provoking him. The only person moving about the estate was Jaynie himself.
He entered the library and sank into an armchair.
The chair was positioned against the wall, with a large window just behind it. By simply turning his head and opening the window, he could see the front garden, the gates, and the scenery beyond.