Chapter 33: Tyllian’s Burden

~ Side: Tyllian (1) ~

What is the virtue of a knight?

It is loyalty.

A knight who fails to protect his lord deserves to die alongside him.

Tyllian Manor was educated that way from the moment he was born, this unwavering principle ingrained in his very being.

His father, Baron Manor, or Sir Manor as he was also known, was not a knight who rigidly adhered to antiquated customs.

He was, by no stretch of the imagination, a figure one could claim upheld the lofty ideals of chivalry.

While he was never impolite to ladies, his outwardly courteous demeanor was merely a tool, never an end in itself; more often than not, it served as a calculated means to entice them into his bed.

He possessed a boisterous drinking habit and an undeniable knack for entertaining people, which meant he accumulated many acquaintances, but these were superficial connections, not deep, meaningful friendships.

Tyllian often wondered, with a sharp pang of skepticism, if these so-called friends would truly remain by his father’s side if his lavish spending were to dwindle.

His father, in Tyllian’s eyes, was not a man he could genuinely respect.

Yet, if there was one singular trait worthy of emulation, it was his absolute loyalty to his lord’s will.

Even when engrossed in the intimate company of a partner he had painstakingly charmed into his bed, if the Duke’s summons arrived, he would immediately rush off without a moment’s hesitation.

“Your father isn’t such a bad person. He’s a respectable man,” his mother would often say, trying to paint a more flattering picture.

Tyllian found himself partially agreeing with his mother’s assessment.

Baron Manor was, without a doubt, Duke Mills’s most trusted and loyal subject.

However, in Tyllian’s discerning eyes, Duke Mills himself failed to emerge as a particularly respectable figure, and for reasons eerily similar to his father’s shortcomings.

The Duke was, if anything, even more dissolute than his own sire.

Yet, he must not have been entirely inept, given that he had successfully expanded his ancestral fortune through a shrewd marriage and, remarkably, hadn’t squandered every last bit of it.

Tyllian Manor constantly disciplined himself, an inner voice reminding him that he must never harbor disloyal thoughts towards the Duke.

Duke Mills was the acknowledged lord of both him and his family, and Tyllian was his sworn vassal.

Therefore, even if he couldn’t bring himself to respect the Duke, he absolutely must not harbor any resentment.

‘Even my father is absolutely loyal to His Grace the Duke,’ Tyllian reflected, the thought anchoring him.

He, too, had to uphold this fundamental principle.

Tyllian Manor, despite his youth, possessed a deeply ingrained knightly mindset.

However, an unexpected crisis loomed large in his future.

“Hello.”

The first time Tyllian Manor laid eyes on Ashton Mills, the Duke’s only son and the next Duke he was destined to serve, he was struck by an overwhelming thought: he was incredibly beautiful.

Soft brown hair framed his small face, and his eyes, possessing a startling innocence that knew nothing of suspicion, gazed at Tyllian, brimming with complete trust.

At that moment, risking his life for such a beautiful person seemed like an eminently worthwhile endeavor.

That, of course, was before he truly came to understand the kind of person Ash was.

‘It’s the duty of a knight to protect even a master he doesn’t want to protect,’ Tyllian silently reaffirmed this harsh truth to himself, the words a bitter mantra.

If he didn’t, Ash was such a chaotic mess that nagging would become an immediate and perpetual consequence.

Ash did try hard at everything he put his mind to.

Yet, he possessed no innate talent for studying itself. In fact, he didn’t even seem to harbor any genuine interest in it.

One particular day, Tyllian witnessed a scene that cemented this observation: Ash approached the quiet pond, looking around cautiously, as if on guard for anyone nearby.

Sensing his need for secrecy, Tyllian instinctively hid behind a nearby tree.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it himself.

Once Ash was satisfied that no one was around, he casually tossed a book into the pond.

He then placed his hands on his chest in an utterly absurd manner, feigning innocence.

“What are you doing?”

Tyllian demanded, stepping out from behind the tree.

“Aaaah! Tyll, Tyllian?”

Ash yelped, startled.

“Did you just throw away a book?”

“Shh! Shh, be quiet,” Ash whispered frantically.

Ash, flustered and agitated, then gestured for Tyllian to come closer.

Tyllian, feeling a profound sense of bewilderment, nevertheless approached him.

As he leaned in and lent an ear as instructed, Ash whispered, “Sir Phillips told me to memorize all of that. In a week. Does that make sense?”

‘An entire book in a week?’

Tyllian mused.

‘Isn’t that impossible?’

Ash had never once given him the impression of being a genius.

His memory didn’t seem particularly outstanding either.

However, Sir Phillips, Ash’s history teacher, while undeniably strict, wasn’t the type of educator who engaged in student abuse.

Furthermore, individuals audacious enough to abuse the Duke’s only son were, by and large, a rare breed.

“Did you perhaps do something wrong to Sir Phillips?”

Tyllian inquired, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“…No? I don’t think so? No,” Ash replied with a forced conviction.

Despite Ash’s attempts to sound sure, Tyllian was absolutely certain that he had committed a major transgression.

“Apologize to Sir Phillips and dry the book thoroughly,” Tyllian instructed sternly.

“What kind of behavior is this, discarding a book simply because you don’t want to study? You must have intended to lie to Sir Phillips, claiming you lost the book and therefore couldn’t help it. That’s precisely why he’s being so harsh on you, Ash.”

“What did I do wrong that I need to apologize?!”

Ash exclaimed, frustrated.

“And that’s already sunk too deep to ever find again…”

Splash!

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tyllian plunged into the pond and retrieved the soggy book.

As he loyally handed over the dripping volume, Ash stared at Tyllian with a bewildered expression, his face a mask of utter astonishment.

‘This person is the future Duke?’

Tyllian thought to himself.

‘The lord he was destined to serve his entire life?’

Tyllian pondered these questions, consciously striving not to pass judgment.

And before long, another significant incident unfolded.

Tyllian firmly believed that a person, above all else, should possess a profound sense of responsibility.

Fulfilling one’s duties, and, crucially, apologizing when one makes a mistake—wasn’t this a fundamental human duty even before it was a knight’s duty?

Surprisingly, however, Ash held a completely different perspective.

One day, Tyllian nearly collided with Ash, who was frantically dashing down the corridor.

“What is it this time?”

Tyllian asked, bracing himself.

“Tyll! Shhh, hide!”

Ash hissed, grabbing Tyllian.

Tyllian found himself abruptly seized by Ash and dragged into an empty room.

Ash frantically scanned the space for a hiding spot, his eyes darting back and forth, before unceremoniously shoving Tyllian into a wardrobe.

‘Why am I doing this?’

Tyllian wondered, a question of confusion rather than defiance.

He obeyed nonetheless.

Ash was, after all, the young master he served.

“Kyaaak! His Grace’s precious porcelain…!” a distant shriek echoed.

Inside the cramped wardrobe, Tyllian looked down at Ash with a sour expression.

Crammed into the small space, their bodies were practically entangled.

Ash had nowhere to escape Tyllian’s piercing gaze.

Yet, he diligently turned his head away, trying to avoid eye contact.

‘This is the next Duke?!’

Tyllian thought, a fresh wave of disbelief washing over him.

“Apologize honestly,” Tyllian urged.

“Wouldn’t it be right to step forward and confess your mistake to His Grace the Duke?”

“Who doesn’t know what the right path is?”

Ash mumbled, still trying to hide.

“You know it and you’re avoiding it?”

“Who avoids something without knowing it!”

The two quietly argued, their voices hushed.

Tyllian, however, was baffled as to why he was even keeping his voice down!

If this weren’t the young master he served, if this person wasn’t clinging to his clothes with a tearful face, he would have flung open the wardrobe door in a heartbeat.

This felt exactly like Tyllian was becoming an accomplice.

Yet, he couldn’t possibly betray his lord, and the thought left Tyllian’s chest feeling tight with frustration.

Of course, when the Duke summoned him to his study that very evening and pointedly asked,

“Was it Ash who broke the porcelain?”, Tyllian answered immediately, without hesitation.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

The Duke massaged his forehead, as if a sudden headache had seized him, then simply gestured for Tyllian to leave.

Had the young master been scolded?

Tyllian was curious, but a few days later, seeing Ash appear at swordsmanship class with a perfectly fine, unbothered face, it seemed he hadn’t.

Perhaps Ash thought Tyllian was now an accomplice, as his demeanor suddenly became remarkably friendly.

He greeted Tyllian with an unguarded face, as if they had never shared an awkward moment, then practically clung to him.

“What now?” 

Tyllian asked, suspicion coloring his tone. 

By now, he was suspicious of everything Ash did. Ash, oblivious to Tyllian’s wariness, leaned in and whispered.

“You know, the sparring today…”

“Yes,” Tyllian responded, waiting.

“Can you… can you go easy on me?”

Ash’s face turned beet red, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

“You, sparring with you just hurts too much. You’re tall and your hands are big. The teacher keeps pairing me with you, not even considering the weight difference. Isn’t that too much? …Isn’t it too much?” 

Ash asked, his voice trailing off as he nervously glanced at Tyllian. 

Tyllian wasn’t silent because he didn’t want to go easy on him; his pause was due to an internal struggle.

‘Haven’t I been going easy on him already?’ he thought.

How much more power did he need to hold back? 

His delay in answering was simply because he was deep in contemplation.

More importantly, he felt compelled to address Ash’s request from a different angle.

“Ash, sir,” Tyllian began, his tone serious.

“A lord who asks his escort to lose lacks dignity.”

“What does dignity have to do with anything?”

Ash retorted, waving a dismissive hand.

“Isn’t it obvious that an escort should be stronger than his lord? If a situation ever arises where I have to wield a sword, it’s already over, isn’t it? The castle would be in ruins, and I’d be moments from being captured as a prisoner, wouldn’t I?”

“You have absolutely no intention of boosting the morale of the soldiers on the front lines…”

Tyllian remarked, a hint of resignation in his voice.

“My presence on the front lines would boost morale?”

Ash scoffed. 

“They’d be worried about when I’d become a prisoner, so morale would probably drop instead.”

Tyllian was a little surprised. 

Ash, despite his eccentricities, possessed a rather keen sense of self-awareness.

“Ash, sir,” Tyllian reiterated, “Don’t say such things in front of others. It truly conveys no dignity whatsoever.”

“Who else would I say this to besides you?” 

Ash countered, crossing his arms. 

“You’re my escort. You stick by my side all day, and you wouldn’t even talk to me? You’re really strange too.”

Ash grumbled, his small lips pouting and twitching in irritation. 

Tyllian felt a faint chuckle bubbling up, but he managed to force a straight face.

“Are you saying I’m as bad as you, Ash, sir?” 

Tyllian challenged, an eyebrow raised.

“That way of speaking is the weirdest! What kind of escort refuses to yield a single word to the lord he serves?”

“It seems it would be more difficult to lose to you in an argument, however…?” 

Tyllian mused, a dry wit in his voice.

“Are you even my escort?! You realize you’re my subordinate, right?”

Ash demanded, his voice rising in exasperation.

“Indeed, sir.”

‘Subordinate awareness?’ 

Tyllian thought. 

Yes, he did possess that. 

Though, when he was stuck next to this particular person, he tended to forget it right away, such was Ash’s disarming nature.

Ash launched into a passionate speech, gesticulating wildly.

“Even losing is a proper demeanor! Do you think the other retainers laugh because our father’s jokes are genuinely funny?”

“Ash, sir, if you become Duke, please don’t tell unfunny jokes. I won’t laugh,” Tyllian stated plainly.

“You won’t get promoted that way!” 

Ash warned, pointing a finger.

“If I don’t get promoted, it’s your loss, Ash, sir, not mine…” 

Tyllian countered, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. 

What would Ash even do if he didn’t promote his loyal escort knight?

Ash struck his chest with a frustrated thump. 

It was questionable whether striking it with his small hands would actually relieve his considerable frustration.

“Ah! Talking to you just makes me angry!”

“Your temper, Ash, sir, has never been particularly good to begin with,” Tyllian responded calmly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Ash glared at Tyllian, his eyes narrowed in a fierce but ultimately ineffective display of anger.

Tyllian, unable to hold back any longer, burst into laughter.