Chapter 61.1

Side Story: First Knight Order Captain Cyril (1/2)

Published: 21 November 2024

 

My mother was a beautiful woman—She was an incredibly beautiful woman, with red hair just like the legendary Great Saint.

 

She was the mother of me, the eldest son of the leading duke family. In other words, my mother was a high-ranking saint, chosen to be the wife of the highest-ranking duke.

 

From the moment I was born, my right to the throne was set. As a result, I had many teachers from an early age and was given the opportunity to learn a wide variety of subjects. The area where most of the effort was focused was learning about saints.

 

From a young age, I was repeatedly taught that the royal family and the nobility existed to protect the Saint. I was taught that the saints were the foundation of the country, and that the country could survive by protecting them. The thing that took up the most time in my study of saints was the Great Saint from 300 years ago.

 

The only Great Saint who succeeded in sealing away the Demon King. A beautiful and noble saint who achieved a feat no one else had been able to achieve. It was said that her hair was the same red as the dawn, and her eyes were the same gold as ears of wheat, a symbol of fertility. Like many of the homes of high-ranking nobles, my house also had a portrait of the Great Saint hanging there. In the portrait, the Great Saint, with her bright red hair flowing and golden eyes staring out at me with a challenging look, was truly beautiful. That's why—I was so proud that my mother was a beautiful woman with red hair just like the Great Saint.

 

Like many high-ranking nobles, I was brought up by a wet nurse. As a child, I was not allowed to eat meals with my parents and rarely saw my mother.

 

Sometimes, I would accidentally pass my mother in the hallway or in the garden, but she would just walk past me as if she didn't see me. So at times like that, I would always stare at my mother's back until she was out of sight, burning the beauty of her red hair into my memory.

 

On my fifth birthday, I was allowed to sit down with my parents for dinner for the first time. When asked what I wanted for my birthday, I innocently replied that I wanted a little brother.

 

The second prince, Savis, who was close to me as we were the same age, had been longing for the sight of him having a friendly conversation with the first prince.

 

However, when my mother heard what I said, she raised her eyebrows in displeasure.

"What a stupid thing to do."

That's what my mother said.

 

"I gave birth to you, Cyril, for the Sutherland family, which is nothing more than a dukedom. We're not royalty, so why would we need a spare? If anything were to happen to you, it would be fine for this tiny dukedom to collapse."

 

Then my mother wiped her mouth with a napkin and tossed it roughly on the table.

"Your family disposes of holy maidens. If they marry into the royal bloodline, only boys will be born. My red hair will never be passed down to anyone else and will simply disappear. Cyril, look at you. That filthy grey hair. You have not inherited anything from me. Even if you wanted a sibling, the next one born would also be a boy with filthy hair. Do you really need that?"

 

This was the first time I had a conversation with my mother that went beyond just greetings. So until then, I believed that my mother loved me and that she was a beautiful and kind person.

 

I was stunned and unable to respond to my mother's sudden attack on me. My mother looked at me with a vile look in her eyes.

"You can't even reply? As I thought, even a duke's household doesn't provide a proper education. Ah, why did I have to become your mother?! In the first place, I am a saint with greater powers than anyone else. I should have been the king's wife!"

 

With that comment, my mother stood up and left the dining room.

 

There was a mountain of food left untouched on the table.

 

At this point I didn't quite understand what had happened, but I knew that I had made my mother angry with something I'd said, so I looked at my father pleadingly. My father looked at me expressionlessly, then spoke.

"Cyril, that was a mistake on your part. You should apologize later. And at the very least, learn enough not to make statements that may seem like you have no common sense."

 

I felt embarrassed and could only look down.

 

I felt so embarrassed.

 

I see. Had I not studied enough and not even acquired common sense? I felt truly ashamed of myself for not realizing this and believing the words of my teachers, such as, "What an intelligent child," and "I've never seen a child who can respond so well at five years old." That was a subservience given to the eldest son of a duke.

 

...In the end, I was not given permission to meet with my mother, so I was unable to apologize.

 

That evening the butler came to see me and apologized apologetically.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. I decided it was too early and didn't explain the relationship between His Majesty the King, His Excellency the Duke of Sutherland, and the Saint."

 

Being a capable butler, I could guess that there was a reason for the delay in explaining, and that it must have been difficult for him to explain to me.

 

The butler explained. Facts that everyone knew, facts that only the Duke's family knew, and my mother's feelings that could be inferred from them.

 

——Although it had never been made public, my mother was the most powerful saint of her generation, the butler explained. In other words, if I thought about it honestly, she should have become the king's queen.

 

However, there was an unwritten rule that members of the royal family and male relatives must marry before they turned 30. On the other hand, a saint could not marry until she turned 17.

 

As a result, my mother, who was 15 years old at the time, could never have become queen to the king, who was 28 years old. Even if he waited until his mother was 17, the king would be 30 by then.

 

Therefore, the church and the king's loyal subjects recommended a saint, who was second only in power to his mother, as the king's queen. The second most capable saint was my mother's older sister.

 

The king's loyal subjects, who were concerned with protecting the king's prestige, believed that the king's queen must be the most powerful saint, so they gave my mother the rank of second saint. Instead, his mother's older sister was chosen as the First-ranked Saint and became the king's wife.

 

This was something my mother, who was a woman of great pride and ability, could not bear.

 

The only other member of the royal family besides the King was my father, the King's younger brother, and the fact that she became his wife and the second highest-ranking lady in the country was of no consolation to my mother.

 

My mother had never once been proud of being the wife of the first duke, and continued to be dissatisfied with the fact that she continued to be unfairly underestimated.

 

And my father felt inferior to my mother.

 

My father, who was a member of royalty, studied the Saints more rigorously than I did. A saint who had been taught that she was more precious than anyone else and should be treated with respect. The fact that the most powerful of these saints, who should have been revered as the most sacred, was not made the king's queen but was instead kept at his side, made his father feel ashamed and distressed.

 

To my mother, my father was not a husband, but a shield that protected her, and my father accepted my mother's thinking.

 

——That's how the butler explained it to me.

 

After hearing the story, I felt ashamed at how blind I had been.

 

I shouldn't have treated my mother like a mother.

 

She was a saint, someone I respected and served. Although she happened to give birth to me, that had no meaning to her, and she should not have clung to or demonstrated the relationship of mother and child.

 

Now that I had a proper understanding of our relationship, I made every effort to treat the Saint who lived in my home with courtesy.

 

I was extremely careful to maintain a polite tone and never let my manners slip away. Perhaps thanks to those efforts, after that day she never got angry with me again. This fact gave me peace of mind, knowing that the Saint's heart was at peace.

 

However, emotions are fickle, and when I saw a mother and son being very close, or just having a casual conversation, my heart would sometimes ache.

 

However, by repeating it, I got used to it.

 

The most powerful saint resides in my house. What more could one wish for?

 


*The spelling of the characters and places may be different from the official or any other translation website. Click here to see the list.