The Forest Race Clonne

Chapter 96

‘I don’t understand the First Prince’s thinking.’

The reason he had drawn the Lavant family into his fold was likely to provoke Duke Rouster, but I believed his primary goal was to expand his support base. While not as wealthy as Dongryeong, Namryeong, with its proximity to the border, possessed a formidable military, and Count Lavant, known for his exceptional martial prowess, was an appealing target for any faction.

But Dewey’s treatment had been far harsher than expected. To blindfold him and move him without telling him the destination—it almost felt like he was being treated as a hostage. It was clear that the First Prince wasn’t trying to win the favor of the Lavant family. This meant that the First Prince must be valuing Dewey for something else entirely.

‘It must be related to the people he met this time. Asking about his mother was probably to confirm whether he was truly his aunt’s child. Does he really place that much importance on Rouster’s bloodline?’

If this was true, it wasn’t exactly good news. The implications were clear.

‘The First Prince is really after Seira.’

Just thinking about it filled Camille with discomfort. He clenched his fist tightly.

‘The real target of the First Prince is Sei.’

The mere thought filled Camille with unease. He clenched his fists tightly.

‘They say even trash can be useful.’

Who would have thought he’d ever be grateful that Dewey was recorded as his aunt’s child? The current Countess's meticulous efforts to secure her son's future had proven quite effective, fooling even the First Prince.

Of course, it was still precarious; the truth could be exposed at any moment. Even if they intended to use Sei, finding him would be impossible, but the future remained uncertain. The mysterious group that came to meet Dewey was especially concerning.

‘As a grandson of Rouster’s bloodline, it’s not surprising that there are those who would try to form a faction around him. Asking about his biological mother is understandable, too. But why ask about his mother’s hometown? How could they not know where the Duke of Rouster’s daughter is from?’

The name, birthplace, the time of marriage, and the birth of a child.

The questions seemed more like an attempt to locate someone rather than just verifying bloodlines. Dewey, burdened by his lies, assumed they were probing to uncover his deception.

Camille stopped abruptly, struck by a sudden possibility.

…What if the entire premise was wrong?

If it’s not about the family, but about her specifically? If they knew who she met before marriage, or what seed she carried?

‘That’s impossible.’

Camille ran a trembling hand over his dry face.

Salvia Lavant, the esteemed daughter of Duke Rouster and the unfortunate Countess who passed away at a young age. Camille’s aunt and Sei’s mother.

No one knew she was pregnant when she married. Not even her husband, Count Lavant.

But there are no eternal secrets in this world. Didn’t even I find out eventually? Maybe more people knew than I thought. Perhaps they were just pretending not to know for their own interests.

Moreover, the First Prince was highly likely to be someone entangled with the Demonic Beasts. He had even allied with the legendary ancient race. There was no reason he couldn’t uncover other hidden truths, especially Sei’s identity.

‘Clonne. They called it Clonne.’

They were also an ancient race unknown to the world. Probably the only race capable of neutralizing the poison of the Demonic Beasts.

‘So the reason for targeting Sei is…!’

Realizing this, Camille hastily moved. He needed to confirm his suspicions. First, he planned to look into the group Dewey had met.

"...Right. I...,"

"...!"

What stopped him was the sudden faint sound that reached his ears. The sound of a person's voice, clear and distinct.

'Who was there?'

Camille instinctively grabbed his dagger and looked around. But there was no sign of anyone. All he saw were the nearby stables and horses leisurely chewing on their feed inside.

'Was it just my imagination?'

Dazed, Camille slowly relaxed his arm.

“This won’t do.”

"…!"

The voice echoed again. This time, it was clear—a distinct tone pleading for something. And there was more than one speaker. Camille quickly scanned his surroundings, but still, he saw nothing.

‘Where is it? Where is the sound coming from?’

Hearing a sound without any visible source was baffling. Since reaching a high level in swordsmanship, even magical concealment couldn’t fully evade his senses. That made this all the more unsettling.

As Camille anxiously glanced around, his gaze suddenly settled on a peculiar sight: something was wriggling inside the mouth of a nearby horse chewing on hay.

"…?"

At first, Camille doubted his own eyes. But no matter how many times he blinked or rubbed them, the sight didn’t disappear.

"I’m not food, really! Sure, I may be as small as a blade of grass, but isn’t it obvious by now? Please, let me go. And stop biting so hard...!"

"…."

Inside the horse’s mouth, a tiny doll-like figure was struggling. Camille couldn’t tell how it got there, but whatever it was, it seemed to be trying its best to break free.

‘Wait, it’s moving, so maybe it’s not a doll?’

Then what could it be called? A fairy, perhaps? Could they actually exist beyond the pages of books?

Camille was bewildered. Faced with such an absurd situation, his mind froze for a moment.

Then, the tiny figure, or whatever it was, locked eyes with him. It widened its eyes as it spotted Camille, its animated expression bringing a look of awe to Camille’s face.

‘It’s really alive...’

"Ah! Aren’t you the person I met before? Camille, yes? That is your name, isn’t it?"

"…!"

This was the last thing Camille expected to hear.

‘Did that thing just say my name?’

This time, Camille was completely frozen, as if turned to ice. Not only had he encountered a bizarre creature he’d never seen before, but it also knew his name—and greeted him as if they were old friends. Camille couldn’t wrap his mind around the situation at all. But the doll-like creature(?) just kept talking, completely at ease.

“Do you not remember me? It’s me, Semeion.”

"…Sorry? Who?"

“Do you recall Estan’s village? The apothecary you met in that village—Semeion..”

"…!"

Only then did Camille snap out of his stupor.

The name Semeion the Apothecary was unforgettable. He was that mysterious figure who had appeared in the dead of night, with an almost otherworldly aura. A man who healed Hamar’s severe injuries in just one day, displaying a wondrous, divine power. It was an experience one could hardly forget, no matter how much time passed.

At last, he looked more closely at the tiny figure. Despite the completely different hair color and size, the strikingly handsome face was exactly as he remembered.

‘Is it really that apothecary?’

But then, why was he… like this?

Reading the bewilderment in Camille’s gaze, Semeion smiled awkwardly. Still caught in the horse’s mouth, he sighed softly.

“...Could you help me out first?”

* * *

Looking back now, I realize I was rather emotional when I left the capital.

The sense of liberation from finally quitting. The anxiety that I might mess things up. Perhaps it was the anticipation of heading into the unknown.

Whatever the reason, I was definitely more excited than usual. With no intention of returning, I had no fear. So, I ignored things I normally would have considered.

‘I shouldn't have done that...’

Breathing out a long sigh, the white mist dispersed. The chill of the capital's weather, colder than Namryeong, seeped into my bones.

In front of me was the towering wall surrounding the inner city. To enter, I had to pass through the thick iron gates at the center. Once, I could pass through those gates freely, as if they were part of my home. Now, I couldn't even approach them.

‘A fugitive, huh?’

Even if it was a grave I dug myself, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

Given the nature of the job, the Security Department didn’t permit voluntary resignation. One had to obtain upper management’s approval and swear not to disclose any internal information.

Quitting without these procedures meant being considered a traitor—capture or execution followed. This applied not only to high-ranking officials but also to the lowest clerks in the office.

And I was a person who had thrown in a resignation letter and fled under the cover of night from that strict Security Department.

‘Which means I’ll be arrested the moment I’m recognized.’

At least it was winter, which was a small mercy. Wearing a hood didn’t look suspicious.

I carefully checked the sky, making sure my face stayed hidden. Through the gloomy gray clouds, I saw the hazy sun. It was much lower than the first time I saw it.