Chapter 317: The Rot and the Beauty
Chapter 316: The Rot and the Beauty
Lyria’s POV
Earl Hawthorne studied me for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful and assessing. Then he straightened, a new energy entering his posture.
"Your Highness," he said, "I am going to do something. I shall come upon you like a predator, and I want you to try to strike me. Punch me exactly as I taught you."
I blinked at him, startled by the abrupt change in the conversation.
"T-that is rather a s-sudden change of s-subject," I observed.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"That is quite true," he admitted. "But I assure you, we have not finished our discussion."
He folded his arms loosely.
"I fully intend for you to continue telling me about yourself whilst I teach you to defend yourself. The two need not be separate matters. One may learn while conversing."
I considered that for a moment before giving a small nod.
"I s-suppose that m-makes sense."
"It does," he replied warmly. "Besides, I should like to know the person I am teaching."
He stepped back, allowing several feet of distance to separate us.
"The world at large is a frightening place," he continued. "One must prepare oneself for whatever it may choose to place before us."
I fell silent.
The words lingered in my mind for several moments before I finally spoke.
"E-even the l-little is s-scary too."
He paused immediately.
His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he regarded me with quiet curiosity.
"What do you mean, Your Highness?" he asked gently.
I lowered my gaze and drew in a slow breath.
"E-everyone always s-speaks of the w-world at l-large," I began quietly. "B-but no one e-ever speaks of how e-even the smallest p-parts of it c-can be frightening."
My fingers curled lightly against my palms.
"A p-place that is p-practically a prison..." I murmured. "N-not knowing what e-exists beyond its walls... b-being locked away... n-never being permitted to leave..."
I swallowed.
"T-that is frightening. It is n-not the world at l-large. It is merely one small p-piece of it. And yet...It is already terrifying."
Earl Hawthorne remained silent.
He did not interrupt.
He merely listened.
Encouraged by that silence, I continued.
"A c-child who has only just b-been brought into the world..."
I smiled sadly.
"A child who knows n-nothing beyond wanting to be held... wanting to be loved...And yet is t-treated as though they are already a threat."
My voice wavered as I spoke.
"T-that is frightening too. It is not the world at large. It is only one household."
I paused.
"Yet it is enough."
The training grounds had grown remarkably quiet.
Only the steady rain beyond the towering windows could be heard.
I drew another breath.
"So rather than saying t-the world at l-large is frightening, w-why do people not simply admit that t-the world itself c-can be frightening?"
Silence answered me.
"Our k-kind is f-frightening," I continued softly. "B-but i-it is us who m-make up the world. And we are the o-ones who decide what sort of p-place it becomes."
I lowered my eyes once more.
"There are t-those who r-refuse to see that a child is merely a c-child. A p-pregnant woman is s-simply a woman carrying new life... who m-may merely b-be hungry... merely s-searching for food. A m-maid may simply wish to spend her days peacefully beside the m-man she loves. A s-sister may simply wish to f-follow in her brother’s f-footsteps. A knight may o-only desire to protect the family e-entrusted to his care."
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Each word seemed easier to speak than the last.
"And those people. T-they do not seek to harm a-anyone. They s-simply wish t-to live."
I clenched my hands unconsciously.
"But w-whilst such p-people exist, t-there are always others. Others who c-choose to add m-more rot to the w-world."
My voice grew firmer.
"The man w-who coveted another man’s p-pregnant wife even w-whilst she remained faithfully m-married..."
"The one who p-pursued her despite knowing she s-sought only to p-provide m-more for her family."
"The one who decided that a maid’s h-happiness belonged to t-them simply because t-they desired the m-man she loved."
"The one who l-looked upon a lonely child and declared h-her a threat before she even u-understood what that w-word meant."
"The one who c-chose to tear apart a family b-because a loyal g-guard refused to a-abandon those he l-loved."
I swallowed painfully.
"And e-even then...t-the family was attacked r-regardless."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
I realised only afterwards just how much I had revealed.
Not names.
Not titles.
But enough.
Enough for anyone listening carefully to realise that these thoughts had not been born from imagination.
The silence that settled afterwards felt impossibly heavy.
I stared down at the floor.
I had not intended to say so much.
I had only wished to explain my earlier remark.
Instead...
It felt as though I had peeled away part of my heart and laid it bare before him.
How terribly improper.
I ought not to have burdened him with such melancholy thoughts.
I opened my mouth, intending to apologise for speaking so freely.
But before I could utter a single word, Earl Hawthorne spoke.
"Your Highness," he said quietly.
There was no pity in his voice.
Only gentleness.
"I am sorry."
"P-pardon?" I asked genuinely surprised.
He met my gaze and there was something deeply earnest in his expression.
"I am sorry," he repeated, "that you have seen so much of the world’s rot before ever being shown enough of its beauty."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"You are right," he continued quietly. "I ought not to have said the world at large is frightening."
He gave a small shake of his head.
"The world itself can be frightening. It is everything.Not merely distant places or unfamiliar lands."
He looked towards one of the rain-streaked windows.
"Sometimes," he said softly, "one is attacked simply for breathing."
His jaw tightened.
"For drinking water. For seeking shelter. For existing where another decides one ought not exist."
His voice remained calm.
Yet beneath that calmness lingered something deeper.
Something wounded.
I realised then that he was not merely sympathising.
He understood.
Perhaps not my story.
But pain.
That much we shared.