Soy Sauce 1. Improvement
by Foreigner Β· 2026-08-21
The triumphal parade was quiet.
People came out onto the main street of the capital and flowers were scattered. But there was no sound. People clapped, then fell silent when the front row became quiet.
This was because Duke Hail passed by.
He did not dismount his horse. He did not raise his hand. He just looked straight ahead and passed.
Behind him, the Bronzestorm Knights followed.
One flag carried by the standard-bearer was missing.
Yuris III: You... suffered.
Yuris III said so.
He was sitting on the throne, his body leaning forward. He placed his hands on his knees, then on the armrests again.
The queen sat on a low seat beside the throne.
Roena had her hands on her knees.
She didn't move once.
Yuris III: ...You suffered...
He repeated the same words twice.
Hail bowed his head.
Hail: Your Majesty.
Yuris III: Your, son.
Yuris III stopped as he said that.
It was his old habit to start speaking and then be unable to continue. His subjects knew this and usually waited for him.
Hail also waited.
Yuris III: ...We will find him.
After a long pause, the king spoke.
Yuris III: I will send people. I will have them search the entire river. All the way to the lower reaches.
Hail: Thank you.
Yuris III: No. That's not it.
Yuris III raised his hand, then lowered it.
Yuris III: I'm sorry.
Hail did not raise his head.
Hail: Your Majesty has nothing to be sorry for.
Yuris III: No.
The king's voice cracked.
Yuris III: I sent you to that position.
Roena raised her hand.
She raised it just a little. About two finger-widths from her knee.
Yuris III closed his mouth.
Hail saw it.
He knew what the king had been about to say, and what would have spread through the royal capital the next day if those words had been uttered.
'.......'
Hail bowed his head.
Hail: Your Majesty.
Roena: Duke.
Roena spoke for the first time.
Roena: Let's stop here for today.
Hail: Yes.
Roena: Shouldn't you be going home?
Hail raised his head.
Roena wasn't looking at him.
She was looking at the king.
The Daejeon meeting was held that afternoon.
Cale: We won.
Duke Cale Mailon said.
His voice was loud. It was clearly heard to the end of the meeting hall.
Cale: The Inder Empire retreated. But why did they retreat? They didn't retreat because we were strong. They've been fighting Baron for two years. That's why they retreated, nothing more.
Cale looked around the meeting hall.
Cale: What happens if Baron falls?
No one answered.
Cale: The Inder Empire will return. And this time, it won't be 20,000, but 150,000.
Several people nodded.
Cale: So we must strike now.
Herrington: ......What did you just say?
Baron Herrington asked. He was sitting with bandages wrapped around his ribs.
Herrington: Are you suggesting we attack the Inder Empire's border?
Cale: That's right.
Herrington: You're saying the Inder Empire could bring 150,000, and yet you want to strike them first?
Cale: I'm saying this because they're currently looking in two directions.
Cale looked at Herrington.
Cale: Baron, you should focus on healing your ribs.
Ains: It's impossible.
A voice interjected.
The conference room fell silent.
It was Prince Ains. He was eighteen. He had started attending meetings two years ago and had spoken fewer than five times during that period.
Cale: Your Highness.
Cale turned around.
Cale: Why do you say it's impossible?
Ains: We don't have enough troops.
Cale: Are you saying Heness doesn't have enough troops?
Ains: Heness does.
Ains said.
Ains: The royal family does not.
Cale: ......
Ains: To attack the Inder border, we need at least 30,000 troops. The royal family's direct forces are 12,000. The remaining 18,000 must come from the nobles' private armies.
Ains looked around the conference room.
Ains: Will those present here contribute half of their private armies?
No one answered.
Ains: If the Duke contributes first, I believe the others will follow.
Cale's face hardened.
Cale: ......Your Highness is still young.
Ains: That's right.
Ains readily admitted.
Ains: That's why I'm precise with my calculations.
Cale left before the meeting ended.
The sound of the door closing was loud.
The people remaining in the conference room looked at each other. Viscount Gering whispered something to the person next to him.
Duke Hail remained seated.
He hadn't said a word throughout the meeting.
It was after sunset when Hail arrived at the ducal residence.
Someone was standing at the entrance.
It was Seirin.
Behind her was Masa, and behind Masa was Rien.
Hail dismounted from his horse.
He walked over, carrying something wrapped in cloth.
He stood before Seirin.
He unwrapped the cloth.
It was a sword.
The blade was damaged.
Hail: my lady.
Seirin: ......
Hail: Take it.
Seirin did not reach out her hand.
Seirin: I won't take it.
Hail: my lady.
Seirin: That belongs to the child.
Seirin said.
She bit her lip tightly.
Tears welled in her eyes but never fell.
Seirin: Give it to the child.
Hail stood holding the sword.
A sound came from behind.
It was Masa.
She was Aron's Nanny. She had raised him since he was an infant, and Masa had taught him to walk.
Masa said nothing.
She simply collapsed to her knees and sat down there.
Rien held Masa.
Hail looked at the three of them.
He said nothing.
Then he withdrew the sword he had been holding out.
He wrapped it in cloth again.
Hail went inside, carrying the sword.
As he went in, he passed by Rien.
Rien was crying.
She tried not to make a sound, but it didn't work well.
She was seventeen.
She didn't know how to hold back yet.
Hail stopped walking.
Then he raised his hand and placed it on her head.
He stroked it once.
He said nothing.
And then he went in.
Rien stood there and cried more.
That night, Rien went into Aron's room.
No one had told her to.
She opened the window halfway and left.
Cale's mansion was a fifteen-minute carriage ride from the royal palace.
From the main gate to the inner quarters was another five minutes.
Zekin: Your Grace.
Zekin opened the carriage door.
Zekin: These are today's arrivals.
Cale received a bundle of documents.
Among them was a small tube.
Cale: What is this?
Zekin: It's a carrier pigeon.
Cale: Where from?
Zekin: It's the Meton River downstream search party.
Cale saw it.
Cale: Aren't you going to the royal palace?
Zekin: I'll go this evening.
Cale: ......
Cale opened the container.
The paper was the size of two finger joints.
The writing was very small.
Cale read it.
He read it once, then again.
Zekin: Your Grace?
Zekin asked.
Cale folded the paper.
Cale: How long has the search been going on?
Zekin: About 20 days.
Cale: What did they say they recovered?
Zekin: I heard they recovered over a dozen bodies. But they were all different people.
Cale: That's right.
Cale unfolded the paper again.
It read:
'Forty li downstream. Armor found. Ducal crest confirmed. No contents.'
Cale: Zekin.
Zekin: Yes.
Cale: Have you ever seen a body without armor?
Zekin: ......Excuse me?
Cale: Does someone who drowns take off their own armor?
Zekin thought for a moment.
Zekin: ......Ah.
Cale: Make them stop the search.
Cale held the paper to the candlelight.
Cale: In the name of the king.
Zekin: Will His Majesty, uh, agree?
Cale: He won't agree.
The paper burned.
Cale: So we have to make him agree.
After Zekin left, Cale stood by the window.
It was dark outside.
'He's alive.'
Cale thought so.
And he turned that thought over a few more times.
If he's alive, where is he? Forty li downstream is the entrance to Mount Dedon. If he went in there, he would be dead. A sixteen-year-old young lord couldn't possibly survive on Mount Dedon.
So he must be dead.
'.......'
Cale looked at the candlelight.
He must be dead. There was a very high probability he was dead.
But there was no body.
The way Cale had survived for thirty years was simple.
If the body hasn't been confirmed, he isn't dead.
Cale: ...Zekin.
Footsteps returned from outside the door.
Zekin: Yes, Your Grace.
Cale: Send someone to Rudy.
Zekin: Rudy City, Your Grace?
Cale: To the mercenary guild.
Zekin: ...What kind of request should I put in?
Cale turned away from the window.
Cale: Not yet.
Zekin: Pardon?
Cale: Just open a path.
Cale sat down.
Cale: Because we might need to use it.
The door opened.
Selvia: Father.
It was his daughter.
Selvia was fifteen. It was a rule of this house to greet her father before bed, and Cale had made that rule.
Cale: Come in.
Selvia came in.
She was holding a book.
Selvia: Father.
Cale: Yes.
Selvia: They said at school today...
Cale: What did they say?
Selvia: They said the young lord of Erseneus passed away.
Cale looked at his daughter.
Cale: ...So they say.
Selvia: Is it true?
Cale: There's no body.
Selvia: Then he's not dead, is he?
Cale was silent for a moment.
Cale: Selvia.
Selvia: Yes.
Cale: That thing you just said.
Selvia: ......
Cale: Don't say it outside.
Selvia looked at her father.
Selvia: Why?
Cale placed a hand on his daughter's head.
Cale: It's adults' business.
Selvia left.
The door closed.
Cale stared at the door for a long time.
'There's no body.'
Even a fifteen-year-old knew that.
Cale didn't sleep that night.