xymnovel Chapter 23 Shadow
Chapter 23 Shadow
The council chamber was silent; even the crackling of the candlelight seemed exceptionally clear. The echo of Lyon's rhetorical question still seemed to reverberate faintly throughout the hall.
Maria's hand, which had been covering her mouth, slowly fell, her lips trembling slightly from their slight parting in utter shock. Tears instantly filled her eyes, but did not fall. It was as if she was seeing her son for the first time, her gaze lingering greedily and incredulously on Leon's face, unconsciously taking a half-step forward, as if drawn by invisible threads.
After his initial surprise, Accord raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth in a strange arc, scrutinizing Leon with a playful look, his eyes seeming to say, "You're something else..." He muttered under his breath, "Damn, he acted like a little lamb in front of me, but here he's all shrewd?"
Count Raymond's face appeared calm and composed, but his staggering steps and the hand that had been stroking his beard but was now frozen in mid-air completely betrayed him.
On the throne, the body that had been held up by sheer willpower seemed to relax slightly at this moment. Baldwin leaned his head back gently against the cushion of the throne, and his eyes behind the mask revealed a relieved look, becoming soft, and even flashing a fleeting smile.
"Good...good! My dear brother, it seems the Patriarch of Constantinople isn't entirely the incompetent man I imagined." Baldwin's usually weak voice seemed infused with some unknown strength, resolute and tinged with joy. He turned, took the gloves Count Raymond offered him, and softened his voice: "Count, proceed according to our previous agenda. Go find Joslin and, make sure, intercept his allocation of funds to Guy and Reynald's armies. Also—"
His gaze swept over the crowd, finally settling on Lyon: "Take the Queen Mother back to her chambers. Lyon and the priest will remain. I'd love to hear stories of my dear brother's life in Constantinople..."
Count Raymond bowed, then turned and gave Lyon a complicated look before taking his leave with Maria, who kept glancing back. The King waved his hand gently, signaling all the servants behind him to leave as well.
The heavy doors closed, leaving only three people in the council chamber. The candlelight cast elongated, flickering shadows on the walls, making the figure on the throne appear even more solitary.
Almost simultaneously, the king on the throne suddenly began to breathe heavily and rapidly, and his hands, which he had been holding up, began to tremble violently, as if his composure in front of everyone was the limit of his suppression and concealment.
He raised his hand to stop Leon and Accord, who were about to step forward to ask questions out of concern. He gritted his teeth and said in a voice as soft as a whisper, "There's no need to investigate the truth of our blood ties; it's irrelevant now. I call you brother not out of kinship, but because... I need you."
"As you can see, my body is being devoured by disease. And so is my kingdom—gnawing at it by the worms and hawks within. Guy of Lucinigny and Renard of Châtillon crave war, a war that will destroy this fragile kingdom. While I am bedridden and unable to attend to affairs, someone needs to... sit on this throne in my place."
Lyon, recalling his past pretense with leprosy patients, hesitated before saying, "Your Majesty, I might... know a little about your disease. It spreads through close, prolonged contact, not through sight or breath. While its progression is irreversible, you can slow it down through clean eating and isolation, and avoid secondary infections..."
Baldwin's eyes showed a hint of surprise: "You've even read medical books?"
Leon shook his head. "I've read some, but not about leprosy. I know about it only because..." He looked up hesitantly at Jacob, "...I used to play a leper."
"Has it been a long time?" Baldwin pressed, his tone urgent, seemingly unconcerned about the reason and only concerned with the result.
Lyon answered cautiously, "A long time, from as far back as I can remember, until... before I encountered the pirates."
This answer caused Baldwin to lean forward slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tell me the details," he said in a deep, focused voice, "How did you dress up? What was the mask made of? How thick was the cloak? When you walked, did you hunch over or deliberately limp?"
Leon was taken aback by the barrage of technical questions. He gathered his thoughts and answered seriously, "The mask is made of soft leather, lined with linen on the inside to ensure it doesn't rub against the skin and is easy to wear for extended periods. The cloak is made of thick, dark wool, which would wrap a person up completely even in summer, making them look bulky and out of place."
As Leon spoke, he unconsciously hunched his back slightly and deliberately lowered his voice: "You can't walk too briskly; you have to appear slow, occasionally pausing or swaying slightly due to weakness or joint pain. When you look at people, your gaze should be averted, not direct, as if you're afraid of being watched, and also afraid of watching others..."
Accord listened from the side, a complex expression on his face. He watched as Leon almost instinctively got into character, feeling both heartache and helplessness; he was all too familiar with these details.
The king listened quietly, his gaze behind the mask scrutinizing every expression and movement of Leon. Only after Leon finished speaking did he slowly lean back on his throne, letting out a very soft sigh of relief.
"Good, very good..." His voice held a certainty, as if he had finally found the key piece of the puzzle. "Then listen, Leon. I want you—"
Baldwin gazed at Lyon's youthful face: "Become my shadow."
"Wear the same robes as me, wear the same mask, and when I cannot appear, you will be me. You will sit in the council chamber and listen to their arguments, you will use my name to suppress Guy and Reynald's fantasies, you will maintain the facade of royal power until...the very last moment."
Even Leon, a transmigrator, was shocked by this outlandish plan, let alone Jacob beside him. Jacob immediately stepped forward, his voice shrill with fear: "Your Majesty, this...this is insane! This is stealing the divinely ordained throne! If discovered, he will die!"
"So, by letting the kingdom slide into destruction, we wouldn't be committing blasphemy against God's grace?" His gaze returned to Lyon, his voice deepening. "Who do you think you are? Do you think I really like you? The Queen Mother's bastard, a disgrace to the royal family... Your mother, from the very beginning of my rule, repeatedly interfered in state affairs, just because she was the Queen Mother, just because her surname was Komnin?"
His eyes were filled with deep weariness, but the tone of his voice changed abruptly:
"At the same time... I like you, I admire you, Lyon. This has nothing to do with personal likes or dislikes, it's entirely based on my political judgment, on the supreme interests of the kingdom. No matter how much I despise your origins, you are a million times better than that incompetent Guy. What does he have besides his proud alliance with the Knights Templar? Even if the entire kingdom's knightly orders were mobilized, with his clumsy command and laughable arrogance, he would be nothing more than a mantis trying to stop a chariot before Saladin!"
"This is not a request," he finally said, his voice weak but carrying undeniable weight, "this is a...contract. In exchange for your freedom, the chance for this kingdom to survive."