Grant me Your Grace Chapter 69

The first memory was of flowers. 

 

When the breeze swayed the blossoms, a dazzling spectrum of colors rippled like waves across the land. 

 

Taking a deep breath amidst that overwhelming sight filled one’s lungs with the harmonious fragrance of flowers. 

 

A soft chuckle would follow the sound of an exhale.

 

“Our Hissin truly loves Louisiana, doesn’t he?”

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

Turning toward the voice, he saw Queen Serbi of Janna—his mother—smiling tenderly with eyes as gentle as flower petals.

 

“It seems the blood of Louisiana instinctively recognizes these chrysanthemums.”

 

“So it appears, Your Highness.”

 

Behind her, King Osiris watched his queen and son with deep brown eyes resembling tree bark.

 

Janna was a tiny nation at the southern tip of the Misilan continent. Blessed with mild weather year-round, it was a land of lush greenery and serene beauty. 

 

A place where abundance was neither excessive nor lacking, where birdsong heralded the morning and warm bonfires called forth the evening.

 

A kingdom where the hearts of its rulers connected with their people, and where even in darkness, its inhabitants found their own light. 

 

For generations, Janna had fortified its haven, maintaining an enduring peace.

 

But the peace that had lasted centuries shattered in a single day. The ruthless expansion of Khankundra, which had been devouring neighboring lands with terrifying speed, finally set its sights on Janna.

 

The beautifully blooming flowers were trampled beneath savage hooves, reduced to ruin. 

 

The people who had always found light in the darkest times now stood blinded by the despair of death.

 

“Haah… ha… haa…”

 

A sharp blade pressed against the bloodied body of King Osiris. 

 

Khankundra loomed over the kneeling King of Jannaguk, offering his mercy with a cold smile.

 

“Become a vassal state of Baran. If you and your people serve Baran with your strength, I will personally release you from your chains and accept you as my own subjects.”

 

For the empire’s wealth and prosperity, Khankundra seemed to know exactly what to sacrifice and what to embrace. That must be why he coveted the ‘that power’ of the Janna royal family.

 

The royals of Janna possessed a unique ability. 

 

They could engrave a ‘Heart’s Oath’ upon those who swore loyalty to them, binding the servants’ souls deeply to their masters.

 

Thus, even without words, the master could convey their will. 

 

They could make their thoughts and emotions felt wholly by their servants, and the servants, in turn, could relay their own thoughts to their master through the connected hearts.

 

Janna primarily used this ability for scouts or investigative units, but Khankundra’s mind seemed set on forming a puppet army—one he could control at will without ever stepping onto the battlefield himself.

 

“You can share your master’s thoughts and issue commands from afar, bending others to your will. With that power alone, it would only be a matter of time before not just this continent, but the entire world, lay beneath Baran’s feet.”

 

Dreaming of a Baran Empire where the sun never sets, Khankundra pressured the king of Janna. 

 

But King Osiris of Janna did not easily yield to his greed.

 

“This power is not meant to be wielded for personal ambition.”

 

“How can you call it personal ambition when it is the foundation for my nation’s prosperity and my people’s strength?”

 

“In the end, you seek to trample upon others’ lands and force innocent people to bow beneath your feet!”

 

“A weak creature having its throat torn out by a stronger beast is only natural.”

 

“Even mere beasts know to respect the territory of another pack!”

 

At those words, Khankundra let out a quiet scoff. 

 

Slowly, he raised his eyes and surveyed the palace courtyard littered with corpses. The floor, stained crimson with blood, held a dozen or so trembling royals on their knees, bound and helpless.

 

“It sounds as if you consider me worse than a beast.”

 

Khankundra’s gaze fell upon a young boy. 

 

He couldn’t have been much older than ten. Even with his arms bound behind his back and forced to kneel, the boy glared at the invader from Baran with murderous intent.

 

“The cub has sharp fangs, I see.”

 

Khankundra smirked faintly as he observed the boy.

 

“Well. If that is your will, then… there are still plenty of useful ones left.”

 

His sword-bearing arm rose high.

 

“Your Majesty!!”

 

“Father!!”

Amidst the piercing screams, the head of the King of Janna tumbled to the ground. The boy, who had just witnessed his father’s decapitation right before his eyes, could not even scream as he stared at the collapsing body of the king.

 

The boy’s trembling body shook violently, his eyes turning blood-red.

 

“Aaahhh!”

 

“Prince!”

 

The boy let out a furious cry and lunged at Khankundra as if leaping. 

 

But before his small frame could even reach the Emperor, a soldier’s kick sent him flying far back. The fallen boy gasped painfully, unable to rise easily.

 

“Gag them all and bring them. Not a single one shall be granted an easy death.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

 

The soldiers’ booming voices filled the blood-soaked palace courtyard. The surviving royals of Janna were dragged away to the land of torment, deprived even of the chance to end their own lives.

 

💫

 

“Aaaahhh!”

 

A horrific scream echoed through the cave. It was the Queen’s voice.

 

“Mother, Mother!”

 

Little Hissin clung to the iron bars, desperately calling for his mother. But no matter how much he cried out, only her agonized screams returned—she could not even lovingly call her youngest son’s name.

 

“Mother…”

 

Tears dripped onto his small, white-knuckled hands gripping the bars. 

 

He had been locked in the deepest, darkest part of the cave as punishment for daring to bite and wound one of the Emperor’s guards during their forced march here.

 

Louisiana could see perfectly even without a single speck of light, thanks to her special eyes, so the pitch-black darkness was no obstacle. But the grief of losing her family one by one was darker than any night.

 

“Tsk, looks like it’s not working again this time.”

 

Beyond the faint voices of the guards, something thudded to the ground. 

 

Hissin knew that sound all too well—it was the sound of a body collapsing after finally succumbing to torture.

 

“Your Majesty!!”

 

A young boy’s voice, filled with hatred, echoed through the entire cave.

 

But with each person who fell, the family members who once wept together had long since left this place as cold corpses. 

 

Now, with even his mother—the last one remaining—gone, the only response to the boy’s scream was the furious kicks of the enraged guards.

 

“You damn brat, always screaming and pissing people off!”

 

Leather boots struck mercilessly—his head, his ribs, everywhere. 

 

At some point, a water-soaked whip lashed out, and Hissin blacked out from the pain, only to wake again in agony.

 

One of the guards panted as he wiped the sweat from his chin.

 

“Don’t bother struggling. Starting tomorrow, it’s your turn, kid.”

 

“Just give up and hand over your strength willingly. We might spare your life if you do.”

 

“Spare his life? Really?”

 

Another guard viciously grabbed the boy by his hair and yanked him backward. Watching Hissin choke, the man grinned cruelly.

 

“We’ll even dig up the bodies of your family buried under the Bial River and give them a proper burial.”

 

Burying bodies under the river? If they were lucky enough to get caught on rocks, maybe—but more likely, they’d already been swept out to sea or become fish food. 

 

These bastards never had any intention of properly recovering the bodies in the first place.

 

Hissin flailed his arms, trying to grab him, but the guards instead spat on his face and left the prison, leaving behind the bloodied child.

 

Their retreating pants were stained with blood—whether it was theirs, the remnants of the Janna royalty, or perhaps his mother who had just passed away, no one could tell.

 

The last traces of them, buried somewhere downstream, swept away to an unknown fate.

 

“Mo… mother…”

 

A trembling hand clawed at the empty air before dropping limply to the ground. The young royal, who had not yet undergone awakening, closed his eyes and sank into darkness.

 

From the next day onward, the Baran Kingdom began relentlessly tormenting Hissin, the last remaining Janna. 

 

The torture was so brutal it would have been too cruel even for an adult to endure.

 

They did not stop tearing, burning, and beating him until the child’s light brown eyes were bloodshot red.

 

“Tell us now how to wield your power!”

 

Dozens of sharp hooks tore into his flesh. 

 

Yet again, Hissin clenched his teeth, not even letting out a groan. This small boy endured interrogations that would break most grown men.

His bloodshot eyes gleamed coldly.

 

“The day my blood awakens, I will make you swallow every drop of it and bury you all in the river.”

 

A shiver ran down the guards’ spines, and they flinched. He was just a puny brat, barely a handful—yet for that moment, it felt as though they were facing a monstrous beast.

 

“T-this runt doesn’t know his place!”

 

Driven by malice, the guards tormented the boy even more. 

 

Even as blood splattered, and his consciousness faded, the young Janna prince refused to yield.

 

He would rather die than grant the filthy Baran scum the power they sought.