Berserk: The Prophet

Because Green was following Trunks and still held a noble title, he was fortunate enough to enter the interior of Rose Castle. As expected of a war fortress always prepared for war, even the interior of the castle was armed like an iron barrel. Although the actual war was still far away, the defenses inside the city would never be relaxed.

Trunks and his men were holding a military meeting after their rendezvous. Although dealing with four thousand elite Serpent Cult members was not a difficult task for Barkley at the moment, they still needed to be vigilant and minimize casualties, since the Serpent Cult's snake venom was no joke.

Just as he finished packing and was about to go out for a walk, he saw Trunks arguing with a richly dressed man in the corridor, with Trunks grabbing his collar.

"...Damn it, where did you take Sister Tamara? How dare you hide your identity? I only found out today that you're the second son of the Lord of Rose Castle. You've been hiding it pretty well!"

"...Uh, I think I can explain, Trunks, don't be so impulsive."

The flamboyant man looked younger than Trunks, his hands raised in front of his chest in preparation for Trunks's ever-present punch.

"Then tell me where Tamara is right now?! You bastard, how dare you treat me like an idiot!!"

Trunks shoved the richly dressed man against the wall, while Seranty watched the spectacle from the corner of the stairs. This was clearly a big story.

Tamara...

Green suddenly remembered that his current identity was that of Tamara's son, but... wasn't she eloped with a wandering swordsman? Could it be...?

"...Uh, so Duke Casarian didn't tell you? But I am indeed married to Miss Tamara now, although I only told the old man later, otherwise who knows what kind of trouble would have caused."

"???"

"You mean even Casarian knows?! Fine, you've all teamed up to lie to me, haven't you?!"

Trunks delivered a knee strike to the glamorous man's stomach, nearly causing him to vomit on the spot.

So that's how it is. So the man who took Tamara away was the one in front of him. Green's feelings were a little complicated. What a small world.

"Alright, Trunks, if you hadn't let the wolf into the house, Miss Tamara wouldn't have been taken away. Let's catch up and go see how Miss Tamara is doing," Thranduil then acted as a peacemaker, separating the two.

"You agree, right, Salad?"

“Ahem, that’s right. You must have not seen her for quite some time. Go see her, Trunks. Apart from the two old guys and a few of us, no one else knows about this,” Salad immediately chimed in.

"Hmph, I hate being lied to more than anything in my life, you know that."

"Alright, alright, let's go."

Serant urged, after all, there weren't many Hurricaneblade Rangers left who had survived that great battle.

“Lane, why don’t you come with us to see Miss Tamara?” Trunks gestured for Green to follow them.

"Oh, alright."

After all, she's Ryan's mother now, so it's good to know about her. Green followed her.

.........

Miss Tamara... what a surprise! Her long hair is the same fiery red as Trunks'. When I went to find her, she was tending to some flowers and plants in her yard. The bright red color looked like roses? There was also a girl, slightly younger than Grimm, chasing white butterflies among the flowers under the watchful eye of a servant.

“Salad?”

A gentle yet dignified female voice inquired, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she stood up and looked back at the group.

"Sister Tamara..."

Trunks stepped forward, and Tamara was clearly surprised as well. The siblings embraced; they hadn't seen each other for at least six or seven years.

"Are you alright, Trunks? I've heard about the Serpent Cult and the heresy."

"I'm fine, sister. I thought that boy had taken you to some remote mountain. They were so mean, they didn't even tell me you were here!"

Upon arriving in front of Tamara, Trunks, who was usually very composed on the battlefield, started babbling like a tattletale, complaining about the dissatisfaction he had suffered.

"You're still the same, Trunks."

Tamara chuckled, and the siblings chatted in the courtyard as if no one else was around. Although they were not blood-related siblings, they had grown up together since childhood and their relationship was much better than that of so-called blood-related siblings.

Tamara was the orphaned daughter of Casarian's brother. According to custom, she was adopted by Casarian when she was seven years old. Trunks was only four years old at the time and was still a shy child who would get shy when he saw a beautiful older sister.

Although Green was also curious about how this big guy could be so shy, this grown man still needed his sister to pat his head, which left Green speechless and inwardly groaning.

Damn it, I'm not envious at all of getting my head patted by a beautiful woman!!

"This child must be Ryan, right?"

Tamara noticed Green, who had been walking behind Salad and the others, stopped and smiled at him, asking Trunks, who was still grinning foolishly.

"Ah, that's right, that's Ryan."

"...Hello, dear Ms. Tamara, I have heard about you from Trunks, and you are as beautiful as I imagined."

After all, he was still someone else's child, so it would be a lie to say he wasn't embarrassed. However, Green had already learned from Pence how to behave like a gentleman in front of a lady, so he bowed and gave a fairly standard gentleman's bow so as not to seem presumptuous.

“Good boy, I think Trunks must have his reasons. Although he may seem unreliable at times, he can definitely teach you a lot on the battlefield.”

Tamara ruffled Green's thick black hair. The calluses on the child's hands were thicker than he should have at his age. He must have suffered a lot.

Such warm hands... just like a mother's?

Green's face inexplicably flushed. How long had it been since he'd been treated like a child, his head stroked? Was it three or four years ago? Since then, only Sis had ever treated him and Guts like their own children, gently brushing the stray hairs from their heads. Green couldn't help but doubt the reality of this world. Was this really just another game like in his previous life? Why did the touch and warmth on his head feel so real?

The warmth emanating from that hand felt real, gentle and comforting, as if soothing away much of the pain in my heart.