The Knight Doesn't Want to Be Reinstated (3)
The Silver Lion Knight Order.
They were the finest knights in the kingdom. Three hundred of them. When the cost of keeping a single knight ran nearly to the price of a racehorse, one had to wonder how anyone managed a roster of three hundred. Fortunately, the wage a Silver Lion drew was vanishingly small beside that of any other order.
The reason? Simple. The Silver Lions were not an order a knight joined to be paid. They were an order a knight would pay to join.
A legitimacy as old as Pendragon itself. Legends beyond counting, worthy of that long history. And, on top of it all, the symbolism of an eternal alliance with Lionel. To belong to the Silver Lions was to become an heir to that orthodoxy, those legends, that symbol.
And so the children of the high nobility hoped, without exception, to enter. There was no honor to match it, and no better chance to bind oneself to the royal house. They were nothing less than elite knights who had broken through odds of several thousand to one. And yet—
They flinched.
"Hah—!"
"Wh-why is that bastard..."
"I heard he was demoted!"
"A-avoid him. Don't meet his eyes if you don't have to..."
"......"
...which was not quite the same as saying they had come in by fair competition.
This place hasn't changed.
The Silver Lion uniform, unworn for some time, was unbearably tight. Whether his muscle had thickened or his very frame had grown, the thing was nothing but uncomfortable. He walked on, enduring it, and eyes gathered from every side.
The 1st Order of the Silver Lions, the 2nd, and the 3rd, to which he himself belonged. Not a friendly look among them. Lee Han was hardly feeling friendly either, so it did not matter, but a private sneer rose all the same. Not because of their pathetic hostility. Only this:
Did I just walk into enemy territory?
A strangeness came over him, as if the place he had returned to had never been like this. It was unmistakably his old post, and yet he could not shake the foul unease of having stepped into an enemy camp. After nothing but the Academy's innocent students and proper knights like the Scarlet Eagle, coming back to a nest of these vipers was a hard adjustment.
Damn. I don't think I've even been gone five months, and this place already feels like a stranger.
Hadn't he said it once? That a knight order resembled the major leagues. Just as the talented were drawn up from the minors through endless competition, the knights here were, plainly put, talent. But this was the palace, the heart of the Royal Capital. Not a place where a man survived on personal strength alone. In a word, a place that demanded a gift for politics. And to survive the ecosystem called a palace meant that every last one of them had a hand in politics.
Perhaps for that reason, more than eighty percent of the Silver Lion knights were kin to palace officials, or else people those officials sponsored. The 1st Order belonged to the royalist faction. The 2nd, to the aristocratic faction. The 3rd was where the lesser nobles gathered, or else the peculiar eccentrics.
And so Lee Han found it absurd. A major league with faction ball, connection ball, and bloodline ball all boiled into one stew. Something like that.
Anyway.
My standards have gotten too high.
Look only at proper knights for a while, then come back to these sly, snakish things, and the sigh came first. Worse—
How can they have made no progress at all?
Their level was so low that the disappointment cut deeper. He remembered some of the faces, and so he was certain. Not one of them had improved in the past several months. Major-league talent, and they spent it not on the sword but on political knife-fights.
Wow. I'm going to burst a gut.
Was this an occupational disease? Now that he stood on the side that taught others, he was learning in his own body how infuriating it was to watch people let talent rot.
And the woman who had given him this stomachache...
No. Not a woman one could dismiss so simply. The so-called—
The polite, distinct voice of an attendant who held a baron's title rang out.
Her Highness the Crown Princess, Isis Irene de Pendragon. Knight Lee Han, having been summoned, requests an audience.
And so—
The great serpent on the verge of becoming a dragon had called for him, and Lee Han entered the White Lion Palace with all the unpleasantness of stepping into a den of snakes.
Ambrosia.
A panacea said to have existed in antiquity. Not the sort of elixir that restores latent ability and strength, the way a spirit medicine does. If one had to put it...
"Ambrosia?! That Ambrosia — the one that cures every curse and disease in the world, even inborn allergies and chronic illnesses?!"
"It cures allergies too?"
"Good heavens... so the thing actually exists..."
That had been the explanation of the all-purpose status window, possessor of the finest alchemical ability he knew, and Lee Han had nodded, glad he had asked.
"Can you make it too?"
He had no wish to be dragged about forever by that tyrant of a sister. Hoping there might be some way to slip free, he had asked Taechang whether Ambrosia could be made. Taechang had shown the skill to handle even the Ghost King's heart, so he asked with a flicker of hope.
"Mmm. I'm afraid it's impossible."
"......"
What came back was negative. A little fretful now, Lee Han asked again.
"Is it because you don't have the materials? If that's it, I'll get them for you."
"No. It isn't the materials."
"Then you don't have the method? If that's the case..."
"No. The method is actually easy. Mix mandrake, a siren's tears, and queen-bee wax, and that's all."
"...If you know it that well, why can't you make it?"
"Because only a witch can."
"...?"
"Even among the mystery-races, it's an elixir only a witch can make. It comes into being only when a witch's hands, a witch's mana, and a witch's mystery go into it. How is an ordinary human like me supposed to brew a witch's elixir?"
"Then how did they make this?"
"They probably hired a witch. Whoever arranged that has remarkable skill. A witch is the hardest of the mystery-races to meet. In terms of odds, 0.000001 percent?"
"So what you're saying is..."
"The odds of us meeting a witch and making Ambrosia are just as abysmal. No — even if we met one, witches loathe people so much that they'd try to kill you the moment they saw you, wouldn't they?"
"Nngh...!"
For an instant the arrogant princess's face seemed to float before his eyes, wearing a sneer, as if—
Pitiful sworn little brother. Did you think I would fail to see through even that shallow little scheme? You would do well to stop the petty tricks. Heh heh.
—she were laughing at him.
Defeat. He had not lost to a sword or a fist, and still the fact that he could feel this kind of humiliation made him want to clutch the back of his neck.
Anyway.
She really does toy with people.
Lee Han looked at her without hiding his sour face. Isis. Whatever she found so amusing, she welcomed him with a smile.
"So. Did you like the gift I gave you?"
"...Yes. Grateful enough to bring me to tears."
"How fortunate. Heh heh."
"......"
"Then I, too, ought to take my due for the gift."
Smoothly, she offered her instep.
"Kiss it."
"......"
Isis thrust out her foot and pressed him to kiss it, and Lee Han's face—
"...Big sister, your tastes are a little..."
He was willing to respect his sworn sister's peculiar appetites. His expression asked whether forcing them on other people was not a bit much.
The White Lion Palace.
A symbolic palace where, even among royalty, only the heir to the next reign might dwell. For nobles and knights, merely to enter it was both an honor and proof of success. How precious a thing was that? And the mistress of the White Lion Palace in this generation was none other than that Isis Pendragon.
The beauty once called the finest in the kingdom, together with her debutante, was still spoken of. There was even a tale of foreign royalty who had fallen for her looks, taken to bed with lovesickness, and courted her still. Years had passed and she no longer appeared at parties, but she remained the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. Royal blood would keep the youth of her twenties for a hundred years yet.
And so, among nobles and knights, those itching to set foot in the White Lion Palace overflowed. The moment they entered, they might enjoy the honor of a kiss offered as a mark of respect — respect not merely for royalty, but for the heir of the age. And as for who wished to enjoy that honor—
"Impudent wretch. Man or woman, every one of them is desperate to press their lips to the top of my foot."
"Are the people of this country all right? Is it nothing but perverts with rotten tastes?"
"Insolent."
Thwack.
Her fan seemed to spit fire as it struck Lee Han across the head. But—
"...My wrist hurts more."
"Head's gotten a bit harder lately. Figured the one doing the hitting might be the one who hurts."
"Hmm. You mean your skill has risen further? Welcome news."
"......"
Rubbing the aching wrist, Isis let a cold light gather in her eyes. It was, if one had to name it, the look of someone growing expectant because a bear already full of tricks had learned to somersault as well.
"...Shouldn't have said that."
Meeting her eyes, Lee Han regretted the needless remark. As expected, the root of all evil could be nothing but this mouth.
"Haa..."
But soon he shook his head, as if to throw away useless fretting and the urge to resist. And then—
"...Big sister."
"What is it?"
"You called me back with this joke of a temporary reinstatement. I have a feeling you mean to dump some complicated job on me. Am I right?"
"Hoh. A little time in a teacher's chair, and your eye has sharpened."
"Anyway. There are three things I want to know. May I ask?"
"Ho ho. Were it anyone else, I would have them beaten for insolence, but this once I shall be especially lenient."
"I'll take that as permission, and I'll ask three things. First. Is the knight order that short of people? Short enough to call in someone like me?"
"It is."
"......"
"It is. It shames me even to say so, but there is no one skilled enough that I can trust with the work, and those who are skilled are lunatics sick with politics. How am I to trust such people and use them?"
"Which is why I keep telling you to be careful when you pick knights."
"To do that, I would have to depose His Majesty my father. Well then... will you help?"
"...If it fails, that's rebellion. No — there isn't an unfilial crime that bad, is there?"
"Successful impiety is what they call revolution."
"L-let's say I didn't hear that."
The longer they talked, the more his head spun, so Lee Han pressed on.
"Second. If you meant to give an order, why not meet me in secret the way we always do, instead of dragging me all the way to the White Lion Palace for some ridiculous reason like 'to commend the hero who saved the Royal Capital'?"
Right. If she meant to command him, she could simply have done it in secret, not spread the rumor through every street and alley. What Lee Han had heard most on the way to the White Lion Palace was none other than that absurd title: the hero who saved the Royal Capital. If shame had a shape, this was it. To that question—
"And why should that shame you? To a knight, renown is more than precious. It is glory unto three generations."
She spoke as if puzzled, but seeing her eyes draw into crescents, Lee Han was certain.
This woman...!
She had done it on purpose, to tease him. She knew he hated things like fame, and she was doing it anyway. Her character really was the worst.
"Heh heh. A joke. How could I fail to know that fame and the eyes of others discomfort you? This time I simply could not find the hour for a secret meeting, and so I made a pretext to see you in the palace. Understand."
"Fine. Just don't use that word, tryst. There's a perfectly good phrase — a night errand — and you have to make it sound filthy."
"...Impudent wretch. Young lords who wish a secret tryst with me are beyond counting, and you do not know it for an honor."
"I'll give that honor to someone else."
"......"
"Hoo. Enough of that. On to the third question."
With a tap, Lee Han set a bottle down from inside his coat. It was a fine vessel holding a liquid that shed a crystalline light, and Isis laughed shortly.
"You still haven't drunk it."
"It isn't the finished article this time either, is it? The effect will be small. I'll drink it later if I need it."
"Even so, this batch is complete enough to last a week. Long enough, I should think, to ease the hunger you have not been able to ease."
"......"
"Tempted just now, were you? If you wish, I can introduce you this very moment to some lovely company. The sort who want a single night of playing with fire..."
"Ahem — enough, enough! I brought this because there's something I want to know."
Ambrosia. An elixir it would be no exaggeration to call the one and only means of undoing his curse. And still Lee Han had not drunk it. He could not claim he had no wish to drink it at once and feel that thrill again, but just now there was something he needed to confirm.
"This. I wondered if it works on someone else, too."
"......"
"There's, uh, a kid with something like a curse..."
Hesitation soaked the words. He wondered if it was right to say it at all. A moral qualm rose as well — was it right to speak someone else's secret—
"—The Brand of Obedience is a curse, yes, but magic is worked into it as well. I suspect Ambrosia alone would have some difficulty resolving it."
"......"
......Is there actually anything this woman doesn't know?
"You don't happen to have the Heavenly-Mile Eye, do you?"
"Regrettably, no Heavenly-Mile Eye. I merely have many means of obtaining information. Heh heh."
"......"
At this point, honestly, it felt like horror.
If she's a royal in a romance fantasy, isn't she allowed to be a little incompetent?
Why was she this capable? Lee Han was growing a little afraid of her.
"......Hoo."
Lee Han came out of the White Lion Palace feeling as if a thresher had beaten his mind to chaff. Talking with the marquis had been hard enough, but that sister was twice as exhausting. Even so—
Not entirely without results.
He had drawn a positive answer out of her, and that satisfied him.
"To give you the answer: Ambrosia alone cannot do it. But there is a means of turning cannot into can."
"Then..."
"But do I have a reason to spend that kind of care?"
"......"
"Do not make that face. See this one matter through, and I will grant whatever wish you like."
"......I did save the Royal Capital, though..."
"If we are keeping score, I secured gunpowder for you as well. And is that all? Even this affair of the marquis's house..."
"......"
With words, as ever, there was no winning.
"Aigoo. This fate of mine."
He had only meant to play at being a master, and what a trial this was.
"...If the kid were only a little worse, I wouldn't be going this far."
The ring fitted on his index finger. What was he, to trust like this? Lee Han felt the touch of it and laughed in spite of himself. He was weary, and yet strength seemed to be rising in him from somewhere.
He was easing his mood alone like that when—
"—Is it you? The parasite who dared cling to Her Highness Princess Isis!!"
"......?"
"You! I'll kill you—"
Wham!
"Ghk...!"
"What the hell is this idiot?"
Lee Han had struck the jaw of a lunatic who picked a fight at first sight, and in an instant the man's pupils loosened and he blacked out. A grab.
"...What do I do with him?"
Gripping the man by the collar, Lee Han considered. Hit him a little more, or keep hitting him until he woke? Once a man bared hostility first, mercy was not a notion he kept. And while that deliberation went on—
"Huh? This bastard's hair..."
......Silver-white?
"......"
Lee Han blinked. As far as he knew, silver-white hair was—
"Your Highness the Eighth Prince! Where is His Highness the Eighth Prince!"
"Captain!"
"Find the captain...!"
Voices of knights, coming from far off. In a single instant, Lee Han was certain. Captain of the 1st Order. The memory of a certain eighth prince who had renounced his right of succession, and who remained royalty all the same.
"......Ah."
The moment he understood that the moron he had hit was the Eighth Prince, he knew.
...He was fucked.