Pursuit (1)
Gail Prince stepped into the palace audience chamber with an expression of deep emotion.
Duke Otumur Nemibier, who had arrived first, greeted him with a light bow.
"Welcome, Your Highness."
"Thank you for your concern, Uncle."
"Haha, no need for such words. Please, have a seat."
Meanwhile, someone watched their amicable exchange with clear displeasure.
"They ended up giving him a seat after all."
Antonio Marquis grumbled. Servio Viscount, standing beside him, quietly soothed the marquis.
"It couldn't be helped. Completely excluding the grown first prince wouldn't look good. Still, getting stuck with something like the Development Office is a decent compromise."
"True enough. At least they avoided handing him control over gold or troops—key positions. He'll probably just be stuck maintaining roads and windmills, covered in dust. I wonder if the prince can stomach that for the sake of his pride."
"And in exchange, I've managed to attend this audience myself, haven't I?"
The marquis nodded at Servio Viscount's sly grin.
Attending the audience in person allowed for precise gauging of public opinion and rival factions' intentions, not to mention timely advice.
Hmm... Everything fits together perfectly, yet it leaves a bitter aftertaste. What's this uneasy feeling?
The marquis smacked his lips.
At that moment, the chamberlain announced the king's arrival in a booming voice.
"Descendant of the hero Sedrak who vanquished the evil dragon, sovereign of the Lock Kingdom, illuminator of the world with his wisdom—His Majesty the King!"
Dozens of nobles attending the audience rose from their seats and performed the formal salute: one knee to the ground, fist pressed to the heart.
"Ahem! As you all know, a few faces attending today's audience have changed. I trust you'll each devote yourselves fully to your duties."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
King Clibuo scanned the room once, then nodded. The elderly chamberlain, taking the signal, raised a document and began reading.
"First agenda item. Recently, individuals suspected to be pirates affiliated with the Jaipur Union raided the southern coast. Three small villages were razed, and roughly three hundred men and women taken as slaves."
Even before the chamberlain finished, a fierce game of gauging glances erupted.
Who's responsible for the southern coast?
Which faction is he with?
What's the damage? The gain?
"The commander of the Southwest Army, responsible for this incident, has pleaded guilty while reporting that defending the long coastline makes troop reinforcements unavoidable."
Reinforcing the central army was no simple matter.
Taxes would spike dramatically, and fierce struggles over command of the new units were inevitable.
Amid the wary stares, Raslipf Viscount spoke first.
"Your Majesty, the pirates under the Jaipur Union are no mere bandits. Stopping them along the coast would require massive forces. Better to build a navy instead."
As Raslipf Viscount—vanguard of the first prince's faction—offered his view, opposition poured immediately from the fifth prince's camp.
"Your Majesty, the Union consists of hundreds of islands. They're seasoned in naval combat. Building a navy to face them at sea would take more than a century."
"Exactly. Lure them ashore and crush them—that'll be cheaper."
"Then who's accountable for the villages already burned? Cheap isn't always best. We need a real solution."
"Will you cover the costs yourself, Viscount?"
"What nonsense is that? If voicing an opinion means footing the bill, who would dare speak freely?"
"We're saying show some responsibility."
"Hmph! You think I don't see through your complacency—just muddle through the immediate crisis? And you talk of responsibility..."
"Our kind? You done talking?"
"Enough!"
Unable to endure it, King Clibuo bellowed. The squabble between the factions quieted momentarily, but their glares remained venomous.
"Troop reinforcements aren't decided overnight. Gather more opinions and settle it later. The Southwest Army commander's punishment will wait until this mess is cleaned up. On to the next item."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
But the next item, and the one after, changed little in the audience chamber.
With the two factions deadlocked, Lock Kingdom's issues sank deeper into the mire.
Yet no one cared.
Fail to seize the power right in front of you, and central politics would be out of reach for at least thirty years.
After the meeting, Gail Prince summoned Jerard.
"Thanks to you, I could attend the audience. Stimulating Servio Viscount's ambitions for a deal was a fresh idea."
"He's no pushover. If he'd seen it as detrimental to the marquis's faction, he wouldn't have bitten. Who profits from this deal depends on what comes next, so praise is premature."
"Haha, telling this prince to work harder, eh?"
Jerard merely smiled without a word.
"By the way, any progress on the investigator dispatched to Szczecin County? As you advised, I gave no hints."
"No significant moves yet. The heir apparent, young master Calix, is away from the territory. Seems this test failed."
Gail Prince's face twisted slightly.
Obsessed with talent scouting, he constantly tested recruits even after hiring them.
Survive a few trials, and they'd be heavily favored; fail, and they'd be sidelined until discarded.
That's Gail Prince's way. Young master Calix, I don't know why you sent me here... but it was a mistake. I can't leave superiors better than me alone.
Jerard's downcast eyes gleamed dangerously.
Gazing at the top of his head, the prince spoke.
"Watch a few more days. The more cornered they get, the higher the price for my hand."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Meanwhile, in the count's castle of Szczecin County, far from Elesina, a heated debate raged.
"What do you mean by that? Redesignating a guardian?"
"If the rumors of young master Calix's disappearance are true, the next step is naming young master Gramvine's child as heir."
"It's only been two months since he vanished. For disappearance to count as death, it takes at least three years."
"Even with witnesses seeing him fall into a monster's maw?"
"That's classified... We'll need to investigate your sources."
"I'm the investigator. Anyone in this territory must answer my questions dutifully."
"Only for matters related to the incident, right?"
"Got proof it's unrelated?"
Russell Naigel glared steadily at Orsel Tiggrim. As heat shimmered faintly from his body, a royal knight present interjected.
"Regent, calm yourself. The investigator can't handle mana. It might look like intimidation."
"No such intent."
"Thank you."
Russell reined in his temper and addressed Orsel.
"Fine. Even granting your point a hundred times, young master Gramvine has no children."
"Conveniently, his fifth cousin's nephew is available. Young, but bright. Adopt him. Or if blood ties bother you, provisionally list him until Gramvine marries and has heirs."
"Why the rush?"
"An empty succession invites these messes, doesn't it?"
"Feels like you're straying from your duties, investigator."
"I'm merely suggesting. The decision lies with those present."
Russell ground his molars and asked,
"Decision... I'm the territory's regent."
"Refusing procedure to the end—doesn't that suggest impure motives? Remember, your seat is only temporarily as 'regent'."
Russell sensed something off in the mood. By now, the nobles here should have risen in protest.
An investigator from the capital dictating terms infringed on the territory's autonomy.
Yet the room was too quiet.
"The other nobles agree?"
At Russell's question, they all averted their eyes. Even chief administrator Garod Olson kept his eyes closed, silent.
Only then did he grasp the key difference between them and him. He believed Calix couldn't be dead; they didn't.
If the major vassals rebelled en masse, even Russell couldn't hold out long.
A formal count couldn't be ousted lightly, even by the king—but a regent could, with cause.
The prince has abandoned me too... Looks like I have to use it. It'll get ugly.
As Russell sighed inwardly,
A clear voice rang through the grand hall.
"Everyone, long time no see. Hope you've all been well?"
The nobles turned and gasped at Calix's face.
"Gasp!"
"Y-Young master!"
"It's young master Calix!"
"You're alive?"
"What happened?"
The somber, solemn grand hall turned into a marketplace in an instant. Expressions varied: shock, confusion, shame, joy.
But none took it harder than Orsel.
"H-How...!"
"Oh, you're... Wait, weren't you our noble council proxy? Pretty sure I cut you off."
Calix mimed scissors with his fingers, his tone mocking. Orsel, flushed with humiliation, regained composure and replied.
"Allow me to reintroduce myself. I'm investigator Orsel Tiggrim of the Noble Council."
"Ah, sold my territory for a post, huh."
"...That's harsh."
"Sorry. Haven't seen sunlight in ages—nerves are frayed. Bear with me."
Calix glanced around and asked,
"So, why's everyone gathered?"
"Kuh... With your disappearance, young master, we were discussing the su...ccession."
"Oh? Pointless endeavor. See yourselves out—no send-off."
"My mission isn't over."
"Mission? Weren't you settling succession? Not sure it's your business anyway, but now it's moot."
Clearly taunting, yet Orsel had to grit his teeth.
He was utterly isolated.
The moment Calix returned alive, every noble's face flipped.
Some even glared at him with open hostility.
Hmph! Bat-like scum. Think this is over?
Orsel bowed lightly and said,
"My mission from the Noble Council is investigating the assassination attempt on you."
"Right, I recall such an edict."
"Indeed. I have many questions for you. You know cooperating fully is required?"
Calix wore a strange expression at Orsel's question.
"Hmm... So, you know that if I prove user rank through proper procedure, the investigation ends forcibly?"
Orsel looked incredulous, deflating with a puff.
"Pfft! You, not even knighted yet, a Sword Owner? Quite the joke."
Being from this territory originally, he knew Calix's past well. In his memory, the firstborn was a hopeless dullard who'd never touch class 4.
Moreover, he was barely sixteen.
Far too young for class 4.
"Even genius Count Collin only reached user at eighteen."
"Never heard that? Beans from beans, red beans from red."
"Hahaha, quite the self-praise."
Orsel showed not a speck of belief. To him, Calix declared,
"You know the knight tournament's in Elesina next month? I'll enter and prove my worth."
The annual knight tournament was the national event where class 4 seeds earned formal knighthood.
The kingdom's biggest festival alongside harvest.
But only class 4 qualified.
Orsel's expression finally turned serious.
Realizing Calix wasn't joking.
"May I officially report your intent to the Noble Council?"
"Of course."
"Withdrawing on a whim stains the territory's honor. Choose wisely."
"I, Calix Szczecin, hereby formally declare my entry into this year's knight tournament."
With no room left, Orsel's face twisted oddly.
Honestly, shocking.
The world's dullard transforming into a genius among geniuses.
But.
Hasn't learned from his father's death, I see.
Child prodigies abound.
But few reach true master—class 7.
He itched to report this to Servio Viscount fast.
"I'll be watching, young master Calix."