Chapter 138: The Foundation of Understanding (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 138: The Foundation of Understanding (6)
Soft footsteps sounded from outside the curtains.
The maids carefully drew back the thick bedroom curtains. A moment later, Yan entered the room, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Don't tell me you stayed up all night again, Your Highness?"
Calian was already leaning against the headboard and waved a casual hand in greeting.
Under normal circumstances, Calian was rarely the first to wake. If he was already up, it almost always meant he had stayed up all night. In truth, even back when he was Bern, he had been a heavy sleeper; it was rare for him to wake and prepare himself before his master, Teilan. Even in a different body, that habit hadn't changed.
As Yan prepared to launch into his inevitable nagging, Calian quickly spoke up.
"Did you have a good dream?"
Yan, who almost answered "Yes" out of reflex, snapped his mouth shut. The corners of Calian's eyes crinkled with amusement.
"Sorry."
He had spent the entire night pondering the scope of what Marquis Evan Brissen might consider "betrayal," weighing solutions for countless hypothetical scenarios.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Even so, you should still be resting, Your Highness."
It was clear Yan was completely oblivious to Calian's improved complexion—so healthy that even Lemain had forgotten to ask after him. Yan had likely also erased the memory of Calian leaping over the fourth-floor terrace railing right before his very eyes.
Watching Yan, a silent smile played on Calian's lips.
After leisurely finishing his preparations amidst Yan's nagging—which he didn't mind in the least—Calian stepped out into the hallway. He was heading, as usual, to the quiet room where he had breakfast with the cat.
As they walked toward the stairs, Calian spoke quietly.
"I'd like to invite Sir Hertz to dinner tonight."
"Yes, I will convey the message to Vice-Commander Hertz. Will it just be the two of you?"
"No. My brother as well."
Hearing this, Yan let out an involuntary chuckle. It wasn't a happy sound, and Calian glanced back at him.
"My apologies. It's nothing."
Yan was likely the only servant who could tell a prince, 'I laughed at what you said, but pay it no mind,' and get away with it. Of course, Calian was also likely the only prince who would simply nod and let it slide.
In any case, Yan's chuckle was due to the title Calian had used.
Until the beginning of last year, Calian hadn't bothered to distinguish between Franz and Randel. When he had to refer to them, he simply called them "my brothers" or "both brothers." Then, at some point, his address for Franz shifted from "Franz" to "Brother Franz" for a brief period, before finally settling on "my brother."
Calian had undoubtedly picked up the habit unconsciously, influenced by Franz always calling him "my younger brother." Yan, however, still wasn't sure if this change was a positive one, hence his laugh.
Quickly stifling his amusement, Yan responded to Calian's request.
"In that case, it would be better to dine in the dining hall. Prince Franz would likely find that more comfortable as well. I will have everything prepared as soon as the time is confirmed."
When Yan said this, Calian looked back at him in surprise.
"I thought you didn't care if my brother was uncomfortable."
"Because you care, Your Highness. I still don't particularly like Prince Franz, but since you are paying him such attention, I can't keep treating him with such disdain."
Calian knew that the day Yan fully understood Franz would never come. Yan would never forget how Franz used to be.
"I see."
Calian merely nodded and said no more. Then, as he stepped onto the stairs, he announced, almost as a declaration, "Also, starting today, I'll be spending more time at the training ground."
"What? Your Highness, right now you—"
Yan, about to voice his concern once more, suddenly clamped his mouth shut.
Step, step.
He had heard someone descending the stairs.
Calian, who had heard the footsteps long before but hadn't bothered to stop talking, glanced at Yan's face and continued up the stairs.
The footsteps descended with the precise, rhythmic interval of a clock's ticking hands. It was Randel.
Tap.
Randel stopped, facing Calian.
A cold sneer Calian made no effort to hide touched his lips.
How consistent of him.
Exactly two steps.
Randel had stopped exactly two steps above where Calian stood.
Last time it was three steps. This time, two.
If they crossed paths a few more times like this, would Randel finally meet his gaze on the same level?
"Yan."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Tell my brother."
Calian took another step up.
Just as he had before, he climbed two steps to stand beside Randel. Without averting his gaze from those deep blue eyes, he spoke.
"That I won't be able to join him for dinner today."
He was delivering a message for Franz before he'd even greeted Randel.
This was Calian's response to the "two steps."
He had said he would try to understand Randel, but he had never said he would yield.
*
One corner of Franz's mouth slowly curled upward.
Cream soup, steaming white bread, a brimming salad, boiled eggs and baked beans, smoked ham seasoned only with salt, soft grilled onions, and tomato juice.
It was, quite literally, a menu that screamed: I took out everything you hate, so eat up and exercise. Since they used different swordsmanship styles, Franz needed far more physical strength than Calian. Yet, whenever food was placed in front of him, he merely picked at it—a sight Calian clearly found intolerable.
"…I shouldn't have accepted the sword."
He should have known something was up when that punk acted so nice, handing over a ridiculously fine sword. Calian had undoubtedly planned this entire scenario. He probably figured that if Franz received a good sword, he ought to become a good swordsman to match.
"Nyaa, meow!"
As if welcoming a friend who had woken up late, the cat—whose behavior practically screamed, I am Prince Calian's cat, but I like Prince Franz more—repeatedly rubbed against Franz's ankles, circling him.
Picking up the cat, Franz took a piece of dried chicken his servant, Relic, had set down and offered it to the feline. Meanwhile, Relic delivered the message from Yan.
"I am told Prince Calian will not be attending dinner today."
Hearing this, Franz turned his head to look at the table again. Two bowls of soup, two glasses of juice, two plates. It meant something had come up too suddenly to cancel the meal preparations.
"Did he run into Brother Randel?"
Calian wasn't the type to skip a meal unless it was for a reason like that.
Although Calian had been eating heartily ever since the poisoned tea incident in an effort to grow his body, things were a bit different now.
His swordsmanship demanded enough speed to make his muscles burn, and the 4th Circle magic he constantly maintained to hide his aura consumed an unimaginable amount of energy. That was why, despite eating so much, he wasn't gaining any weight, let alone building muscle.
Franz knew this as well.
Thus, it wasn't difficult for him to deduce why Calian, who desperately needed to eat, was skipping the meal. He wouldn't put off eating unless he had run into Randel.
Seeing Franz head back toward the bedroom, Relic quickly asked, "Are you going to skip your meal?"
"Later."
He didn't intend to skip it entirely, but he wanted a bit more sleep since he hadn't slept well. Calian wasn't the only one who had spent the night worrying.
Relic briefly stopped him.
"Prince Calian's escort servant is waiting outside. If you wish to rest a bit more, shall I tell him to return later?"
Franz's face twisted in irritation.
He planned to go to Arpia Palace in the afternoon to meet Lemain, so he had said he would practice his swordsmanship in the morning. That was why the escort was already waiting.
"I heard you were weaker than expected, but…"
Kyrie, who had clashed swords with Franz yesterday evening, had said only that much before falling silent.
Kyrie was a man of few words. Just as few as Franz. It wasn't that Franz wasn't curious about the rest of the sentence, but unfortunately, he was also the type who found talking to be a chore. So, he hadn't asked.
Besides, he already knew the unfinished sentence wasn't going to be anything like, But you are stronger than I thought.
"Leave him."
Franz told Relic not to send Kyrie away, but to let him wait.
Picturing the tall Kyrie in his mind, Franz sat back down at the table. Then, he began to eat the breakfast that contained absolutely nothing offensive to his palate.
No matter what, he didn't want to keep losing to his little brother's servant.
*
—The breaking of Tensil's carriage axle was likely no accident.
If Calian had already known these words from Chase, his attitude toward Randel might have been slightly different.
But he didn't know, and so his demeanor remained entirely unchanged.
He had deliberately climbed two steps before mentioning Franz. Only then did he offer his respects with impeccable manners. It was the same tactic he'd used in Camillon, threatening to raise dogs after being told to submit or be killed.
Randel stared at Calian for a moment before speaking quietly.
"…Follow me."
He had intended to speak with him anyway.
Calian followed Randel straight to the Rose Garden. Watching Randel's back, which showed no hint of hesitation, Calian searched his memories.
What was he like after he became the King of Tensil?
No matter how hard he racked his brain, nothing came to mind.
Because it was Tensil.
Secritia and Tensil were complete adversaries. They didn't openly bare their teeth at each other, but the tension was constant. It was always assumed that war could break out between them at any moment.
Two nations, one origin. That was the truth of Secritia and Tensil.
Among the eight heroes who led the War of the Two Gods to victory were Founding King Hatsuara, the Ancient Dragon Sispanian, and the knight who swore loyalty to Sispanian, Quetros Hon Siegfried. The country they established was Kairis.
However, one person had founded a nation even before them: the last priest who served Serenti.
None other than the Great King of Secritia.
—The Nameless King.
Having founded Secritia three years before Kairis, she erased all traces of herself in her final moments and died without leaving even a name. The reason remained a mystery.
Secritia, founded by this nameless ruler, faced no major issues at first. However, around the time Sispanian vanished from Kairis, a rebellion broke out among the priests of Secritia because the royal family refused to permit the use of healing arts that utilized the sacred artifact.
Secritia was not a country of great military might.
The rebellion soon turned into independence.
That was Tensil.
For this reason, relations between Secritia and Tensil were poor. Despite this, the reason Bern, who "managed the spies," was poorly informed about Tensil was because he was merely the Royal Brother of Secritia. Information regarding Tensil was managed directly by King Devlan and Chase.
"I thought you might at least ask if I've recovered from my injuries."
Calian, who had no idea what would become of Randel, spoke as he gazed at a red flower bud just beginning to bloom. Randel, despite having told him to follow, had silently begun tending to the roses without a word.
Randel paused his hands at the sound of Calian's voice.
"Are you the type to be felled by something so minor?"
…As expected, Yan is the only one who actually worries about me.
He had nearly died, yet Lemain was relieved just because he was eating well, and Randel spoke as if there was no cause for concern. Calian responded in a half-joking tone.
"The warriors' blades were sharper than I expected."
"Warriors?"
After a moment, the meaning of Calian's words sank in, and Randel turned to face him.
Randel knew that Tensil and the Great Desert had joined hands.
But Randel did not know that those who had attacked Calian were warriors of the Great Desert.
Calian felt two conflicting emotions at once. The first was a sense of unfairness toward Randel, who had likely been reading peacefully in Chermil Palace under the guise of punishment while he and Franz were raising hell. The second was relief, a confirmation that whatever else Randel might be, he wasn't the type to hire others to harm his own brother. The feelings were perfectly balanced.
Reflecting those complex emotions, Calian's lips curved into a smile.
"So even you didn't know, Brother Randel. Who they were."
Randel stared at Calian without answering.
Calian shook his head, dismissing his gaze. He reached out and placed his hand on the rose Randel had been tending, channeling aura into his long fingertips.
"Look at me."
Brushed by his pale, slender fingers, the rose stem snapped cleanly and fell to the ground. Seeing this, a flicker of emotion crossed Randel's eyes.
Calian spoke to Randel in a cold, chilling voice.
"Not at this."
He had said he would try to understand, but he had never said he would yield.