Chapter 142: The Cornerstone of Understanding (9)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 142: The Cornerstone of Understanding (9)
Dark brown or pale black.
Whatever he chose to call it, the coffee was bitter.
Though he had grown to enjoy it later in life, when he first drank coffee as a child, he had utterly detested the way its bitter taste clashed with its aroma. If it smelled sweet, it should taste sweet; if it smelled bitter, it should taste bitter. What was the point of a rich, savory aroma only to be followed by a sour, bitter flavor?
—You have already done more than enough.
Ironically, Arsen had once said something similar to Bern. Whether the meaning was the same or not, he was now hearing those words from Chase.
Because Chase’s words felt like coffee—fragrant to the nose but bitter on the tongue—Calian smiled quietly.
“…Thank you.”
It wasn’t that Calian didn’t know why Chase had said it. Because he knew, he answered calmly. Because he knew, he honored Chase’s sentiment without another word.
Already enough.
The words were incredibly comforting to hear.
Yet they shattered his heart the moment he let them in.
How could it ever be enough?
No matter what he did, how he did it, or how much he did, it had all ended in tragedy. A catastrophe.
How could anyone call that enough?
Calian swallowed another sip of the coffee that his now-forgotten past self used to enjoy alone. He turned his head to look out the window. Watching the fountain rise and fall in its endless, helpless cycle, Calian spoke without shifting his gaze.
“Are you hungry, by any chance?”
Come to think of it, he hadn’t even eaten breakfast.
That must be it, he told himself. The reason his stomach burned was not because of the words he had just heard, but because of the coffee on an empty stomach. The strange feeling of emptiness, the chill at the nape of his neck—it was simply because he was hungry.
He didn’t know when he would see Chase again. He shouldn’t act like some uncharacteristically sentimental fool; he should just eat. That was the logical thing to do.
Chase smiled at the sudden, out-of-place question.
* * *
Lemain nodded readily.
“Very well. I understand.”
His response was directed at Franz, who had appeared unannounced—without so much as an attendant to herald him—and gotten straight to the point.
As expected, Lemain did not object to placing the royal knights under Franz’s command.
“However…”
Lemain spoke again, wanting to confirm one thing. He knew Marquis Evan Brissen would never have willingly handed over command of the two knight orders.
Knock, knock.
The sound of rapping on his office door cut him off.
It had to be Raul, the chief attendant. The fact that he was knocking, despite knowing Lemain was with Franz, meant the matter was urgent. Lemain gave Franz a look that said, one moment, then called Raul in.
Raul held a slip of paper in his hand—a message that would have been difficult to deliver aloud in front of Franz.
After scanning the note, Lemain’s gaze shifted to Franz.
“I am told Calian has gone to Rubia Hall. It is not yet his permitted day to visit.”
His voice and expression said so much more.
Lemain had tried his best to phrase it gently, but to Franz, the words translated to: That damn brat ran off again. Consequently, the corner of Franz’s mouth rose almost imperceptibly.
Franz knew Calian and Randel had met, just as he had anticipated this morning. He had seen Randel leaving the rose garden and Calian standing there alone afterward, lost in thought.
So, if Calian had gone to see Chase—whom he had acted as if he would never meet again—there had to be a reason.
“It seems he hit a wall with his swordsmanship,” Franz offered.
Whatever the real reason, it was better for Lemain to think Calian had business with the knights than to associate his visit with Chase.
While Franz was considering how he would explain why Calian had to go today of all days, Lemain mulled over his words and showed a surprisingly understanding reaction. He nodded.
“Ah, I see. He must have heard they are leaving tomorrow.”
Having observed Suleiman for so long, Lemain had a decent grasp of the nature of swordsmen. Even Suleiman, who had learned to use his head a bit more after marrying Serie, had once brought a foreign knight to the Valkan training grounds just to spar, despite knowing full well how important the Valkan were.
So, Lemain didn’t doubt the explanation that Calian had sought out Teilan because of a bottleneck in his training. Of course, while Lemain found it plausible, it didn’t mean he thought Calian was without fault.
“I don’t know why he acts so willfully. I must discipline him properly this time.”
“Is the Crown Prince of Secritia scheduled to return tomorrow?” Franz asked, pretending not to hear Lemain’s grumbling.
Failing to notice that Franz was changing the subject, Lemain nodded. “Yes. He sent word yesterday.”
As he answered, however, a look of slight bewilderment crossed his face. He had just realized this was the first time Franz had ever initiated a question to him.
Because Lemain hesitated, an awkward silence briefly filled the office. Quickly recalling their original conversation, he spoke again, his expression turning worried.
“Right. What I wanted to ask earlier… Marquis Brissen would never have handed them over so easily. I wish to know how you managed it.”
A fleeting look of surprise crossed Franz’s face before vanishing. Lemain missed it, but it was definitely astonishment. The king, who usually resembled a slow, overthinking ox, had actually pointed out something quite sharp.
Franz answered without hesitation. “It was a Seal of Oath. It is not a contract you need to worry about.”
He did not hide the truth.
It wasn’t out of a sense of duty to keep no secrets from his father, but rather to remind Lemain that he still had much to reflect upon. Though the king seemed to live every day in self-reflection already, in Franz’s eyes, he still had a long way to go.
At his answer, Lemain’s expression stiffened. He clenched his fists slightly and let out a long sigh.
A Seal of Oath, once made, could never be broken. Yet, he could not blindly scold his son for putting his own heart on the line. He knew Franz had made the same choice Calian once did—when Calian, having nothing to wager, risked his life to drink the poisoned tea. It was the kind of situation where one had to stake their own life to gain anything.
“I see. Having nothing but your life, you gambled your life… This is largely my fault.”
Lemain considered offering an apology, but once again, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It wasn’t out of pride, but because he felt too guilty to even utter them.
Closing and opening his eyes slowly, Franz spoke in a quiet voice.
“You may say it. Your apology.”
His response was so calm that Lemain was left speechless.
Before he knew it, Franz had grown. He had grown so much.
Lemain recalled Alan’s words about how his granddaughter, who used to only reach his waist, must be much taller by now.
Because he couldn’t even picture what Franz had been like in his younger years, Lemain could not bring himself to apologize.
“Thank you.”
That was all he could manage.
And Franz, who had grown up so suddenly, understood that those words were indeed an apology.
* * *
Back in Secritia, the chef would have brought them warmed-up food by now.
Though that wouldn’t happen here, neither Calian nor Chase felt any regret. They hadn’t exchanged enough words for the food to grow cold, and the lack of conversation felt inevitable.
After quietly working his fork and knife for a while, Calian spoke in a low voice. “Congratulations in advance on your coronation.”
Chase’s hand paused briefly. Without mentioning Devlan even once, Calian continued, “I do not think I will be able to congratulate you in person.”
It was an occasion where the throne of a nation was being inherited. As such, it was not unheard of for foreign royalty to visit with a congratulatory delegation. However, when Chase ascended the throne, no royalty had visited. Tensil would never send its only Crown Prince to Secritia, and Libern was the same. And though Kairis had two princes back then, neither had visited. With the position of Crown Prince undecided, there was no reason for either of them to take such a risk.
It was only natural.
In fact, Chase’s presence here to celebrate Lemain’s birthday was what was truly bizarre. It was a wonder how he had managed to convince Devlan.
“I know. Thank you,” Chase replied briefly.
He stared down at the food on his plate, remaining still for a moment. Sensing this, Calian looked at him.
It was only after a long silence that Chase spoke again. “I know this place is changing a lot. And it will change even more in the future.”
All of it was happening at Calian’s fingertips.
Franz, who sat with his legs crossed and spoke only of his own ambitions; Arsen, who showed unwavering faith in Calian; Lemain, who had begun to make an effort; and even Randel, who had stood amidst the roses, staring at him as the wind swayed around them.
Recalling each of their faces, Chase continued, “I worry that you might end up hurting yourself in your attempt to understand everyone.”
Every last mage belonging to the Valkan was part of the fire that had burned Secritia to the ground. So, even if it wasn’t Franz, even if it wasn’t Arsen… in the end, everyone here was a blade pointed at Bern.
How many wounds had he sustained trying to embrace them all?
How inflamed, how festered, how painful must they be? It was difficult to even fathom.
Calian watched Chase, who couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, with calm red eyes. After another long silence, he spoke quietly.
“…Hina.”
Hina.
He uttered her name.
“Kyrie’s younger sister is named Hina. Her ears were long, but they were cut. She can’t speak, but she scolds people with sign language. She likes birds and puppies. She takes good care of cats, too, and is especially good at writing on their collars. She eats ice cream well. And… she smiles a lot.”
He began to ramble, his words disjointed.
Yet every word was so precious that Chase listened intently, determined not to miss a single one.
“…She is alive.”
Even with a dying body, knowing it was reckless and dangerous, he had sought out Kyrie. And Hina had been with him.
She was alive.
To Calian, that was light. It was salvation, hope, and healing.
“So, I am fine.”
To say he was fine, not that he didn’t hurt.
Looking into those red eyes, which were no longer light purple nor crazed, Chase let out a soft sigh.
Saying one is fine does not mean one is unhurt. He wasn’t genuinely alright, but rather holding himself together by focusing on the one light he had managed to protect.
“May I ask one favor of you, Prince Calian?”
Calian nodded quietly.
“This time… if the day comes when you have nothing left to protect, I hope you will protect yourself. Is that too much to ask?”
Chase said this because he knew what kind of person Bern was. Bern had only ever protected others; he had no other skills, no other purpose. If he had nothing left to protect, his ceaseless journey would lose its destination. Chase knew Bern was that kind of man.
This time, the red eyes gazed into the purple ones. With a face that held far gentler eyes than Bern’s ever did, Calian spoke.
“I do not know if the day will ever come when I have nothing left to protect.”
After all, he had decided to keep a certain man alive—a man who claimed he wanted to live but ate nothing but grass with a face that showed no desire for life whatsoever.
He also had to find out why that man had done what he did, and to do that, he had to keep another inscrutable man alive—one who spent all his time staring at innocent roses. In doing so, he had to protect them all, whether they were his brothers of the past or his brothers of the present.
“Actually, there is one thing I haven’t told you, Crown Prince Chase.”
“What is it?”
Chase probably wondered if there was truly only one thing left unsaid, but he listened anyway.
“I dislike coffee. To me, it doesn’t smell like roasted beans. It smells like Renieri.”
Etching Chase’s eyes—which he might not see again for a long time—deep into his memory, Calian grinned.
“Unlike Bern, who loved coffee, Calian, who dislikes coffee, will walk on just fine even if he has nothing left to protect.”
The sound of the fountain’s water shattering and scattering filled the air.
Once, Chase had found that sound desolate, but now it felt incomparably refreshing. He noticed the sunlight catching the splashing droplets, casting a rainbow.
With a much lighter expression, Chase smiled at Calian, not Bern.
“Next time, I will serve you something else. What do you like, Prince Calian?”
“Mint tea. So, the next time we meet, please give me mint tea.”
And, he thought, please don’t forget again.