Chapter 146: Where One Belongs (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 146: Where One Belongs (2)
Arsen felt like he was nursing a hangover he hadn’t even earned.
He shook his throbbing head and stared at the thirteen mages standing before him, one by one.
Calling them a "corps" was a stretch; there were only fifty of them in total. Compared to the scale Calian envisioned, this number was laughably inadequate. But they were, after all, only in the starting stages.
And yet, Arsen had failed to properly manage even these fifty members of the Valkan.
Of course, he knew no one could follow them around outside the palace to keep them in check. Controlling mages? It would be easier to walk up to Alan, subtly ask if he knew his disciple was insane, and make it out alive.
Therefore, Arsen’s job was to create a system where they wouldn’t cause trouble even without constant supervision. This incident, however, made it painfully clear that all his efforts had been in vain.
“You learned magic so you wouldn’t lose a fight, so when else would you use it? I get that. I use magic when I’m angry, too.”
Scanning the members, Arsen muttered, half to himself and half to them.
“When you fight, a shop might get blown up. It’s not like you got drunk and aimed at the wrong place; the shop just happened to be there. What can you do? So, I get that, too.”
I’ve blown up a few myself. It’s no big deal.
Every time I did, I just ended up a little poorer, but nothing else happened.
“You fought like mages, you didn’t lose, and you didn’t get hurt. That’s enough. Well done.”
Yes, things like this could happen.
The system wasn’t fully established yet, and they had been undergoing intense daily training. He knew their stress had been building. They got excited, had a few drinks, and got into a scuffle. If they couldn’t hold back, they might draw on their magic. As he’d said, that was what they learned it for.
“It’s the fault of those bastards who looked down on mages and picked a fight in the first place.”
Just look at the men standing in front of him. They looked like absolute lunatics—anyone could tell they were mages. If those fools picked a fight anyway, they should have been prepared for the consequences. If they were going to complain about mages attacking ordinary people, they should have learned magic themselves. And if they couldn’t do that, they should have watched their mouths.
“But the problem is…”
Arsen, who had sounded as if he were about to overlook everything, uncharacteristically trailed off. As if they knew they had done something wrong, the thirteen mages kept their mouths shut tight.
“You caused trouble yesterday and were taken to the security force at dawn, but I only found out about it after His Majesty, the Corps Commander, and Vice-Commander Franz had all heard. Oh, and I hear Prince Calian knows as well.”
At his rapid, monotone delivery, the mages hung their heads.
“Furthermore, once you were dragged to the security force, you claimed you had no connection to the Valkan.”
This part was unacceptable.
Arsen scanned the members once more and continued.
Or rather, he was about to.
“Vice-Commander Hertz.”
That is, until a pleasant voice interrupted him.
* * *
“Meow!”
A sound that had no business being heard in a place like this echoed through the air.
Franz turned toward the meow. There stood the cat whose very posture seemed to declare, ‘I am Prince Calian’s cat, but I like Prince Franz more.’ It had approached him before he even knew it.
He hadn’t gone to Wilhelm Hall with Calian. Whether Calian was in a bad mood, had found something new to worry about, or had some other reason, Franz didn’t bother to guess. He had simply sent Calian on his way. Afterward, he had wandered to a path in the rear garden and encountered the cat.
Seeing how it immediately ran over to rub against his leg, it seemed it had been looking for him. Franz scooped up the creature—which he couldn’t bring himself to hate—and spoke quietly.
“Fearless, aren’t you?”
Barging into the rose garden, sneaking into his room, and now wandering out to a secluded place like this without a care in the world.
“…What if you get lost?”
“Meow!” the cat cried out, as if it understood his words.
Franz let out a soft chuckle and sat on a bench, cradling the cat in his lap. He stroked its head as it pressed against his palm, then looked up.
The sky was remarkably blue.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shifting shadows that reached his feet. Watching them, Calian’s words came to mind again.
—Don’t even think about living like a dead man, acting as my shadow for the rest of your life.
Calian had said it knowing full well why Franz acted that way. And knowing that made it all the more irritating.
“…Crazy bastard.”
“Meow!”
As if understanding the insult directed at its master, the cat let out a scolding cry. Franz found himself talking back to it.
“I’m just calling a crazy bastard a crazy bastard. What’s your problem?”
“Meow! Meow!”
Sigh.
Franz let out a short sigh. To think he was bickering with a cat. He felt it would be less ridiculous to deal with Arsen.
As they argued, a gentle breeze rustled past. The small birch leaves fluttered easily, their rustling a soft whisper on the sunlit wind. His wind-blown hair poked at his eyes. Franz raised a hand to brush it aside, but his hand froze mid-air.
Hina was standing there.
Feeling as though she had witnessed something she shouldn’t have, Hina stood frozen for a moment before quickly bowing to him.
The prince, who had just been arguing with a cat, looked at her and spoke.
“What is it?”
Taking it as a question of why she was staring, Hina offered a bright smile. It was a pure, natural smile, fundamentally different from Calian’s sly grins.
Holding something in one hand, she pointed at the cat and then at Franz’s feet. Interpreting it as a request to come closer to retrieve the cat, Franz nodded.
Taking a few steps forward, Hina set down what she was holding on the bench, slightly away from him. Glancing at it, he saw it was light blue ice cream in a cup. Since Hina needed her hands free to communicate, Franz didn’t comment on the maid setting something down beside him.
—The sunlight was so bright, so I brought the cat out, but it ran away again.
It was a difficult sentence to fully comprehend. Franz only understood that Hina had brought the cat out for some reason.
—The cat followed the good prince. It must really like the good prince.
‘The cat really [verb]s the [adjective] prince.’
That’s what it looked like this time. The two signs were very similar, differing only at the end. Only now did he realize what she meant.
‘Good prince.’
Franz was, at least, a more rational person than Calian. He didn’t mistake the difference between the sign for ‘good’ and the sign for ‘like.’
Even so.
A ‘good prince’?
Her assessment was highly mistaken. Extremely mistaken.
The leaves fluttering in the wind were calm and peaceful, like a shimmering wave of light green. Hina debated telling Franz that his eyes looked exactly like them at that moment but decided to just smile instead. It was too difficult a concept for the current Franz to understand. She pointed to the ice cream beside him and signed.
—Do you like ice cream? I haven’t touched it.
Hina was probably the only maid who would dare offer a prince food she had just set down on a bench. Amused by her boldness, Franz chuckled.
“I hate it. Because it’s blue.”
He left out the part about it being blue and round, just like the eyes of a certain someone living upstairs. That wasn’t something he should say to Hina.
Hina, who had never met anyone who hated blueberries just because they were blue, laughed silently.
—Then, what flavor do you like?
Franz fell silent for a moment. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him what he liked.
What did I like?
Nothing came to mind. He had lived his life receiving only what was given, showing only what was expected, and doing only what was necessary. While there were many things he disliked, he couldn’t think of a single thing he actually liked.
Just as he was about to reply that he disliked all sweets, he remembered.
What he liked.
“…Strawberry.”
And so, he gave his long-delayed answer.
Hina nodded vigorously and moved her hands. Franz’s gaze followed her fingertips.
—Next time, I’ll ask the chef to bring you strawberry ice cream.
There were unfamiliar signs this time too, but he understood the meaning. He could also feel his irritation fading, thanks to the cat that liked him and the maid who asked what he liked.
So Franz nodded and replied, “Sure.”
He didn’t ask for the exact meaning of the signs. After all, hadn’t his younger brother, who insisted on keeping him alive, promised to teach him everything? He figured he should keep his mind clear to learn it all. He would ask about the unfamiliar signs later.
When she brought him the strawberry ice cream he liked.
* * *
Calian was very obedient to Alan. Heeding Alan’s advice not to use a sword, he had picked up a club instead and used it to beat Gray to a pulp.
Calian was also very obedient to Franz. Strictly speaking, Franz hadn’t said anything, but Calian knew his brother was worried he might draw a sword or a club. So this time, he brought neither.
However, he had never promised not to get angry.
Step. Step.
Calian didn’t look at anyone. He walked in slowly, his face devoid of expression. Yet, his presence alone was overwhelming. The leisurely sound of his approaching footsteps seemed to shake the very ground of the Wilhelm Hall training field. Only one more person had entered a space already occupied by fifty-one, yet the very air had shifted.
He was completely suppressing the mages of the Valkan—individuals who were neither ordinary men nor mere nobles, but each exceptionally talented in their own right.
The face of the mage who had casually muttered “Oops” upon learning the Queen’s residence had been damaged froze solid. The faces of the mages lined up before Arsen turned deathly pale.
The low sound of footsteps stopped beside Arsen.
Following the silence, every gaze converged on one point.
Toward the true master of the Valkan, whom they had summoned with their own mouths.
Toward Calian.
“Vice-Commander Hertz.”
Arsen had experienced Calian’s killing intent from afar when he dealt with Gray. Compared to then, this aura was nothing. Despite knowing this, Arsen unconsciously took a deep breath before he could manage a reply.
“Yes.”
Calian stared at him for a moment before speaking. “I will handle this.”
Not ‘I will scold them,’ or ‘I will punish them,’ or ‘I will talk to them.’
But rather:
I will kill them all.
That’s the simplest way, isn’t it?
That was how it sounded.
Arsen did his best to ignore the translation echoing in his mind and nodded. How could he stop the prince now that he had decided to step in? Besides, this seemed like a good opportunity to teach them a proper lesson.
“Please do so, Your Highness.”
At Arsen’s response, Calian turned toward the mages. As his crimson eyes swept over each of the thirteen, they felt as if their hearts were being burned to ash.
“Are these the ones who claimed they have no connection to the Valkan?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Arsen did not reply, and the mages hung their heads. No other answer was needed.
Calian took a step toward them. As he moved, a very quiet voice fell upon everyone’s ears.
“What should I do with you?”
True killing intent flared.
His previous aura had been a mere polite greeting to get their attention. Now, a chilling energy—like tens of thousands of blades slicing through their bodies—swept over the mages.
“I thought you would remain under my wing as long as you drew breath.”
Once again, the color drained from their faces.
A shallow sense of responsibility to protect the Valkan’s honor. A belated worry about causing trouble for its leadership. The petty trick of trying to separate being a mage from being a Valkan member with a single sentence.
Only now did they realize that because of these things, they had cast themselves out of the protective boundary of ‘Calian’—the only one who could shield them and take responsibility for them.
“Bastards who are Valkan inside the palace and just mages outside,” Calian stated, his voice dangerously low. “I have no use for them either.”
The mages, who had walked out of Calian’s embrace on their own two feet, bowed their heads deeply.