Chapter 151: Where One Belongs (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 151: Where One Belongs (7)
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t think you’ll be fine at all.”
A mage’s voice cut through the heartwarming conversation between the brothers.
Arsen was, by nature, a suspicious man.
No matter who he met, he rarely opened his heart to them right away. It was a habit, a second nature he’d had since childhood. Because of this, Arsen never trusted anything without questioning it first—not just people, but even a single magic formula.
Some admired him for his meticulousness, while others disliked him for being overly fastidious. One particularly eccentric acquaintance had simply told him to get lost, having had enough of his scrutiny.
In any case, there was only one person whom Arsen—who hadn't even trusted his own esteemed master from the start—believed in without a shred of doubt. As most people around him knew, that person was Calian.
The reason was simple.
His first impression of the prince had been exceptionally good. It might seem like an absurdly simple reason, but it was the only one Arsen needed.
—There is no reason to disturb the steps of the deceased.
It had been at his master's funeral—the only ‘adult’ in his life. Arsen had been dressed in shabby mourning clothes that screamed commoner to anyone who looked.
A black horse, a black robe.
The figure stood silently gazing at the Annerusia flowers floating down the Senyu River. And those red eyes.
A prince.
One who had only just met Alan and still possessed nothing.
—I would prefer it if you did not keep this in your memory.
That was his first impression of Calian.
A prince with precarious red eyes, who knew to dismount his horse for the dead, who offered sincere condolences, and who, instead of ordering a commoner who recognized him to keep silent, left him with a soft plea: “I would prefer it if you did not keep this in your memory.”
The image of him watching the drifting Annerusia flowers was seared into Arsen’s mind. Who would believe that even though the prince’s face was hidden by his robe, Arsen could vividly picture his expression? Who would believe that the prince’s feelings had been so clearly conveyed?
In the end, Arsen broke Calian’s request.
He remembered the Calian of that day exactly as he was, engraved in his mind.
He had been certain it would be worth it, and he had never doubted that belief.
That was why when Calian said, “I am only going where I belong, so it is fine,” Arsen had to say it wasn't. After all, wasn’t he the type to obey Calian’s direct orders perfectly while readily disobeying everything else on his own judgment?
“I also know why you are doing this, Your Highness. I know how hard you are trying to keep Prince Franz alive. I don’t know the reason, and even if I did, I doubt I would sympathize with it. But I know you are overexerting yourself to pave a path for Prince Franz to survive.”
Arsen was neither a fool nor an idiot.
“But to block your own path to survival just to open one for him… no matter how I think about it, that is not fine.”
Arsen spoke to Calian, but his eyes remained fixed on Franz.
Franz, listening to it all, didn’t close his eyes, sneer, or act as if he were hearing something foreign. He simply sat in silence, his gaze fixed on a corner of the table.
Even Arsen didn’t hate Franz enough to enjoy speaking so harshly. He only thought that he had to change Calian’s mind, even if it meant resorting to this.
He was certain that the expression hidden beneath the robe on the bridge that day was the same one Calian wore now.
“Please, do not make that face of silent resignation. Find a way for yourself to survive as well.”
“Sir Hertz.”
Calian’s way of addressing Arsen was rather inconsistent. Sometimes it was ‘Sir,’ and other times it was ‘Vice-Commander.’ There was no particular distinction; Calian just called him whatever came to mind. Arsen always answered, regardless of the title.
But today was different. Arsen did not listen. Instead of answering, he spoke again.
“If I knew the reason, Your Highness, I would hold my tongue.”
It was a relationship where not even a drop of brotherly love could be wrung out.
He knew what things had been like between Calian and Franz right up until they left for their coming-of-age ceremony in Roselita. He knew of the terrible fate that bound them because of Silike. They were brothers in name only, tangled in the worst kind of history. As a result, the two had walked paths as different as their appearances.
Yet, at some point, things had changed. And Arsen could not fathom the real reason why Calian was trying to save Franz.
Calian, his face briefly showing a flash of a headache at Arsen’s defiance, sighed. “Even when I say I am fine, you do not believe me. And now you ask for a reason.”
At those words, Franz let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
“My little brother is a liar.”
Half the time people said “I’m fine,” they were probably lying. In Calian’s case, it was likely over ninety percent of the time.
Wasn’t he the prince known to resemble Sispanian and the disciple of a great mage? He enjoyed Lemain’s favor and had even obtained the shield of Siegfried.
Yet, in the end, all Calian held was a shield that had no interest in the throne. He held neither sword nor magic himself. Those had all fallen into the hands of Franz and Marquis Evan Brissen.
Under such circumstances, would Evan ever leave Calian in peace?
Calian’s words were no different from saying he would turn the blade meant for Franz toward himself. Knowing this, Arsen was protesting vehemently. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the power of the Valkan was being bestowed upon the wrong person.
“It is not only through physical force that one can harm a person, Your Highness. You must not underestimate Marquis Brissen’s influence. No matter how strong you are, even with Commander Manasil’s protection, that is ultimately only enough to protect your life. Once you hand everything over to Prince Franz, how do you plan to win the power struggle against the Marquis?”
Calian smiled faintly at Arsen, who was openly taking his side right in front of Franz.
Arsen, who in the past had ended Bern’s life on Franz’s orders, was now trying to persuade Calian to survive a power struggle against that same Franz.
“My, my… This wasn’t my intention, but what a strange situation this is.”
Calian spoke, unable to shake the odd feeling. Franz and Arsen watched him in silence—Franz because he understood the meaning, and Arsen because he did not.
“In any case, Sir Hertz,” Calian addressed him again. “Do not worry. I am not such an easy target, and I know how to fight for a position far better than you do. I have experienced it many times. And… while there is certainly a reason for all this, I would prefer to postpone that conversation. Would it be difficult for you to set that question aside for now?”
There was nothing he could tell Arsen right now—not that Franz had taken the Seal of Oath, nor why he was trying so hard to keep him alive.
Arsen, still silent, stared at Franz. Even as he watched Arsen take Calian’s side right in front of him, Franz didn’t say a word. Calian, too, treated Franz’s silence as if it were only natural.
It was as if there truly was a reason that could not be spoken.
“……Understood. However,” Arsen said with finality, his blue eyes reflecting a mage’s stubborn loyalty, “no matter who their master is, the mages of the Valkan will follow Prince Calian.”
At those words, the other two fell silent for a moment before speaking.
“That’s too embarrassing to hear.”
“No. You should listen to His Majesty and the Commander, not me. It’s an army, after all.”
Calian’s casual reply was accompanied by a soft chuckle. It was his way of thanking Arsen for letting the matter rest for now.
Soon, he turned to Franz. “I will not tell you any more of my plans either, brother.”
“Fine.”
From now on, Calian had to devise a plan to counter Evan. If he lost the struggle for the crown prince position, the Lenisita leaves meant for him would be scattered across the square. Whether it was obtaining information from Randel or making Franz the new Marquis of Brissen, Calian first had to survive.
And that plan was something Franz must never know. Even pretending not to know after figuring it out could violate the Seal of Oath.
Therefore, Calian spoke again, as if warning him. “My clever brother, you must not figure it out on your own. You have to remain ignorant to stay alive.”
“My little brother has developed quite the bark.”
As always, Calian just grinned.
They remained unaware of how complicated Arsen’s feelings had become, watching the younger brother smile while saying his older brother would die if he found out, and the older brother comparing his younger brother to a dog.
* * *
Yan wore a slightly bewildered expression.
Since Demirea, an outside guest, was joining them, the evening banquet was held in Senyu Hall rather than Chermil Palace. However, the preparations were handled directly by the head chef of Chermil Palace. It was unthinkable for anyone else to prepare a meal shared by the princes.
Up to that point, everything was normal.
Things had always been done this way, so there was nothing strange about it. The reason for Yan’s bewilderment lay elsewhere.
“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on with this menu…”
Veal steak generously drizzled with a reduced strawberry sauce. Bread baked with dried strawberries. Salad finished with a strawberry vinaigrette. Waffles and pancakes decorated with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Strawberry-scented crepes and sandwiches.
For dessert, strawberry tarts and strawberry pudding. Carbonated water infused with strawberry syrup. Strawberry tiramisu.
And, of course, strawberry ice cream.
It was strawberries, from start to finish.
Staring at the strawberry-filled banquet menu, which had been meticulously prepared to not be overly sweet, Yan, who had entered the hall first to inspect it, looked utterly weary.
“No matter how much His Highness loves strawberries…”
Hina, who had entered with him, looked apologetic.
— I spoke to them, but it seems the message was delivered incorrectly.
— The kind prince loves strawberries very much, so I asked if they could make strawberry ice cream to go along with the other dishes for tonight’s banquet.
That was what Hina had said.
And the chef, hearing that the kind prince loved strawberries, had misunderstood her question. He thought she was asking if he could make all the other dishes for the banquet with strawberries, and he had gladly obliged.
Coincidentally, the royal palace had just received a large delivery of strawberries, so there were plenty of ingredients. Looking at the resulting crimson menu, Yan shook his head.
— I’m sorry. What should we do?
He couldn’t very well complain, as the issue had arisen from her still-imperfect sign language. Calian wasn’t the type to get upset over such a thing, and Franz, the culprit behind this whole situation, was about to eat a meal full of his favorite fruit, so there was no problem there. Demirea would surely understand, and as for that uptight mage, he could just eat whatever was served.
“Our prince loves strawberries too, so it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Just as Yan was getting a handle on the situation, Calian’s group entered, a little earlier than expected.
Their reactions to the strawberry-scented menu were varied.
As expected, Demirea showed no particular reaction, while Arsen wore a face that clearly asked what kind of joke this was. Franz examined the menu with a weary look, then glanced at Hina and let out a small chuckle, as if he had already guessed what happened.
And Calian.
“Wow. It’s all strawberries,” he said with an amused smile.
Seeing Calian’s face, Yan froze for a moment.
It was, without a doubt, the exact expression he made when forcing himself to eat something he couldn’t stand.