Chapter 161: If It Were Now (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 161: If It Were Now (1)
It was just as Calian had said.
The matter could be simple, or it could be exceedingly difficult.
Posthumously elevating Freya to the rank of Queen was not, in itself, a hard task. Lemain had no other queen, and he alone held the authority to carry out such a process.
"Are you serious?"
"I am, Your Majesty."
At the immediate reply, Lemain let out a short breath. He suspected that Calian’s sudden request was not merely for the sake of Freya’s honor.
It was about his bloodline.
The label of a prince born to a commoner concubine—Calian was trying to shed it.
And there was only one reason he would try to shed it now.
"You have your eyes on the position of Crown Prince."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Calian answered without a hint of concealment.
Previously, it hadn't mattered whether Freya was a concubine or a commoner because he possessed the formidable power of Valkan. But now, Calian had handed all of that power to Franz. He had to find another way, which was why he had come to Lemain.
He sought political influence, not raw military might.
The nobles who either expected him to become Crown Prince or offered him their tentative support all pointed to his birth as a 'flaw.' Whether they meant it as a genuine slight or a simple observation, they were unanimous: his status as the son of a woman who was not the queen was a problem.
If his allies felt this way, how much more vicious would the supporters of Randel or Franz be?
Long ago, hadn't Hale Latran—the man arrested for secretly trading sacred artifacts and selling Kairis intelligence to Secritian spies—said as much? He had called Calian the ‘child of a commoner.’
No matter how extraordinary Calian’s accomplishments or how immense his military power, they simply did not see him as true royalty. As the Brissen faction’s influence waned, they were the type to believe that if, by some absolute fluke, Franz failed to become Crown Prince, it would be better for Randel to take the throne instead.
Isn't this the one thing I can't change with my own strength?
He was Bern now, who had once sworn loyalty to Chase and received a knighthood just to silence those who would oppose Chase’s claim to the throne.
The nobles’ obsession with their precious bloodlines was no different here than in Secritia. In fact, their disdain for him simply because his mother was a commoner concubine made them seem even worse.
Lemain knew what the nobles of Kairis were thinking. He was well aware that elevating Freya to the rank of Queen would erase Calian’s sole, yet fatal, weakness.
"I understand what you mean. However, Calian…"
Having said that, Lemain fell silent for a moment.
For a long time now, his choice had been Calian.
As a political partner, Calian was an immense help. In terms of character and ability, he was the most suited to be the next king. Of course, he occasionally caused incidents so massive they gave Lemain a headache, but there was always a clear reason behind them. In the current situation, where royal authority had hit rock bottom, Lemain knew that bold, decisive moves—unlike the cautious path he himself had walked—were necessary.
Thus, he had long ago resolved to name Calian his Crown Prince. If he considered only what would help Calian secure that position, there was no reason to deny this request.
That is, if he didn't have to consider the other problems.
"For now, it is too dangerous."
It was still too dangerous. That was why he couldn't do it.
And so, Lemain refused.
His previously expressionless face was now a complex mask of sorrow, self-reproach, and guilt. The problem stemmed from the limits of his own power. If the royal authority had been just a bit stronger, no one would have dared insult the woman who bore his child as a mere ‘commoner.’
"So, I would like you to wait just a little longer. What do you think?"
Lemain was not so foolish as to question Calian for bringing up the succession first, nor did he think Calian was revealing his ambition too eagerly. He simply asked, "There is still more than a year before Randel turns twenty. Within that time, I intend to strengthen royal authority, resolve the minor issues with Tensil, and further weaken Brissen's grip. Once the forces opposing you have dwindled, I will grant your request. Would that be so difficult?"
"What is it that Your Majesty deems dangerous?" Calian asked.
"Naturally…"
Posthumously elevating Freya now was tantamount to revealing his final decision. Though he wouldn't be officially appointing Calian, it was no different from declaring his choice for Crown Prince. That was the danger.
Alan's words—If you place the one they dislike most on the throne first, they will disappear on their own—would surely come to pass. Would Brissen or Tensil simply stand by and do nothing while Calian, powerful but without a faction of his own, was made the heir apparent?
Lemain, about to explain this, clamped his mouth shut and stared intently at Calian.
He couldn't possibly be ignorant of this. Calian was not so naive.
"I am curious as to why you are suddenly asking for this. Has something happened?"
At those words, Calian smiled faintly, relieved that Lemain hadn't dismissed his request out of hand.
"It is not a request made for any one particular reason…"
Just as Lemain suspected, Evan Brissen would not sit idly by if Freya were elevated. Calian intended to use that reaction to create the justification he needed to utterly crush the Brissen family. Acting with justification was entirely different from acting without it.
There was another reason.
Once the news of Freya’s elevation shook the Brissen faction, some nobles would turn their steps toward him. That would be the faction Calian would grasp—a lifeline built upon the very justification he would create.
Crushing his enemies with cause, and forming a new faction.
Only when these two things happened in tandem could Calian survive.
However, he couldn't tell Lemain the truth. If he did, he might be blamed for orchestrating the murder of the heads of a noble house. Lemain would surely oppose it, worried that it would be Calian’s head on the chopping block, with Lenisita leaves scattered across the square for him.
"I am simply…"
Calian decided to give a slightly more honest answer—to reveal the truth buried even deeper than his schemes.
He raised his head slightly to meet Lemain’s gaze. A faint smile played on his lips as he looked up at the king.
"I am asking you to save my life, Your Majesty."
His voice was calm, utterly devoid of falsehood.
It was a plea that Lemain could never refuse.
*
Arsen liked flame explosions.
However, no one called Arsen a dual-attribute mage. There was a vast difference between being able to use a second element and mastering two primary ones. Arsen was merely capable of using fire alongside his main attribute; he could not be said to have truly mastered both. The ice wall he had conjured while launching a fireball at Heisia Palace, for instance, had been noticeably unstable.
A true dual-attribute mage mastered both attributes as their primary ones, allowing for flawless execution even when casting spells of different elements simultaneously.
Of course, Alan was an exception.
The moment a mage crossed the barrier of the 7th Circle, the boundaries between attributes vanished. To Alan, attributes were merely a matter of which one he felt like using more frequently.
For this reason, most mages chose a single attribute that suited them and focused their training on it, thinking, Someday, I too will reach a high Circle. To possess two primary attributes required not only innate magical talent and elemental affinity but also a corresponding amount of time and effort.
Euria, however, didn't particularly covet Alan's level of mastery. Her attitude was more along the lines of, “If it happens, it happens; if not, whatever.” Still, she hated losing, so she had adopted both attributes as her primary ones—and had achieved that near-impossible feat.
Being such a person, it was no wonder Euria had risen to become the Mage Association President five years ago, at an age one year younger than Arsen was now.
"Twenty-three."
Thus, Arsen was faithfully playing his role as a kid who just happened to be good at fighting.
Crack-crackle!
A spell that could only be described as a blinding web of light erupted from Euria's fingertips, blanketing the ground and engulfing the five knights rushing toward her.
Their swords were utterly useless. One had to get close to attack, after all. Whether the weapons in their hands glowed with a red aura or not was completely irrelevant; they posed not the slightest threat to Euria.
Thud!
The five knights convulsed violently as they tumbled to the ground, then fell still. The fact that they could offer even that much resistance against a force that could kill with a mere graze was undoubtedly due to the shield of light enveloping them, similar to the one wrapped around their swords.
"Eighteen."
Since Euria seemed more than capable of handling them on her own, Arsen had drawn an imaginary line in the dirt and resolved to eliminate only those who crossed it. With little else to do, he had taken to counting their numbers.
Staring at the figures collapsed on the ground, Arsen frowned and amended his count.
"...Twenty-one."
Arsen knew just how powerful Euria's lightning was. Those men had taken a hit that should have killed them a dozen times over. Yet, three of the five who had fallen were already staggering back to their feet.
Counting the remaining enemies was actually quite difficult. He had to gauge whether a fallen foe was truly dead or just about to stand up for one last gasp. It was all very confusing.
"Is that shield exceptionally thick, or have you gotten weaker, President?" he offered, as a form of encouragement. It was similar to the encouragement Euria had given him when he’d brought back the slaughtered chickens.
Euria’s brow twitched. She was suppressing the urge to annihilate all twenty-two of them—the twenty-one standing before her who had apparently cast aside all fear, plus the one coward cowering in the back.
After a moment of scanning the enemy line, Euria muttered, "It seems the power they're using is that."
Though her voice was low, Arsen heard her clearly. Since her words suggested she recognized the bizarre red light, he asked quietly, "Is it a power you're familiar with?"
At his question about the unpleasant, flickering red power, one of Euria's lightning arcs briefly snapped in his direction.
Arsen grinned and stepped up to stand beside her. It was his way of saying he would stop teasing. He couldn't keep joking around when Euria had reduced forty enemies to twenty-one with just four attacks.
"Commander Manasil's shield also glows red, but this is definitely different."
"Count Manasil's is red because of fire," Euria retorted. "You shouldn't compare it to something like this."
Indeed, the enemies' abilities were incredibly bizarre. Arsen watched the skin of the men who had just been scorched by lightning regenerate at an astonishing speed.
"Are they even human? Not even Tensil's healers can do that."
"They're human," Euria confirmed.
She had clearly seen them take a direct hit from a water sphere packed with lightning and collapse as if dead. She had clearly seen their bodies burn as electricity coursed through them while they were drenched. In just two moves, she had brought down all forty of them.
And yet, twenty-one had stood back up. As long as they were still breathing, they would recover.
"They are probably…"
Using the same power as the ones who attacked Calian.
Euria, about to say this, closed her mouth. She couldn't decide if it was alright to tell Arsen about the attack on Calian.
Instead of answering, she raised her hand and pointed. The men who had just stood up were picking up their swords again, seemingly hurling curses at her, but she paid them no mind.
Just before their red shields could reform, streaks of purple light shot toward them like arrows.
Whoosh! Boom!
Slender, wedge-shaped spears of pure lightning pierced the heads of three knights before they could protect themselves. Their bodies went limp, devoid of life.
Euria didn't watch them fall. Her sharply narrowed eyes swept over the remaining enemies, who had finished recovering and were preparing to attack again. They wore dark brown masks that concealed their faces, and their clothes bore no markings. Knights and mages alike were dressed in the exact same attire.
"Shouldn't we take out the mages first?" Arsen suggested. He wanted to stop them from casting those annoying shields.
"Why bother? It's too much trouble."
Picking and choosing her targets didn't suit Euria's personality. The power of lightning was different from ice; it was wide-ranging. She could just wipe them all out at once. If they rushed her, she could bind them. If they attacked from afar, she could block them. Why go through the hassle?
Whether it took two hits to kill them or three, she just had to kill every last one.
"How many are left?"
Seeing the dangerous glint in Euria's eyes, Arsen replied in an exceptionally polite voice. He wanted to ensure the highly capable President Euria wouldn't misunderstand and think he was holding a grudge because she’d dismissed his suggestion.
"Eighteen."