Chapter 206: Ghost (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 206: Ghost (1)
Becoming a legend isn't all that difficult.
If the course of history had run differently, Teilan, who held out alone for three days against the white devils of Valkan, would have become a legend. Chase, who watched his younger brother die slowly over several days but prioritized his duties as king before ultimately losing his own life, would also have become a legend. As would have Franz, for bringing Secritia to its knees in such a short time.
Yes, in the end, they all would have become legends.
Franz’s mood soured at the thought of the war, a time when countless legends and heroes were born only to fade away. He looked at the mage who had just created a new legend—one utterly incomparable to those of the great figures of the past—and spoke in an irritated voice.
“So what?”
Arsen, Calian’s crazy lackey.
The 5th Circle ice mage who, while sleeping spread-eagled at the entrance of Wilhelm Hall, was trampled by the great foot of Alan Manasil, who had ‘failed to see what was ahead’ in the deep darkness of dawn.
Deeply impressed by Arsen’s audacity when he pointed to the massive footprint in the middle of his snow-white robe and shouted, “I may not have a salary, but I still have my pride!”, Alan, with a gentle smile, had graciously granted Arsen’s wish. He docked Arsen’s remaining salary—a single florin—for the next three months.
Whether he knew that the mages of Valkan were gathered on the steps of Wilhelm Hall, chanting his name where that wondrous legend was born, Arsen couldn’t say. His body felt like a waterlogged sponge. He groaned, clutching the back of his neck.
“You have to tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
“I did.”
Sunlight streamed through the window.
Franz, who had claimed Arsen’s favorite spot for his own desk, slowly ran a hand through his pale emerald hair, which shone even brighter under the blazing midsummer sun.
He looked utterly relaxed and radiant, as if he stood a step removed from the chaotic mortal world. Franz slowly turned his gaze to a corner of the spacious office.
He stared for a moment at the mage’s face, which looked as if it embodied all the wear and tear of humanity, before continuing in a languid voice.
“I said my little brother no longer has to worry about what kind of pet to raise.”
To bother opening his mouth on that precious, otherworldly face once more to explain: it meant that yesterday, Arsen had behaved exactly like a dog.
Arsen’s desire to mimic that crooked smile was strong enough to reach the sun and melt, but it was a deep shame his neck wouldn’t move properly.
“I understood your point that I got drunk and became something less than human.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the implication. There was no need to worry about what kind of dog to raise or what to name it for the trip to Camillon, because they could just bring Arsen.
Turning his head toward the mirror on his desk, Arsen winced. An immense muscle ache surged through him every time he tried to support his neck. He couldn’t tell if it was from sleeping propped against the stairs all night, from being beaten, or from being stepped on by Alan.
“But I still don’t know what mistake I made to end up with my neck like this.”
Barely holding back a groan, Arsen pointed to the dark bruise on the back of his neck. Though there were surely countless other ways to knock him out, Calian had insisted on striking the exact spot Kyrie had already hit, leaving the bruise a deep, dark purple.
To make matters worse, Hina had visited him that morning, smiling brightly as she said:
– The kind… Prince… asked me… to tell you… to make sure… the good… Prince… doesn’t find out… about it.
Recalling her cold demeanor—as if she had absorbed Veronica’s stern attitude faster than any healing magic from the Tensil healers—Arsen looked at Franz once more.
Hina had faithfully carried out the request of the “kind” Prince—who had made the decidedly unkind request to leave his injuries unhealed—and had swept off to her office right after. This only made Arsen more anxious.
“Isn’t that a relief?”
With that, Franz stood up without another word. He took off the pale yellow cardigan he had been wearing—a necessity, thanks to the mage radiating cold air to ward off the heat—and draped a dark purple jacket with ornate gold embroidery over his shoulders. It was too hot outside to put his arms through the sleeves.
Watching him prepare to leave, Arsen asked casually, “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
Right, out. There was nowhere else to go inside, so of course he was going out. But Arsen was asking because he didn’t know if “out” meant Chermil Palace, Arpia Palace, or the Wilhelm training grounds.
His face clearly pleading for a proper answer, Arsen tried again. “Could you please tell me where exactly you’re going?”
“Why?”
Did this incredibly taciturn prince even realize that Lucy, the girl he doted on so much, spoke more than he did?
Arsen looked thoroughly frustrated. He briefly wondered if the attendant, Relic, whom Franz had sent outside for being a distraction, could have translated those words into a complete sentence.
‘Why should I report my destination to the likes of you, mage?’
Figuring Relic would probably interpret it that way, Arsen gave up and simply replied, “If you’re going to see the knights, I wanted to go with you.”
Franz stared at him, one corner of his mouth curving upward again. He had already figured out why Arsen was asking about his destination and offering to tag along.
“I don’t like being monitored.”
“Why would I monitor you, Your Highness? You’re the Vice-Commander. I’d rather use that time to sleep.”
Franz immediately retorted to his sincere grumbling, “If trying to stop the knights from telling me something isn’t monitoring, then what is it?”
This time, his response was longer than one of Lucy’s, but it left Arsen completely speechless.
Arsen truly hadn’t let anything slip. He had merely said he would go along if Franz was heading to the knights. At Franz’s words, which had instantly pierced through the hidden meaning of that single sentence, Arsen replied with a dumbfounded expression.
“It’s not monitoring.”
“I already know Viscount Brissen has returned.”
He meant that since he already knew Evan Brissen had brought Lennon Brissen back, there was no need for Arsen to tag along and try to block him from hearing about it.
– The kind… Prince… asked me… to tell you… to make sure… the good… Prince… doesn’t find out… about it.
Hina had visited Arsen that morning to deliver Calian’s message. It was a request to prevent the news of Lennon Brissen’s appearance at Calian’s birthday banquet from reaching Franz. Until now, they only had to keep a tight lid on Relic, Franz’s attendant. But by now, the rumor had surely spread, and the knights affiliated with the Brissens would have heard about it.
Worried that the knights might mention Lennon to Franz, Calian had separately called Hina—who could visit Arsen most naturally—and asked her to pass on the message.
Yet Franz already knew everything.
Arsen stared at Franz, momentarily lost for words. He worried what that brilliant mind of his would calculate next, now that he knew of Lennon’s return.
“Don’t follow me. I won’t think about it any further.”
At this, Arsen’s expression turned slightly strange. He asked before he could stop himself, “Can you really control that at will?”
Franz turned his head and glanced at Arsen, his eyes looking as if he were gazing at some foolish creature struggling at his feet.
“I just have to not stop thinking about other things.”
It meant he would block any thoughts of Lennon by continuously thinking about other things without pause.
In every single moment—while carrying out his duties at an incredible speed, talking to Arsen, inspecting the knights, eating, and resting—he was constantly keeping other thoughts running in his head. All to avoid unconsciously thinking about Lennon.
“So tell my little brother not to worry.”
Franz turned away from Arsen, who frowned as another wave of pain shot through his neck just as he was about to question if such a thing was even possible, and walked out.
“Keeping himself busy with other thoughts… I can’t tell if he’s incredibly smart or incredibly foolish… Huh?”
Arsen, who had been muttering to himself while staring blankly at the closed door, suddenly froze.
‘A guy who goes crazy from thinking too much is just going crazy because he’s human.’
‘My master is goooing to absolutely love this.’
A fragment of memory flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern.
Before long, Arsen’s face turned ashen. What on earth was this memory of him pointing a finger at Calian and saying something so incredibly rude yesterday?
Deciding he first needed to figure out what nonsense he had babbled to Calian and why Franz had said it was “a relief” he couldn’t remember, Arsen clutched his head and groaned, completely forgetting to marvel at Franz’s brilliant mind.
About an hour or two later, Arsen pulled a sheet of high-quality paper from his desk drawer and picked up his pen with a look of firm resolve.
Soon, with a solemn expression, he wrote down the title, pouring his utmost sincerity and determination into every letter.
‘I am sorry.’
Knowing he would be killed if he handed in a resignation letter, and having no desire to lose any of his limbs just yet, Arsen began to write a solemn letter of apology.
* * *
It was just as Marquis Evan Brissen had thought.
Evan, who should have been the most vehemently opposed to posthumously elevating Freya to Queen, had taken a step back for now. Not only that, but he had also bowed deeply to Lemain with a level of politeness he had never before shown under any circumstances.
“They say it will take place as early as next week. Since there will be an event in the square as well, Dame Slake will be coming before dinner tonight.”
The central figure of Freya’s elevation ceremony was, of course, Calian. Thus, the designer, Satin, would be coming to the palace to fit him for new formal attire.
“I’ll meet her myself this time, instead of Merlin.”
At this, Yan looked slightly surprised. Calian had always detested choosing clothes and left his wardrobe entirely to Merlin.
However, since Calian showed no intention of explaining further, Yan didn’t press the matter and simply replied, “Yes, Your Highness. Also, we received word from the Young Duchess of Siegfried. She asked if you would be free starting next Saturday for sparring.”
Calian nodded, gently swirling his mint tea, making the ice clink in the glass. Since he was training in magic and swordsmanship every day anyway, the timing didn’t matter to him.
“Still no word from Sir Seiren?”
Quite some time had passed since he had asked for information on the Crown Prince of Tensil. Because he had heard that all the “birds” investigating the Crown Prince’s past carriage accident had died, he had urged extreme caution. Perhaps that was why there had been no contact for so long.
At Calian’s question, Yan nodded. “Yes. Since he is conducting the investigation without leaving Kairisis, it will likely take some time.”
Calian, who had asked for a cautious investigation but had never ordered him not to leave the capital, looked at Yan. Furrowing his brow, Yan said, “We must ensure that a certain prince doesn’t go jumping out of a third-floor window in the middle of the night to rescue someone again.”
It seemed Yan was still holding a grudge over the time Calian had slipped away to rescue Arsen and Euria.
In any case, Calian had no desire for anyone to put themselves in danger on his behalf, so he nodded obediently, indicating he would wait a little longer.
“Also, Sir Hertz will likely arrive sometime today. He’ll probably try to slip me a letter and leave quietly, so make sure to catch him and bring him to me.”
This was to slightly modify his plan of keeping Gray close by deceiving him. Originally, Calian had intended to stay in the background and move Gray through Arsen. However, after seeing Arsen dead drunk yesterday, he decided he could no longer entrust the task to him.
Therefore, he planned to meet Gray in secret and speak with him directly.
“Your Highness.”
Hearing this, Yan sat in the chair next to Calian. He spoke not as the attendant Yan, but as the eldest son of Siegfried and Calian’s guardian.
“You’re planning to do something dangerous again, aren’t you?”
Looking at Yan, Calian said with amusement, “I didn’t say anything.”
Yan was always Yan. Calian had asked him to bring people countless times before, but somehow Yan had anticipated something was different today and was already worrying.
Calian continued as if it were no big deal. “Really, don’t worry. The person I’m meeting this time won’t be able to do a thing to me.”
Because he’ll be absolutely terrified.
Just as Calian said this with a bright smile, and Yan pursed his lips in disbelief—
– Is this how you do it? Is this right?
A voice he had truly never expected to hear echoed as his ring glowed.
– Is it working or not? Can you hear me?
Though he had never heard it in this lifetime, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize it. The voice flowed out from his ring.
Arianne…?
The ice in Calian’s glass of mint tea clinked once more.