Chapter 225: The Sword (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 225: The Sword (3)
Alan had once said to him:
“I told Your Highness that no matter how heavy-handed Devlan was, he was still better than you for at least showing interest in his own children.”
No matter how much of a snake Devlan was, Alan had believed he at least knew how to cherish his own flesh and blood. That was why he had said such a thing.
He had felt such pity for the princes, their hearts worn down and shattered from suffering under Lemain’s utter indifference. It had been so terribly cruel that Lemain couldn’t even mourn the short life of his youngest son, acting so harshly even after the boy’s death. In that moment, Alan had truly thought Devlan was the better man.
“I was short-sighted.”
At the very least, Devlan had been wary of his son, paying attention to his thoughts and greed. Since that, too, was a form of interest, Alan had deemed him superior to Lemain.
But he was wrong.
Utterly wrong.
In truth, Alan didn’t know the full extent of what Devlan had done to Bern. Calian had never spoken of his past, and even Chase didn’t know the exact details, leaving Alan completely in the dark.
If Alan had known everything, he would never have hesitated on that hill overlooking the Siegfried territory. Fortunately or unfortunately, he only had a vague sense of things—that Bern had suffered greatly because of Devlan, and that he had become a knight because of him.
Even so, Alan now admitted his judgment had been flawed.
“To say Devlan was better… I made a grave mistake. It was something I never should have said, not even in a dream.”
“Do you think so?”
Lemain had, in fact, been somewhat displeased by those words at the time.
I know I did wrong, but surely I’m not worse than that snake of a man.
But knowing he would only get another earful if he voiced that thought, Lemain simply nodded and lifted his cup. Unlike Alan’s, his coffee was black, with no whipped cream, and a rich aroma wafted from it.
“It’s obvious how an unprincipled wretch like him would treat his own child. What am I to do, having said he was better than Your Highness without truly knowing the kind of man he was?”
Directing his words at Lemain’s shoulders, which seemed a little straighter than usual today, Alan continued with a sigh.
“In fact, Your Highness and that man are exactly the same. I foolishly tried to compare you, not realizing it was impossible to judge who was better. What could be more foolish?”
Ah. I’m glad I didn’t say anything.
Hearing Alan correct himself—not that he, the king, was worse than Devlan, but that they were exactly the same—Lemain slowly nodded. He then gave Alan a sour look, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him at being upgraded from “worse than Devlan” to “just like Devlan.” Alan, paying the expression no mind, continued his deep self-reflection.
“Indeed. There is no way to distinguish between a less bad parent and a worse one. There may be bad parents and decent parents, but to a child, a bad parent is a bad parent. There is no ‘less bad’ or ‘worse.’ To have so carelessly tried to compare them… my learning is still lacking.”
Of course, Alan couldn’t tell Lemain what kind of parent Devlan had been in the past, but it was obvious the current Devlan treated Chase harshly as well. Thus, he felt it was only right to treat them as equals.
“...Yes. I understand.”
Instead of retorting, At least I know I’m a bad person, Lemain quietly took the verbal lashing from Alan once more. He was in the wrong, so what else could he do?
The mage, having finished his reflection, and the king, who had to spend the rest of his days reflecting, drank their coffee in silence for a moment. Alan’s coffee, topped with whipped cream, had a sweet aftertaste. Lemain’s was excessively bitter.
Rustle.
Having emptied about half his cup, Alan unfolded the letter again. He began to read it aloud, skipping the flowery, unnecessary rhetoric.
“I express my gratitude for warmly welcoming Crown Prince Chase. In return, I wish to invite the 3rd Prince of Kairis, who is said to share a particularly close friendship with the Crown Prince, to speak with him in person. Since the King of Kairis has engaged in exchanges with Crown Prince Chase, this time…”
His anger seemed to flare up again despite his efforts to suppress it. Unable to read further, Alan looked up with a frustrated expression, vexed that he could neither crumple nor burn the letter.
“Exchanges, indeed. He’s called a snake for a reason, making such absurd and unreasonable demands.”
“Indeed. The Crown Prince of Secritia coming here alone is no reason to send Calian there. I have no intention of sending him.”
Alan’s stance was obvious, and Lemain shared the sentiment.
“...No. I had no such intention.”
Adding those words, Lemain fell silent. Alan read further down the letter, reviewing the situation once more.
“We have been repeatedly asked whether the Elves, whose habitable land in Kairis is shrinking, may settle in the forests of Secritia. In accordance with the will of the Great King of Secritia, we had no intention of granting our forests to those who worship deities other than Serenti, and thus refused… Though if Sispanian heard that, she would call it a very convenient excuse.”
After that brief aside, Alan continued reading.
“Having heard through Crown Prince Chase that Kairis maintains a mutually positive relationship with the Elves, we realize our previous policy was a mistake… Ha. Secritia also wishes to establish formal exchanges with the Elves. Since Kairis is also preparing a forum for dialogue with the Elves, we propose that representatives from both nations and the Elves meet. This will serve to return the hospitality of the King of Kairis, establish common regulations, and feature Hina Bern, who possesses the unique elven ability of healing and stands as proper proof of a positive relationship between humans and Elves—” Alan paused. “If the Prince sees this, it will trigger an immediate war. Do not let him know. At any rate, ‘We request that Sir Bern and Prince Calian attend as representatives.’”
It was so audacious that anyone listening might mistake Kairis for a vassal state of Secritia.
It was an absurd, unreasonable demand.
It was utterly unacceptable.
“This is all because Your Highness is too soft. Just how weak does Devlan think Kairis is, to summon the prince of this great nation with such nonsense? And now, because of Your Highness, our Prince is about to get dragged into another major mess. What do you intend to do about this?”
The ‘our Prince’ you speak of is my son.
And why am I the one getting scolded again?
Sighing softly, Lemain spoke.
“In truth, the Crown Prince of Secritia met with Franz far more often before he left. By their logic, they should be summoning Franz. I cannot understand why they are calling for Calian.”
“He wouldn’t know what goes on inside the palace. But if he found out that Crown Prince Chase used spies to help Prince Calian out of a difficult situation, he might assume they had built a close friendship.”
Regardless of how many times Chase and Franz had met, from an outsider’s perspective, the one Chase had looked after the most—using birds of every breed and feather color—was Calian.
“Indeed… Whatever the reason, if we must refuse, we will. Even if that small country screams and throws a fit, their punches won’t even reach Kairisis.”
Relations between the two nations might sour, leading to a war of nerves and a brief exchange of cold words. If things went completely sideways, they could simply crush them.
“Just because the royal authority is weak does not mean our military power is lacking. If a war breaks out, Brissen might regain power and my authority might shrink again, but I have no intention of bowing to Secritia out of fear of that.”
Alan nodded.
He privately thought that even if the royal authority—which was already practically invisible—shrank further, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. It was only because Lemain had no redeeming qualities that Alan hadn’t stepped in; if he set his mind to it, restoring the royal authority would be a simple matter. There was no need to worry.
“But I do not understand why that man is suddenly acting this way.”
“His life is currently hanging by a thread, though in a slightly different sense than yours, Your Highness,” Alan answered immediately, as if it were no secret. “Word has it that his illness is severe. He cannot summon a Tensil healer, and the Elves do not heal human illnesses, so he is throwing this tantrum to find some way to survive.”
The Elves were strict with their rules.
According to Calian, they were strict in a truly selfish way. Even while settling in Kairis, trading with its people, and sometimes even causing them harm, they absolutely never bestowed their healing powers upon humans. That was the law of the Elves.
Despite knowing this, Kairis turned a blind eye and allowed them to settle, partly because they engaged in trade and earned their keep, but largely because the power of their ‘Mother Tree’ could not be ignored.
At any rate, having grasped the motive behind this ridiculous demand, Lemain replied quietly, “His target must be Sir Bern.”
“Indeed. From the Elves’ perspective, he is someone who is an Elf when convenient and a human when in trouble. They had no way to stop Sir Bern from using his healing powers, nor any need to, so they left him alone. But if they were to interfere, it would become troublesome. Devlan is using that as blackmail.”
If Secritia had won the Elves over, no matter the offer, it meant the Elves might suddenly take issue with Hina’s healing magic.
Hence, they were demanding Kairis attend this conference.
There was no real need for Calian to go, but Devlan was essentially saying that if they were coming, the 3rd Prince—who was supposedly close to Chase—should come in person to receive Secritia’s lavish hospitality and ensure nothing unfortunate happened to Hina during the talks.
“Just in case, let me tell you this: do not ponder why such a troublesome matter has arisen over a mere healer. If anything happens to that single healer, Kairis will be torn to pieces.”
At Alan’s warning—which was practically a threat—Lemain frowned slightly. “Could it be that Calian has feelings for Sir Bern…?”
But under Alan’s glare, which looked as if he were staring at trash on the side of the road, Lemain quietly shut his mouth and returned to the original topic.
Do you think my precious disciple is anything like you?
“...Right. In any case, I have no intention of deciding this alone. If we are to comply with Secritia’s request, we will have to postpone the decision on the Crown Prince position. But before that, I will listen to what those involved have to say.”
If Calian truly intended to go, it would be less dangerous for him as one of three princes rather than as the Crown Prince. On the other hand, if Calian refused, Lemain planned to immediately send a rejection to Secritia and proceed with the succession as planned.
“At any rate, we must discuss this with Prince Calian. As Your Highness said, we need the input of those involved. Even though Sir Bern belongs to the Valkan, he is indeed Prince Calian’s person.”
“Understood. Let me know once a decision is made.”
“I shall.”
Having concluded the conversation, Alan picked up the last remaining chocolate, popped it into his mouth, rose from his seat, and walked out.
Lemain stared briefly at the empty seat of the mage who had swept up all the sweets, then took another sip of his bitter coffee.
*
Alan knew that Calian had not yet returned.
The fact that he had come to Chermil Palace anyway meant he had news so urgent that he was willing to wait in an empty room to deliver it. And right now, there could only be one thing Alan needed to tell Calian so urgently.
—If it’s about the snake, tell me.
Thus, Franz, who had run into Alan on his way to the Wilhelm Pavilion early that morning, had stopped him with those few words. Exercising the right to meddle that Calian had ‘permitted’ him, Franz had listened to the whole story.
And now, after relaying it to Calian, who had just finished a good meal, Franz withdrew his killing intent.
Having briefly explained the situation, Franz opened his eyes with a silent sigh, patted Lucy—who had curled up into a giant ball of fluff—and delivered his conclusion.
“I’m thinking of going.”
The killing intent that Calian had been struggling to suppress vanished like air from a pricked balloon. Hearing such an absurd statement had snapped his reason right back into place.
Thanks to that, Calian regained his composure much faster than expected and asked quietly, “Your conclusion is bizarre. Why would you go there, brother?”
“To see the sea.”
What on earth is this lunatic talking about? A guy who can’t even eat grilled cod is going where to see what?
Calian tapped his ear with his palm, then looked at Yan. “Did Lucy just meow? It sounded remarkably like human speech.”
“Stop bar—” Franz, about to habitually tell him to stop barking, clamped his mouth shut. Having just heard Calian call his words “meowing,” he couldn’t very well tell his younger brother to stop barking now that he was trying to act like an older brother.
“Prince Calian, your words—mmph!”
Yan, ignoring Calian’s remark, quickly stopped Relic—who was determined to serve Franz even more diligently—from throwing his life away. Yan knew that if Relic tried to scold Calian in this situation, his soul would be swiftly separated from his body.
Muffling the mouth of Relic, who was older but slightly shorter than him, Yan bowed slightly to the two princes. Then he dragged Relic out of the room. He knew all too well that his duty to serve them—which included listening to the two princes meow and bark at each other—had reached its absolute limit.
Watching the door close, Calian asked in a light tone, “Did you happen to eat something bad during your meal again?”
He was essentially asking what kind of rotten food Franz had eaten to come up with such an absurd idea.
Being highly intelligent, Franz immediately understood the jab and frowned. Calian, however, was in a state of, ‘I’m still the same age as you, brother, I’m quite angry, and since you aren’t speaking like a human, to hell with it, I’m just going to bark today,’ and opened his mouth again.
“My brother, whom I never truly had before, has now obtained a sword and begun to live with curiosity and even greed. But it seems your desire to possess has grown excessive. You’re trying to snatch away my share of sour tangerines.”
Because Calian knew why Franz was doing this, he would only let it slide this far.
“Stop right there. I will gratefully accept your intentions, and nothing more.”
He had asked Franz to help him solve the problem, not to meet Devlan and handle it in his stead.
“There seemed to be plenty of tangerines. Was it so wrong to take one whole?”
If there had been only one sour tangerine, they would have shared it. But weren’t there far too many? Franz found it hard to understand why taking one for himself was considered greed.
“I say this because you promised to help without expecting repayment, yet you seem to be trying to pay me back anyway. I don’t know what else you received that has you scrambling to repay me again. I haven’t given you anything else.”
“That sword.”
That solid sword, in which everything had already burned away, reflecting nothing.
The Fragment of the Star.
The Remnant of the Star.
“I don’t think I’ve paid the full price for it.”
“I told you, that was the price for my secret.”
—It is the sword you originally used.
“...Is that not insufficient for the price of a sword?”
“I’m not that bad at math. Just use it, brother. I’ve already received everything I need.”
Shaking his head slightly, Calian looked at Franz. Then, with an expression close to his usual one, he barked even louder than Lucy.
“As your younger brother, how could I possibly send my terribly weak older brother so far away? Just grow up quietly and raise your cat, brother.”
It was the kind of remark that would infuriate Franz enough to make him set foot on the Path of the Sword, but surprisingly, Calian was sincere. After all, he was a man incapable of lying.
“Just keep living exactly as you are now. Don’t go thinking about rolling in the ashes just yet.”
There was the matter of Zeon, Franz’s heart, Randel’s situation, and the appointment of the Crown Prince. So many things were happening at once. If Calian left, the danger would surely multiply. It was truly admirable of the clever boy to think of going to Secritia in Calian’s stead to stir things up.
But that was as far as it should go.
“Don’t do that. There’s no need. I would prefer… if you didn’t.”
Wasn’t Franz the one who could smell the scent of blood on Calian’s hands days after the fact? That was why Calian spoke this way, wishing Franz wouldn’t think of staining his own hands so soon.
Staring out at the pouring rain for a moment, Calian spoke again, his face looking as though he were fading into either the rain or sleep.
“...The Crown Prince of Secritia came here to find his dreams unwelcome, and I have stopped dreaming altogether...”
Turning his head, Calian took a sip of his mint tea with strawberry syrup, his crimson eyes fixed on Franz.
“Shouldn’t at least one of us live dreaming of something other than nightmares?”
Calian let out a soft chuckle. He remembered having a similar thought once before.
He believed that the one for whom it was not yet too late should be allowed to dream a proper dream. The one who had only just awakened from a nightmare did not need to plunge into another.
Realizing his thoughts remained unchanged, Calian let out a small laugh.
“You should have good dreams, brother. Especially now that you have such a fine sword.”
Yes.
In the end, I still have no intention of letting you be chased by ghosts and suffer through nightmares, too.