Chapter 229: I've Been Very Patient (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 229: I've Been Very Patient (3)
The good news: he wasn’t dead.
The bad news: he couldn’t even pass out.
For Franz, both might as well have been misfortunes. But for Arsen, who was neither dead nor unconscious, it simply meant he was still buried under a mountain of work.
“Your Highness, our Vice-Commander, are you aware that the number of Valkan mages will increase again within the next two weeks?”
“I know.”
“Your Highness, our Vice-Commander, have you showered?”
“I have.”
“Your Highness, our Vice-Commander, have you eaten breakfast?”
“I have.”
“Your Highness, our Vice-Commander—”
“Get out.”
Franz shot Arsen a look that clearly wished he would vanish—either from the office or from the face of the earth—and sat down, his face a mask of irritation. Arsen watched as Franz unfastened the pale blue topaz pin from his collar and the matching cufflinks from his shirt, handing them to Relic. He opened his mouth to speak again.
“Shut it.”
Franz silenced him before the all-too-predictable words could escape. He immediately rolled up his sleeves and turned his attention to the documents on his desk.
Deprived of the chance to say, ‘My, you certainly found time to shower, eat, and deck yourself out in fancy accessories despite being so busy,’ Arsen chugged his pitch-black coffee. He knew Franz was late because he had been with Calian, but seeing him look so neat, relaxed, and even luxurious provoked a sudden surge of irritation.
Glancing at Arsen, who was consuming caffeine as if he couldn't decide whether it was to keep himself alive or to kill himself, Relic addressed Franz.
“What kind of tea would you like, Your Highness?”
Franz, already flipping rapidly through a roster, replied without looking up.
“Not coffee.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I will prepare it right away.”
After hanging up Franz’s ice-blue jacket and handing him a thin cardigan of a similar color, Relic left the room.
Meanwhile, Arsen stared at Franz’s face for a moment before quietly turning back to his own paperwork. He resolved that the next time he saw Alan, he would beg him to assign them at least one more person who was normally exhausted by life—not another Vice-Commander who was young, smart, taciturn, filthy rich, and utterly lacking in social skills. Of course, they wouldn’t get another Vice-Commander, but maybe they could get someone to help make the workload a bit more manageable.
Knock, knock.
Before long, Relic returned. He placed a cup of black tea scented with orange and vanilla in front of Franz and another in front of Arsen.
“Please call for me if you need anything else.”
After Relic departed with his usual polite farewell, Arsen took a moment to admire the tea’s aroma, feeling a brief sense of respite.
“What on earth were you two discussing so early in the morning?” he asked.
“This and that.”
Despite his obvious annoyance, Franz answered every question. Of course, that was assuming one could call his replies actual answers.
“I only ask because you look like you’re in a bad mood.”
Arsen was asking purely out of concern for Calian, who had been with Franz. He was worried about the Third Prince, who, unlike this Second Prince who was about as personable as freshly grown moss, never hesitated to show people the kind of hell he could unleash with that beautiful face of his.
He was absolutely not worrying about Franz. Never.
“Vice-Commander.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any interest in hunting a snake?”
Arsen wondered what had prompted Franz to address him so formally as Vice-Commander Arsen Hertz, rather than just as a mage.
“A big one,” Franz added, opening his second stack of documents with an indifferent expression.
“My salary is gone. Since there’s nothing left to dock, I can’t afford to cause any trouble for the time being, Prince Vice-Commander.”
Arsen replied to Franz, the man who played the role of the ‘crazy older brother’ in a twisted sibling dynamic where brotherly love was shown by severing each other’s ties to their parents.
“And this would be a bit different from sneaking a bottle of Basilica out of the royal wine cellar, wouldn’t it?”
Though Franz had no idea what Basilica was, he recognized nonsense when he heard it. Ignoring Arsen’s remark, he asked again, “If it was an order from my younger brother, would you do it?”
“Prince Franz.”
Arsen looked down at his fragrant teacup and called out to him. He then met those light green eyes, which looked as if a newly blooming forest had been captured in the clear light of dawn.
“The Prince would never ask us to do that. One wrong move, and we could be at war with Secritia. And even if there were no risk of war, the Prince would never allow Valkan, of all forces, to set foot on that land, for any reason. You know this.”
Would Calian ever let Arsen, of all people, or Valkan, of all armies, enter Secritia?
Knowing Arsen was absolutely right, Franz let out a short sigh. He needed a way to catch the snake without anyone actually going there.
He still couldn’t fathom what bizarre conclusion his crazy younger brother would reach while agonizing over that problem.
“Is that why your conversation went on so long this morning?”
“No.”
Feeling a fraction more generous—perhaps because this was the first time he’d conversed with the blue-haired mage without them growling at each other—Franz offered an explanation.
“It was about carving out someone’s heart.”
At this, Arsen frowned and stared at him. Interpreting the look as a silent accusation of what he might have said to upset Calian this time, Franz shook his head.
“It wasn’t me.”
Not me.
A certain Crown Prince somewhere had taken up the blade himself.
…Did I technically make him do it?
Perhaps it was because he’d told him not to give up on being an older brother to that prince. Lost in thought, Franz set down his teacup after taking a sip.
“Innocent sinners should just get back to work.”
Giving up on prying any further, Arsen chuckled and nodded.
Innocent sinners.
He found himself quite liking that phrase.
* * *
It wasn’t a fruit he particularly disliked, but he didn’t enjoy it either.
Of course, that was only true for Calian.
“I take it this is a fruit you enjoy.”
Sour, bitter, and astringent.
Was grapefruit not a fruit of truly unpredictable flavors? Last time, Randel had served grapefruit cake; this time, it was a sorbet made entirely of grapefruit. As Calian set down his spoon after a single taste of the peculiar flavor, Randel’s voice echoed through the empty room.
“You look troubled.”
“Why bring that up when we were talking about fruit?”
“Does it matter when I bring it up?”
“I only ask because you bring it up when you don’t even care.”
“Whatever happens, is there any need for me to worry about you?”
“You have too much faith in me. I’m only human, after all. Who knows what might happen?”
With a faint smile that seemed to guarantee such a thing would never happen, Randel put a spoonful of sorbet into his mouth. The temperature of that smile, Calian thought, was about the same as the sorbet. Swallowing the grapefruit flavor spreading in his mouth, Randel spoke again.
“Is it Brissen, or somewhere else?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Keeping his eyes on the dried grapefruit slice decorating the sorbet, Calian asked for clarification instead of guessing Randel’s intentions.
“The one targeting you. You look displeased, so I wonder what could have made you that way.”
“Have you become lost in thought because you no longer have a garden to tend to? You seem to have more curiosities lately.”
At the end of summer, most of the roses in the garden had withered and fallen.
At Calian’s words, which brought to mind the single rose that had remained when he returned from Roselita, Randel put another spoonful of sorbet into his mouth without answering.
— I contacted you again because I felt I should tell you this story myself.
He felt as if Chase’s voice, seeking Calian out to deliver the words he hadn’t been able to say before, was echoing in his ears once more. Facing an endless abyss had brought to mind the one who possessed the insight to pierce through that very abyss.
“Yes. Something did happen, but you don’t need to worry.”
“I see.”
Calian nodded at the reply, which sounded either relieved or disappointed. Regardless of his outward actions, the memory of what Chase had confessed just moments ago kept swirling in his mind.
— I once mentioned that name to Prince Franz. The day before I left Kairis, I spoke with Prince Franz and brought it up. But…
‘Remembering it isn’t hard. Tell me.’
Before meeting Sispanian, standing before the Axis of Time, Franz had definitely asked Calian for Bern’s name. As if he knew nothing.
— It wasn’t conveyed, then.
— …It seems I cannot convey it with my own mouth. That is what I believe. It was the same with Arianne and Sir Castrin, yet Kyrie and Sir Manasil remembered.
Serenti.
— If that being can silence even Sispanian, what is impossible?
— I am sorry.
It wasn’t Chase who should be sorry.
— I am sorry, Prince Calian.
Serenti.
Serenti.
Serenti.
— No, thank you.
To Chase, who could not bring himself to utter his former younger brother’s name even at the end of his apology, Calian had bid farewell once more, pretending to be unaffected, and ended the conversation.
And he had finished his remaining conversation with Franz as well.
— It's not your fault, brother.
— Right.
— Serenti. If we ever meet, I must vent my anger.
— Right.
Franz had said nothing more. He didn’t even ask what the prince’s name was anymore. After that, Calian had stood up, acting as if it were no big deal.
He knew he couldn’t possibly be fine, but he couldn’t bring himself to say so. He had no intention of telling the pea—who had only just begun to fend for himself—that he was actually not okay at all, so he had no choice but to quietly hold his tongue and leave.
That was how he had gone to see Kyrie.
And now, he had come to see Randel.
“If your mind is troubled, come back next time.”
Before he knew it, deep water was gazing into a dense fire.
At that gaze, which made him momentarily wonder if Randel had somehow read his entire conversation with Chase, Calian smiled faintly and replied, “Seeing you, Brother Randel, makes all my troubled thoughts vanish.”
“I am glad you think so.”
Though he knew it was far from a compliment, Randel replied calmly.
Words colder than the fine ice crystals Calian had swallowed followed.
“Come up often if it helps.”
“If I think it will help, I shall do so.”
For a moment, words of polite wariness—devoid of even a shred of sincerity, much like the sorbet that had just melted away—passed between them.
“Could you meet with Margrave Gray Brissen just once?” Calian asked as soon as their lengthy pleasantries ended.
Randel took another bite of his sorbet with a leisurely movement before offering a slow reply. “Is this a request or an order? Tell me that first.”
“Would you refuse if I said it was a request?”
“I would not be inclined to agree.”
Calian nodded briefly. “Meet with Margrave Brissen. You don’t need to say anything special, but please drag out the time appropriately.”
“Should you not also tell me whether this is for your benefit or mine?”
Ah. He certainly demanded a lot of details.
“It will put my mind at ease, and it will put your heart at ease, Brother Randel. So we can call it a benefit for both of us.”
If they used Gray Brissen to deceive Evan and then got rid of him, that damn pea would no longer be able to make strange threats, which would put Calian’s mind at ease. And if the pea stepped up and helped properly, the Seal of Oath bound to Randel’s heart would be resolved, putting Randel’s heart at ease as well.
Having received his answer, Randel lowered his eyes. “I will check my schedule and send down the possible dates.”
Calian bowed his head slightly in gratitude, then asked his next question.
“Since when had you been meeting with Lennon Brissen?”
“I never met him.”
“Not even once?”
“Did you not sweep him away during Roselita?”
It was Lennon Brissen, the head of the Brissen Trading Company at the time, who had tried to hand over the sacred artifact gathered by the spy Blue Warbler to Randel, in collusion with Count Hale Latran. Unable to tolerate Lennon constantly blocking his path, Calian had bought out the Brissen Trading Company and disposed of him.
Recalling the incident, Calian nodded. “Was it because of me?”
“Indeed.”
He was truly different from a certain someone who blamed himself for almost everything in the world.
Suppressing the wish that he could somehow mix his two older brothers half-and-half, Calian replied in a calm voice, “I cannot offer an apology.”
“Do as you please. Ours is a transactional relationship anyway.”
Hearing Randel say something that sounded like it came from Demirea left Calian with a complicated feeling.
“Hearing that is a bit disappointing. Between brothers, no less.”
At those words, Randel raised his gaze and looked directly at Calian. Cold, deep, and desolate water stared straight into an unquenchable fire.
“You speak of uncomfortable things.”
“Do I?”
“And it is rather late for that.”
Calian laughed.
Every time he looked into Randel’s eyes, he was reminded of the deep sea from that day. He wondered how Chase had managed to plunge into such a deep, freezing ocean. What could have possessed him to jump in so fearlessly?
What would Randel have done? Of course, Randel had already shown his answer on the day Franz was injured, but still, what would he have done?
Chase, who would have jumped in without a second thought, and Randel, whose thoughts would have preceded his actions—the stark contrast between the two brought a smile to his face.
“There is one thing I am curious about.”
“Ask.”
“Why did you just leave? That day. Without helping.”
At Calian’s question, Randel spoke without hesitation, not even asking which day he was referring to.
“Was it not beneficial for both of us? I kept my secret, and the Second Prince kept his position.”
Randel was thinking of Silike’s son, who had hovered on the brink of death, unconscious from excessive blood loss throughout the entire process of Silike’s punishment. Thanks to that, Franz had naturally slipped away from the scrutiny of the anti-Brissen nobles.
Hearing the answer of this terribly rational man, Calian traced a curve on the table with his fingertip.
Randel and Chase were different.
Randel and Franz were also different.
“If it had been me who was dying, you would have stepped in then.”
“That would have been beneficial for both of us, and it would have looked better, would it not?”
Calian would have saved his life, and Randel, instead of having his secret exposed, would have joined hands with Calian, who had Valkan at his back. It would have been the perfect opportunity to showcase the brotherly love between the two princes and counter Brissen. In such a scenario, Randel would have stepped forward to heal him.
Calian nodded briefly.
“I understand.”
He couldn’t call this way of thinking wrong or selfish. Though amusing, it was actually the most appropriate mindset for a prince, so he felt no desire to blame him.
“Please send an attendant. I will convey the schedule.”
As Calian prepared to stand, Randel looked at him once more.
“I also have something to ask.”
Calian did not answer, but he did not stand up either.
“Do you still intend to go to Arpia Palace, and not Camillon?”
Calian had said he would raise a dog in Camillon, but he had never mentioned doing anything in Arpia Palace. Thus, Randel was curious if Calian truly intended to ascend the throne.
“My older brother says he won’t go, and I can’t yield it to you, Brother Randel. So I suppose I have no choice but to go myself.”
At the implication that while the crown wasn’t particularly desirable, he still wouldn’t yield it to Randel, Randel asked one more thing.
“Could it be that you now need that position as an end in itself?”
He was asking if Calian had come to desire the throne for its own sake, rather than as a means to achieve something else.
“No. If anything, my dream has grown a bit larger,” Calian said, shaking his head. “The crown of this small country is no longer enough to even use as a means. I plan to go meet someone later on.”
He meant he would go flip the sleeping Serenti upside down and smack them on the back of the head.
If he did that, Arsen would probably try to erect a statue of him for real, but by then, he could let that slide.
Watching his youngest brother, who had set the grand goal of carving a single short name in giant letters on the main gate of the royal palace afterward, Randel put the last spoonful of sorbet into his mouth.
Looking at Randel, who sat quietly with a face that remained difficult to read, Calian stood up.
He had spoken with Franz and been scolded by Hina. After hearing the truth from Chase, he had poured his heart out to Kyrie. Afterward, he had met Randel and requested what he needed. Now, he was about to go ask what he was curious about.
The path he had traveled was too short to let the rain stop his steps. There was still a long way to go to walk straight without losing focus. So, pulling himself together and striving not to stop, he intended to head to the ruins of Heisia Palace.
To meet that supremely great being once more.
“I will take my leave now.”
The taste of the sorbet lingered in his mouth for a long time.
It was sour, bitter, and sweet.