Chapter 236: Whose Son I Am (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 236: Whose Son I Am (1)
Contradiction.
Something that does not align with mutual logic. An inconsistency, or an absurdity.
Truthfully, I had considered blatantly exploiting it.
‘What would happen if I overlaid a Seal of Oath to betray Brissen on top of a Seal of Oath not to betray Brissen?’
‘In that case, the contract itself would not be established.’
‘Or maybe I could make a new contract with terms like: “will not die because of the Seal of Oath,” “will ignore the existing Seal of Oath,” or just “will not die.” Something like that.’
‘Your Highness, Sispanian is a very thoughtful Ancient Dragon.’
Alan’s reply had been equally thoughtful.
If Lemain had asked that question, Alan would surely have replied, “Do you think Sispanian created a magic like the Seal of Oath as thoughtlessly as you do?” And if Franz had been the one to ask, he would have said, “Why are you barking again?”
Calian was grateful that Alan had gone out of his way to find a polite way to essentially ask, “Why are you asking such a stupid question?” To him, Alan had added:
‘Could you not look for a loophole where the Seals of Oath do not conflict with each other?’
Recalling Alan’s words, Calian looked at the sourpuss who had agreed to risk his own heart without a moment’s hesitation.
"While you're at it, Brother, write down your demands as well," Calian said. "I will grant them."
"You make it sound so easy."
"I'm only saying this because you, who know it's no easy matter, didn't hesitate for a second to put your heart on the line."
Seriously. He was the one who suggested the contract, yet now that I’d agreed, he was nagging. If I’d refused, he would have complained about me being stingy with a heart that had already been bound once.
Franz tapped the paper, pointing to what Calian had written.
"I don't know what more you want me to write on top of this."
"Anything."
"You don't even know what I might write."
"Whatever it is, you should claim your fair share, Brother. What's the use of being smart? When that Marquis—the one with a head you can’t tell is for decoration or just to keep his neck from feeling empty—proposed a contract, I bet you just said ‘do it’ and left it at that."
Franz started to scowl, irritated that Calian was picking a fight over something that was already in the past, but he caught himself and let out a short sigh instead. It was true that he had accepted Evan's contract without a second thought, and it was also true that risking his heart like that had only made things more complicated.
"Forget it."
Calian easily read the thoughts of the green, sour-faced boy but chose to ignore them and press on.
No, he continued to bark.
"You have so little greed, which makes you listen to me quite well. It's rather convenient."
"You almost sounded human for a second there."
"It would be great if you listened that well when I tell you to eat more. At this rate, you really won't grow any taller, Brother."
"You couldn't even last a moment before you started barking again."
"I'm not barking. I'm cheering you on to eat plenty and grow big and strong."
"I don't think my dear little brother needs to grow any taller on Camillon."
"And please get over your puberty quickly, too."
"Stop it."
"I'm asking you to be more sparing with that heart of yours from now on. This is me asking you, Brother."
Franz fell silent at the words that followed the barking.
Calian stared at his face for a moment before speaking again, his voice like rustling dry leaves.
"…Since you said you would live."
Since you said you would live, please live properly.
Franz, who had been staring at Calian without a word, slowly closed and opened his eyes. An answer followed in a strange voice, one that sounded both resigned and unyielding.
"Fine."
For once, Franz answered without complaining. Without modifying a single word of the playful terms Calian had prepared, he simply signed the oath.
"I have nothing more to write," he added.
As he watched the written letters rise into a long band that wound up Franz’s arm before vanishing one by one, Calian felt the restriction take hold of his own heart and let out a silent laugh.
As the familiar sensation washed over him, the thought struck him: he was using the very Seal of Oath he had once employed to choke the life out of Silike, now to save Silike's son. A man resolved to walk the path of a king was going to such lengths—spouting all sorts of nonsense—just to keep alive someone who swore he would never be king.
How ironic.
How truly ironic.
* * *
"I shouldn't have done this," Needlen said.
He said this just a day after helping Arsen with his work.
"I can't even say that. I have a boss who would interpret ‘I shouldn’t have done this’ as ‘I shouldn’t be alive.’ A wonderful man who would accept a suicide note in place of a resignation letter."
Whether he knew those words were the absolute truth or not, Needlen just shook his head in exasperation. He then pulled out a piece of chicken jerky and gave it to Lucy, who seemed to be waiting for Franz.
"It's a mystery. We processed so many documents yesterday before leaving, yet when I arrived this morning, they were piled up like this again."
Just looking at the applications and recommendation letters for Valkan pouring in from all over Kairis ahead of its expansion was enough to trigger a wave of exhaustion. To make matters worse, the training performance evaluations for the existing Valkan members were happening at the same time.
"If I were to dance in front of the Corps Commander's office, do you think he might take pity on me and think, 'Ah, he's gone mad from being too busy'?"
"I've already tried that."
"Pardon?"
"My only comfort was being told that Kairis mages were already mad to begin with, so I shouldn't worry about it."
"Pardon?"
"It's a joke."
Where did the joke start and where did it end? Depending on the answer, Needlen felt he had just heard something utterly terrifying. Flustered, he did his best to ignore Arsen’s deadpan expression and spoke again.
"Corps Commander Manasil is really too much. No matter the circumstances, I don't understand how he can dump all this work on us."
"Still, we should be glad he brought you in, Sir Jeia. Didn't you get to go home on time yesterday for the first time in a while? Besides, although we usually have a lot of work, it's never been this bad. It's not always like this; it's just a temporary surge, so the Corps Commander can't exactly hire permanent staff for it. Most of the tasks involve highly confidential matters, so he can't just assign anyone to help just because we're temporarily busy. So, don't resent the Corps Commander."
Arsen comforted Needlen with words so considerate of Alan that one might wonder if he’d finally lost his mind. If Franz had been there, he would have been shocked to hear Arsen capable of such thoughts. After this uncharacteristic display, Arsen added one more thing.
"Just so you know, Sir Bern the knight is outside to see Healer Bern."
"Damn it."
As one of the few people who knew that one of Kyrie's core beliefs was ‘my ears are the Prince's ears,’ Needlen barely swallowed the harsh words that almost slipped out and vigorously ruffled his fine-colored hair.
"Since you've learned how precious going home is and have come to appreciate the small happinesses of daily life, you should be nothing but grateful to the Corps Commander. Anyway, Sir Jeia. Get to work."
Needlen briefly wondered if he’d be punished or praised if a bolt of lightning were to strike the office in a freak accident. Suppressing his anger, he stood up.
"Yes, yes. I'm going. I'm going to swallow my anger and get to work."
With that, he picked up the documents Arsen handed him and headed to his own office. It was more than enough for just Arsen to have to share an office with the Prince.
Click.
A short while later, the office door opened, and Franz walked in alone without Relic, a stylish beige jacket draped over his shoulders.
Seeing his face, which showed absolutely no remorse for taking such a sudden day off yesterday, and his still-princely appearance today—complete with a tie pin set with an unnamed pinkish gem and matching cufflinks—Arsen was about to say something.
For Arsen did not know that all this excessive ornamentation was the work of Relic, who was doing his absolute best to dress Franz up, refusing to lose to Calian's maid, Merlin.
"Shut it. I'll finish everything on my own."
And once again, Arsen's words were cut short.
Usually, Franz would tolerate a couple of remarks before getting annoyed, but today was different.
Unable to resent either Alan or Franz since morning, Arsen took a disgruntled sip of his pitch-black coffee, set it down, and spoke.
"The energy is still strong. If you had run into a mage with good mana sensitivity on your way here, you would have been caught. If you were worried about it showing, you should have come a bit later, Prince Vice-Commander."
As Arsen spoke, his gaze drifted toward Franz's chest, near his heart.
"I didn't meet any mages."
"Then it's fine. It will mostly fade by this afternoon, so if you need to keep it a secret, you only need to be careful today."
"…Who else is there?" Franz asked curtly, pausing as he was about to open a document. He looked at Arsen, who had only given a warning without asking for any details. Not immediately understanding, Arsen stared blankly back at him.
"People I need to be careful of."
"Corps Commander Manasil, Sir Jeia, Sir Fitz, and Sir Pelton. The latter two have no reason to come this way today, so you don't need to worry about them."
"Understood."
"Ah. Of course, Prince Calian is also included, but I believe you already know that."
It was a contract made with that bastard, so there was no way he wouldn't know.
Frowning silently, Franz turned his eyes back to the documents.
Lucy, who had been lounging on the sunlit desk, let out a meow and tapped the hand holding the document, as if demanding attention.
Pulling Lucy onto his lap, Franz was about to examine the document but looked back down at her instead.
"Ha."
The terms of the contract.
Looking at Lucy brought back the strange terms, which seemed full of loopholes yet were somehow airtight.
– Once Franz leaves the royal palace, he will live in the Brissen Mansion in Kairisis, raising a cat.
– Calian will diligently assist him.
"…Come to think of it, that wasn't human speech either."
What kind of crazy bastard writes down terms like that and asks someone to risk their heart over them? The thought suddenly crossed his mind.
* * *
He had not forgotten that coffee was forbidden.
Although he had never been given a specific reason, it was not difficult to guess when he thought of Franz.
To the second prince, every flower would be like Renieri, and the third prince smelled the scent of Renieri in coffee.
"I am sorry."
Knowing it wasn't Silike's fault that the terribly beautiful, unforgettable scent still lingered, Lemain held back his scolding and offered an apology instead.
"For the coffee, and for the paper flowers hung on your birthday."
There were surely countless other things to be sorry for, but knowing that bringing them all up would consume the entire day, he chose only those two.
"No, Your Majesty."
The one who deserved Lemain's full apology was Franz. The one Lemain shouldn't hastily apologize to was Randel. And the current me… I was someone who couldn't accept Lemain's apology.
"I see."
And so Lemain, who would never know that Calian once again couldn't bring himself to say ‘it’s fine,’ replied in a low voice.
"I have come to inform you of something and ask for your permission."
As Calian spoke, he turned his head slightly to look at his escort knight, Ren. Seeing this, Lemain dismissed those around them.
Calian’s explanation followed.
He explained that he had a task that required bringing Gray Brissen to the capital, along with the reason for it.
Lemain did not answer for a long time.
He knew that Franz had made a Seal of Oath with Evan, but he did not know the details. He could find no words to say about that, and now, hearing that his son had devised a plan to take someone's life—even if there was a reason—how could he easily give an answer?
"I do not know what to think or how to answer."
"You only need to grant permission and forget about it."
"That is no easy task."
"At least regarding this matter, we do not blame Your Majesty. Neither I, nor Brother Franz."
Lemain knew that words of absolution, drawing a clear line, would be easier to hear. He knew that was why Calian had answered that way.
"…I am sorry."
And so, Lemain chose the only words he could manage and offered them with difficulty.
Calian pretended not to hear him and offered no reply, simply handing over the list of four new Margrave candidates selected by Demirea. He requested that Lemain review and decide on them in absolute secrecy, ensuring that no one—especially Franz—would find out.
Since he intended to check the situation in Secritia once more, Calian did not yet mention his plan to visit the Elves' Mother Tree. Lemain, too, did not ask how Calian planned to handle Devlan's demands. He knew that Calian would tell him when the time was right.
Before long, Calian finished his audience with Lemain and stepped out of the office. He considered meeting Alan for a moment, but decided it would be best to just leave for today and turned back.
Without even stopping by Wilhelm Hall, he returned straight to Chermil Palace. But when he recognized the person standing there waiting for him, Calian froze in his tracks.
Yan, who recognized the person as quickly as Calian did, spoke in puzzlement.
"Lea…? Why is she here? There’s no sparring scheduled for today, Prince Calian."
As Calian nodded, already well aware of that fact, Demirea approached, bowed in greeting, and spoke immediately.
"I went to have my sword repaired, and I heard a certain story."
Calian, who was about to ask what brought her to the royal palace, slowly closed his mouth. The words, bursting out before any proper greeting, were by no means light.
Calian stood staring at Demirea for a long moment before speaking in a quiet voice.
"Yan. I'll talk to her for a moment before heading in."
Looking at Demirea, who wouldn't even glance at him, and Calian, who kept his eyes fixed on her, Yan bowed and excused himself.
Without sparing a glance toward the departing Yan, Demirea spoke.
"I came to give you a chance to explain."
"Explain what?"
"Everything."
Just looking at her expression made it clear what she wanted to say. After all, the people of Siegfried always wore their thoughts plainly on their faces. She must have heard something suspicious from the owner of Rotten Forge.
I didn't expect her to bring the smith into the mansion.
With a self-deprecating laugh, Calian thought, I really am one of a kind, and then spoke.
"It would have been better if you had come a bit later."
"I dislike beating around the bush. I dislike secrets even more."
"Demirea."
"What are you hiding?"
Demirea discovering one more of his secrets was nothing to worry about. He had lived his life thinking it wouldn't matter if the whole world found out. He believed that even if Lemain discovered the truth, he could somehow talk his way out of it.
Standing before Demirea, Calian lowered his eyes for a moment.
"…Please do me one more favor."
Yes.
Anyone but Yan.
"I will repay you, no matter what you ask of me."
He was confident he could keep Yan by his side, but he still preferred that Yan remain in the dark if possible. He wanted Yan, of all people, to never find out until the day he died.