Chapter 268: I Am a Prince (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 268: I Am a Prince (2)
Narzan was an elf.
Thus, it wouldn’t have mattered if Calian introduced himself directly. Calian knew this, of course, which was why he had given his name to Elder Jer. This time, however, he chose not to.
The problem was that Narzan was no ordinary elf.
When asked who he was, Calian had replied that he was a prince. While not incorrect, his audience was the Grand Elder who represented all elves—a figure whom even King Lemain had yet to meet.
With the Grand Elder Narzan before him, Calian raised his head. Looking down at the elf, he spoke in a tone much like the one Franz often used with Arsen.
To Franz’s ears, it sounded like he was declaring, ‘I’m the madman of Kairis.’
It would be difficult to find anyone in Kairis, let alone the entire continent, as genuinely insane as Calian, but that was how the words translated to him nonetheless.
Narzan’s sharp, deep-silver eyes closed briefly before opening again.
Soon, he turned his head, deciding it would be better to speak with the seemingly calmer second prince than the third, who appeared utterly impossible to reason with.
“And who are you?”
Franz let out a silent sigh and set down his teacup.
On behalf of his lunatic younger brother, who was now picking a fight with the elven Grand Elder of all people, Franz spoke in a calm voice.
“Valkan Vice-Commander.”
It was, in essence, his way of saying, ‘I’m that bastard’s older brother.’
Calian smiled brightly as he watched Narzan’s grip tighten on the armrest of the sofa.
“Talk to me. My brother is quite shy around strangers.”
“You are both equally insolent.”
Calian merely stared at Narzan, offering no reply. When the silence stretched, Narzan spoke again.
“I remember how the king of your country treated us. We put aside the events of that day and showed you courtesy despite your sudden visit, yet you adopt such an attitude? This is precisely why we are considering moving our home to another nation.”
“Before you boast about letting go of the past, you should examine why those events happened in the first place. Why do you believe whatever you want and forget whatever is convenient?”
Calian gestured toward the floor.
“The elves under your supervision were the ones at fault. If you omit the fact that His Majesty treated you that way because you tried to gloss over their wrongdoing, it makes us sound like the villains. You’re angry about being barred from the palace during the festival, yet you refuse to apologize for the disrespect your elder showed me. If you decided it was more convenient to play the victim, you should have committed to the act until the end.”
Calian offered a flawless, picture-perfect smile.
At the same time, his long finger, which had been pointing at the floor, moved slowly to tap the rim of his teacup. As a clear ring echoed briefly and faded, a chilling voice followed.
“Who do you think you are to demand my name?”
Narzan closed and opened his eyes once more.
Sensing the elf was at a loss for how to react, Calian added an explanation—or more accurately, he continued to berate him.
“You claimed the elves are the weaker party. Having declared yourselves as such, you demanded my name. Then, you feign ignorance of your past transgressions and try to shift all the blame onto us. Now, do you think I would be angry, or not?”
“I did not expect you to come all this way just to demand an apology.”
“And I expected you to apologize the moment you saw us, seeing as we came all this way.”
“I believed you came to negotiate the matter with Secritia.”
“I did, but now I’m thinking there’s no need.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you kicked away your chance with your own two feet.”
Narzan fell silent for a moment. Calian continued.
“I came here hoping to quietly discuss our issues and make peace, but now I’m starting to regret coming at all.”
Franz lifted his teacup.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the scent of peach and apple wafting from the green tea, pondering for a moment.
Am I misremembering things?
It didn’t seem like Calian had ever intended to “quietly discuss things and make peace.” Yet Calian was a man who couldn’t lie, which was why Franz was so conflicted.
He wondered if, to his younger brother, a “quiet discussion” meant swinging a blade in silence, and “making peace” meant the generous act of floating an Annerusia flower on the water.
While Franz debated whether he should adopt his brother’s mindset—which seemed to have discarded common sense along with prejudice—or filter it out to become a decent, upright adult, Calian’s speech continued.
“Decide whether you want to look down on me, speak to me at eye level, or grovel at my feet. Pick one. Trying to do all three is pure greed. If you mix them up as you please, it gets confusing knowing how to treat you.”
In other words: if you want to preserve your pride, don’t play the victim. If you want to negotiate as equals, apologize properly. And if you intend to whine like a nation weaker than Kairis, don’t you dare ask for my name.
Narzan laughed.
It started as a low chuckle, then grew louder. Eventually, he laughed so heartily that one might have mistaken him for Suleiman, the broad-minded Duke of Siegfried.
“The King of Secritia said something quite similar. How fascinating. The two of you seem alike in many ways.”
And then he uttered those words.
Calian smiled silently. Franz’s eyes snapped open.
Drip. Splash.
The teacup tilted.
White clothes were stained green.
*
At this point, it was a habit. It could no longer be called an accident.
While sparring with the knights trained by Count Eisen Dinahan, polished by Demirea, and sent to the Valkan, Arsen broke his sword again. He had promised to refrain from breaking swords during spars, yet he had gone and done it again.
“My apologies, Sir Bern.”
And then, he was scolded by Hina.
The reason Hina was angry was simple. The moment Arsen’s shield was struck, the sword had shattered, and one of the flying shards lodged itself in the forearm of an innocent knight standing far away. It was a stroke of luck that it hadn’t embedded itself in his head or heart.
Consequently, before Arsen could even savor the joy of shattering an iron sword against his shield, he was thoroughly scolded by Hina all the way from the office—where Lucy and Anne were running around—to the treatment room.
“I’m fine. Please don’t be too angry, Healer.”
The knight, looking somewhat pale from either blood loss or shock, intervened to calm Hina down.
Ultimately, Hina let out a short sigh. Arsen offered his sincere apologies once more, promising to buy the knight a glass of sparkling water after his treatment, before heading back to clean up the mess.
“I’ll fix it right away. Don’t worry.”
With those signed words, Hina placed her hand on the knight’s arm. A golden light, resembling the gentle spring sunshine that coaxes flowers to bloom rather than the harsh midsummer sun, enveloped his arm.
After a while, the bleeding stopped completely, and the gaping wound began to close. Since she did not possess the power of blessing like Calian or Franz, her healing was inevitably much slower.
“You’ll need treatment for a few more days. Until then, I’ll make sure you’re not put in training.”
As she handed him some medicine Veronica had prepared, the knight bowed his head deeply in gratitude.
“Yes, Healer. Thank you.”
Relief that he had survived what could have been a disaster. Pride in finally being someone treated by the famous healer. Excitement at the prospect of bragging about the warm sensation he felt during the treatment.
Lost in these thoughts, the knight failed to notice the shadow creeping up behind him. He had just turned the corner of the corridor leading from the treatment room, his spirits high—
Thud!
Someone grabbed his arm from behind and slammed him against the wall.
Since it was his injured arm, a scream nearly escaped his lips, but he suppressed it out of habit.
Instead, a sharp dagger slipped from the sleeve of his free arm. Leaving his captured arm as it was, the knight twisted his body to swap positions with his assailant and swung the dagger. A sickening crack echoed from his twisted arm, but he ignored it.
Slash!
The assailant avoided the attack with a fluid, graceful movement. Missing its target, the dagger sliced through the air and embedded itself in the wall. The knight released the dagger and threw a punch.
Dodging the swift punch, the opponent ducked low.
Then, bracing lightly against the floor, they swept a long leg around and kicked the knight’s ankle.
Thwack!
Thud!
“Ugh!”
The impact was so severe he thought his ankle had shattered. The knight instantly lost his balance, and his opponent seized the opening to kick his ankle again, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Pinning him down mercilessly with a knee to his wrists and lower back, the assailant grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. Feeling a cold, sharp edge press against his throat, the knight glanced down.
A beautiful hair ornament was aimed at his neck. Almost simultaneously, tresses of deep, ocean-blue hair cascaded down.
“There’s a bird here.”
A chilling voice brushed against the knight’s ear.
“Ah! Introduce yourselves. That fellow is just a carrier pigeon. Well, a carrier pigeon is technically a bird, so you’re not wrong, but he’s not the kind of ‘bird’ you’re thinking of, so don’t worry. He’s a diligent guy who trains hard, so just leave him be and get along.”
It was only at the last second—just before Eila’s hairpin could pierce the knight’s throat, and just before the knight could bite down on the poison capsule in his mouth—that Arsen, belatedly realizing they might recognize each other, rushed back to clear up the misunderstanding.
“You fell down the stairs?”
A short while later, Hina stared in utter disbelief at the knight, who had been brought back on a stretcher after supposedly tumbling down the stairs while skipping around in high spirits.
“How on earth do you fall and end up with a dislocated elbow, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken ankle?”
Although the “birds” did not know each other’s faces, Eila was no ordinary bird, and her master was not the kind of meticulous person to warn her, “By the way, one of your former colleagues is working where you’re going.” Thus, the minor incident concluded peacefully, leaving behind one severely injured patient.
*
At night, the Mother Tree emitted a soft, gentle glow.
Thanks to this, the midnight beach sparkled as if it were dusted with fine glass powder.
It was the same ocean, the same saltwater flowing and mixing somewhere in the world. Yet, perhaps because it felt so vastly different, this beautiful night sea evoked a sense of unfamiliarity rather than warmth.
“Are you here again?”
While the elven healer treated Siona on the Grand Elder’s orders, Calian had remained by her side. Unable to fully trust the elves, he had personally kept watch until the treatment was finished.
Her wounds were deeper than expected, so a significant amount of time had passed. On his way back to their lodgings, he ran into a flustered Needlen.
“The Vice-Commander has disappeared.”
“When?”
“I only just realized. He makes absolutely no sound… My apologies.”
Old habits died hard. Calian was informed that Franz had apparently opened his window, slipped past the Valkan guards, and jumped out.
It was obvious where the “Pea” would have gone, so Calian briefly considered leaving him be.
“No one would have stopped you if you had just said something and walked out the door,” Calian said, having eventually tracked him down to the shore.
Still facing the waves, Franz did not answer. He quietly watched the white foam wash over his toes and recede.
In the wind, which had grown even gentler than the day before, the soft sound of the waves lingered and faded, over and over.
“I thought it would be a hassle. Just for a moment.”
“Even so, it’s better to let us know. It’s more alarming to find out after the fact.”
“I understand.”
Calian’s gaze fell to Franz’s knees. He recalled the white clothes stained green by the tea his brother had spilled.
Because of that, Calian’s smile had vanished, and the remaining “negotiations” with the Grand Elder had been postponed until the next day.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Even with the Grand Elder’s word, elven healing was permitted only for Siona, their fellow elf. They couldn’t dream of asking them to heal a burn from spilled tea. Not only would the elves refuse, but they also couldn’t demand a burn be healed while simultaneously insisting that Devlan’s illness be left untreated.
Since Franz possessed the power of blessing, if he said he was fine, he truly would be. The tea hadn’t been boiling hot, anyway.
“Alright.”
So Calian didn’t offer any more words of concern, nor did he ask why Franz had done it.
“Even if you keep waiting here, you won’t hear it. There are too many rocks around for a whale that large to come this close.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that even if one did, a normal person couldn’t hear a whale’s call from this distance. Calian knew well enough that Franz wasn’t being melancholy out of ignorance.
“I didn’t say that to ask you to listen with me.”
Franz didn’t reply for a long time, simply gazing at the distant horizon where the waning moonlight rested. He stared into the distance as if hoping to catch a glimpse of a massive beast rising to breathe, before finally speaking.
“I know I won’t be forgiven.”
Calian, who had been about to suggest they head back, looked at him.
Without looking back, Franz stared down at his own white clothes—clothes that had been stained by grass time and again, only to be washed clean; clothes that, even after he had spilled tea on them himself, eventually had the stains washed away, leaving only white.
“I have no such greed. Nor do I intend to live forgetting what I did. I don’t know why you, my younger brother, are trying to carry my burden for me, but it is mine to bear. Stop trying so hard to bury it while worrying about me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Saying this, Calian cast his eyes down. He, too, watched the white foam wash over his toes and fade away.
Franz turned his head. With clear, light-green eyes, he stared straight into the face framed by pitch-black hair and crimson eyes.
“I once told Brother Randel that trying to do both is greed, and today you said something similar. It seems you are confused because you are applying that same standard to yourself.”
Calian did not answer.
Franz continued.
“You think that because you must live as Calian, you have no right to resent and curse me. You’re living as my younger brother, yet you feel you must look at me through the eyes of someone who isn’t. Throw away the thought that doing both is greed. Live however is easiest for you. You are allowed to do that.”
“…By what authority do you grant me that permission?”
“Because I am your older brother.”
A laugh that sounded like a sigh escaped Calian’s lips.
Grab!
His hand shot out and gripped Franz’s collar.
At last, the resentment he could no longer suppress erupted.