Chapter 290: For Public Relations (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 290: For Public Relations (3)
There are so many words in this world.
Yet, for all their abundance, some things remain difficult to express.
For instance, the feeling of watching my younger brother’s highly effective parenting methods with my own two eyes. He was raising the future Mad King—not some alternate version from another world, but the very same person, just before he committed his atrocities—into a gentle, harmless soul. And I was that soul.
What on earth was I supposed to call this feeling?
I pondered it for a moment before giving up. I had already admitted to myself that I hadn’t been sane for a while, so I decided to just let it go. I knew all too well that the world was full of incomprehensible things and people; adding one more to the list wasn't so difficult.
But then.
"Well, I doubt he wanted the Axis of Time for personal reasons. No matter how I think about it, I'm truly curious why Prince Franz did such a thing. It's a bit late to ask, but if your memories ever return, please tell me as well. If it's not too much trouble."
The man who had died at the hands of a puppet controlled by the Mad King offered these considerate words.
Then…
"If your memories return, please let me know whether you threatened me or coaxed me. I'm most curious about how I ended up going along with you, Prince Franz."
The very man who had killed him—the real madman, whose annoyance grew because he himself couldn't accept the unbelievable fact that the Mad King had controlled him—derailed the conversation.
"Didn't you say mages can't be forced to do things they don't want to? I think you went of your own free will."
The man who had reportedly died so his younger brother could live even one day longer offered a highly objective opinion.
"But I don't understand why His Highness just sat by and let it happen. What were the birds doing? Playing? What was His Highness doing? Sleeping?"
The lady who was said to have been held captive right beside him when he died blamed him, not the one who had caused his death.
It was strange.
Unbelievably, the atmosphere wasn't bad. A serious discussion was underway, debating why he had done what he did back then.
Once again, I found myself at a loss for words to describe the situation.
"…I think I should excuse myself."
The very person who had been the ‘Mad King’—whether that title was slander, notoriety, or an accurate assessment—sincerely requested an end to the discussion. If I had known this was what they would be talking about, I wouldn't have come. A person doesn't die from skipping one meal; I would have rather gone hungry.
"By the way, Prince Franz, why isn't Prince Calian here?"
Arsen, the blue-haired mage, had been stripped of his post as a Valkan Vice-Commander, losing his official connection to Franz. Now, they had nothing in common besides walking on two legs and speaking the same language. With that strange title no longer giving him an excuse to overstep his bounds, he abruptly changed the subject.
Euria Seiren and Rachel Grace were unable to attend due to a prior engagement with the President of the Secritia Mage Association. Arsen was only present because he didn't belong to the association. Franz furrowed his brow slightly at the question.
"I don't know."
Unfortunately, Franz didn't know the reason either. Not only that, but he also wanted to ask: Where on earth did my younger brother go after shoving me into this incredibly awkward gathering?
"Ah, Prince Calian will not be able to make it."
The news of his absence was delivered a moment later. When Franz stared into those violet eyes, silently demanding an explanation, the answer came.
"He is likely meeting with Father."
The swordsman with sea-colored hair pinned up, who had been dipping bacon into a fried egg yolk as if she had no intention of joining their conversation, let out a quiet sigh.
Around the long table of the small banquet hall, the blue-haired mage maintaining the Silent magic, the 3rd Prince's knight, and the 2nd Prince all put down their forks and knives at the same time.
They were all reminded of King Devlan, who had arbitrarily summoned an important guest despite knowing that the breakfast hosted by Chase was a prior engagement—once again undermining Chase completely.
"Nothing will happen, so don't worry and enjoy your meal, Prince Franz."
Chase, who had been feigning nonchalance, offered a small, reassuring smile. Watching him, Franz was suddenly reminded of Calian from the previous day, who had been grinning without a care in the world.
"Look who's telling me not to worry," Franz said in a low voice.
Chase did not reply. He merely looked down at his plate, which was still full, and smiled once more.
* * *
When sparring with an ordinary person, one does not reinforce their body with Aura.
Jingle.
The difference in skill was so vast there was no need to worry about injuries. The moment Aura was contained within the body, one’s physical capabilities already far surpassed an ordinary person’s, making deliberate reinforcement unnecessary.
Whoosh!
Clang!
Yet, at the sudden stinging sensation in her arm, she had almost wrapped it in Aura without thinking.
Clash! Clang!
No. Actually, she should have.
The blade was definitely heavier than that dark-red sword that had rushed at her in the dim dawn of her memories, giving her no time to breathe. She already knew that since their swordsmanship and swords were different, the weight of their blades was bound to differ as well.
However, this was far heavier than she had anticipated.
‘You’ll be quite surprised.’
Indeed. It was exactly as he had said. She was truly surprised.
‘It’s not that I’ve never met her, but I’ve never crossed swords with her. I didn’t realize she was as good as you made her out to be.’
‘You can look forward to it. I have high expectations, too. I’m also curious to see who will step onto the Path of the Sword first—my sword or my fiancée.’
‘Am I that good?’
‘Yes. Perhaps… actually, never mind.’
‘Why did you stop?’
‘Sorry. My fiancée said she’d kill me if I went around talking nonsense. I plan on living a very long life.’
Even if someone were to step onto the Path of the Sword now, it would be difficult to do so earlier than fifteen, the age ‘Calian’ had achieved it. However, because ‘Bern’ had actually stepped onto the Path of the Sword at twenty-one, Calian had kept that memory in mind and swallowed his words.
Perhaps the record for the youngest to step onto the Path of the Sword would be broken once again.
As Siona recalled the conversation that had ended so awkwardly, a heavy attack lunged right for her eyes.
Whoosh!
Clash-clash-clash!
In the roaring din of clashing blades, the jingle of the bell on her hilt was completely drowned out. Debating once more whether to wrap her arm in Aura, Siona gripped her slightly curved sword tighter.
Whether in a spar or a real battle, Siona was an experienced swordsman who rarely let her mind wander. The fact that such thoughts were crossing her mind now was proof of her genuine surprise at a level of skill far higher than she had anticipated.
Clang! Clash!
Blocking a horizontal slash that seemed intent on cutting through both her and her sword, Siona smiled with satisfaction and thrust her arm forward. Demirea dodged the fluidly following attack, pivoted, and launched another strike.
Clang!
She blocked it. Yet, even though it was blocked, Demirea did not pull back.
Grind!
Another contest of strength ensued.
Ultimately, Siona twisted her blade, deflecting Demirea's attack. As if waiting for that exact moment, Demirea struck upward against Siona's sword. Then, spinning with the momentum of her raised blade, she aimed for Siona's waist.
Whoosh!
Clang!
Slightly deflecting the sword, Siona leaped straight toward Demirea. She thrust her blade at Demirea’s shoulder, which was momentarily exposed. A brief jingle of the bell rang out, only to be instantly swallowed by the clang of steel.
Deftly stepping back, Demirea swept her downward-pointing silver sword upward.
Clang!
Forcing her recoiling blade to change direction, she thrust it toward Siona's flank.
At the sudden thrust amidst a barrage of slashes, Siona smirked and swung her sword downward. With a sharp, screeching sound, the attack was blocked once again.
Jingle.
And once more, the bell chimed.
Clash-clash-clash! Clang! Clash!
Sparks flew as the two blades ground against each other.
Blocking another spinning slash that carried extra weight, Siona lunged toward Demirea's wrist. Just as Demirea twisted her blade to block, Siona's curved inward. The tip of the sword traced a literal arc as it thrust forward. Straightening her tilted sword, Demirea struck it upward.
Clang!
The sound of clashing metal rang out. She had definitely blocked it. However…
Snip…!
A few strands of bronze hair fluttered to the ground. The sword’s curvature had exceeded Demirea’s expectations, and she had sacrificed a lock of hair to avoid the blow.
Briefly recalling the time Calian had also cut her hair, Demirea smiled faintly and took a step back.
"I yield."
Siona grinned. She kept to herself the fact that, at some point, she had begun wrapping her arm in Aura.
"You're quite good at generating and channeling your strength, Young Duchess."
She was tall, with firm muscles—not the bulky, rugged build of Suleiman, but lean, sleek muscles like the legs of the black horse the red-eyed prince rode.
"Your strength is unbelievable for someone with your build. Even though you channel power so intensely it could easily ruin your waist and shoulders, your balance is excellent. Your skills are impressive. It's clear you've practiced and studied a great deal."
"Thank you."
Demirea bowed her head slightly. As Siona unconsciously recalled Calian’s words once more, she finished the sentence he had swallowed.
"Perhaps the day isn't far off when the number of Sword Masters on the Sistera continent, which fell with Evan's death, rises once again."
Despite receiving such high praise, Demirea did not offer another word of thanks.
"Yes. That is correct."
Because it was a fact so obvious it required no second thought.
Seeing this, Siona’s eyes filled with deep interest. A burning desire welled up within her to witness the day—whenever it might be—that blue heat finally bloomed at the tip of that sword.
* * *
He held back his laughter.
He didn't even let the corners of his mouth curl. He simply held it in.
The coffee sat in front of Calian. Knowing its significance, he refrained from smiling and instead spoke without restraint.
"I dislike coffee, so I will not be drinking it."
As if he had expected this response, Devlan showed no surprise or anger, merely nodding.
"Indeed. Coffee has a sweet aroma, but its taste is bitter."
"Yes. It is just as Your Majesty says."
Brown eyes like coffee stared into red eyes like the begonias in the garden.
Was he implying that, like coffee, Calian had a sweet scent but a bitter taste? Or were Devlan's own words sweet on the surface but bitter underneath? To gauge the hidden meaning, Calian added another layer.
"…Perhaps I dislike it because it was poisoned."
"That, too, is just as you say."
"Your words are the same. They are poisoned."
"Is that so?"
Devlan nodded. Then, he picked up a cup of coffee identical to the one before Calian and took a sip.
Watching this, Calian felt a truly strange sensation. After a moment's thought, he realized why.
A private audience.
For the first time in his life, he was having a private audience with Devlan.
This was Devlan, who would never drink tea or speak with Chase in a closed room. Devlan, who had never once met Bern privately without a guarding knight. Sitting face-to-face with such a man, completely alone, could not help but feel surreal.
But because Calian was the most dangerous and suspicious foreigner to visit this kingdom, Devlan likely believed that meeting him alone was actually the safest option. It was the same reason Franz had gone for a walk without any guards upon his arrival.
"The more I look at you, the more surprising you are."
"What do you find so surprising?"
"For a prince of another nation to speak of poison right in a king's face—is that not truly remarkable?"
"You need not think it remarkable. Could it possibly be more surprising than witnessing a foreign king raise his own child steeped in poison?"
Hearing this, Devlan let out a laugh, making no effort to hold it back.
"That poison is sweet indeed, since it makes for such an entertaining conversation."
"I am glad it is to your liking."
Did Devlan have any idea how much patience Calian was exercising right now, sitting before a man he could no longer even call ‘Father’?
Don't hold back.
He desperately wished the man would realize what, exactly, he was holding back—something far more volatile than the venom in his words.
"My bird—no, should I call her your bird now? Your bird…"
"She is Eila. Not a bird."
"Ah, yes. That was her name. I forgot for a moment, since the end of her name changed slightly."
"Do you mean Bridget? I gave her that name because it is an important place to me."
"An important place, is it?"
The moment he heard Devlan’s question, the words Franz had spoken the previous day came to mind.
If my younger brother meets Devlan privately, I think it would be better not to hide anything.
Why do you think so?
It shows. When you try to hide things. Everything shows.
…Yes.
If you meet him, just tell me what you barked. I'll match your story.
Are you playing the older brother who cleans up his younger brother's messes?
Yes.
He had lived his life listening to everything Chase said and had decided to ignore everything Randel said. Thus, it was only natural to take the words of Franz, who was caught in the middle, with a grain of salt.
But since his older brother had told him not to waste energy hiding things and to just "bark well," he had better bark well.
"My mother spent her childhood there, so it became an important place to me as well. It just so happened that a child from Secritia needed a surname, so I gave her the name of that place. There is no special reason, so you need not concern yourself with it."
"I see. That is a story I did not know."
"Naturally, there are things you do not know. Just as I did not know a foreign king would take such an interest in me and my people."
"It would have been nice if it had ended with mere interest. But my curiosity about the unknown keeps being piqued, so what am I to do?"
"You may continue to wonder. Why try to suppress curiosity in a world so full of wonders? Whether it is about my people, myself, or my brothers—you are welcome to wonder as much as you like. After all…"
Pausing for a moment, Calian gently slid the coffee cup toward Devlan, handing the poison back to its owner.
"Since you are someone who won't be able to wonder for much longer anyway, it is only right that I be patient for a short while, is it not?"
He continued to deliver the poison with his words, speaking as if he had become a serpent.