Chapter 375: There Is One More (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 375: There Is One More (4)
Silence hung in the air.
Kyrie stood blocking the door, while Yan remained before the open window.
"Yan."
At Calian’s low voice, Yan nodded immediately.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Remind me. How many nobles are on Marquis Brissen's side? I've forgotten."
"There are sixty-four counts Your Highness would recognize by name. Beyond them are counts from remote regions whose names you wouldn't know, landless counts, and all the nobles, vassals, and lower nobility allied with them. If we include viscounts and barons, along with their own vassals and knights, the number becomes difficult to estimate. And it is likely still growing."
"I see."
"Yes. Even though more than half of his followers left after Evan's death, and Marquis Brissen is lying low for now because of it, there is still no other noble with that much influence. Even if we count Marquis Manasil, Duke Siegfried, the House of Count Seiren, and the House of Count Aprin on your side, and even if we add all the mages… we cannot win in a power struggle. Unless you were to lead the Valkan out and annihilate them all, you cannot possibly win right now."
"Indeed. That's why I've left them alone. There were too many to kill, so I let them be."
"Yes. So please, just stay still. Do not go out. You will only get hurt, Your Highness."
This was because, just moments ago…
Yan had entered Calian's room to clear away the empty teacups, finding the prince on the terrace watching an intriguing scene unfold below. Through the open door, Kyrie, who had rushed over upon hearing of Calian's return, could be seen.
‘Kyrie.’
‘Your Highness. May I please not tell you?’
Kyrie, who knew exactly what Calian was curious about, had asked such a question for the first time. But in the end, unable to overcome Calian's persistence, he had recounted the full story of the interesting conversation he had overheard on his way.
‘Ah. Marquis Brissen must have gone mad.’
And that was what Calian had said.
Envious, indeed. Saying he had a good younger brother... unlike himself.
Though Gray had only intended to speak of Silike, how could he have uttered such exquisitely offensive words? How could he say something so rotten, so thoroughly steeped in the scents of strawberry, mint, and Renieri?
He had to be out of his mind.
‘He’s truly gone mad. He’s lost it.’
As Calian let out a hollow laugh, Kyrie moved to block his path. Yan stood behind him. And then, Calian's questions began.
Gray Brissen.
Why couldn't he kill that bastard right now? Why did he have to endure it? He asked, as if trying to convince himself.
"You already humiliated Marquis Brissen in front of everyone, and you want to go out again? Marquis Manasil had to intimidate them, saying, 'If I had seen that with my own eyes, I would have been so shocked that the entire council chamber would have been roasted, but our Prince is indeed resolute.' And His Majesty replied, 'It is because my youngest is thoughtful.' Do you not know they had to force the nobles' mouths shut like that?"
Calian knew this as well.
Believing that reprimanding Calian's actions would make it difficult to contain the nobles' growing discontent, Alan and Lemain had stepped forward. Since denying Alan's words was tantamount to denying one's own remaining lifespan, everyone present had ended up nodding along.
"If they hadn't stopped it then, you might have been barred from the royal palace forever, Your Highness. Everyone let it slide this time only because you are not the Crown Prince. No matter how terrifying you are, they think you won't become king because they believe Prince Franz will. But if you lay a hand on Marquis Brissen again before they forget about this incident, you won't be able to go to Arpia Palace, let alone Camillon. People will see one incident as a mistake, but a second one makes them certain of a third. No matter what, they will never forget the second time. No one will want to place you above them."
I don't care about the future.
I'm just so angry right now.
He clamped his mouth shut, holding back the words that threatened to spill out. He knew Yan wasn't wrong in the slightest. He knew that although he had already endured it once in the council chamber, he had to endure it yet again.
"I agree. Leave him be," Kyrie said to the silent Calian.
"You cannot live your life getting angry and taking care of things on his behalf forever. Weren't you trying to ensure that even if we aren't around in the future… even if His Royal Highness the Crown Prince goes outside the palace, he can survive on his own?"
Noticing Yan's startled look, Kyrie slightly altered the meaning of "even if we aren't around" as he looked at Calian and spoke again.
"The Crown Prince must have had his own thoughts. He must have endured it and let it pass for a reason. Even if that wasn't the case, it is not something you have to step in and handle for him. Teach him how to get angry and resolve things himself. That is how he will survive, Your Highness."
He must know how to get angry and resolve things on his own to survive.
In the end, those words held Calian back.
For exactly thirty minutes.
*
He was already gone.
Since Franz had headed straight to Wilhelm Hall upon returning to the palace, he had expected to find Arsen buried in paperwork with his usual soulless expression.
"Vice-Commander Hertz left just a moment ago to see Coco."
That duck.
He had apparently gone to see the duck that quacked as noisily as he did. Franz wasn't even curious whether Arsen had gone to see the duck or the duck's co-parent.
"He said he would take a quick look at Coco, grab a quick bite, and return immediately."
"…I see."
"If it's urgent, I can go and find him right away."
The pink-haired mage, who ate salted food in place of the crazy blue-haired one, spoke quickly. He was reading the room, as Franz's face looked even more subdued than usual.
Perhaps meeting cats and meeting a duck felt similar. Franz considered this and shook his head. No matter how one looked at it, that was indeed more important than work.
"Leave him."
"Yes, Vice-Commander, Your Royal Highness."
Where on earth did that ridiculous title come from?
Not long after returning from Secritia as the Crown Prince, Franz had visited the Siegfried territory. Because of that, he hadn't had time to speak with Needlen separately, which was why he was only hearing him use that title now.
Whether it was the influence of the crazy blue-haired mage or his younger brother who kept calling him "Older Brother, Your Royal Highness," it was a decidedly odd title. Franz spoke in a low voice.
"Just one."
"Pardon?"
"The title. Just use one. It's weird."
"Ah, yes."
Needlen thought for a brief moment before speaking.
"Then, since this is Wilhelm Hall, I will just call you Vice-Commander as I usually do, Your Royal Highness."
"Fine."
"Yes, Vice-Commander."
Franz, who now knew Arsen's whereabouts, had no time for trivial chatter with Needlen, nor was he in the mood to have anyone before him. He was about to tell him to leave.
Knock, knock.
But just then, a knock sounded.
"Your Royal Highness. Dinner has arrived from Chermil Palace… Would you like to eat?"
Relic's voice came through the door. Normally, he would have asked, "Shall I bring it in now?" but today's question was slightly different. It was, of course, because of Gray. On days when Franz smelled the scent of Renieri, he usually skipped his meals. Even though he was getting better, that much was still true.
Therefore, Franz, who was about to tell him to take back the dinner he had no appetite for, swallowed his words and shut his mouth.
Rumble.
A distinct sound echoed through the quiet office at the perfect moment.
"Ah. I'm sorry, Vice-Commander."
Looking down at his stomach, which had loudly asserted its presence at the mere mention of food, Needlen apologized with an embarrassed smile.
Franz's light green eyes turned toward him.
After staring quietly for a moment, he spoke.
"Bring it in."
Since it was prepared for royalty, sending it back would only mean it would go to waste, so he decided to just have it brought in.
Freshly baked white bread still steaming, warm spinach and cheese soup, four types of thinly sliced ham, a salad free of bell peppers and onions, grilled cheese, and a fried egg cooked just enough so the yolk wouldn't run. Fruit and milk were served alongside it.
Relic set down the simple dinner—not extravagant, but filled only with things that wouldn't offend Franz's palate—on the large table in the center of the office, then stepped back outside with a polite bow. As a result, Needlen, who had missed his cue to bow and leave, was left standing there awkwardly.
"What are you doing?"
Franz, who had walked over and sat at the table, glanced at Needlen and asked. Taking it as a cue to leave, Needlen hurriedly prepared to bow, but Franz's voice continued.
"Sit."
"…Pardon?"
"You said you were hungry."
I didn't say that!
With a face that looked as if he had been falsely accused of a heinous crime, Needlen stood frozen. Of course, they had eaten together many times while camping. Even when they went to the elf village, they had often sat around and eaten together. But they had never dined alone like this. How could he sit face-to-face with royalty—the Crown Prince, no less—for dinner?
Rumble!
Ah.
Why did it have to be his favorite spinach soup of all things?
"Thank you."
Whatever.
This was Wilhelm Hall. He had eaten with Arsen many times. He could just think of this as dining with the Vice-Commander of the knight order.
Closing his eyes tightly, Needlen sat down across from Franz and began to eat, following Franz's lead as he took a spoonful of soup.
It was delicious.
Incredibly delicious. It was as tasty as if his own younger brother had made it.
Although he regularly ate the meals provided by the palace, they had never tasted this wonderful. Sending a silent thank-you to the chef of Chermil Palace, Needlen emptied his bowl and began to eat the bread and ham, taking care not to make too much noise.
Then, he suddenly looked up and saw it.
"Why aren't you eating, Vice-Commander?"
Dining with royalty.
Even though they had been talking just before, Franz had remained silent since the meal began, so Needlen should have kept quiet as well. Ignoring that etiquette, he directed a question at the Crown Prince, who seemed to have finished his dinner with a single spoonful of soup.
Franz, who had no intention of teaching Needlen useless etiquette, spoke without any sign of annoyance.
"I have no appetite."
"Did you say you would eat because of me?"
"Forget it. Just eat."
Looking at the young Vice-Commander who didn't know how to say embarrassing things, Needlen set down his fork and knife. After rinsing his mouth with the carbonated water placed next to the milk, he spoke.
"Did something bad happen?"
"Why?"
"You look like it."
"Not really."
"I heard Gray Brissen went toward Chermil Palace. Did you perhaps run into him?"
Guarding the royal palace was also the duty of the Valkan. Among visiting nobles, those who needed to be watched were all reported to the upper ranks. Thus, Needlen, who was at the tail end of that "upper rank," also knew of Gray's entry into the palace.
Franz stared briefly at the bubbles rising from the carbonated water, then at the steam rising from the soup and bread, and finally at Needlen's worried eyes, before speaking.
"I have a question."
"Yes. Go ahead, Vice-Commander."
"If you encounter someone you can't hit and can't fight with… what do you do?"
"I kill them."
Needlen, delivering the terrifying answer as lightly as a feather, offered a bright smile.
"Mages don't create future trouble out of useless sympathy, Vice-Commander. If it's a bastard you can't hit or fight, there wouldn't have been a reason to endure them in the first place. But if you can't hit them and can't fight them, and you just leave them alone, it will eventually cause problems. So, you just kill them."
"What if it's a bastard who must not be killed?"
"I kill them."
The answer was exactly the same.
"Why live life the hard way? Someone else will eventually fill the spot of a dead man anyway."
"What if it's a bastard you can't kill?"
"If he is stronger than me, then I will die, so that doesn't matter either. The result is the same—we will never cross paths again."
Even if he was someone who got his snacks stolen by Lucy, sat in a corner of the stairs eating a salted sandwich, and picked up seashells for his superior, he was still a mage of the Valkan. They would never place someone who didn't know how to fight as a division commander.
"…Right."
Franz, who hadn't received an answer to his question but had instead been repeatedly reminded of just how extreme a mage's way of thinking was, replied softly. At that, Needlen spoke again.
"Should I kill Gray Brissen for you?"
He didn't yet know that Gray was no longer a Sword Master.
Yet he said it. Even though he couldn't even face Siona Hill, let alone Calian.
"If you can't endure it anymore, or if you feel like it's fine to kill him now, just let me know. I will go out and kill him as many times as you want."
With the empty soup bowl—which had held the most delicious soup in the world—in front of him, Needlen continued with a serious face.
"The entire Valkan is on your side, Your Royal Highness, so why endure so much? There is no need to be generous enough to let a bastard like that live."
An extremely capable mage, who could certainly live up to his name, said this to the notorious scoundrel of a Crown Prince who couldn't live up to his reputation.
"I got it."
"Then shall I go kill him?"
"Leave him."
"Just leave him?"
"…For now."
"Understood. I will let him live for now."
It was a statement of broad generosity, as if he were turning a blind eye for now. It sounded more like he was soothing a younger brother than addressing the Crown Prince or his Vice-Commander.
Color returned to the face that had been so much more expressionless than usual that it was hard to tell if he was a painting, a doll, or a human. It was so faint that one wouldn't notice without looking closely, but he smiled nonetheless. Seeing that, Needlen smiled back in relief.
Franz brought the white bread he had intended not to eat to his mouth and said, "Let him live, eat, and work."
Stop talking about killing someone, eat your food, and get to work.
"Do I have to work without going home, Vice-Commander?"
"Pay for your meal."
"…Pay for my meal."
If you got a free meal, you had to work.
My fiancée said nothing in this world is free.
*
His waist, which could now be considered fully healed, felt needlessly stiff.
‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I sent someone to the Marquis's mansion just a moment ago, but it seems our paths crossed.’
He had entered the palace to find Randel and persuade him to arrange a betrothal to the daughter of Margrave Libret, who had ties to the Brissen family. He wanted to ask if Randel intended to keep his tail tucked between his legs without any backing while his two younger brothers already had proper fiancées.
‘Prince Randel is extremely fatigued today and has stated he will not meet with anyone. We will check his schedule for another day and contact you again.’
Yet, despite coming all this way and waiting for so long, he was turned away at the door.
Perhaps because he had been treated like that by the 1st Prince, who wouldn't be missed even if he disappeared this very instant, even his waist—which had received similar treatment from Calian—began to ache. Thinking so, Gray, who was leaving Chermil Palace, turned his gaze back.
"How did they all grow up to be like that?"
The 1st Prince, who broke an appointment with a Marquis without even showing his face, and the 3rd Prince, who ran wild believing that raw power solved everything.
And the Crown Prince, who turned his back on his own flesh and blood as if he lived alone in this world.
—Hasn’t the Marquis said it himself? That if the Crown Prince ascends the throne, Brissen will vanish. The Crown Prince showed his true colors the day the 3rd Prince collapsed from the poisoned tea. Isn’t it obvious, seeing how he not only took a blade for the 3rd Prince—who pushed his own mother off a cliff—but still holds his hand tightly and won’t let go? He saw Silike’s position weakening and risked his life to find a way to survive. He even abandoned his own mother.
Late the previous night, the voice, filled with ridicule, echoed in his ears.
—If you want to know the Crown Prince's true intentions for sure, try bringing up Silike when you meet him. Not a single expression on his face will change.
As if to prove those words entirely correct.
‘Thanks to you.’
Even though Gray had openly mentioned Silike, Franz had not faltered in the slightest.
Just look at how he had answered without a shred of emotion on his face—which, like his mother's, bore no trace of life, as if it were merely drawn—and then walked away as if he were the only one beneath the heavens.
"…Vicious bastard."
Gray, glaring at the fourth-floor window where the lights had long been extinguished, muttered. No matter how unable he was to handle aura now, he still possessed the ability to check for listening ears. Thus, he spoke without any worry.
"No matter how much he denies it, that bloodline doesn't go anywhere."
The day he had visited the palace to beg her to recall him to the capital, unable to endure it any longer after losing the power struggle against Evan and being made a Margrave. Silike had turned her back on him coldly, replying that he was too sharp to hold and thus useless. What was the difference between Silike then and that bastard just now? They were identical, right down to how they disregarded their own flesh and blood.
—The only way for the Marquis to survive is through the 1st Prince. Because of what happened in the council chamber, the 3rd Prince can no longer lay a hand on you. And we will deal with Alan Manasil and the 3rd Prince in due time. Without the 3rd Prince, is the Crown Prince not merely a child with nothing but pride? So, Marquis, do not worry about anything else and prepare to place the crown on the 1st Prince's head. Make him a second Lemain and use him to your heart's content.
That was correct. Not a single word of it was wrong.
If only to show that bastard the exact same end, he would endure the humiliation he suffered from Randel today. Compared to what he had endured from Calian, this was nothing.
Having made up his mind, Gray turned around.
Calian, who knew better than anyone that Brissen could not disappear right now, would never be able to touch him. He could act without any other worries.
"Acting as if he has the whole world, not knowing he is on a path that will end just like his mother's."
"Is that how it looks? To your eyes."
But.
He had thought so.
Crash!
He had believed so, but…
"I, too, would love to see him act as if he has the whole world."
The darkness split.
Light flashed. An excruciating pain, so intense that not even a scream could escape, washed over him. There was nothing choking his neck, yet he could not breathe. He was suffocating.
It was the one he believed he would absolutely never have to face right now.
The one he never wanted to face ever again.
"Yes," Calian said. "Just as you hope, I will leave you alive and well, without a single scratch."
"Prince... Ca... lian..."
A pair of crimson eyes stared back, and Gray felt his heart constrict in terror.
Thud!
He lowered his gaze.
A pitch-black sword, as if forged from shadow itself, had passed clean through his neck and embedded itself deep into the thick corridor wall of Chermil Palace. He felt the cold, heatless blade pierce his skin. He choked, but there was no wound. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to leap from his chest. It was freezing. He couldn't breathe.
Terror surged, a wave so profound it felt like a waking nightmare.
His hands trembled.
He was suffocating.
"...Go on, keep barking."
Calian's lips, which had whispered the words like a haunting song, curved into a beautiful smile—the smile of one who possessed the entire world.
"Say it. 'Woof, woof.'"