Chapter 7: I Haven’t Grown That Much (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 7: I Haven’t Grown That Much (3)
The evening banquet was being held in another building, so Calian finished his preparations early and boarded one of the two carriages waiting in front of Chermil Palace. The other was, of course, for whichever of the two princes, Randel or Franz, had yet to depart. It seemed one of them had already left.
Carriages just to move around inside the palace grounds. I was wondering how I’d get anywhere in a place this vast.
Calian shook his head, recalling the story of how Founding King Hatsuara had built a royal palace of such a ridiculous scale because the ancient dragon Sispanian had claimed she couldn’t live in a cramped space.
The carriage passed through the long corridors surrounding Chermil Palace and crossed the fountain garden that marked the boundary between the residential and administrative areas. It then continued past Arpia Palace, the king’s official workplace, and Narsil Hall, which housed the offices of the nobles who handled royal affairs, before finally coming to a stop.
They had arrived before Senyu Hall, a venue used for small events with the nobility. It was a white marble building adorned with gilt pillars, and the setting sun cast a beautiful glow upon its facade.
“Your Highness, we have arrived.”
Yan placed a small carriage step on the ground and helped Calian descend, making sure he didn’t tread on the hem of his clothes. A servant from Senyu Hall emerged to meet them and guided him to the banquet location.
It was a garden behind Senyu Hall.
Magic lamps had already been lit in anticipation of the encroaching darkness.
Calian crossed the garden and took the seat a servant pulled out for him. Randel was already there. Shortly after Calian’s arrival, Franz strode over and took his own seat. As always, a heavy silence settled between them.
Then, a strong perfume drifted through the air.
It was the fragrance of the Renieri flower, a bloom of exceptional value that blossomed for only a single day each year. Even outdoors, the scent was so potent it seemed to make one’s fingertips tingle.
Silike.
Calian had never seen Queen Silike, nor had he ever smelled the Renieri fragrance before. But the moment he caught the scent, he knew she had arrived.
He turned his head to watch the queen approach, accompanied by Viscount Lennon Brissen. Silike’s gaze was fixed on Calian as well. Then, as if by silent agreement, they both looked away at the same instant. Randel, who had been observing the brief exchange, shifted his gaze.
As if nothing had happened, Silike proceeded to her designated seat next to Franz. Her son offered no particular courtesy, remaining seated as she arrived.
Silike’s brow furrowed slightly at his behavior, but perhaps conscious of Calian and Randel’s presence, she said nothing.
“It has been a while, Your Highnesses,” Lennon offered, a simple greeting for all three princes.
He then looked at Calian’s somewhat unfamiliar face. His surprised expression suggested he had seen Calian before but was taken aback by his current appearance. Just as he was about to speak, Silike’s hand moved.
Snap!
Her fan, made of purple silk, unfurled with a sharp, deliberate sound.
“Ahem!”
Noticing Silike’s displeasure, Lennon fell silent with an awkward cough.
Soon, dinner began with an appetizer. The conversation was sparse, consisting mainly of Lennon’s attempts at small talk and Silike’s short replies. In the middle of it all, Silike’s gaze shifted to Calian.
“You’ve grown a lot.”
Realizing the comment was directed at him, Calian met her eyes. She surely didn’t mean he had literally grown taller.
“I haven’t grown that much,” Calian answered calmly after a slight pause. He then added with a relaxed smile, “But I’m sure I’ll grow much more in the future.”
The look in Silike’s eyes sharpened. The old Calian could never have smiled like that. She found it deeply displeasing.
Just then, the clueless Lennon interjected.
“That’s right, Your Highness! You’re still in your growth period, so you must grow taller—!”
Snap!
Silike once again silenced Lennon, who had utterly failed to grasp the meaning behind their exchange.
My, my. He’s exactly like the rumors. It’s almost surprising.
Numerous skills were required to run a trading company, and among them, judgment was the most fundamental. At the very least, one needed a certain level of perceptiveness. With that one comment, Lennon had just proven he lacked both.
His company’s managers must have a hard time.
Silike glared at Lennon. “I hear the chef took special care with this meal, Brother,” she said, her voice dangerously sweet. “Please, enjoy it to your heart’s content.”
It was a blatant way of telling him to shut up and eat.
Whether he finally understood her words or was simply frightened by her glare, Lennon grasped her intent this time. He closed his mouth and focused on his steak. Franz, watching from the side, let out an unconcealed snort of laughter.
Silike’s eyes turned to him. Since her conversation with Calian had been cut short, she addressed Franz instead.
“I heard your horse no longer follows you.”
Randel glanced briefly at Calian.
Calian, however, was lost in thought, wondering if she meant Raven—the horse he had won from Franz—or himself. He didn't notice Randel’s gaze.
Right. She’s not the type to care about one ill-tempered horse.
The “horse” Silike mentioned was not Raven, but him. It was her way of referring to the change in his attitude toward Franz.
“It would have been better if you had told me beforehand,” she continued.
Franz tilted his head. Staring into Silike’s light green eyes, which were identical to his own, he replied, his voice laced with mockery.
“Told you what?”
He wasn’t asking for clarification. He knew exactly what she meant: that the speck of dust who had been living with bated breath, destined to quietly follow his mother’s path to an early grave, had changed so drastically. That he had become a thorn in her side. Franz understood all of this.
“I’m sure they’ve already reported everything,” he said. He knew his attendants reported his every move to Silike. He was asking what more there was to tell.
Of course, Silike was aware that Calian had changed. The news had spread through the palace the very day he cut his hair. She had been briefed on every detail since, from the incident in the dining hall to the events of the riding lesson.
At Franz’s defiance, Silike’s voice took on a disappointed tone. “You didn’t tell me he was completely out of your hands.”
The red eyes that met hers no longer held any fear. She should have been warned that the change in Calian was not merely external and that Franz could no longer control him.
But Franz had not done so.
“And what you plan to do about it,” Silike added.
“That, too, I’m sure I…” A sneer touched Franz’s lips. “...told you.”
“I don’t recall.”
As if he couldn’t be bothered to speak further, Franz leaned back in his chair. Watching her son, Silike smiled quietly. Then, her smile shifted into something else entirely—a clear, childish laugh. It was a perfect echo of the one Franz had given just before throwing a knife at Yan.
“Franz, you’ve always been this way,” she said. “But don’t you worry. Soon, there will be nothing left to lose, and nothing to take back.”
A faint smile touched Calian’s lips.
She means that if I’m dead, there’ll be no one left for him to lose control of.
Pretending to be unfazed, Calian lifted his water glass, took a sip, and set it down before resuming his meal.
Silike continued, “It won’t take long.”
Franz turned his head and closed his eyes, as if to say, do as you please. Calian, who had been moving his knife with practiced ease, felt his expression slowly turn to ice.
How much of a joke did they take him for, to so casually discuss his death right in front of him?
Randel quietly turned his head, his gaze moving from Franz to Calian. Then, surprisingly, he spoke.
“You look tired,” he said to Calian. “Go and rest.”
At Randel’s unexpected words, even Franz looked over with surprised eyes, but the First Prince said nothing more.
That single sentence, an escape from this dreadful dinner, was incredibly welcome.
Calian immediately nodded and stood. Silike’s brow narrowed, but she didn’t object to Randel’s intervention.
“The meal was enjoyable,” Calian said, addressing Lennon. He then turned to look directly at Silike.
With eyes that were a perfect replica of the dead queen’s, Calian stared at her and offered a bright smile, fervently hoping that this expression, too, was the spitting image of the late Freya.
“Until we meet again.”
Just as Silike, who had been frowning, composed her face to reply, Calian spun on his heel and left. The grip on the fan in her hand tightened.
Randel lowered his eyes and brought the dessert to his lips. It was a sorbet made with Renieri flowers—Silike’s favorite. The floral scent lingered in his mouth for a moment before melting away into nothing.
*
Three more weeks passed.
With the King’s birthday festival approaching, Kairis’s capital, Kairisis, was buzzing with excitement. Nobles who had been staying on their own territories began to gather at their residences in the city. Envoys from various nations arrived and settled in at Rubia Hall, the guesthouse for the palace’s honored guests, to recover from their long journeys. For a time, crowds even gathered to catch a glimpse of the elves who had entered Kairisis two days prior.
Some were welcoming guests, others were preparing for banquets, and still others were ensuring security. Everyone was so busy they didn’t have a moment to spare, their faces alight with anticipation for the grand festival.
Yan’s complexion, however, had visibly worsened.
It wasn’t just him; the six maids who assisted Calian also wore grim expressions. Even Satin, the tailor who had come to see Calian again after a month, looked concerned.
“Your Highness, how have you gotten even thinner?”
“That’s just how it is,” Calian replied with an awkward smile, looking at Satin’s worried face.
Though he maintained a carefree tone, Calian was well aware of the problem. The ache in his chest every time he tried to use mana and his steadily deteriorating physical condition made it clear that the mana in his body was having a negative effect on his heart.
Seeing his decline, Yan had been insisting almost daily on calling a healer. In the end, Calian had to explain to Yan—and Yan alone—that he could use magic and needed to hide his Circles. He also explained why he had to wait until the King’s birthday festival. Of course, he couldn’t mention he knew Alan was coming, so he glossed over that part.
‘Renowned mages will surely come for His Majesty’s birthday festival,’ he had told him. ‘I’ll find someone trustworthy to look into the problem then, so just wait.’
Since a healer’s divine power could have an adverse effect on a mage, Yan had finally, reluctantly, agreed.
As Calian recalled that conversation, Satin’s voice pulled him back to the present.
“It seems the formal attire will need to be altered.”
At first, she had tried placing pins on the clothes to see what could be taken in, but she soon realized the problem was more significant. With a sigh, she took out her measuring tape again.
“I will retake your measurements, Your Highness.”
It seemed she planned to take the clothes completely apart and resize them. Feeling somewhat apologetic, Calian obediently complied. After a good while, Satin finished and spoke as if it were no trouble at all.
“It’s a relief we still have time. I will come back tomorrow morning with the alterations completed.”
“The other two sets are for the second and third days anyway,” Calian said. “If you’re short on time, it’s all right to bring those a little later.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I understand.”
Calian then ordered a carriage to take Satin home—the least he could do to help.
And so, the birthday of King Lemain drew near.