Chapter 9: It's a Pleasure to Meet You (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 9: It's a Pleasure to Meet You (2)
Lemain was sitting on a sofa in his office, looking over a stack of documents.
Like Calian, Lemain also had black hair.
He was the very image of a king, a man who looked as if he’d stepped right out of a textbook on royal virtues. His expression was composed, his eyes deep.
The sight of him reminded Calian of someone.
It’s like looking at Randel.
From his deep blue eyes that called to mind the vast sea to the structure of his face, from his downward gaze to the oppressive atmosphere he created without a word—everything about him was a mirror of Randel.
Even his tendency to stand by and do nothing is the same.
The heartless king who had feigned ignorance of Freya’s and Calian’s deaths. That was Calian’s private assessment of Lemain, and his opinion hadn’t changed one bit. The instinctive aversion he felt toward the man was unlikely to ever disappear.
As Calian walked toward Lemain, he struggled to empty his mind of such thoughts, afraid they might betray him through his expression or his words.
By the time he reached the king’s side, Calian had managed to conceal his complex emotions, offering a bow with flawless posture.
Then, in a quiet but clear voice, he spoke.
“I greet His Majesty the King.”
Lemain placed the document he was holding on the table.
Judging by the nearly empty teacup and the other stacks of documents beside him, it seemed he had been working from the sofa all this time.
Now that he had put the document down, Calian expected him to look up. Instead, Lemain immediately picked up another one.
…Another document?
A look of bewilderment crossed Calian’s face.
Of course, Lemain didn’t notice. He hadn’t even glanced in his direction, so how could he? Calian’s eyes hardened.
“Come and sit.”
Despite his anger, a short, humorless laugh escaped him. Lemain’s voice was surprisingly similar to Franz’s. Their manner of speaking was different, of course, but the tone itself was reminiscent of an older Franz.
He really did distribute his traits evenly among them, Calian thought.
Pushing aside the distracting thought, Calian sat down across from Lemain. He looked at the king and spoke in a subdued voice.
“Congratulations on your thirty-eighth birthday.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Lemain nodded, his monotone voice drifting from behind the document.
After that emotionless reply, he lifted his teacup for a sip, then raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. He seemed exhausted.
“Have you been well?”
“Yes,” Calian answered at once. “I have been very well.”
Lemain clearly hadn’t noticed how drastically thin Calian had become, because his reply was, “That’s a relief.”
Then again, how could he notice if he never even bothered to look?
“If there is anything you find inconvenient, let me know.”
One corner of Calian’s mouth lifted into a faint smirk.
It’s not like I only have one or two inconveniences right now.
Should he mention that he still hadn’t adjusted to the silent breakfasts with the king’s other two sons? Or that an assassin sent by the king’s wife would likely be paying him a visit soon? Or perhaps that he was wasting away from some unknown poison and could drop dead at any moment?
Or maybe I should tell him I’m not actually his son?
…I wonder if he’d look at me then.
“I am… doing well.”
In the end, Calian just repeated the same words.
It was less an answer than a half-hearted reply. Still, Lemain merely nodded.
Now he understood. He finally knew why it was faster to see them one by one, three times, rather than all at once. It was because the king couldn’t behave this way with all three of them sitting before him. How efficient it was to see them individually, allowing him to keep working while simply moving his mouth.
So he can’t even be bothered to spare five minutes for his own son.
Calian sneered inwardly.
Lemain still hadn’t lowered the hand pressed to his brow.
He couldn’t remember what they talked about after that. It didn’t seem worth remembering, anyway. Exactly five minutes after meeting Lemain, Calian emerged from Arpia Palace, climbed into his carriage, and said, “I should have just said, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’”
Yan, who had been waiting with a worried expression, gave a quiet laugh. He hadn’t heard what happened in the office, but he knew exactly how Lemain treated the princes.
The carriage set off and, before long, stopped in front of Chermil Palace. Calian stepped out, let out a deep sigh, and looked around.
A breeze rippled across the surface of the lake.
“You have a little time before ten o’clock. Feel free to take a walk.”
As if sensing his suffocating mood, Yan had spoken. Calian gave a grateful nod and started toward the lake. He walked slowly along its edge before making his way to the rose garden.
Is that a parasol?
A moment later, Calian stopped. He had spotted a black parasol opened in the middle of the garden.
Who would be in the garden on a day like this?
Curiosity drew him closer, but he stopped short when he realized the person tending to the roses beneath it was none other than Randel.
Calian knew that Randel’s hobby was tending the rose garden. He had always thought it a hobby that suited Randel perfectly. But Randel’s current appearance was not that of someone enjoying a pastime.
His face stiff, Randel’s attendant was holding up the parasol. Draped over the attendant’s arm was a red cloak identical to the one Calian wore. In front of him, Randel, still in his formal attire, was kneeling in the dirt, pruning a rose bush.
Calian let out an empty laugh.
Randel wouldn’t be out here on a day like this, dressed like that, just for some routine pruning.
Lemain is really something else, to rattle Randel like that.
A few years after Calian’s death, once the war for the throne had begun in earnest, a major accident had occurred. The axle of a carriage carrying the King and Crown Prince of Tensil, who were returning from a visit to the Serenti Temple, broke, sending it plummeting off a cliff.
In that accident, both the king and the crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Tensil lost their lives.
At the time, Randel was the only remaining member of the Tensil royal family. And so, he left Kairis and inherited the throne of Tensil. Calian remembered hearing that he had made the decision without a moment’s hesitation.
With Lemain acting like that, of course he had no lingering attachments to Kairis.
It was an entirely understandable choice. If it had been Calian, he too would have left this country without a second thought.
“Prince Calian.”
A sudden voice snapped Calian out of his prophetic recollection. It was Randel’s attendant who had called to him, his face troubled.
Randel, who had already risen to his feet, was looking at Calian.
“My apologies.”
Calian offered his apology and gave Randel a slight bow.
Randel took off his soiled gloves and handed them to his attendant, then watched Calian in silence. His deep, placid blue eyes—a stark contrast to Calian’s own blazing red ones—were fixed on him.
Randel didn’t reprimand him. He, too, must have known why Calian had come here alone.
“Right.”
With just that one word, Randel turned and walked back to Chermil Palace.
*
Lemain was fair.
He treated all three of his sons exactly the same.
The reek of alcohol wafting from Franz, who stood beside him, was proof of that. Feeling dizzy, Calian turned his head away from his brother and furrowed his brow.
That crazy little brat, drinking when even I’ve been forced to stay sober!
Franz’s gaze, which was usually hazy to begin with, seemed even cloudier now.
He knew why Franz had done it, but that didn’t make his recklessness any more excusable. This was a public appearance. Of course, all they had to do was stand silently behind the king and wave, but Calian was worried Franz might cause some kind of trouble.
Still, he had never received spy reports in his past life about a prince of Kairis causing a disturbance at an official event, so he decided to trust that the brat had at least a shred of self-control left in him.
As if he had peered right into Calian’s mind, Franz glanced over. Seeing Calian’s frown, Franz let out a smirk, but Calian didn’t notice.
“Ten minutes. The ceremony will begin shortly,” a royal event coordinator announced to the royal family.
Calian, who was sitting on a chair prepared near the main gate, braced himself. This might be a familiar occasion for the others, but not for him. It was only natural that he felt a little nervous.
The square was so packed with people there was no room to move. Guards mingled with the crowd, while knights from the Royal Knight Order Pavel, positioned on the rooftops of the surrounding cafes and restaurants, watched for any suspicious movements.
Soon, two large crystal plates lit up, projecting an image of the still-empty platform. A murmur of anticipation filled the square as the people sensed the ceremony was about to begin.
“We will now open the palace gates.”
At those words, the main gates of the royal palace slowly swung open. As the large Kairis crest engraved in the center of the gates split in two, the crowd cheered at the gradually revealed sight of the palace interior.
Before long, the palace gates, normally kept firmly shut, were wide open. They would not close again for three days.
“Five minutes.”
The honor guard review of Kaera, the king’s personal knight order, began.
It didn’t last long, but you could feel the crowd hold its breath as they watched the review of the knights sworn to the king and the king alone.
The royal family, including Calian, rose from their seats.
Attendants moved about busily. Yan, too, quickly approached to check Calian’s formal attire before stepping back.
“One minute.”
A red carpet was rolled out from the palace’s main gate to the platform.
The knights formed two long lines, leaving the red carpet clear between them. The royal family was to pass through their ranks, their swords raised straight up, as if to pierce the sky.
The weather was perfectly clear. Sunlight glinted off the blades, giving them a sharp, imposing air.
And then, it was ten o’clock.
With the thunderous voice of the Commander of Kaera announcing the royal family’s procession, Lemain began to walk. Queen Silike followed slowly behind him. Then came Randel and Franz.
Now, it’s my turn.
Watching their backs, Calian closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
He straightened his spine.
He lifted his head.
The atmosphere around him changed in an instant.
He cast his gaze downward, toward the people below, and smiled.
And just like that, he became the perfect prince of Kairis.
He took his first step forward.