Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Even Nobles Understand "Who Forced You?"
Just moments ago, I had been face-to-face with the pink-haired young lady.
A color scheme as vibrant as cotton candy.
A way of speaking so honest it bordered on stupidity.
And an atmosphere that made her seem like the only person standing in a completely different genre in the middle of a noble banquet hall.
She was definitely romance fantasy.
But the people gathered before me now were not.
This was a place scented with tobacco instead of flowers.
Their skin had been dried by the years.
Their eyes were clouded from seeing too many ugly things.
Every one of them was a high-ranking noble at the level of a family head.
The only people young enough to be called young in this conference room were me and the First Prince, Manuel.
The atmosphere had been fairly bright just moments ago, but the instant I came over here, it became suffocating.
A corpse would be meaningless.
But these people were alive.
And because they were alive, they felt heavier.
Noble families pretended to pass down power gracefully from generation to generation, but if you looked inside, parents and siblings could all become enemies.
At this point, calling them veterans of political warfare wouldn't be inaccurate.
So I bluntly spoke toward a count who had just been about to light a cigarette.
"Count, smoke when I'm not around."
"...Pardon?"
The count's hand froze.
The surrounding nobles immediately turned their attention toward us.
Normally, nobles addressed each other politely.
It elevated the other's dignity while increasing the value of their own bloodline.
Even when they hated each other, this courtesy had to be maintained.
I didn't bother because I was a lunatic.
The moment I spoke curtly and rudely to a high-ranking count, his expression stiffened.
Before he could even show offense, I slightly raised my sword.
Blades are faster than words.
"W-What do you mean by that?"
"If words aren't enough, I can demonstrate through actions. Count, put out the cigarette."
The count's fingers trembled.
In the end, he couldn't light it.
The other nobles who had been discreetly reaching into their pockets for cigarettes also quietly put them away.
It was the wise decision.
Officially speaking, I was still a madman.
Compared to before, I beat servants less often and smashed palace furniture less frequently.
But nobody in their right mind would look sane while engaging in live-blade sparring with armored knights while practically bare-handed.
Knights represented the peak of military power in this era.
Crossing swords with people like that without even wearing proper armor was something only a lunatic or a masochist would do.
As a result, my notoriety hadn't decreased at all.
And right now, that notoriety was proving quite useful.
The bodyguards stood nearby, but none of them intervened.
Why?
Because carrying weapons was prohibited at banquets.
Even though the guards wore armor, they carried no swords.
Security at the banquet was Manuel's responsibility as host, not something the guests needed to worry about.
If someone didn't trust Manuel, they could technically bring weapons themselves.
But everyone gathered here supported Manuel.
Coming to support Manuel while carrying a sword because you didn't trust Manuel would be a ridiculous contradiction.
Unless they wanted to publicly destroy his reputation, they couldn't bring weapons.
Manuel wouldn't have allowed it anyway.
Just as I expected, nobody stepped forward.
Without weapons, there was no easy way to subdue me.
Of course, I was an exception.
Because I was royalty, just like Manuel.
More specifically, I was royalty and a lunatic, so people had half given up trying to control me.
And my swordsmanship had already become fairly well known through my sparring matches with the knights.
No one could guarantee how many people I might cut down before unarmed guards managed to restrain me.
Nobles valued their own lives greatly and treated the lives of others comparatively lightly.
People like that would never risk their own necks.
The nobles who prioritized etiquette above survival had already died during family succession wars.
The ones left here had learned how to preserve their own lives first.
I slowly swept my gaze across the room and added,
"And I'm a guest. I'd appreciate being treated politely."
The nobles' expressions instantly turned cold.
They were probably all thinking the same thing.
'Is that really the attitude of someone expecting hospitality?'
Fair enough.
But nobody dared say it aloud.
Because the sword in my hand was still very real.
More importantly, I didn't want to stay in this stale, suffocating atmosphere any longer.
So I immediately got to the point.
"We won't be involved with each other much longer anyway. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if we parted on good terms? Hmm? You agree too, don't you, Brother?"
"...Yes. I'd prefer things end without conflict."
Manuel answered quietly.
He was always like that.
On the surface, he looked gentle and refined.
The face of a model student with blond hair and blue eyes.
Meanwhile, I had black hair and black eyes, with a gaze sharp as a blade.
Our father had blond hair and blue eyes.
Our mother had black hair and black eyes.
The two of us had simply split the colors evenly between us.
The problem was that the contrast made me look far more like a villain.
Though considering the amount of crazy things I'd done, it wasn't entirely inaccurate.
When they were young, Rouang and Manuel had actually been quite close.
Manuel wasn't the sort of older brother who bullied his younger sibling.
At least not in the beginning.
The problem came afterward.
Following the assassination attempt, Manuel never properly purged the supporters behind him.
There were signs that both the Emperor and Manuel had gained political benefits from the incident.
But to a child, complicated calculations like that didn't matter.
The people who tried to kill me still hadn't been caught.
That fact alone was enough.
Manuel already possessed the natural advantage of being the First Prince.
After the incident, he gained even greater political authority and support.
Meanwhile, I was pushed out of the power struggle and became a prince the nobles could gradually start ignoring.
And Rouang interpreted it this way.
'My brother isn't on my side.'
'Even my family won't protect me.'
That was more than enough reason for a child to become twisted.
Perhaps because of that, Manuel still couldn't forcefully stop me even while I held a sword.
Because he felt guilty.
Looking at the nobles, I casually said,
"I've said it myself now, so that should be enough. All of you should start moving faster."
"...Ahem."
"Your Highness, then we shall take our leave."
"Good. I have matters to discuss privately with my brother. Please go ahead."
The nobles hesitated while glancing between the sword in my hand and Manuel.
They looked worried that I might cut off my brother's head right then and there.
I wouldn't do something like that no matter how insane I was.
But if they refused to believe me, then actions would have to speak.
So I casually handed my sword to the count I had threatened moments earlier.
"This is...?"
"Hold onto it. You're worried about my brother, aren't you?"
The count's face twisted subtly.
Should he be happy that he'd been entrusted with protecting a prince?
Or furious that a noble of his stature had been reduced to the role of a servant holding someone's sword?
Even he seemed unable to decide.
After the surrounding nobles patted his shoulders and pushed him along, he reluctantly followed them out.
"Wait outside the door."
Bang!
The door slammed shut.
They had every right to be annoyed.
I'd openly ordered nobles around like servants.
If they weren't angry, that would have been stranger.
But I had gained something as well.
'That count probably wasn't involved in the assassination.'
If he had truly been connected to it, he would have hidden his emotions even after suffering that level of humiliation.
He would have accepted it without letting his expression crack even once.
Instead, he had been far too obvious.
His face practically screamed that he couldn't understand why he had to endure such humiliation.
In other words, he was more likely someone suffering the consequences of another person's actions within the faction.
People like that eventually start quietly investigating who caused the trouble in the first place.
They wouldn't move openly because they knew Manuel hated internal conflict.
But they'd move in secret.
If I nudged him a little later, he might produce surprisingly useful evidence.
The door closed, leaving only Manuel and me in the room.
Silence lingered briefly.
Manuel spoke first.
"I wish you wouldn't be so harsh toward them."
I immediately replied,
"Then whose fault is it?"
Manuel's expression froze for a moment.
"...Mine. I'm sorry."
An apology.
I'd heard it before.
And I was hearing it again now.
But apologies only gain sincerity when accompanied by action.
Why do people welcome government subsidies even when politicians are incompetent?
Because regardless of whether the nation succeeds or fails, at least it feels like something is being done.
If Manuel had at least pretended to severely reprimand the nobles on his side, Rouang might never have become this twisted.
But Manuel was always the same.
He apologized.
He looked remorseful.
Yet he never acted.
That was what exhausted me the most.
I'd heard enough apologies.
What I needed now was action.
Of course, judging from everything I'd seen so far, I doubted Manuel would ever act for my sake.
Looking at him with tired eyes, I asked,
"So, what exactly did you want to discuss with me alone?"
Manuel hesitated briefly.
Then he quietly opened his mouth.
"Father wishes for you to marry."
"What?"