Chapter 46
Chapter 46
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Everyone Wears a Mask (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It was Igor.
He had the hood pulled low over his face, but it was unmistakably him.
The King of Thracia had come to this filthy, damp prison.
And he wasn't alone.
There was Princess Yeniche Trakieri, and a prince I'd never seen before.
"For Thracia."
I dropped to my knees without a second thought.
My knees hit the puddle of unidentified liquid on the floor—something I didn't want to know about but had a pretty good idea—and quickly soaked through.
But I had no time to worry about that.
"Rise."
A low voice came as I kept my head bowed.
I scrambled awkwardly to my feet and rolled my eyes around.
"······."
Igor stared at me for a long while.
It felt like he had nothing to say—or perhaps too much, and couldn't find the words.
Either way, it was an incredibly awkward situation for me.
Whoosh.
He turned away without a word.
That was it.
He never said a thing to me until the end and simply left.
It only made it more embarrassing.
"······."
The prince, who had been pinching his nose, glared at me angrily before vanishing, and even Yeniche Trakieri, who lingered last, hesitated with a complicated expression before departing.
"I can understand the men under you. Fistfights at drinking parties aren't that rare among soldiers. But you're different, aren't you?"
The moment I was released, I was summoned to headquarters and got an earful from General Langrid.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty. It could've ended well if you'd left it alone, but why go out of your way to drag the Redcoats into it and blow it up?"
"If you're calling it a good ending because we fought together but only one side got hauled off..."
"Don't talk back!"
She looked utterly exhausted, probably from a meeting, and her irritation sharpened her words like a blade.
"The Redcoats serve in the capital with solid connections, so we can summon them anytime for questioning. But the Bluecoats? They could ship out to the front any moment. It was just a matter of timing."
Relatively minor injuries on our side, plus the Bluecoats' fierce resistance to the end—it all factored into the decision.
"Even so, common sense says after something like that, one side goes to jail while the other keeps drinking..."
"Do you have any room to talk about common sense right now?!"
"······I'm sorry."
General Langrid pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I'm disappointed in you."
She hadn't expected me to be someone so reckless.
"What were you thinking, picking fights with the Royal Guard? Hah."
After a long sigh, she finally explained the situation.
"Anything involving the Royal Guard goes straight to His Majesty."
Normally, it might've ended with a report, but this was too big, so he had to step in personally.
"Over a hundred Royal Guards—protectors of the royal family—sustained injuries bad enough to pull them from duty. It created gaps in VIP protection and palace security right away."
Hmm. Was it that serious?
I wouldn't have thought it warranted the princess, the prince, and the king all showing up. But there was a reason.
"The NCO who was with the Bluecoats at first, Jakob Kasimir, is the princess's man. The rest of the Redcoats belong to the Second Prince."
No wonder three royals had rushed to this dingy prison.
Their own people were involved, so they'd come running.
"Do you get it now? What you've done."
General Langrid clicked her tongue.
"You've made enemies of two out the three top contenders for the throne."
Hearing it laid out, it sounded like big trouble.
Really big trouble.
"······."
But I didn't feel any real sense of crisis.
How to put it.
Ever since meeting Igor, my head felt a little off.
Messing with two royals and feeling this nonchalant? Something was definitely wrong with me.
"Yeniche will probably let it slide since she favors you so much, but the Second Prince? This turns his goodwill into enmity. He won't stay quiet."
While I spaced out, General Langrid kept lecturing.
"You're a 3rd Class Military Merit Medal recipient, so you'll likely get off with a light reprimand. But the others? Demotions are unavoidable."
"Isn't there any way around it?"
"The man who stayed cool after enraging a prince suddenly cares about his men?"
"······If needed, I'll give up my medal and hero title too."
Her eyes widened at my words.
"You really are..."
She let out a sigh after a long pause, but her anger had clearly subsided.
"I'll try, but first, I need the full story."
"Wasn't it in the guard's report?"
"Just said it started from a petty quarrel and turned into a brawl."
"Petty quarrel... you mean?"
Anger surged up, but I held it back.
"They insulted our fallen comrades."
I explained calmly from the beginning.
"······Insulted the fallen?"
"Said the Bluecoats are a unit that's about to be disbanded."
"What?"
Clank. A harsh metallic sound echoed from somewhere.
General Langrid's prosthetic hand was rattling.
"······."
She asked no more questions.
"I'll handle this. Go home and stay confined to quarters."
She dismissed me in a voice so low it sent chills down my spine.
Crunch, clank.
I slipped out as her prosthetic kept jerking like it was broken.
In the end, none of our people faced punishment.
I figured salary cuts were inevitable, if not demotions, but nope.
The Redcoats were the ones locked up.
On charges of treason.
Oooh! The truth is revealed, and justice triumphs over evil at last!
...What a beautiful, moral-ending tale that would've been.
Too bad reality isn't so kind.
This was just politics—a dish cooked up from a brawl spiced with backroom deals and connections.
"No wonder the name felt off from the start."
The club was nothing but trouble.
Rosenritter, Knights of the Rose.
The name of an exiled knight order from some famous old heroic epic still talked about today.
Hardly appropriate for a club patronized by Royal Guards, who should steer clear of anything exile-related.
Of course, pinning treason on them just for the name was a stretch, but there were suspicious signs.
The owner vanished the second the investigation started. All the guarantors needed to operate in the capital? Gone.
Plus, tips about shady figures coming and going.
Even General Langrid and her counterintelligence unit, who started this to snag the Redcoats, were taking it seriously now.
High chance Astoria set it up for espionage.
So headquarters hauled in the club's regulars for intense questioning. Naturally, the Redcoats who practically lived there couldn't dodge it.
Rumors said they just liked the name matching their coats, but true or not, shaking the suspicion won't be easy.
—They're simpletons, so probably true.
That's counterintelligence for you.
No wonder I freaked when Astoria's commander-in-chief sent that letter.
Whether political maneuvering or real Astoria spying, we got off scot-free, so it was a win.
"Why me alone...?"
Major Lenin, the only one docked pay, looked mighty aggrieved, but he had it coming.
He threw the first punch, and he led our guys to that den of vipers.
"After all this? You'll hurt my feelings!"
He acted betrayed at my cold response.
A grown man whining over pocket change.
"Major Yannick, enter the palace at once!"
This one had bigger problems than money.
"By royal command! No delays!"
And so it finally came.
Igor said nothing.
He just sank deep into his chair, lost in thought.
To me, it looked like he was debating whether to renege on our promise to bury the past.
It wasn't.
"The man counterintelligence was chasing turned up dead in a back alley this morning."
I blinked blankly at the sudden topic, then realized he meant the Rosenritter owner and frowned.
Classic tail-cutting.
It lent heavy weight to counterintelligence's theory.
Astoria was the prime suspect.
Only they'd risk the diplomatic fallout.
It was like chasing a cow and catching a mouse by accident.
"······Did you know already?"
As I pieced it together, Igor spoke again.
"Ah, what a pointless question. You're no fool to rampage blindly out of mere anger. Plenty about this felt off."
"······?"
"Of course you knew. You're no street thug. A man like you wouldn't act without thought."
What nonsense was this?
"Then again, the Hermits always had their secretive ways. We often only see the full picture after the fact."
Incomprehensible leap.
"Even ten years ago, I only realized after the Power Struggle that the Silent Brotherhood had sheltered me."
Wait, weren't we done with past talk after that drinking session?
"Everyone wears a mask in life. Even I do."
Igor looked at me steadily.
"But thinking on what's behind your mask fills me with new worries."
Was this the promise-breaking moment?
"Yet at the same time, I have hopes."
No.
"Whatever hides behind it will be a nightmare and calamity for Thracia's enemies."
The deep emotions in his eyes were beyond me, so I just listened silently.
"I planned to make you a royal advisor at the right time and keep you close. But this incident made me realize."
Igor's tone grew firm.
"Leave the capital."
As sudden as the conversation's start, an abrupt end.
"This place doesn't suit you."
Whether I looked stunned or not, he pressed on.
"The young Trakieris' ambitions burn fierce. They're holding back under my authority now, but in time, even that won't matter. Like I did, they'll hurl themselves into those flames."
This mess had already kicked off the Power Struggle in earnest beneath the surface.
But he couldn't stop it.
Grant himself an exception from the fate he imposed on all nobles? No Trakieri would be obeyed then.
"When that day comes, they'll grasp for you as their blade—never knowing its sharpness."
Bloody knives get tossed after the fight.
"But you mustn't be used and discarded as the blade to end the Power Struggle."
Indeed, after royal power struggles, victors often purged their merits.
Like Igor's old followers no longer at his side.
"So I'll send you where their hands can't reach."
Before the young Trakieris' ambitions eclipse their father's dignity.
"Major Yannick."
Snap. I straightened, chin high, heels together.
"By Igor Trakieri, your unit—the Independent Cavalry—is transferred from headquarters to direct royal command. From this moment, you follow royal orders. Absent other directives, you have autonomy in judgment and action."
Igor rattled off the decree swiftly.
"The authority in your independent decisions stems from me, Igor Trakieri. It supersedes headquarters' command rights. Lesser Trakieris cannot infringe it."
My posture nearly faltered.
It was that staggering.
Essentially, making me his full proxy.
"All support from royal funds, pay direct from the crown."
Igor slipped a ring from his finger and offered it.
"Stock up in the capital, complete preparations, then head to the front at once."
I took the ring and saluted.
For Thracia.
And just like that, I left the capital pell-mell.
Not empty-handed, of course.
The king showed his sincerity; it'd be disloyal to ignore it.