Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: But He Did Not Permit It (2)
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Should I pretend to be in pain right now?
Should I start spouting excuses first?
Or should I bow in greeting first?
All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind and vanished just as quickly.
"This place isn't exactly suitable for conversation."
While I stood there frozen, unable to do this or that, Igor stepped out of the tent.
Outside, the Redcoats were waiting.
Tch.
Their glares were thick with displeasure.
I must have really gotten under their skin for dragging their lord all the way to this remote fortress.
Not that they would've looked at me warmly even without that reason.
Why? What do you want me to do about it?
As I shot them a glare right back, I suddenly felt a piercing gaze.
"..."
Igor was staring at me from up ahead.
His face seemed to ask why I wasn't coming.
I hurriedly picked up my pace.—I considered faking an injury even now, but decided against limping in front of Igor; it might get me dragged off for lese majeste.—
"By the way."
As I inwardly sighed over and over, Igor spoke up as if something had just occurred to him.
"So, how far have things progressed with Katya?"
The question came so far out of left field.
What the hell kind of nonsense is this?
I nearly committed lese majeste right there.
**
After that, we moved to the commander's office to talk.
"She's no ugly duckling who'd draw complaints anywhere, so it can't be that her looks didn't appeal to you. Was it perhaps her tomboyish speech and behavior that rubbed you the wrong way?"
"Any woman in a soldier's position needs a certain backbone."
"...You don't want to hear it, do you? Your expression is awfully stern."
We started off with somewhat personal matters.
"Katya's adoptive father, Admiral Staretska, is a man of considerable renown in the southern army. Though he's in a different command, he'd undoubtedly be a great asset to you."
"Which means you'd have to get close to Katya first... There it is again, that look. I did say it was improper."
Next came talk that straddled the line between personal and official.
"Right. You let Astoria's commander-in-chief slip right out from under our noses. That's the story I want to hear."
Only then did the official conversation truly begin.
"I let him go on purpose."
I didn't bother hiding the fact that I'd deliberately released Nightheart.
"Don't you wish for the same, Your Majesty?"
Igor thought the same as I did, after all.
"Me?"
He feigned ignorance.
I frowned for a split second at his blatant foot-dragging despite knowing full well, then quickly smoothed my expression and answered more deferentially.
"Just like ten years ago. It's what you wrote at the end of the letter you sent me."
I hadn't understood it at first.
"Run wild to your heart's content" would have been enough on its own—why add that extra line?
It was only after seeing Nightheart's bare face that I realized why Igor had tacked it on.
"Nightheart. He's Astoria's princess, isn't he?"
Ten years ago, Prince Igor had survived a brush with death and ascended the throne.
There lay the answer.
"They say he served as head of the foreign envoy corps, shuttling between Astoria, Kazan, and Malta on various top-secret missions. You recognized him well enough."
To be precise, I hadn't recognized him.
What I'd recognized was the maternal blood flowing through his veins.
Astoria's king's first wife, the "Deposed Queen of the Tower"—I knew her story well.
His face wasn't an exact match, but certain features were etched in perfectly.
Nightheart was undoubtedly her bloodline.
"As you say. Oscar von Nightheart is the blood of the deposed queen."
Even I, a Thracian, had spotted it immediately—how had Astoria's nobles failed to connect him to her?
Simple.
The gender difference.
The deposed queen hadn't borne a prince. Only a princess who took after her mother exactly—a girl who was confined with her in the tower, lived there until adulthood—at fifteen—and died of some mysterious plague.
That was the public story.
In truth, she'd escaped the tower with aid from a mysterious benefactor.
"Even that indecisive fool turned out to be a man after all."
He'd stripped her of her position under noble pressure, but his love for her had been genuine, it seemed.
"Why else would he summon a princess in hiding if not to restore his daughter? For a man who'd spent his life kowtowing to nobles, that's quite the bold decision."
The deposed queen's legacy was a raw nerve for Astoria's royals and nobles alike—a smoldering ember.
"We'll watch and see."
What choice would that indecisive man make when Nightheart's true identity came to light?
"Personally, this time I want to root for the indecisive fool. He couldn't protect his wife, but I hope he safeguards his daughter."
To protect his daughter, he might draw his sword.
And with that drawn sword, he might strike her down.
"Whatever decision he makes, it'll carve a massive rift between Astoria's royals and nobles."
Regardless of the outcome, Astoria was in for serious fallout and lingering resentment.
Igor. Scary. Terrifying.
As I stared at him like he was some heartless tyrant devoid of blood or tears, Igor furrowed his brow.
"...Wasn't it you who freed her from sharing her mother's fate in that tower, letting her see the light of day?"
"Me?"
"You're reflexively playing dumb now, aren't you? Not surprising."
Thinking about it, he had a point.
The full report would've reached the palace, so why was I feigning ignorance?
Just as he said—a knee-jerk reaction.
Maybe because it was the one unfinished joke I'd left dangling.
Either way, it didn't matter anymore.
Because.
"Your Majesty. I have something to say."
From now on, it truly had nothing to do with me.
"Thanks to our victory in this war, Thracia has bought at least ten years—maybe more."
Neither Astoria nor Kazan would dare eye Thracia for a while.
That left only the Malta bastards lurking in the south—but they wouldn't be stupid enough to come ashore.
No one would threaten Thracian soil for the next ten to twenty years.
Of course, in twenty years—or maybe just ten—the north might heat up again.
But that wasn't my problem.
By then, I'd be too old to keep charging as a heavy cavalryman anyway.
"...So now, I intend to retire from service."
That was why I planned to get out early(?).
"Please grant me permi...?"
But he was gone.
The Igor who'd been right in front of me moments ago had vanished.
I flung open the door and rushed out.
Igor was striding ahead without a word.
"Your Majesty?"
"Let's walk a bit."
I caught up hurriedly, and he spoke as if he'd been waiting.
"Walk beside me."
"Yes, sir."
I had no reason to refuse; his limping figure had been making me uncomfortable anyway.
"This was the first time you'd commanded such a force directly from the front."
As I fell in step beside him, Igor asked as if he'd been waiting.
"Yes. Rank demands it."
I'd offered input plenty of times in legion-scale or larger battles, but always as a staff officer participating in planning.
This was my first time leading troops personally.
"Must have weighed heavily."
The words came out of nowhere.
But somehow, I understood what he meant.
"Yes."
I answered honestly.
"It still does."
"...Yes."
With that, he fell silent.
We walked wordlessly along the battlements for a while.
Before long, we reached the stairs leading up to the wall.
He raised a hand to halt a Redcoat approaching from afar, then turned to me.
I silently offered my arm to support him.
Limp. Limp.
Even with my help, Igor's ascent was agonizingly slow.
I couldn't dream of complaining.
I wasn't that lacking in conscience. For real.
"Hoo."
By the time we reached the top, Igor's breathing was ragged. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow, he looked worn.
"East, west, south, north—tens of thousands of soldiers' lives hang on my single command. A single wrong choice from me could plunge tens, hundreds of thousands of my people into misery."
Even so, his voice rang clearer than ever.
"I've never once forgotten, in all my life, that this kingdom—passed down for three hundred years in my line—could vanish in an instant."
It sounded like encouragement, acknowledging the weight I'd shouldered with my 1,350 lives.
Or, contrarily, a rebuke: Your burden is nothing compared to mine.
"So don't whine."
The latter, apparently.
"You made me king."
No, not even that.
"You made me a lame king planted on the throne."
It was too dull for anger, too heavy for petulance.
Maybe climbing the wall had stirred some long-buried emotions afresh.
"Shameless. Brazen. Extravagant. Overstepping. Irresponsible."
Igor unleashed a torrent of insults.
All for merely requesting retirement—I'd become the scum of the earth.
"Don't run away. Repay it over a lifetime, bit by bit."
After saying we'd bury the past...
"Give it your all until the moment you die."
Igor turned to me.
"You and I—we ought to live that way."
Contrary to my expectations, there was no rage or resentment.
"That's the only atonement."
His gaze, his words—they weighed heavy, so heavy.
"I'll overlook a little sulking for now."
What more could I say before him?
"Attend the victory parade. After that, do whatever you want, wherever. But you must return before spring."
Whatever burden sat on my shoulders now, whatever thoughts brewed in my heart...
"Clear it all away. If you can't, tuck it in a corner. That's how everyone lives."
Igor clapped my shoulder lightly.
"Whatever you need, just say it. It will be done."
Seizing the moment, I opened my mouth to voice my request.
"But one thing."
Igor beat me to it.
"I will not permit your retirement."
That face, that tone—so dogged.
"Not until my eyes are filled with dirt."
I despaired.
Igor meant to wring me dry to the bone.
Even faced with such blatant exploitation, I couldn't muster a protest.
I was too conscientious for that.
But even so, I couldn't help feeling a surge of emotion.
That was why.
"You said to name whatever I need, so I'll say it now."
That was why I made such an outrageous demand of Igor.
A handful of loss from my long-held dream shattered.
A scoop of rebellion against the power dictating my fate.
A dash of curiosity about how far he'd indulge me.
All mashed together and sneezed out unwittingly.
I had no idea.
"...Is that truly what you want?"
That Igor would take my ravings seriously.
"Very well. Your request will be granted as is."
That he'd flat-out accept such nonsense.
"Huh?"
I really, really had no idea.
If I had, I wouldn't have said it.