Chapter 33
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Into the Lion's Den (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the royal castle of the Crossroad Kingdom.
A man with a haggard appearance sat silently before a mural in a room darkened by drawn curtains, even though it was broad daylight.
"..."
The man stroked the enormous mural that covered an entire wall with his fingertips.
His sunken eyes shifted to the nameplate below the mural.
[Prince Lassen Castor]
"Lassen..."
He uttered the name of the son he had called out countless times before.
No answer came.
Rio Castor, King of the realm.
Master of all roads, ruler at the crossroads of the world.
He stroked the mural once more.
In the painting, Lassen was smiling.
As a cheerful boy with brown hair and green eyes.
King Rio remembered that image as vividly as ever.
- ...I want to become like you someday, Father.
- Is that so? Which part of me do you want to emulate?
He recalled his son boldly voicing his ambitions at age fourteen.
- The king who guards the crossroads of the world! No—a small beast like you, Father! No, wait—a big, enormous beast!
- Goodness, to become that, you'd have to be reborn three times. Hahaha. And you'd need to double your training starting today.
- Th-that...! Then I'll settle for a small beast.
Fifteen years had passed, but the voice echoed in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.
"My son..."
He called the name that would never return.
The one presence that had propped him up in his royal duties, bound by obligation.
King Rio hadn't loved his son because he was capable. Nor because he was gentle.
It was because his son had awakened in him the realization that there was something in this world worth protecting.
Through his son, he had seen that even in this merciless world of eat-or-be-eaten, hope existed—that new heirs would emerge, and there would be those to carry on the will.
Thus, Rio Castor had been able to reign as king—as a small beast.
But Lassen was dead.
At just fourteen, before his flower could even bloom.
And now, like the mural before his eyes, Lassen's time had frozen fifteen years in the past.
A father who had lost his child.
What words could he speak?
What matters could he debate?
What actions could he take?
To a king bereft of ideals, dreams, and purpose, nothing mattered anymore.
He drowned only in fleeting pleasures and eternal longing.
The small beast closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep before the mural.
Wishing desperately that this reality was nothing more than a dream.
At that moment, an irritating sound shattered the silence from beyond the door.
- Knock knock.
"Your Majesty."
It was the court minister.
The lifeless green eyes opened once more.
Rio made no reply.
'It'll just be another pathetic plea for me to return anyway.'
Assuming it would be the same worn-out words he'd endured endlessly, he lost interest and shut his eyes again.
Silence would suffice as his answer.
But this time was different.
"Your Majesty, the Central Officer has arrived, as per your royal command."
Royal command.
At those words, the king wrenched himself from his memories for a brief moment and sank into thought.
'Did I ever issue such an order?'
He must have.
He dimly recalled the queen mentioning some odd name—Central Officer—from the bed a few days prior.
- There's someone who dared defile our kingdom's customs.
He remembered nothing more.
Nor did he care to.
He had soon lost himself in the scent and carnal delights of her bare flesh.
As long as it numbed this reality, nothing else mattered.
Muttering irritably without even turning his head.
"...Do as the queen wishes."
Why report to me at all?
I've already washed my hands of it.
"State affairs are for the vassals and the queen to handle. Withdraw."
But rather than retreating as usual, the court minister spoke again from beyond the door.
"It's the queen's request. She insists you attend to lend weight to the trial."
"..."
If even the queen was pressing this hard, her grudge against this Central Officer must run deep.
Deep enough to summon him, who had abandoned state affairs.
A king's presence at a trial held immense significance.
One word from him would seal the verdict.
'And that's precisely what she hopes for.'
King Rio slowly straightened his stooped frame.
"If that's the queen's will."
He cared nothing for it anyway.
People died every day.
Did one young man's death warrant such import?
He need only show his face and depart.
"Announce that I shall observe the trial."
- Clatter, clatter.
The carriage, basking in warm sunlight, was pure bliss.
'By now, I'd normally be swamped with entry inspections and duties.'
Ensconced in this plush seat, lulled by the rhythmic jolts, I nodded off before I knew it.
How much time passed?
"Wake up, Central Officer. We've arrived."
"...Eh?"
Opening my eyes, I found the deputy staring at me from the same posture as when we'd boarded yesterday morning.
"This is the royal castle."
"Tch, uh—yes! Coming right down!"
Only then did I swipe the drool from my chin and scramble out of the carriage.
- Thud.
Of course, lugging the [Evidence Storage Box] along too.
Grunting as I hauled the box down, I turned to behold the royal castle hewn from the rocky mountainside.
"...Urakim Castle."
The fortress at the precise heart of the continent.
The origin of all roads, the very emblem of the Crossroad Kingdom.
Urakim Castle loomed before me.
My eyes traced the spires thrusting skyward to impossible heights.
'How long has it been since I last came here?'
The Visual Officer's funeral after my appointment—that was the last time. A good long while indeed.
Such nostalgia.
Then the deputy, who had dismounted behind me, spoke up.
"Make haste. The trial begins soon."
"Wh-when exactly?"
"Word of your arrival has been sent. It'll start within the hour, no doubt."
Two hours.
Tight as could be.
'Not even giving me time to prepare.'
Their resolve to rush it through was palpable.
The deputy gestured to the box beside me.
"Have everything ready beforehand."
"Yes, sir."
"And people await you—greet them, however briefly."
"...Pardon?"
No sooner had he spoken than two figures emerged from the castle gates.
From afar, they looked familiar.
One a tall woman, the other a scrawny man.
'Where do I know them from?'
They spotted me, and suddenly the woman broke into a run.
"Ceeeen-traaawl Ooooffiii-cer!"
"Ah."
Her voice alone told me who it was.
But before I could react, she lunged and crushed my head to her chest.
A waft of that distinctive desert sand aroma hit me.
"Man, it's been ages! Show your mug to your boss already!"
"W-wait—just a sec! Director!"
Director Haillin Metaharasin tousled my hair like a maniac.
- Rub rub rub rub.
My vision whipped every which way under her relentless grip.
"Lemme see how you've grown! Eating okay? South staying quiet? Don't bother answering—I know it all!"
"Uwaaah! D-dizzy over here!"
"Lord almighty, look at those bones. Skeleton much?"
Her position be damned—this boisterous welcome had me reeling.
Save it for off-duty, people are watching!
Finally wresting free, I managed to ask.
"But Director, how'd you know I'd be here...?"
Spot-on timing.
The answer came from the man strolling up languidly.
"How? You moron. Trial prep, obviously."
"...Minister."
Carton Grayson.
First face-to-face since the crystal orb, but that monocle was clamped as ever.
"Thanks for the encouragement back then, Minister."
"That was off-record. No need to bring it up."
"Sir."
I snapped a salute; he gave a curt nod.
Haillin chuckled.
"Nicely handled. Prime superior pep talk, that."
"You..."
The Foreign Affairs Minister shot her a dirty look.
"Director. Said his mug was best avoided back then—now you won't shut up."
"Ahem. Desert folk greet true comrades from the heart. All the more for brave ones."
"Comrades, my foot. Subordinates turning buddy-buddy spells disaster."
"Maybe that's why you're friendless, old timer."
Comrades.
A faint smile tugged at me.
Joke or not, it felt good.
'Thank goodness they're here.'
The tension ebbed some.
Alone, I'd have been rigid with dread.
After more back-and-forth, the minister eyed my [Evidence Storage Box] and tsked.
"Mad bastard. We offered backup, and you haul in this much?"
As he said, it was crammed to bursting with papers.
"Ahaha... The office went a bit overboard."
"Good. More's better. Ours plus this? Solid haul."
Carton dropped his voice.
"Still, stay sharp. We're in their jaws now."
"..."
No need to name names.
Gazes prickled my skin.
I turned; onlookers from castle nooks scattered like roaches.
"Rumors already?"
"Who needs to know, does. No edicts of late—eyes were bound to turn."
"Trouble."
Spotlight bred scandals, inevitably stirring mud.
As the minister and I scowled, the director abruptly shoved something my way.
"Here, chow down first."
Pungent spices stabbed my nose.
"Wh-what is this?"
"Compressed sow jerky from my homeland—fattens you right up. You need meat on those bones."
"S-sow..."
My stomach twisted.
Sow meant...
- Oink oink.
A certain piglet sprang to mind.
"N-no thanks."
I recoiled on reflex; Haillin cocked her head.
"Eh? My Central Officer was pork-mad last I checked."
"N-not anymore. Work's been... off-putting."
Meat just hadn't tempted lately.
"One bite."
"Ah, trial's creeping up! Let's head in!"
I flapped my hands dismissively and bolted for the castle.
"This way, if you please."
Trailing the usher deeper inside, the courtroom came into view.
"The courtroom..."
I muttered, wide-eyed.
Opulence overload.
Marble-hewn benches, tri-level windows filtering sunlight just so.
Ceiling-grazing pillars etched with endless carvings—this was no common court.
'Feels like the chamber for traitors or royals on trial.'
Way too lavish for grilling a lowly examiner.
Yet here for me.
'Out for blood.'
Pressure crushed in unbidden.
Resolve or no, the venue's weight was its own beast.
"No fear."
Minister and Director, flanking me at the [Defendant] bench, dispelled it.
"Cower at the bell, and you're chum."
"Y-yes!"
"We've got evidence stacked. Chin up—you're innocent now, and forever."
"...Thank you."
Deep breath; head high, as bid.
Eyes drifted naturally opposite.
Across [Defendant]: a gaudily dressed woman.
"Hmph."
[Plaintiff] seat: Queen Helena Castor, glowering with distaste.
No need to spell it out.
'Queen Helena Castor.'
The one foaming to see me dead.
Behind her, Audit Chief and assorted ministers settled in.
Minister scanned them, spat.
"Bastards. 'Vassals' cozying up over there."
Voice thick with bile.
"Silver lining: queen's side got no surprise witnesses."
"Winnable, Central Officer."
Yeah. Winnable.
Whatever they threw, we'd parry.
'Evidence and statements locked down.'
Plus my ace in the hole.
One they couldn't foresee.
'Saintess Erzena as witness would've been gold.'
Witnesses summoned midstream, so presence unknown.
Wait and trust for now.
An elderly judge entered, took seat.
"We commence trial of defendant Central Officer Nathan Kell."
- Bang, bang, bang.
Three gavel cracks boomed through the hall.
It had begun.
"Plaintiff side first—"
Then.
- Creeeak.
Door swung open; newcomer strode in.
Gazes whipped doorward.
"Trial in session—depart at once, or—huh?"
Collective shock rippled.
"...!!!!"
"Gasp...!"
Not just me staggered.
"Good lord."
Even Director gaped, blindsided.
And Minister:
"Your Majesty...?"
He lurched to feet, ashen.
All dropped to one knee in frenzy.
"""We greet His Majesty the King!"""
Frantic chorus filled the air.
Queen alone unflinched.
She rose, exuding smug poise amid the freeze.
"His Majesty the King observes this trial today."
King Rio Castor crossed the floor in heavy silence.
With a gesture, he halted the judge half-risen—and claimed the seat beside the queen.
"..."
"..."
Minister and Director's faces turned to stone.
The dull green eyes murmured low.
"Begin the trial."
The air turned electric.