Bonds of Blood (4)
Meanwhile, at the Crossline Royal Castle.
Thud. Thud.
Incansus was walking across the long corridor, headed somewhere with deliberate purpose.
The guards who recognized him tilted their gaze far upward, saluting with tense expressions.
"Lord Incansus. All clear on patrol."
"Greetings, men. Is Her Majesty present?"
"Ah, she has not yet emerged from the reception room. Today makes the fifth day."
"My thanks."
He swept past them with a calm, grave voice answering over his shoulder. But something about the proxy's footsteps toward the reception room was different from usual — instead of his heavy, measured stride, his pace was slightly faster, his steps carrying more force than necessary.
In his hand, he clutched documents just collected from the Intelligence Department, along with a letter hastily sent by the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Urgent dispatches that had to reach King Rio at once.
Princess Elaine Castor has succeeded in controlling her power. Stabilization achieved not through emotional suppression but through emotional release, with fine-tuned adjustment of her ability now possible.
The contents were brief, but the meaning packed inside them was nothing short of staggering.
Something the Queen herself failed to accomplish in fifteen long years.
And the Central Officer had managed it in less than two weeks.
It is nothing less than a miracle.
Had he received this news two weeks ago, he would never have believed it. No — anyone would have dismissed it as idle fantasy. But now was different. Everything the man called the Central Officer had shown them so far had been utterly beyond reason.
Halting the advance of the Holy Church's crusade. The Saintess's self-excommunication. Maneuvering the Evil God Cult and the Black Hand into mutual conflict. And now, stopping the princess's power from running berserk within the castle itself.
Not one of these was something a single man could ever accomplish. And yet he had done them all.
Which means this letter, too, may not be mere empty talk.
Besides, Minister Cartion Grayson was a man of such unbending integrity that he would cast a dissenting vote and speak harsh truths directly before the Queen — he had no reason to lie.
Which left only one interpretation.
The gamble called Nathan Kell was truly paying off.
"I, Incansus Vermotem, do believe in the Central Officer, Nathan Kell."
Even now, he could scarcely believe he had spoken it.
The oath he had sworn to a man who, mere weeks ago, had thrown his own duties aside and come running to save the princess. An oath he had never once pledged to anyone in 112 years of life — King Rio excepted — offered up once more as a final resort.
A man who walked the road of communication that they had never found — a road discovered far too late to choose. And that man had truly found the answer. He had proven it, by the method directly opposite to the Queen's chosen path of control and suppression.
Once His Majesty learns of this, the Queen's influence will shrink further still.
Her sway had taken a sharp blow after the power rampage, but it still lingered deep within the castle walls. Now there was an opportunity to weaken it once more.
At the same time, it was a fine chance to show King Rio that the blood-soaked path of a great purge of everyone connected to the Holy Church was not the only correct answer.
The change has already begun — at the very southern edge of the kingdom.
Incansus found himself absently tapping the floor with his tail.
"Hm."
Beyond the veil, his mouth split into a long grin, baring his teeth.
This prickling itch beneath his scales, felt after far too long an absence. Excitement and anticipation — and a faint, fragile hope.
But one thing was stirring a very different emotion in him: the Intelligence Department's files clutched in his other hand.
Without breaking stride, he glanced down at the thick bundle of documents and read the title printed in bold letters atop the report.
The true purpose behind the volcano-collapse Gold Rush cannot be determined. The volcano's master is missing. Investigation ongoing.
He murmured in a low voice.
"O Ancestor..."
Two pieces of ominous news at once.
A greedy fever-dream like the Gold Rush always hid a true purpose lurking beneath. Most often it was orchestrated by a foreign power, or engineered behind the scenes by merchants.
But if this report is accurate, it means no such force exists at all.
With no hidden hand behind it — did that truly mean the aim was nothing more than the treasure spilled from the dragon's nest that collapsed along with the volcano? Absolutely not. Then who spread the rumor in the first place?
And the volcano's master being missing — that was a phenomenon Incansus had never once considered possible.
Dragonewts, as the very word implied, were beings who had inherited dragon blood only thinly. Because of this, they were bound deeply together as a race — and they could sense a dragon's death. When a dragon's life came to its end, the final surge of mana rippled out across the entire continent, and the dragonewts felt it and thus knew of the passing.
But in nearly ninety years, there has not been a single mana surge.
Which meant, conversely, that the volcano's master was not dead.
Not dead, then — the master abandoned the nest and departed of its own will.
But that was impossible. A dragon, abandoning its nest? The hunger for territory ran as deep as the survival instinct itself. How could any dragon betray it?
There was exactly one exception.
Unless something more precious than itself had been placed in danger.
O Ancestor... why?
Incansus murmured quietly. What had his ancestor fled from — and where had it gone?
A sudden Gold Rush with no discernible backer. And the ancestor's disappearance.
These two facts somehow struck him as even more ominous together. Something felt... out of sequence. Contradictory.
And then it happened.
Flutter.
A single, very small slip of paper slipped free between the gaps of his grip.
Whoosh — thunk.
He snatched it deftly with his tail and returned it to its place. But something felt off, and Incansus tilted his head for a moment.
"...Hm."
Strange.
The Intelligence Department never changed its document sizes. They who prepare every report in strict, standardized formats — why would they slip in a paper the size of a fingertip?
It gave the impression of someone saying, 'I must file my report, but please — miss this one. Don't read it.'
He read it slowly.
Ghost Identity Fabrication Request — Central Officer: Registered Identity, Noblewoman Menassil Terenas.
Short and unremarkable contents.
A ghost identity.
That was, without question, one of the Intelligence Department's unique identity-protection systems — a way of twisting information to protect individuals of importance equal to, or greater than, those under temporary asylum. A system that shielded high-value persons by borrowing the name of someone already dead, or of an utterly insignificant house.
But even recalling every noble house on the continent that he knew, there was no house called Terenas.
He quietly recited the name.
Menassil Terenas...
Seven plain syllables. Not a common name — rather, unique to the point of strangeness. And yet, somewhere in it he felt a strange, inexplicable familiarity.
Something from the old age, perhaps?
If it were crafted in the tongue of a far-off era, it could well seem alien in the present day.
"Now that I think of it, I'm certain I've heard—"
In an instant, something flashed through his mind like lightning.
Skrrt.
Incansus stopped dead in his tracks.
"........"
Was it his age, or was the sunlight pouring in through the window simply too bright? Slowly, he lifted his veil and looked down at the paper once more.
[Menassil Terenas]
It felt as though every scale on his body were standing on end.
This was no family name. Nor was it merely a name strung together from meaningless sounds.
This was a name made in the Dragon Tongue — the dead language, spoken only by those who had lived in the age of myth. That was precisely where the eerie familiarity came from.
For the first time in fifteen years, Incansus spoke, his voice brimming with shock and disbelief.
"...Ancestor?"
With the volcano's master missing, why was a name forged in the Dragon Tongue now entangled with the Central Officer?
It could be no coincidence.
"...Your Highness?"
The moment Noah arrived at my home sweet home, that was the entirety of what came out of his mouth.
Why, you ask?
That was because Elaine, startled by the woman who had suddenly barged in, had used telekinesis to hoist every chair, sofa, and desk in the house — and had been one breath away from hurling them all.
"Whoa, whoa. Calm down. She's my little sister, Elaine. And we've sworn a confidentiality oath, so there's no danger of her revealing anything about you."
"Ah. Uh."
The moment I explained the part she was worried about, she let her power go all at once.
Clatter-rattle-thud.
Furniture raining down from the ceiling like a storm. After restoring each piece to its original position, Elaine came over and shyly extended a hand toward Noah.
"Ahh-uuuhh. Eee-ay."
"Huh? Huh?"
Before he could even answer, the princess finished with that, walked right back over to the hearth, and crouched down.
"Elaine says you look a lot like me."
"Ah, really? Well, that's natural, we are brother and— wait."
Only then did Noah come back to his senses, his face going green as he shouted.
"E-Elaine? Are you insane, bro!? You're calling Her Highness by name!? Keep that up and they'll cut out your tongue!"
"It's fine. No problem at all."
"How is there no problem!? Your Highness, bro, Your Highness! No, hold on a second."
Suddenly, her eyes went wide. With a trembling voice, she asked me:
"Why... is the Princess at your house...?"
So he's finally noticed the real issue. There are circumstances, you see.
"There was a royal decree."
"A-a royal decree..."
At the terrifying words he'd never once heard in his life, Noah's legs wobbled. But that was not the end of what stunned him.
"Oh. The Central Officer has returned, I see. Bringing guests with him, no less. My, my, how eventful."
Menassil emerged from the kitchen at the sudden commotion.
"Er...?"
Noah's gaze traveled upward. The towering height, the body of devastating, unmatched allure — he swallowed hard and said:
"...Wh-who are you, ma'am?"
"Oho. No wonder she smelled faintly like the Central Officer. She must certainly be his sibling."
But her appearance was somehow different from usual — because Menassil was walking toward us with her egg wrapped in a swaddling cloth, cradled in her arms.
"Lady Menassil. What is that swaddling cloth for?"
"That girl Hannah gave it to me earlier. She said that since I've taken human form, I can't incubate it, so why not simply carry it with me instead."
"A wise suggestion."
"How delightful it is, that even a young hatchling has lessons to offer."
She stepped in front of Noah and spoke.
"Well met, young female. I am the master of the volcano— no, I am the noblewoman Menassil Terenas. I welcome you to my nest."
"Excuse me? Ah, a n-noblewoman! I'm so sorry."
Noah barely pulled himself together and quickly bowed his head. However startled he might be, one had to mind one's manners in front of nobility. But in the end, curiosity won out, and he asked:
"But then, madam, why are you at our brother's house...?"
"You look at it and do not see?"
Menassil said, stroking the egg as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
"I have decided to raise this child together with the Central Officer."
"...What?"
"The Central Officer has sworn it. That he will devote everything he has to protect me and the child."
Strictly speaking, he promised to fulfill his duty as an immigration officer — but it wasn't wrong, exactly.
Creeeeeak.
Noah's head turned toward me with the screech of grinding metal.
"Bro... you're not married."
"I'm not. No ring on my finger, see."
"You had a child? Without getting married?"
Noah was writing my life story however she pleased.
"What on earth have you been doing for four years?"
She fixed me with a look that said she could absolutely never understand this. And then, without even waiting for my answer, she shook her head vigorously.
"N-no, it's fine. It's fine! I've seen every kind of thing this world can show a person. I'm confident nothing can shock me anymore. My brother shacking up with a gorgeous noblewoman... is a bit of a stretch, but I can handle it. It happens. Yes."
But there was still one more blow to come.
Creeeak.
A woman opened the door and stepped inside.
"Sorry I'm late. One of the attendants hurt his hand at the very end."
"Er...? Wh-why is the Holy Pope here?"
"Hm? Well, obviously."
Finally, Erzena took her place beside me and said:
"I live here too, you see. Together with Nathan."
"'Nathan'... you called him by name too... which means..."
Noah was now just muttering like his soul had left his body entirely. I told him:
"This is where you'll be staying for the next week, so let's all get along."
He was under the confidentiality oath anyway — there was no reason for me to hide anything. Let him taste my suffering for once. What's family for, after all?
"Ha. Haha... hahaha...."
About five seconds later.
"I see. So that's how it is."
Suddenly, Noah murmured in the calm tone of someone who had achieved enlightenment about everything.
"Brother Nathan."
"Yeah?"
"That confidentiality oath magic from earlier, remember?"
"Mm."
"Change it to a memory-wipe instead."
Correction: he hadn't achieved enlightenment. The truth was simply too heavy to accept, and he had given up.
"Erase everything — meeting you, all of it. No, actually, make it so I never came to the Crossline Kingdom at all."
He had chosen to flee straight into oblivion.
Click.
I locked the front door and answered.
"Yeah. No."
It was already too late.
You're in this boat now.
You should have behaved and listened when I gave you the chance.
"ERASE IT!!!! I CAN'T LIVE HEEEERE!!!!"
Noah's scream rang through the house.