The Second Prince's Seclusion (3)
Haa—
After Zeke left, Ilouis let out a long sigh.
Their meeting had been brief, but it was the first time in recent memory that he'd racked his brain so hard and stayed on such high alert.
From the start, he'd been swept up in the atmosphere, unable to regain his rhythm.
Too late, various scenarios popped into his head—Ah, I should have said it like that—but Zeke was already gone.
Krrng.
Ilouis pressed his furrowed brow and spoke to his secretary.
"Bring me a mana communication orb."
"Yes, sir."
A few presses of the switch attached to the orb, and a man's face shrouded in white cloth appeared on the other side.
He seemed flustered by the sudden call.
"P-Prince? What brings you to use the communication orb...? Has something happened!?"
"Yeah... How much have you dug up on Zeke Clayman?"
"Y-You only gave the order this morning..."
"I know. Just tell me what you've found so far."
Usage Time: 5 minutes
Ilouis winced at the cost of using such a precious item at a time like this,
but he deemed it urgent to devise even a small countermeasure against Zeke.
"Yes, we haven't uncovered much yet. First off... it seems he's been in the military since he was very young. After finishing his five-year service, he headed straight to Lamieli Academy upon discharge."
"Anything else?"
"Hmm, not certain, but... he appears connected to the Yustia family."
"Yustia...?"
Ilouis frowned, picturing the red-haired girl.
She'd been quite pliable and easy to handle when they were young, enough that they'd exchanged letters,
but as she grew older, rumors spread of her causing havoc everywhere, so he'd cut ties.
Right, that Iriel just entered as a first-year this time too.
"Yes, it looks like Iriel Yustia pulled strings to get him discharged. She apparently bought him out by leaving the money he'd saved during his service with the military."
"For an ordinary soldier, the Yustia family could've extracted him easily, so why go to such lengths...?"
"I'm not sure about that either."
The man bowed his head apologetically.
Ilouis felt a twinge of unease at his words.
"But I heard Zeke Clayman is currently boarding at the Yohayden lady's residence. Didn't you mention that yesterday?"
"That's why I said I'm not certain. There's nothing more beyond that yet."
It was scant information, but the more he learned, the stranger Zeke's movements seemed.
With black hair and black eyes, and that swordsmanship prowess he'd witnessed,
he evoked the enigmatic ducal house isolated in the north.
Possibly linked to the Northern Archduke as well,
yet for a northern noble who pathologically avoided entanglements with power brokers,
he was inexplicably tangled with two rival ducal houses.
Did Iriel plant someone on Serena's side?
It seemed a reasonable inference at first glance, but Ilouis's instincts screamed otherwise.
No. If that were the goal, she wouldn't have blown the second prince issue wide open.
For a spy's actions, it was far too flashy.
What the hell is this guy?
A chill ran down his neck, as if an invisible giant hand were stroking the back of his head, raising goosebumps.
"Alright, got it. Keep digging. And send urgent reports as soon as you gather more."
"Yes, understood."
"This is critical. Be thorough."
"Yes, sir!"
Psssh—
The light of the mana communication orb faded.
Tch, down to just two uses left now.
He'd even expended a rare communication orb to probe Zeke's background,
yet it remained a fog of mystery.
If anything, even more convoluted hypotheses swirled in his mind.
Nothing's certain yet. Digging into the Yohayden side... no, too risky. He's staying there, after all. Poke too soon, and I might pay an even steeper price.
In a careless test probe, he'd rashly promised ten magic stones within the week.
Magic stones, which dropped from monsters at minuscule rates,
were essential materials for crafting magic tools like the orb he'd just used.
Even for Ilouis, it was no small expenditure.
Still, he'd somehow managed to dump the second prince mess on his plate,
but he couldn't shake the nagging doubt that even that had been orchestrated.
Damn bastard. Even got me to sign a contract.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, lost in thought.
"In the end, that means I have to probe Iriel Yustia..."
Then, it hit him—a way to resolve this without flexing his own influence.
One that might even cover his losses and turn a profit.
Right, I can use that blockhead! And he asked to send someone to his class...
He turned to his secretary standing by.
"How many of my followers are among the first-year nobles?"
"About half."
"Probably because that Rosnante punk's a first-year. Ha, what a waste of opportunity. Can't swallow them all right now, huh?"
"Yes. It'll take a little time."
Ilouis clicked his tongue.
"Then, any special targets among them?"
"Yes, but lately you've been focused on the third- and fourth-years, so none among the first-years. Closest is the Yohayden lady..."
"No. She's useless."
He shook his head.
I want to plant someone undeniably on my side...
"Ah, then contact Viscount Gilbert. Tell him I want to see him briefly. And have his daughter come too."
"Yes, sir."
In a darkened room of the massive mansion where all lights were out,
Rosnante Leonine huddled with his knees drawn up, nervously biting his nails.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!!!
Since that day, the tremors in his body wouldn't subside.
The deep, dark eyes of that man at the end burned into him like a brand,
and just recalling the unidentified club he'd swung filled him with dread that gnawed at his body.
A man who overwhelmed a lifetime of sword training like child's play.
Rosnante couldn't forgive how small he felt before him.
No! I'm a prince of the empire's great bloodline. Destined to be emperor!!
He repeated the self-suggestion, but negative thoughts endlessly tore through his mind.
And I, in that humiliating state!!
He'd fainted and pissed himself in front of the people he'd one day rule.
All the futures he'd envisioned before entering the academy had crumbled irreversibly in a single day.
Not just as a prince, but his human dignity had shattered.
Yet the biggest problem was that he felt no desire to challenge the man again.
Thinking of him suddenly made him need to pee again.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!!!"
His rage would flare, then snap, deflating just like that.
"Ha..."
Lately, Rosnante oscillated between despair and fury several times a day.
Fuck. Is the academy lake water warm these days...?
He thought of the central lake's water temperature.
Knock—knock—knock—
A knock came from outside.
"Who is it!!!"
"It's me, Young Master Rosnante. Um... a guest has arrived."
"I said no visitors!!! Get lost!! Tell everyone to fuck off!!!!"
Rosnante snapped irritably.
He knew how pathetic he looked, but he couldn't help it.
Nobles who'd curried favor multiple times had knocked on his door,
but Rosnante hadn't met a single one, sending them all away.
"Y-You can't do this, sir!!"
Bang—
The door flew open amid the butler's distressed cry.
"Which bastard..."
Pfft. What a ridiculous sight. Rosnante Leonine."
"I-Ilouis...?"
"That's informal speech."
"?"
Ilouis hadn't forgotten what Zeke had done to him.
Rosnante bit his lip hard.
His most hated rival was seeing
the side he least wanted exposed, laid bare.
"What, did you come to mock me?"
Rosnante growled in a low, threatening voice.
"That's informal again. Heh. Nah, let's drop it."
Somehow, paying back what he'd suffered felt satisfying to the first prince.
Of course, the innocent second prince bore the brunt.
"Wha... Anyway, that's part of it. Piss Highness. Or should I call you Soak Highness? Kekeke. Seeing you like this, I'm glad I came myself."
"Cut the crap. Get out. Unless you want to see the royal contenders drop to two right now."
"No, no, can't do that. Why would I abandon such prime entertainment?"
Rosnante shot to his feet.
He glared and strode toward Ilouis.
But Ilouis, unperturbed by the intimidation, spoke calmly.
"Don't you want to know about Zeke Clayman?"
"!"
"Y-You bastard!"
Rosnante bit his lip. Ilouis shook his head.
"Sadly, no. I don't spin lies you'll uncover with a quick dig. Not my style."
"Then what! What do you know about that fucker?!"
"Hmm. Not much myself."
Rosnante felt suffocated, chest tight.
Every conversation with this guy turned his world upside down.
But the next words made even him widen his eyes.
"But I can offer you a path to survival."
"What!?"
"Enroll in Zeke Clayman's class."
"How the hell is that survival...!"
"Rosnante, don't you want to learn the sword that crushed you? And if you become his disciple, get along well, show it off—what happens after four years? Even if others remember your first-year fiasco, it'll just be a minor mishap between master and pupil. Sound good?"
"!"
Rosnante's eyes bulged at Ilouis's words.
"I summoned him today. Struck a deal."
"..."
"When I asked him to take you in class, he demanded magic stones as condition. Ah, but one of my people will join too. Can't have you growing into a tiger cub unchecked."
Ilouis brazenly framed it as if he'd first requested Rosnante's enrollment.
"Wish I could join myself, but shame, I'm a second-year."
If I can't block entry anyway, better plant a foot in the debt now.
But Rosnante, well aware of the first prince's sly fox nature, didn't buy it easily.
"What's your angle, Ilouis Leonine."
"Just a touch of pity for my poor brother collapsing before the throne race even starts? You wouldn't believe that, huh?"
"You mad fuck."
"Tsk, no respect for your elder. And this is your lifeline."
Ilouis cunningly twisted his words, squeezing Rosnante's heart.
In the end, Rosnante accepted the offer.
"...Just spit out what you want."
"First, cough up twenty magic stones for slotting you in. Can't pay now? Fine, five per month for four months."
"...That's the condition?"
Ilouis chuckled as if it were a lame joke.
"No, that's the prerequisite. Twenty stones for getting you into that class. Once. And later, obey my command. Won't make you abdicate or kill you, so relax."
"..."
"Shall we draw up the contract then?"
The first prince, dumping Zeke's payback onto the second prince wholesale.
It was a rushed, humiliating deal, but Rosnante, ensnared by Ilouis's words, had no choice but to accept.
Finding Zeke himself to beg entry never even crossed his shattered mind.
Rosnante's trembling hands scrawled out two contract copies.
Hmm, just testing the waters, but he accepted this easily. Good thing I came straight here. Idiot. Can't even think straight now.
Ilouis smirked in satisfaction, pocketing one sheet.
As he grabbed the doorknob to leave,
he tossed out casually,
"Oh, and they say Iriel Yustia has ties to Zeke Clayman."
"!"
"Dig into her, and you'll learn about Zeke Clayman."
"You!?"
And that intel will flow right back to me through my plant.
Creeak—thud.
Ilouis opened the door and left.
Soy Spoon's family had closed up shop for the night and lay huddled under one blanket.
Mom and Sis were already asleep, their soft snores filling the air.
Suddenly, her little brother James turned and spoke.
"Soy sis."
"..."
"Silia sis."
"Yeah? What?"
"You really gonna take swordsmanship class?"
"Yeah, planning to."
She'd pretty much made up her mind.
She'd heard from friends how tough Zeke's classes were.
And the second prince incident too.
But those were bigwig stories,
so she didn't grasp the details anyway.
Probably just disciplined one student, whatever.
Classic oblivious protagonist type, zero social awareness.
Soy, who'd seen firsthand how strong he was,
wanted to grow that strong herself.
To protect her own and keep it from being taken.
Those words had stuck deep.
And... he said he'd like it if I took swordsmanship as my elective...Kyaa!
"Just... it'd be nice if you did."
Recalling Zeke's serious gaze, Soy suddenly felt shy and kicked at the blanket with her feet.
Her little brother, watching pitifully, spoke up again.
"That bread you make every morning and take? That's what the instructor eats, right?"
"Nah, probably not? Heard he uses it as a weapon."
"Huh? Weapon? So the baguette that beat those bad guys was ours... I missed it..."
That day, eyes covered by Soy,
James grumbled sadly, having seen nothing.
"Hmph! You were too young for that. I'll learn later and show you!"
"But then, shouldn't it be harder? Our baguettes are all soft and fluffy."
Her brother's point was valid.
True, he wouldn't eat it...
"Hmm, maybe make 'em a bit harder tomorrow?"
Soy Spoon planned to join the elective swordsmanship class tomorrow.
Then after class, I can ask which hardness is best! Hehe.
"Yaaawn. Sleepy. Night, Soy sis."
"..."