Chapter 110: In Truth, They Knew (4)
Chapter 110: In Truth, They Knew (4)
He left! He left without even looking back!
A chilly silence descended. I quietly rolled my eyes and gauged the Marquis's mood.
Just what did he have to talk about with me? Frozen in place, unable to turn around for fear it might be about something bad, a composed voice struck my eardrums from behind.
"Are you upset because I acted on my own?"
"......?"
"You seem upset. But whether it's anger or conversation, looking someone in the face is basic courtesy. Even if meeting my eyes makes you want to kill me."
Was that a joke? It had to be a joke, right?! Killing? Who would kill whom?!
There was no way I could kill a 'true hero' in the first place. Startled, I whipped my head around. The Marquis, meeting my eyes, smiled calmly—a stark contrast to the bloodcurdling words he'd just uttered.
"Shall we walk a bit first? Or is there somewhere you'd like to go?"
"......The outdoor banquet hall...... how about that?"
Even if things went wrong, surely he wouldn't try to kill me in a crowded place. It didn't look like he would, but you never know with people.
......And my throat was so parched I desperately needed something to drink.
"The banquet hall...... well, fine. If that's what my junior wishes."
Even though it wasn't exactly the best place for a private conversation, he took the lead as if it didn't matter at all.
I followed his footsteps—flawless, without a single sound—mindlessly trailing along for a short while, until we finally arrived at a brightly lit space.
—The outdoor banquet hall. Yes, it was indeed the outdoor banquet hall, but.......
'......Damn it.'
What greeted me there wasn't just the light. Feeling the gazes that poured down all at once, I mentally smacked myself upside the head.
'I moved spots specifically to avoid this......!'
Was my brain made of fish?
The nobles focused their attention on the two heroes standing together. They cast sideways glances, whispered among themselves, and then, curious about our relationship and what we were discussing, they sidled closer. They hadn't openly inserted themselves into the conversation, so calling them out was awkward.
These actions were resolved when Stigma stepped forward. He didn't even say anything in particular.
He merely rolled his eyes, glanced at me, and then strode one step forward with an audible step. With his chin raised in a manner so arrogant it was almost brazen—yet somehow it suited him as naturally as breathing—he silently swept his gaze over the nobles. His brown eyes, revealed under the light, held a chill that didn't suit him.
Like the tide receding, the nobles drew back.
"Wow......."
"What is it?"
"No, nothing. Your eyes are brown."
That last remark popped out without thought.
Green hair, brown eyes. I'd thought nothing of it, just that the colors somehow reminded me of a tree.......
"Yes, a very common and vulgar color."
"......?"
"Shall we have a glass of wine?"
Even as I reflexively accepted the glass he held out, I couldn't hide my bewildered expression. Confusion surged in.
What? I almost missed it because his tone was so matter-of-fact, but that was that thing, right? The social nicety of sheathing blades in words! Common and vulgar color, he said. Was it because I mentioned his brown eyes? Why...... ah.
I fucked up.
'Stigma Primiro was born a bastard.'
I'd heard he was born from a maidservant's womb. Were the brown eyes from his mother, the maid?
......I needed to fix this. The hell if I knew whether it could be fixed, but I had to try.
"Marquis."
"Call me Stigma."
He was giving me permission to use his name at a time like this? He wasn't angry?
The liquid inside the wine glass rippled uneasily. Confronted with the spectacle that made my unsettled heart visible to my own eyes, I quietly set the glass down on a nearby table and faced him. The emotion filled with anxiety and agitation subsided calmly the moment my eyes met his, a smile still lingering on his lips.
I became certain.
'He isn't angry.'
There was no need to agonize over whether I should apologize for my slip of the tongue or pretend ignorance and change the subject.
He'd already sorted out the situation himself. Following his intention when he'd changed the subject by asking if I wanted a glass of wine, I just had to pretend nothing happened and move on.
It was an unexpected consideration.
I picked up the wine glass again. Feigning nonchalance, I idly swirled the glass and opened my mouth as if it were nothing.
"Then...... Senior Stigma."
"......."
"......?"
Why wasn't he answering?
When I raised my head slightly, my eyes met Stigma's, who was staring straight at me. Why, why?
"Though I did call you junior first, I didn't think you'd actually call me that......."
As if looking at something incomprehensible, he tilted his head slightly and murmured quietly. It seemed like he was talking to himself, but I heard every word.
......You were the one who called me junior first. I just played along. And now you're acting like that? Unbelievable.
I looked at him with thoroughly cooled eyes, but by then he'd already finished sorting something out. He straightened his head and wore a pleasant smile.
"......Well, having one junior in life wouldn't be so bad."
"......?"
"I thought you'd be someone cold-blooded enough to rival him, even if not a murder demon yourself. I never expected you'd have such a naive side. Rumors really aren't to be trusted."
"I can hear you."
"Oh dear, so why did you call for me?"
I can tell you're changing the subject too.......
But since I was the one who was rude first, I should let it slide. This is why you shouldn't blurt things out without thinking.
Freshly realizing that ignorance truly is a sin, I obediently spoke up.
"It was just today that His Majesty issued the cease-war declaration, so when did you submit your proposal to His Majesty regarding the Barbar tribe?"
"I went to see His Majesty and spoke of it right after you had your personal audience with him. Truthfully, it was closer to stubborn insistence on my part....... But anyway, the outcome was good, so it's fine. Isn't it?"
"Stubborn insistence......."
Toward that Emperor?
"......You're incredible."
Even if the Emperor values talented individuals, stubbornly insisting while banking on that is a completely different matter. How could he do such a thing?
At my genuine admiration, Stigma let out a low laugh.
"Incredible, you say. As you know, junior, His Majesty is especially fond of those who resemble him. This much is within the bounds of what he'll tolerate."
"Pardon......?"
"Why are you surprised? You, junior, belong to a particularly special category among those 'favored ones.' I would venture to guess that, so long as you don't cross the line, His Majesty forgives you a certain degree of insolence."
"Pardon?"
"......Don't tell me you didn't know."
"Pardon?"
"Oh dear...... Well then, shall I explain while we're at it? Know this. Among all talented individuals, His Majesty is uniquely fond of those who resemble him."
Though the prerequisite of being 'talented' was mandatory, of course.
I let his murmur slide past. With round eyes, I stared at him.
So what he was saying was—that I resembled the Emperor! In what possible way?! If this went wrong, wouldn't I be dragged off for lèse-majesté?!
"I am...... not blonde, however....... Nor do I have golden eyes, much less......."
"That's not the issue. Shall we make this easier to understand and talk using us heroes as examples? His Majesty is uniquely fond of three among the four official heroes."
Three heroes...... Well, General Nemeseus and Stigma were certainly included, and going by what he said, the remaining one would be me.......
Honestly, I couldn't believe it. All I remembered was being mentally tormented. When I saw him last time, he seemed to dislike Cruel, so I knew for sure it wasn't Cruel, but...... could he simply be mistaking two favored heroes for three?
Stigma, who couldn't possibly know I harbored such doubts, unfolded three fingers. He folded them one by one as he explained.
"One who clawed his way up from the very bottom by sheer skill."
That would be General Nemeseus.
"One who does not acknowledge his own station and is obsessed with proving it."
I didn't know for certain, but going by context, this sounded like Stigma himself.
But did the Emperor not acknowledge himself as Emperor? Just as that question arose, the voice continued.
"—One who killed their own family with their own hands."
"......."
I swirled the wine glass in my hand.
Facing the brown eyes that bore into me as if determined not to miss the moment my expression changed, I brought the glass to my lips.
"His Majesty is most fond of you, junior. That I find you intriguing is likewise the case for me. How can someone conceive of such things?"
Alcohol flowed down past my throat.
"Won't you discuss this with me?"
My memory cut off.
* * *
The Emperor raised a gloved hand and irritably pressed at the corners of his eyes. As if mocking his own thought that his daily life was nothing but stress, nothing new—he was currently suffering from extreme stress.
Deon Hart, fine, he'd called for him first. Stigma Primiro, he understood that too. But now Stave Illustar. Even if it was a long-awaited return, wasn't this too much?
But he couldn't simply ignore the situation that had barged in. He moved his hand to press his forehead and voiced the name of the vexing visitor.
"So....... For what reason have you sought me out, Duke Illustar?"
"I came to ask Your Majesty something......."
An answer didn't come immediately.
Glancing sideways, the Duke's gaze lingered on the Emperor's gloves as his words trailed off. He then wore a natural smile and fixed his eyes back on the Emperor's face.
"Is your hand all right?"
For a single instant, the Emperor's fingertips minutely flinched.
"......That is not why you came, surely."
"I was simply curious. I know that those who bear a Hero's Fragment possess regenerative abilities that exceed the norm."
"Duke."
At the warning-laced voice, the Duke shrugged and stepped back.
"Yes, then I shall get to the point."
"......."
"It's not such a weighty question, so please relax. You've seemed far too sharp-edged lately—aren't you tired?"
"If you keep talking uselessly like that......."
"I believe it is about time for you to hand over that seat."
At the openly displayed ambition, the Emperor looked at the Duke, even his growl of irritation forgotten.
An expression indescribable, as if he'd forgotten how to make one. Meeting the Emperor's dazed eyes, the Duke smiled soundlessly.
"You've enjoyed your games of territorial conquest enough, haven't you? A war against the Demon Realm is of a different order than wars within the human world. So before it becomes even more arduous, I would like you to gracefully yield at this point."
"......You were beating around the bush more than usual today. So this was what you intended to say."
From the way he was talking, it sounded as though he had assassins stationed nearby.
But there was no way the Duke would do such a thing. Even as they shared this precarious conversation, the Emperor boldly concluded that there was nothing around that could harm him.
After all, the Duke.
"I wish to resolve matters peacefully. As you know, Your Majesty."
Had never once.
"The fact that I have been overlooking a great many things."
Done anything to 'certainly' kill or overthrow the Emperor. At most, it was pressure to hand over the imperial crown and the occasional protest. Nothing more.
It was not that he couldn't. The Duke was clearly capable of doing many things. He was the head of the Noble Faction, had secured an advantageous position to incite the empire's citizens through the Salvation Church, and even had ties to the Revolutionary Army. The fact that one of the empire's mere four heroes was under him was a bonus.
And yet, he suppressed the nobles' actions when they sought to involve the Crown Prince and Princess, keeping them from crossing the line. His incitement of the citizens merely elevated the Duke's own image while tearing down the Emperor's, and he adjusted it so it would go no further than that. He'd even tied the Revolutionary Army's feet so they couldn't move actively.
As Emperor, it was incomprehensible.