An Invitation with Strings Attached
“This is to once again commemorate the brilliant victory against the demon race in the last great war and the joy of preserving peace on earth. We hereby invite the royal family of the Ayman Kingdom, along with the other allied nations, to attend this year’s integrated Sigmut Founding Day celebration and grace the occasion with your presence.”
It was an invitation. Yet the wording felt less like a courteous request and more like a notice—or even an outright command.
By choosing to celebrate the victory on their own Founding Day rather than the actual end of the war or any other neutral date, Sigmut was subtly emphasizing their own significant role in the conflict. Omitting any reference to the “royal family” and simply saying “the royal house” further implied that the entire Ayman royal line was being summoned, reinforcing the sense that Sigmut considered itself superior to the other kingdoms.
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to go. With the other allied nations attending, staying away would look bad. That’s what a regent is for, after all.”
Ed spoke brightly, but his mood was clearly sour. Attending an important foreign event as crown prince was only natural, yet visiting the very nation whose marriage proposal he had rejected was bound to create awkwardness on multiple levels.
Moreover, given the nature of the event—where every nation except Sigmut would be reduced to mere spectators—sending the regent and heir apparent in person would be especially damaging to Ayman’s pride.
“Why not contact Duke Patrick instead? Even if he belongs to an older generation, he still carries royal blood. It wouldn’t be a major diplomatic slight.”
Coincidentally, the current king had no brothers, only an elder sister and a younger sister, both of whom had married into foreign nobility or royalty and left the country. As a result, the only remaining member of the royal line besides the king, queen, Ed, and Aegina was Duke Patrick, the king’s cousin.
After three generations, even royal blood became little different from that of ordinary nobles.
“But Duke Patrick is quite elderly. Asking him to represent the kingdom at such a large-scale event would place an enormous burden on him. I really should—”
“Aegina can go.”
At my single remark, Aegina turned to look at me.
“Anak. Did you forget? I’m married. I’ve already renounced my claim to the throne.”
“You can still take it back if you want!”
Ed added the hopeful remark in a rush, but Aegina ignored him completely. Poor Ed.
“Why not? Even if you’re married, you’re still a member of the royal house.”
A woman of the royal family retained her status as long as her spouse was not royalty from another nation at war with Ayman. Rowell was not royalty, and Ayman was not currently at war, so there was no issue.
“Besides, renouncing the succession was only a declaration. It can be reversed without any problem.”
“Exactly! That’s what I’ve been saying!”
“Brother.”
At Aegina’s gentle address, Ed fell silent.
“They want to put on a grand show at the Founding Day celebration, calling themselves the last shield of the mortal realm or whatever. Let’s go with Rowell and remind them who the real protagonists are.”
“But Anak, wouldn’t that cause diplomatic problems?”
Yes, I knew that. This wasn’t some childish contest of strength or pride; such an action wouldn’t help anyone. The other attending nations were all Sigmut’s allies. Deliberately undermining Sigmut’s prestige there would bring no benefit to Ayman and might even invite future retaliation through various diplomatic channels.
Yet even so, I—Second-Best Strategist or not—still seemed to harbor a childish streak I couldn’t quite shake.
“This is the perfect chance to make them remember their place. They can play at being the hegemonic power all they want, but they should at least remember exactly who made all of it possible in the first place.”
The absurd marriage proposal to Ed, the demand to raise transit fees, and now this invitation—all of it stemmed from their ridiculous delusion of superiority. If we made them realize how foolish it was to entertain such thoughts, they would never try it again.
“Let’s show Sigmut and its allies clearly whose efforts are responsible for the fact that they’re still breathing.”
“Anak, there’s no need to get so worked up. Calm down first.”
At Rowell’s gentle remark, I realized my voice had been rising. He was right. There was no need to get excited now.
“…Anak’s words aren’t wrong. That said, there’s no need to deliberately show off. Still, if the princess and Rowell attend, we could at least send Sigmut a certain message—regarding the negotiations as well.”
“I agree with Lord Revrant. Of course, neither the Hero nor his companions have any intention—or right—to demand the fruits of peace by citing their own sacrifices. However, I do not wish for Sigmut to exert excessive influence over this kingdom.”
With both Lord Revrant and the king in agreement, Aegina and Rowell exchanged troubled glances. After all, their original reason for returning to Ayman had been nothing more than a simple homecoming. Becoming further entangled in political matters was hardly what they wanted. Yet they could not simply stay uninvolved either.
Finally, Aegina looked at Rowell, and Rowell nodded.
“I suppose there’s no helping it. Ayman is my homeland now, too. And even if we attend, it’s not as if we’ll be causing any trouble.”
“That’s true. Right, Anak?”
Aegina looked at me as if seeking a promise. She knew all too well how I tended to react whenever similar issues arose.
“Anak. Promise me you won’t respond too sensitively.”
“You’re not planning to leave me behind, are you? I’m not royalty or family.”
It was meant as a joke, but even as I said it, I knew it was inappropriate—childish, even. A mixture of emotional resistance and a immature desire to be denied, disguised as banter. It was not an adult response.
“Don’t say that, Anak. You’re our family.”
Her answer came without the slightest hesitation or pretense. While it reassured me, a wave of self-loathing rose in another corner of my heart.
“That’s right, Anak. And you already know why I’m saying this.”
Faced with Aegina’s steady gaze, I looked away.
“Fine. I got it. I won’t go out of my way to cause problems.”
“Thank you, Anak. And thank you for always caring about us so deeply.”
Oh, Aegina. How could I not?
“Then I’ll inform the envoys accordingly later.”
“I wonder how they’ll react. They must have been quite flustered when they learned the Hero was here, even if they didn’t show it.”
Well, they probably hadn’t learned it for the first time today. After that massive parade, word of the Hero’s visit must have reached them through some channel, and they would have anticipated it. That was likely why they had been able to maintain such composure earlier.
Still, hearing that the Hero and his companions would also be present must have been a considerable shock.
After all, the Hero’s existence had never been factored into their negotiations or invitation. A competent planner might have prepared a fifth or sixth contingency plan, but even then, the situation remained unfavorable for them.
“More importantly, Your Majesty. Have you ever heard the name Dihart Gel Gafel?”
At Lord Revrant’s question, the king glanced once more toward the door through which the envoys had departed.
“No, this is the first time I’ve heard it as well. I was already thinking it strange. Ed, have you heard the name?”
“It’s the first time for me as well. Strange. If Sigmut sent him as the head of their delegation, he can’t be an ordinary person.”
“Could the reason they kept the delegation’s information secret until the end be related to him?”
At that moment, Bagloros—who had been silent until now—suddenly spoke up.
“I know him.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
Every gaze in the room turned to Bagloros. Even the royal guards, who had been forcing themselves to look straight ahead, abandoned the effort and openly stared.
“Dihart Gel Gafel. I know him.”
Bagloros repeated himself, perhaps thinking we hadn’t understood.
“H-how do you know him, Lord Bagloros?”
“Bagloros, you’ve been living in the Mereka Mountains ever since the war ended.”
“I saw him during the last investigation.”
“The last investigation?”
I instinctively realized he was referring to the time he had investigated Raze and his backers.
“So what’s his identity, Bagloros?”
I quickly changed the subject. If Rowell and Aegina pressed the matter, Bagloros would undoubtedly tell them everything.
“Dihart Gel Gafel. From the Balvehak region. Presumed to be an illegitimate child of a minor marquess’s house. Second-rank administrator of the High Assassin Guild. Former branch chief of the Zelmel branch.”
“The High Assassin Guild?”
“They sent an assassin as the head of their delegation?”
The unexpected mention left us all stunned. Lord Revrant in particular looked ready to draw his sword and march out immediately.
“He’s not an assassin. Second-rank administrator. An administrative officer directly under the guild leadership.”
At Bagloros’s clarification, Lord Revrant and the rest of us regained some composure, but the situation was still deeply shocking.
“What exactly does a second-rank administrator do?”
“Surveillance and management of key figures in each assigned region or within the guild.”
“In other words, he’s the eyes and ears of the guild leadership. A manager who manages the middle managers. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
The name of the High Assassin Guild, surfacing in such an unexpected place, might actually present an opportunity. If someone like Gafel—with no notable title—had been dispatched as the delegation’s representative, it at least proved that the guild’s leadership was deeply involved in Sigmut’s upper echelons.
Whether he was directly connected to the leadership member who had targeted me—or rather, Bagloros—was unclear, but if we used this information well, we could secure a significantly advantageous position in future dealings with Sigmut.
After all, Ayman could politically exploit the knowledge that the High Assassin Guild held influence within Sigmut.
“Then we won’t be able to deal a serious blow to the guild leadership through this second-rank administrator.”
“No. They probably don’t know the identities of the leadership either.”
“Wait, Aegina. There’s no need to be disappointed. If we use him to—”
“You want us to exploit the High Assassin Guild’s influence within Sigmut?”
Of course. She would have understood immediately.
“Naturally. We don’t know exactly how far their reach extends, but if we can uncover information about the guild’s involvement in Sigmut, we can use it however we like.”
Even a second-rank administrator was nothing more than a minor branch. He couldn’t shake the entire organization, and information without evidence had its limits. Still, if this knowledge could jeopardize the guild’s influence or interests within Sigmut, the leadership wouldn’t be able to remain indifferent.
At the very least, one or two executives directly affected by Sigmut’s political situation would have no choice but to cooperate with us. And if we obtained their cooperation, we could bring considerable benefits to Ayman.
From the perspectives of the king and Aegina, relying on the assassin guild’s cooperation—or even acknowledging its existence—was distasteful, but for the sake of national interest, it was necessary.
“It’s not wrong, but will Sigmut be so easily manipulated?”