The Mesugaki Never Backs Down (3)
"I heard the most amusing rumor about you, little brother."
The very next day after Arthur had been confined to his quarters, a visitor arrived at his room.
His elder brother, now on the verge of graduating from Soul Academy.
The Second Prince, locked in a struggle with the First Prince for the throne.
Cecil Soladin.
"Word has it you wagered a contest against the young lady of House Aln, and when it seemed you might lose, you resorted to dishonest means. What an insolent, disgraceful rumor. I seized those spreading the tale and gave them a thorough thrashing."
Cecil had not come out of any particular concern for Arthur.
Nor did he believe the rumor to be false.
And yet there was exactly one reason he had sought Arthur out to deliver this speech.
To humiliate him.
I know you did this. Aren't you ashamed, staining the face of the royal palace like that?
That was what he was really saying.
But his aim went unrealized.
Because even under such blatant insult, Arthur's expression did not change one bit.
"My apologies, brother. I made a mistake."
"Oh? So the rumor is true, then."
"Yes. It is."
"How remarkable. You, who never put a foot wrong, committing an error like this. Did some trouble befall you?"
"No. I simply grew impatient."
Conversations like this were utterly routine within the royal palace.
It had not always been so, but the situation changed once Arthur began to distinguish himself.
The First Prince and the Second Prince alike cast wary glances his way, and whenever it seemed he might slip up in the smallest way, they would come calling like this, doing their utmost to press him down.
"I see."
At first, Arthur had been flustered by how his brothers changed, but not anymore.
Now that he understood exactly what kind of men they were, he had learned to let whatever they said roll off him without a scratch.
"That differs from what I heard."
"Does it?"
"Indeed. The way I heard it, you flew into a rage because the Aln girl called you the 'Pitiful Prince'?"
The Pitiful Prince.
The nickname Lucy had pinned on Arthur.
A slur that had stolen the composure of a man who otherwise never showed the slightest flicker of emotion.
"'Pitiful Prince,' is it. That wretch seems to think House Aln's backing entitles her to scatter thorns wherever she pleases."
Even with that word having passed Cecil's lips, Arthur's heart remained far calmer than he expected.
Anger and irritation certainly rose within him, but compared to when Lucy Aln had first hurled the name at him, it was nothing.
And so Arthur was able to respond to Cecil as he always did.
"Arthur, if you wish it, I could have a word with this Lucy Aln who calls you the 'Pitiful Prince.'"
"No. There is no need."
When Arthur shook his head, Cecil wore a bewildered expression for the first time that day.
"The young lady of House Aln is, after all, the one who saved my life."
Nothing of note followed.
They exchanged a conversation devoid of a single grain of substance, and then Cecil departed.
From that day on, Arthur kept turning the question over in his mind.
Why had it been unbearable to waver when Lucy Aln called him the Pitiful Prince, yet when Cecil said it, he felt almost nothing at all?
Cecil's version had surely been more malicious and more blatant.
And now, with time passed and his confinement ended, Arthur resolved to settle this question by meeting Lucy Aln in person — but before he could, a group of young noblewomen blocked his path.
"Good day to you, Third Prince."
Ah, these are the ones who always trail after Joy.
The name of the woman at their forefront was on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes. Avery."
At the sound of her name, Avery's eyes went wide before settling into a placid smile.
"What business is this?"
"We have something to say concerning the young lady of House Aln."
What she produced was not a story of any great worth.
She could not forgive Lucy Aln for insulting the Prince. Even if Lucy had won their contest, her accumulated sins would not vanish — so Avery wished to help Arthur punish her.
Truly useless words.
Every last one of them, pretending to sympathize with me while scheming only to use me. You lot simply dislike Lucy Aln and want to torment her, and now you're trying to drag me into it.
His heart wanted to shout at them to get lost, but these were daughters of noble houses with reputations of their own to consider.
How very tiresome.
If it were Lucy Aln sitting here, she would have insulted them on the spot without sparing a thought for the circumstances.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I must decline."
"Pardon? But Your Highness, we could surely be of—"
"No. Besides, a contest is something one ought to settle with one's own hands, is it not? I would rather not have the help of others."
When a prince declined this politely, what could anyone say in reply?
Avery and her companions had no choice but to step back, murmuring that they would trust in His Highness.
As the flustered young women — their original plans collapsed around them — turned to leave, Arthur stopped them and said this:
"And one more thing. The Aln girl is Joy's benefactor — and mine as well. I would ask that you not speak ill of her. If malicious rumors run rampant and she finds herself in dire straits and comes to me for help, I would have no choice but to grant it."
At Arthur's words, the young women agreed and fled as if running for their lives.
Watching them go, Arthur gave a hollow laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.
With this many enemies, I almost worry she'll crumble at someone else's hands before I ever get to defeat her myself.
"First Lady Partran, and now Prince Arthur himself?"
"Impossible. Both of them siding with that disgrace of House Aln?"
"What on earth does that wretch have?"
"She must have used dishonest means, obviously. Nothing else makes sense."
"Exactly. The fact that a woman who, until a year ago, was an insolent, incompetent piece of trash suddenly took first place on the entrance exam was nonsense from the very start."
"There's something. There has to be something."
"If we could only expose it, we could smash that smug little face of hers for good."
The sword came down, and down, and down again.
An unrelenting chain of strikes that offered no room to breathe.
Was sparring with me actually sharpening her skill? The edge of Frey's blade was growing keener by the day.
So she's the most talented swordswoman in the entire history of House Kent, huh? Talent-freaks, every last one of them!
An ugly sound was starting to come from the shield absorbing Frey's blows.
I was using it as efficiently as I could, but it was still a mass-produced model.
It simply wasn't built to endure the full-force strikes of a beloved masterwork sword.
If I keep up this defense much longer, the shield's going to break before Frey runs out of steam, won't it?
Time to wrap this up.
"Hey there, no-name swordswoman♡ That's all you've got?♡ Your sword's so light it's about to fly right out of your hands~♡"
The enhanced provocation effect of the Mesugaki skill stirs a person's heart in an instant.
The expressionless eyes that had been tracking Frey's own sword narrowed and swung toward me.
She'd taken the bait, no question about it.
But Frey didn't charge in right away.
Experience had taught her that blindly lunging at my taunts was how you got burned.
Oh dear, what ever shall I do? That was exactly what I wanted.
In an exchange as relentless as this one, even a single instant of opening was fatal.
Having forcibly checked her own momentum to steady her heart, Frey had no choice but to respond slowly.
She belatedly realized her mistake and moved her sword — but it was already too late.
Shoved back by my shield, Frey toppled over, and as she staggered upright she caught sight of the mace arriving in front of her face and sprawled flat on her back.
Shall we call it a break?
"What's the matter, no-name swordswoman? Winded already? What a trash-tier stamina. Beg me for a break, and I might just let you have one."
"...Break."
Watching her mutter from flat on her back, apparently too drained even to rise, I set my shield down as well.
Several days had passed since the incident where Joy collapsed.
Nothing much had happened since.
Aside from my reputation taking yet another nosedive, anyway?
The story that I'd bullied Joy had spread, and it seemed my verbal abuse of Joy's followers had also become a problem.
Thanks to that, a person who was already strictly keep-your-distance had apparently been upgraded to landmine-that-detonates-on-contact.
How do I know? I went to ask Vishy to tag along on a dungeon run, and she freaked out and gave me the whole rundown.
Personally, I didn't feel a thing.
People avoiding me was business as usual, and with nobody approaching me in the first place, even a worse reputation didn't register all that much.
At this point I've simply decided to enjoy it.
Walking through a crowd while thinking Is this the miracle of Moses?! as the sea of people parts around me is honestly pretty fun.
What registered far more with the current me was something else entirely.
Last time I met Phoebe in the infirmary, the Mesugaki skill definitely used casual speech, right?
But when I ran into her again after that, she got the polite version.
"Good day to you, Third Prince."
Yeah. That.
I have no idea why.
If the Mesugaki skill had come back, it should be using polite speech with Joy too, but with Joy it's still strictly casual.
And it's not like my name for Carl changed back from Useless Dog to plain Useless either.
It's only Phoebe.
If I could figure out why this was happening, it might help even a little with controlling the Mesugaki skill.
"Lucy Aln."
I was leaning against my dropped shield, catching my breath, when a voice reached me.
Arthur. It's been a while.
"It has, hasn't it? Pitiful Prince?"
"Indeed. A full week."
Oh, so today was the day his confinement ended.
Arthur's expression was calm.
Right up until our duel, the man used to scowl the moment he laid eyes on me.
Apparently saving him cut the hostility down quite a bit.
But then why, why does the Mesugaki skill use polite speech with this guy too?
If you're going to be rude, at least be rude equally.
Why are you being selective about who you disrespect?
Is Joy just an easy target?!
...I mean, she kind of is. Yeah.
"The reason I've come to you today is to publicly acknowledge my defeat in a place of your choosing, and to ask your forgiveness. If it is no trouble, may I ask your schedule?"
'No trouble at all.'
"And why would I need the Pitiful Prince's forgiveness?"
It wasn't as if my reputation would improve from it.
It would only spawn rumors that I was tormenting Arthur, so I had no desire to do anything in a public setting anyway.
Frankly, Arthur's perception of me changing was more than enough.
"But that was the terms of our wager, was it not?"
'I really am fine with it. You don't have to!'
"I'd rather decline. I don't seem to have anything that needs forgiving."
When I pressed the refusal that firmly, Arthur seemed to conclude that forcing an apology was its own kind of rudeness, and gave a nod.
"Very well. Then in its place, I should like to offer you some manner of reward. There is also the matter of your saving my life."
A reward, huh.
What can I even squeeze out of Arthur... practically nothing.
At best it'd be information or connections, and neither meant anything to me right now.
Information I already knew all of, and connections were something I couldn't get even if I wanted them.
Ah. Just had a great idea.
'Dungeon.'
"Dungeon."
"...Dungeon?"
Joy can't enter dungeons at all, and Vishy turns green at the mere thought of going into one with me, so this was tricky — but wouldn't you know it, a party member just volunteered?
I'd been about to just flat-out ask him to come along, but if I brought it up first, weird rumors would start circulating for no reason, so I stopped myself.
Hmm.
If what I'm asking for is the problem, then the answer is to make him do the asking, isn't it?
'Ask me to let you come into the dungeon with me!'
"Pitiful Prince. Would you be so kind as to humbly request that I allow you to enter a dungeon at my side?"
"...What? You want me to request it?"
'Yep!'
"That's right. Please ask most respectfully."
His pupils trembling at my words, Arthur faltered and stammered before finally opening his mouth.
"Lucy Aln. Would you... grant me the honor of entering a dungeon at your side?"
'Permission granted!'
"I shall permit it, Pitiful Prince."
For some reason I couldn't quite place, Arthur's lips were trembling as he listened to me.