Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: The Prince and the Think Tank
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Second Prince Irid had scraped together every bit of manpower he could summon. For some, it was through authority; for others, money; and for still others, recognition. He spared no means or methods.
His flimsy pride had been shed long ago. To rescue Centra, he'd even reached out to First Princess Elaine, with whom he had a notoriously poor relationship.
Considering their usual rapport, the odds of her granting his request on a mere word were low. Irid had braced himself to take a hit in the imperial succession race...
But unexpectedly, the First Princess gladly accepted the invitation. Along with words to the effect of granting her poor little brother's plea as his big sister. Irid interpreted it as her laying down a political debt.
On his way into the meeting room, Irid ran into First Princess Elaine.
A lavish dress and a shawl draped around her neck. A stunning beauty that captured the eye, and hands stitched up like rags. Even after three years since they'd last met, she looked exactly as he remembered.
Despite her imperial bloodline, her hair gleamed platinum. Yet no one doubted her lineage or legitimacy. She had proven it with her abilities.
And by smashing the heads of anyone who dared wag their tongues—with her bare hands, no less.
The First Princess had brought no attendants. It was the confidence of a woman who had once set foot in the demon realm alone. She always carried herself as if nothing in the world could harm her.
Irid swallowed dryly.
"Irid? Long time no see. Gonna throw yourself into big sister's arms like when you were a kid?"
The First Princess spread her arms wide. Despite the universally friendly gesture, to Irid's eyes, it looked like the gaping maw of a lion waiting to devour him.
She'd always been like this. She enjoyed making Irid submit. Back at his fourteenth birthday banquet, in a hall packed with nobles, she'd done the exact same thing—spreading her arms wide.
Embracing him like a child—and hoisting him up. She'd spun him around in three full circles, no less. Even if he'd wanted to protest the babying, the dragon-claw grip of her strength sealed his lips shut.
The old Irid would have submitted and fallen into her embrace.
She would have grabbed the back of his head and buried his face in her deep cleavage, and the nobles would have seen it—downgrading Irid's standing. Surely the throne suits the First Princess best, they'd say.
But the Irid of today was different.
As long as he recalled those memories, he could muster courage even against a storm.
"I'll pass. My arms already belong to someone else."
"How disappointing... Still, big sis is glad you've grown a bit more manly. Has our little prince gone and found himself a woman?"
"I have."
"...W-wait, what do you mean, you have?!"
Caught off guard by Irid's refusal to submit as before, the First Princess let out a flustered voice. It was a small rebellion, but he'd landed a hit.
A swell of pride rose from deep in Irid's chest as he turned away. He'd grown. Now, with this matured mindset...
It was time to start the meeting to save Centra.
"Hey, what do you mean 'you have'... Could you explain a little more in detail? Please?"
"First off, thank you for accepting my sudden request for support. The purpose of this meeting is to simulate emergency rescue operations and responses to small-scale rebellions. Given the complex tasks at hand, I've gathered experts from various fields. Let's start with introductions."
As the Second Prince opened from the head seat, everyone around the table rose in order to introduce themselves.
A woman in a crisp suit stood and gave a polite bow.
"Imperial Defense Bureau Analyst C."
Next, an elderly man in a gray robe bowed from his seat.
"Crimson Magic Tower Elder... Pelseon. You've assembled quite the interesting bunch."
The First Princess, seated opposite, clasped her hands demurely and spoke.
"First Princess Elaine here. I'm delighted you've all gathered to help my little brother. I'll remember your dedication."
Second Prince Irid ran a political translator through his head.
Irid trembled at the sight of the First Princess diving straight into political maneuvering. The Crimson Magic Tower Elder, who'd joined purely out of curiosity and amusement, now looked like he was debating whether to bolt right then.
Irid launched into emergency damage control.
"These are the people I invited, and you're in the same boat, sis. If you're here to help, I'd appreciate it if you acted accordingly."
⇒ Shut up.
"Oh my, right... This is my little brother's meeting, so he should lead it. I got flustered since it's my first time. Forgive your big sis?"
⇒ Yeah, you little baby.
Fuming at the one-sided exchange, Irid held his tongue. Still, the First Princess would undoubtedly prove useful in this meeting. She was a master of every physical endeavor, after all. Irid nodded to the next person in line.
The mad mage who'd caught the cue stood and bent at a perfect ninety degrees.
"Mage of the Violet Magic Tower."
"...You're not even giving your name?"
"It's not a name worth sharing. There's one that is, though."
Shattering decorum from the start, the mad mage pointed with both hands at the girl seated beside him. She was frozen stiff, as if under a freezing spell.
"Violet Magic Tower Master, Yuna Yurensuto Violetiris."
"...H-hel, lo..."
"'It's an honor to be invited, Your Highness. I am Violet Magic Tower Master Yuna Violetiris. I will do my utmost with what little power I have.' That's what she's saying."
"I thought she was a doll since she hadn't moved a muscle coming into the meeting room, but she's human?"
"...R-rude... sorry..."
"She's demanding an apology for Your Highness's rudeness... Gah!"
Crack!
A flawless one-punch from the tower master slammed into the mad mage's side.
Her survival instincts maxed out from the imperial insult, the Violet Tower Master unleashed her self-introduction like a machine gun. To live, she had to spit out the words somehow.
"I'm Violet Tower Master Yuna Violetiris! Nice to meet you! That's what I was trying to say!"
Irid gazed pityingly at the desperately ass-kissing tower master trying to dodge imperial blasphemy charges, then provided covering fire from the side.
"That male mage is a bit off in the head. Side effect of magic research. I'd appreciate your understanding."
"No wonder his eyes look cloudy."
"Heh heh heh... They say studying illusion magic drives you mad easily."
"...Th-that's, de-defamation, ve-very troubling..."
In the midst of the commotion, the last in line—the field priest—quietly raised his hand for his introduction.
But like magic, no one paid him any mind.
The meeting's final member, field priest Julius, mumbled timidly.
"P-pleased to meet you... Former archbishop, current field priest Julius."
"Why'd you steal away a promising archmage sapling, Violet Tower Master? Our tower lord was so excited, saying he could complete the Solar Nova spell..."
"He just... happened to be in, terested in illusion magic...!"
"The going theory is you used hypnosis and brainwashing to make him pick Violet Tower."
"...De-defamation...!!"
"J-Julius here... um, hello...?"
With introductions wrapped up, Irid clapped twice to draw attention.
"Let's begin the meeting."
Irid sketched out the inn room's layout on a large sheet of paper, detailed enough to visualize it—widths, heights, structural intricacies, and the exact blast site.
"Think of it as a strategic simulation or wargame. What I need help with is this: in this scenario, how do I achieve my goal."
"Finally gotten into games late?"
"Sis."
Irid's eyes blazed.
"I'm serious."
First Princess Elaine's eyes widened, then she smiled softly.
"...Not a game, then. That resolute expression—you're finally old enough to make it. Alright, I'll listen seriously."
"Good. I'm positioned here in this bedroom, sitting on the bed. Blast origin: end of the left corridor. Rescue target was likely ambushed at this point."
"Oh ho, that's why you called the Crimson Tower? Tell me the details—the blast pattern, debris scatter, vibration scale, and aftershock form."
The Crimson Tower Elder, eyes gleaming, meticulously noted the Second Prince's account before concluding.
"Looks like Blaze Spirit's Fierce Breath or Ecomic's Lament. Spells heavy on flame element over secondary blast shockwaves... Lots of variables, though. Any other clues?"
"I don't think it was a mage casting. No mages among the inn's guests. Too early to say for sure, but high chance it was a scroll."
"That makes calculations easier! Let's see... Yep. Unless a mana user is ridiculously unlucky, they wouldn't die. Both spells prioritize incapacitation over lethality from the start. The flames alone would just cause burns."
Scratch-scratch.
Hearing that, field priest Julius's eyes lit up.
"...Ah, Your Highness. You need emergency treatment methods. Let me teach you how to disperse invasive mana from the body. It'll help against flame magic... and for full recovery after."
Imperial Defense Bureau Analyst C, scrutinizing the building map, tapped the table with her index finger and spoke.
"This inn's interior layout looks familiar. It's the building famous as brothel 'Rosaria.' Currently under Imperial Defense Bureau control—one of our agents' secret rendezvous points."
"...A Bureau outpost? That explains it."
There was a reason the Resistance used it as a base.
Irid wondered if Centra's father might have been a Bureau man.
"There's a secret passage nearby you can use. Assuming enemy forces haven't mapped it. Draw this mana gate on the second-floor wall to open it."
"Noted."
Scratch-scratch.
Finally, First Princess Elaine stepped up.
"We should practice a few moves. My little brother's a klutz, right?"
"...Don't you call knight captains klutzes too, sis?"
"If they can't move as you want, they're klutzes. Tell me about the likely enemy. Might help."
"Ronya, female mercenary. Scar on her face, armed in leather armor. Palm-length dagger at her waist—handle's worn smooth. Main weapon looks like a longsword. Rumor has it she handles crossbows too."
"Longsword's probably not her main. Untrained types like mercenaries... are too dumb for proper longsword work. Even if trained, they can't use it right. Dirty battlefields don't teach finesse. Oh, keep eyes locked on that dagger to the end. When cornered, that's her last resort."
"Can I kill her?"
"You can. Learn this move. Longsword styles are like chess—shift stance precisely per pattern. When she goes high guard like this... Nah, after the meeting, let's head to the training grounds. Field priest, you too."
The field priest, who'd been spacing out, startled at his sudden call-out.
"...Pardon?"
"Gonna get rough."
Scratch-scratch.
"...What have you been scribbling since earlier?"
"Oh, nothing to do, so I'm taking minutes."
The Violet Tower mage diligently jotted down the meeting in his notebook. The session dragged into the late night, and so did the sound of his pen—until it ended.
When it wrapped, the mage wore a genuinely bright smile.
"Session fully planned."
He'd gotten a free meal of material.