The Truth Beneath the Mask
The Truth Beneath the Mask
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Even though spring had arrived, the lingering chill of winter still clung coldly to the Emperor's residence.
In front of it, Maximilian stood watching Julian right before his eyes.
Immediately after the incident, he had shown no reaction whatsoever. Though his emotions had surged violently, no trace of a haze could be seen upon his body. However, he could not leave it at that.
That was why today, Maximilian had come in person to deliver the news of Semele's death directly to Julian.
A tremor of emotion stronger than when he collapsed. Maximilian had to confirm it with his own two eyes.
Even if it wasn't this time, that was fine. Next came the execution of the culprit. There were plenty of ways to drag out his emotions. Even if he didn't explode with emotion, that was fine too. Such suspicious behavior was also something Maximilian hoped for.
However, Julian's behavior was slightly different from what Maximilian had expected.
"......."
Julian, who had been staring blankly into empty space, opened his mouth after a moment with an expression that seemed sad, angry, surprised, and somehow broken.
"What do you mean by that! Do not lie to me!!"
A sound like a scream burst forth.
Julian was denying it with all his heart. He thought there was no way that could be true. But considering that Maximilian had personally brought along so many nobles, he rationally realized that it could not be a lie either.
His mind crumbled. Yet his body overtook that collapsing mind. The acting he had performed to survive forced his body to move.
The discrepancy between his forcibly moving body and his unable-to-follow mind surfaced on his face.
A shattered expression. Energetic movements. It was the sight of a young child denying reality and escaping from it.
Maximilian observed Julian.
With an intensity that wouldn't miss a single hair, he tried to catch even a single trace of awkwardness in Julian's gestures.
"Today, I'm going to show Mother my swordsmanship! Quickly call the children and Mother!!"
The fortunate thing for Julian was that the discrepancy between his expression and actions visibly appeared as an expression of overwhelming emotion above all else.
At Julian's ear-splitting shout, the other nobles—except for the Lord Protector—hesitated, not knowing what to do.
The time for the mourning bells to toll was already fixed.
Inside the Imperial Palace, considering the court mourning period, all extravagant decorations were already being removed and all banquet schedules were being canceled. During this period, even private gatherings like social clubs were supposed to be refrained from.
Maximilian tracked Julian's figure with cold, deeply sunken eyes.
If even the slightest fragment of sword energy emerged, he would know.
Because Maximilian was the one who had longed for it more intensely than anyone else, and because Maximilian was the one who had hated it more than anything else, he could tell in an instant.
The sword energy that Sword Master had manifested, the fragment of sword energy that his own son had brought forth. Aside from that, Maximilian had seen countless instances of sword energy and aura, its fragments.
An emperor looking like this was precisely the sight he had been waiting for.
However.
1 second.
5 seconds.
10 seconds.
There was nothing.
Slowly, very slowly, Maximilian's expression relaxed. The blazing hatred held in his eyes began to fade. Over his face, which had been as hard as dead flesh, a genial, good-natured smile appeared as always.
He was merely a brat in denial of reality. A kid who couldn't accept it due to the overwhelming shock. Seeing that with his own two eyes, Maximilian finally let out a long breath.
The delusion that had weighed heavily on a corner of his heart and the trauma of the past failed to take shape and scattered away.
Now that the black shadow flickering before his eyes had finally vanished, wasn't the only thing left in sight a brat not even worth bothering about?
There had been a cost, but it was satisfying. And more than that, relief dominated his mind.
"......I understand. There are still 4 hours remaining until the mourning bells toll. If Your Majesty wishes, I shall summon them as best I can."
The frosty voice from just moments ago transformed instantly into a merciful and benevolent voice.
The ones most shocked by that change were the nobles of his faction.
The voice that had been like a sharply forged sword aimed at them until just moments ago, and during the meeting held last night to catch the assassin, had changed in a single instant.
No one present was able to notice the shift in Maximilian's mind.
He instructed his close aide to gather Julian's playmates.
It was a voice so tender that no one could imagine it belonged to a man who had casually framed a noble of his own faction as the culprit and carried out horrific torture.
"Your Majesty, even if we gather the playmate children as quickly as possible, it will take quite some time. Would you like to go to the training ground in advance?"
"Yeah... Yeah! Let's go to the training ground! The training ground!"
Julian creakily stepped out the door and moved his feet toward the training ground.
Behind Julian's back, Maximilian told the nobles, 'Proceed with the proclamation as scheduled,' and then followed behind Julian.
Having brought Julian to the training ground, Maximilian briefly watched Julian—whose body and mind still seemed completely out of sync—grab a wooden sword and swing it recklessly, before offering his respects to him.
"Then, Your Majesty, I shall depart now to prepare. Please be sure to return before the mourning bells begin to toll."
"Yeah! Got it!"
"Just in case, I shall send someone before the mourning bells toll."
Having said so, Maximilian turned around and walked out of the training ground.
Normally, he might have tried to stay by Julian's side using various excuses, but at this gathering, there was still a child he had planted.
Furthermore, the damage Maximilian suffered due to this incident was truly immense.
At this point, when not a single Grand Duke or Margrave had arrived yet, the tasks he had to handle were absurdly overwhelming.
However, just as Maximilian was about to sigh in relief that the one thing weighing heavily on his mind had ended, he came to an abrupt halt at that moment.
The emotion that had welled up from deep within his inner self. The instant he recognized that weak, sickening spark, his face, which had been wearing a genial smile, distorted like a menacing demon realm Rakshasa.
He felt relieved.
Maximilian had felt relieved.
That was the humiliation.
Born in a war that a brat like that couldn't even comprehend, he was already roaming the battlefield at fifteen, building mountains of enemy corpses and rivers of enemy blood.
Maximilian von Wallenstein, who was called the hero of the nation who saved the Empire, had been trembling anxiously over a mere piece of a wooden sword.
"......Me?"
To a mere brat?
Ppadeudeok, a chilling grinding sound leaked out from between his roughly worn molars.
He grit his teeth so hard that dark blue veins popped out around his jaw joint. Before he realized it, his tightly clenched fist slammed into the wall.
Kung! The sound echoed all around. More than the pain felt in his hand, the emotion spreading inside his heart was unpleasant and repulsive.
And then, as if nothing had happened, he pulled back his fist, erased every expression from his face, and hurriedly moved his feet.
Empress Dowager Semele von Aurelian had passed away. No, she had been assassinated at someone's hands. It was said that the culprit was currently imprisoned in the Imperial Palace's underground dungeon.
Before the smell of blood could even be washed away, rumors spread like a plague throughout the Imperial Capital. Carrier pigeons soared into the air from every noble mansion, and the anxious whispers of servants knew no end.
To some of the nobles who were trying to prepare for the mourning period as quickly as possible by tailor-making mourning clothes and clearing away decorations, an unbelievable message arrived.
[Gather the Emperor's playmates at the training ground.]
Upon receiving it, not only the adults but even the young children had no choice but to let out sighs at this command.
It was obvious who had issued such a command. It was that Emperor.
His mother had met with a tragic accident, yet without even coming to his senses, he calls for his playmates? The nobles, who had each sent their children as the Emperor's playmates with their own motives, showed their displeasure, and the children also moved to the Imperial Palace with bewildered expressions on their faces.
"Ah! You've arrived!"
When the children entered the training ground, each holding their own expectations, anxieties, and bewilderment, what they saw was Julian, swinging his sword wildly with the corners of his mouth pulled up as if splitting open.
And at that point, all the children thought the same thing.
The reason that Emperor had summoned them wasn't because of any special reason.
From anxiety to bewilderment, from bewilderment to contempt. Their expressions shifted moment by moment.
In the musty-smelling training ground where dampness clung, only Julian held a wooden sword, unable to stand still, striking dummy targets or swinging his wooden sword into thin air.
"What are you doing! Why aren't you lot hurrying up as well!"
A foolish expression. Foolish actions. It was the appearance of the Emperor they had heard about every single day.
Lately, they had thought he was actually decent. Julian's appearance when he defeated Grimus looked truly cool to their young eyes.
They had felt somewhat triumphant, thinking that only they knew a side of him that others didn't.
Yet what on earth was this now?
Even at his mother's death, once he got time to play, he was excitedly playing around. At this rate, wasn't he just the same stupid tyrant as in the rumors?
The children clearly understood what their parents meant when they had said after this order, 'We might need to reconsider having you act as the Emperor's playmate.'
He couldn't even be seen as a living being endowed with the same level of reason. The eyes of the boys swelled with anger and disillusionment at the thought that they might be treated the same as a thing like that.
The children each clicked their tongues or turned their heads away, and unable to take it any longer, one of them stepped forward.
Just as he was about to say something to Julian with a dissatisfied expression, he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and turned around.
There stood a young boy, Bigalois.
Bigalois's gaze was fixed on Julian, who was zealously swinging his sword.
Even at the boys' questions asking what was wrong, Bigalois didn't avert his eyes for even a single moment, staring at Julian before opening his mouth.
"Blood."
"What?"
"Blood... is being scattered all over."
The boys tilted their heads at Bigalois's words as if asking what he meant. And then, one by one, they realized it.
Along the trajectory of Julian's swinging sword, droplets of blood were falling.
Only then did the children realize the anomaly.
Droplets of blood flying with every swing of the sword. A face from which nothing could be read, in stark contrast to the corners of his mouth pulled up as if tearing open. The rims of his eyes bloodshot with popped capillaries. Looking closely, he wasn't smiling—he was gritting his teeth.
"What are you all doing!"
Hwik, Julian's face swung toward them.
They were able to see Julian's appearance in even greater detail.
The fist of the hand not holding the wooden sword was clenched so hard that blood welled up and dripped down drop by drop, while the hand holding the wooden sword bled from wounds caused by wildly striking dummies and the ground, the blood trickling down along the wooden sword.
"Pick up your wooden swords! Today, I shall show Mother my swordsmanship!"
Trembling arms and legs. Tears welling in his eyes.
Standing in that place was muddy clay, mixed thoroughly with various emotions that the children could not possibly put into words, taking the form of a human.
"Today...... I have to show her a cool side of me!"
Those were words that sounded almost like he was telling them to himself.
It was easy to notice. Those eyes had not looked at the children even once.
Why? That question filled the children's heads.
Why was the Emperor suppressing his emotions like that, telling himself such words, and admonishing himself?
'Hurry up and act as usual,' he was telling himself. When their thoughts reached that point, it struck them like a bolt of lightning.
Even though the children were young and pushed away from the central court, they were still nobles.
They, too, were acting according to their respective situations.
There were times when they had to pretend not to know what they knew, times when they had to pretend to know what they didn't know, and times when they had to say they disliked what they liked or liked what they disliked.
Nobles were people who all lived life putting on acts, big or small.
If so, then that Emperor...
Just how much...
Just since when...
Against whom...
Had he been acting?
"......!"
It felt as if their spines were freezing over.
It was a side of him that could not be shown to adults.
Because he had been alone until just moments ago, and because now there were only children present. A mask shattered because his own emotions had been driven to the edge of a cliff.
The intention hidden behind all those actions that had seemed so thoughtless.
The children's minds turned completely white.
The Emperor was not acting like a fool because he didn't know.
Because he knew, he had to act like a fool.