Chapter 28. Why Would I Want to Be With You?
I should have just ridden a horse here.
The hours spent sitting blankly in the swaying carriage were absolutely miserable. The chamberlain who kept asking how the journey was treating him, and the escort knights nagging him not to wander far because it was dangerous—every last one of them grated on his nerves.
He had known it would turn out this way, and yet there had been exactly one reason he volunteered for the hardship anyway.
A dragon's bones, they say?
It had to be fake. Even for the Callion Empire, this was an outrageous exaggeration.
The account the empire had given was absurd enough on its own. A dragon transformed into a ghoul—defeated by a mere Knight Commander with only three subordinates at his side? It read like an old folktale lifted straight off the page.
Surely the Callion imperial family wouldn't stoop to telling outright lies, but there had to be embellishment somewhere. A wyvern that happened to be a bit on the large side, or perhaps some other winged monster they'd mistaken for the real thing. He'd made up his mind to go see for himself and expose the hoax.
He had never laid eyes on a dragon himself, but he could certainly tell a dragon from a wyvern.
And yet. Just in case.
If that thing really is a dragon...
His fist clenched without him willing it. He had traveled every backwater province despite the royal family's objections, and he had never found so much as a single trace of a dragon.
He turned the possibilities over in his head this way and that, but the truth was, he already knew.
The people of the empire were no fools. They had brilliant researchers of their own; no one there would confuse a wyvern with a dragon.
But he still didn't want to accept it.
He refused to accept it.
A dragon, discovered by some lucky knight nobody? He had scoured the entire world and found nothing!
The thoughts spun round and round in his head, and his legs trembled uncontrollably. Real or fake, either way, one thing never changed—he had to confirm it with his own two eyes. That was why he had badgered his father until he was named envoy to the Callion Empire.
"Damn it, why is this taking so long? This is exactly why I hate carriages."
His impatience finally boiled over; he flung open the carriage window and took his frustration out on the poor escort knight riding alongside.
"Can't you go any faster?"
"We are doing our utmost, Your Highness."
Having watched the knight urge the driver onward, Llewellyn clicked his tongue and flopped back into his seat.
The carriage picked up speed and rolled on.
At long last, the journey's end brought them to the imperial capital, where—festival season, apparently—an enormous crowd had gathered. The streets seemed to have the word vibrant written all over them.
Unable to resist, Llewellyn stuck his head out the window again, and the escort knight launched into another lecture.
"That's dangerous, Your Highness. Please get back inside."
"Ugh, seriously. Dangerous how? What's dangerous about it?"
After one more outburst, he simply enjoyed the view.
The festival hadn't started yet, but watching everyone bustle about hauling out stalls and arranging decorations in every color of the rainbow, the anticipation was already palpable.
"Your Highness."
"Yeah, yeah, I know!"
When the knight pressed him yet again, Llewellyn had no choice but to sit meekly back down.
The eve-of-festival celebration was this afternoon, with the full festival beginning tomorrow. The banquet was still days away, so sneaking out of the palace at night for a look around would be entirely doable.
The crowds were so thick that it took quite a while just to push through them and enter the imperial palace grounds. Only after inspection and verification of his credentials was he finally allowed to step down from the carriage and set foot inside the palace.
"Prince Llewellyn Charles Everan. We are honored by your visit to the Callion Empire. I am Jereon, aide to His Highness Crown Prince Cantares al Callion."
The first to greet him was the Crown Prince's aide, wearing a warm, pleasant smile.
"I will escort you to His Highness at once. He has been eagerly awaiting his meeting with you."
"Ah, actually..."
Before Jereon could take a single step, Llewellyn swiftly caught hold of him.
"Would it be possible to see the dragon's remains first? I know it's a discourtesy to ask."
"Your Highness!"
The chamberlain, aghast, hurried to intervene, but Llewellyn would not be moved.
Jereon blinked his gentle eyes for a moment as if considering the matter, then smiled.
"Researchers are conducting their examination at the moment, so the hall itself is off-limits."
Just as the prince's face began to fall, Jereon added:
"However, you could observe the interior through the garden-facing window, if you like. His Highness the Crown Prince is waiting in that very building anyway, so it won't cost you much time."
There wasn't the faintest trace of offense at the prince's rude demand. Lest Jereon change his mind, Llewellyn nodded quickly.
"Then I shall have to inform His Highness that we'll be slightly delayed. Please follow me, Your Highness."
Neither the chamberlain's murmured nagging nor the splendid gardens of the Callion imperial palace registered in Llewellyn's awareness just then.
"As the Crown Prince's aide, I take it you know the full story of how the dragon's remains were found. Is what I've heard really true?"
"Yes, that's right. You'll hear the details at the banquet—it's not something a mere aide like myself is in a position to speak of."
"Then it's true that the dragon was ghouled and came back to life? And that the empire's Knight Commander brought it down?"
Despite Jereon's diplomatic deflection, the prince would not shut his mouth.
It was a relentless string of dangerous remarks—any one of which could be taken as suggesting he didn't trust the Crown Prince's announcement.
Just as the chamberlain prepared to cut in yet again, Jereon's smile deepened into something almost saintly.
"Yes, he is a remarkable knight. A truly admirable man. I look forward to introducing you at the banquet."
"Huh? Er... right."
Llewellyn found himself nodding along blankly.
Something felt strange.
By his own reckoning, everything he'd just said skirted dangerously close to crossing the line. Yet somehow none of it seemed to land on Jereon at all.
It wasn't the look of a man receiving a distinguished foreign guest. It was the benevolent gaze of a grandparent watching a young grandchild fuss—oh, what harmless little antics.
"We're almost there, Your Highness. Just over there."
But his tangled thoughts lasted only a moment. At Jereon's words, Llewellyn's eyes lit up instantly.
Right in front of them stood an enormous window.
"You should be able to peer inside from here."
"Whoa!"
Any lingering unease evaporated on the spot. Llewellyn bolted straight for the window and stood on tiptoe to look in.
Most of the window was hidden behind thick curtains.
"Oh dear. They've drawn the curtains from inside. My apologies—they weren't like this when I looked earlier."
Jereon looked apologetic, but Llewellyn paid him no heed, straining every which way to catch a glimpse of the interior.
All he could make out was what appeared to be part of the dragon's remains—a foot, or something like it—and a single researcher absorbed in some task.
The foot alone was colossal. There was simply no comparing it to a wyvern's, or to that of any other winged beast he knew.
But the prince, still craning on tiptoe, soon realized the researcher was not alone. Another figure had emerged beside the man absorbed in his work.
It was a young man in the same cut of uniform as the imperial knights Llewellyn had passed on the way here—though in a paler shade.
Llewellyn forgot the dragon entirely and turned his gaze on him.
Is that... silver hair?
He had never seen hair so brilliantly white. Even in the dim hall, it seemed to give off light of its own.
The handsome face looked to be about twenty, perhaps, with a slight boyishness still clinging to it. And yet his expression was strikingly cold; the sheer uniqueness of his presence was palpable even through the window.
They were both young, but the researcher—who seemed considerably older than that kid—was chattering away at him, while the silver-haired youth listened with an air of such dismissive arrogance that it was almost impressive.
Llewellyn was just starting to frown when the silver-haired young man turned and looked directly at him.
"...!"
"Your Highness? What's the matter?"
The prince, who had been peering so contentedly, suddenly jerked back from the window. The aide asked in bewilderment, but Llewellyn only shook his head, waving him off.
"No, it's nothing."
"A shame, but you'll simply have to wait for the banquet. Now, shall we be on our way?"
Checking the time, Jereon gently urged him onward.
Llewellyn glanced back one more time for no particular reason, then fell into step behind the aide with an uneasy look on his face.
He was... smiling at me, wasn't he?
It had to be his imagination.
He did his best to shake the thought away.
The formal greeting with the Crown Prince concluded surprisingly briskly—names exchanged, a brief show of courtesy, and it was done.
"Thank you once more for making the journey all the way to the empire, Prince. You may pay your respects to His Majesty the Emperor on the day of the banquet itself."
"And I thank you for the invitation, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
"You must be weary from the road. Rest and recover first. A servant will be waiting outside."
Llewellyn had no love for occasions like this. He bowed deeply once more and beat a hasty retreat.
The moment he pushed open the door to the audience chamber, he collided face-to-face with someone.
"Huh?"
It was the silver-haired young man from before. Apparently, in the short span of the prince's conversation with the Crown Prince, the youth had made his way up from the hall to here.
When Llewellyn blinked at him, the young man—presumably assuming he was blocking the path—stepped aside with a single stride.
"Ah, pardon me."
And with that, he brushed right past Llewellyn and slipped smoothly into the chamber.
The door clicked shut again, and the chamberlain who had been waiting outside went red in the face.
"The audacity of a mere knight—!"
"Thank you for waiting. I am Siton, assigned to attend you, Your Highness."
But before the tirade could continue, a servant boy came skidding up from somewhere and cut in with impeccable timing. Just as the chamberlain faltered before that beaming, sunshiny smile, the servant who had introduced himself as Siton ushered the prince's party along.
"I'll escort you to your lodgings!"
"Huh? Er... right."
Once again, Llewellyn could only nod along in a daze.
"I've got a new worry."
"What's that?"
"Whether it's really wise to show you off in front of foreign dignitaries."
Arendt answered the Crown Prince's grave pronouncement without missing a beat.
"Well, it would be rude for someone so extraordinarily brilliant to keep hanging around. It might damage the other guests' self-esteem."
"Everything about you is a problem from head to toe, you little bastard—except maybe the face."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Thanks to a certain young apprentice knight who had begun scraping away at the Crown Prince's nerves the instant he arrived, the solemn atmosphere that had hung over the room until moments ago was now long gone.
"This is the report Count Stadler asked me to deliver. By the way—was that rather large and precious-looking person who just left a member of the royal family? Ah, if he only just arrived, he must be the Third Prince of the Everan Kingdom."
"You knew that and still... Forget it. I'm not even going to say anything."
Cantares, who had been about to fire off another retort, simply dragged a hand down his face instead.
Watching him, Jereon smoothly stepped in with an explanation.
"That was Prince Llewellyn Charles Everan. I've heard he is quite the handful... that is to say, remarkably free-spirited, and it seems his reputation is well earned."
Compared to Arendt, though, that much was practically adorable.
Thanks to their long exposure to him, the people of the imperial palace had reached a point where nothing short of a truly spectacular eccentric could so much as make them blink.
"What are you looking at me like that for, Aide?"
"Nothing at all."
To Arendt's crooked question, Jereon answered with his same kindly smile. Arendt shot the aide a sour look, shrugged, and changed the subject outright.
"Come to think of it, today's the eve-of-festival celebration, isn't it?"
"That's right. I heard you're off duty this afternoon, Sir Arendt. Planning to go have a look?"
"Not really. Crowds aren't my thing. But..."
Arendt paused for a beat, then added, matter-of-fact:
"That depends on how a certain someone chooses to behave."
The golden gaze flicked briefly toward the door through which Prince Llewellyn had made his escape, then dropped away.
Siton was already bought and paid for.
He'd also secured the cooperation of Enoch and Rosie, the brother-and-sister pair who had entered the palace after the gambling den incident a while back. It was only a matter of time before word came in.
"I'm begging you. Just behave yourself until the Founding Day festivities are over. I won't say another word."
"And how much is that worth to you?"
"Oh, for the love of—!"
In the end, the Crown Prince grabbed the nearest object within reach and hurled it at him.
The thick book that came flying at his face, Arendt caught with a light tap of one hand, then set it back down on the desk and said, with perfect seriousness:
"Your Highness, did you know?"
"What."
"They say the more you lose your temper, the faster your hair falls out. Should that come to pass, I fear it may have serious consequences for your prospects of taking an imperial consort in the future..."
"GWAAAAH!"
Leaving the Crown Prince to erupt behind him, Arendt made a swift exit from the office.
From behind the door came the desperate wail of 'If all my hair falls out, it'll be entirely YOUR fault!'—which he, of course, ignored completely.
That guy's pretty fun, honestly.
Cantares, more high-strung than usual, made an excellent target for teasing.