Do Not Get Angry, Do Not Get Angry
Stay calm. Stay calm. Getting worked up over nothing would gain him absolutely nothing.
"Haah……."
And yet, for some reason, his insides kept boiling anyway.
What the Crown Prince did with his own money was none of Arendt's business. Having a team ready to move in step with him before the real fight began was a good thing, too.
But he could feel the Crown Prince's malice in the personnel choices — a deliberate intent to screw with him somehow.
The fact that the man had already set everything in motion and only then informed him by letter was equally easy to read between the lines of.
The mere thought of meeting Arcus's despairing, masterless-puppy eyes again made his blood pressure spike.
I'd almost prefer the days when he was just rude to me.
It was worse because the man's requests were neither for money nor for a return to the county house.
And now, of all things, he was going to stake his very life on involving himself in this affair.
"Whooo……."
Calm down, first things first.
A professional actor must never be swayed by private feelings.
Once he had steadied himself, Arendt smoothed out the crumpled paper and tucked it neatly into his pocket — at which point the senior knights who had been watching him uneasily sidled over.
"What's going on? What happened?"
"The eldest son of a certain county house is launching a new business, and apparently His Highness the Crown Prince felt obliged to inform me of it personally. How very grateful I am."
That single remark was enough for the knights to understand perfectly why Arendt's mood had soured.
"If you've got nothing to do, go to the training grounds and swing a sword a few more times."
"Yeah, let's go. You insufferable little brat."
Watching his seniors trudge away with muttered complaints, Arendt clicked his tongue in disdain and turned his back on them.
He already knew from Enoch and Siton that the two of them had recently held a private meeting with the Crown Prince.
A union, hmm.
Setting aside his irritation, it wasn't a bad choice — perhaps even a rather good one.
Since the people of the imperial palace couldn't be fully trusted, establishing a separate headquarters outside would make handling affairs considerably smoother.
Truthfully, there was no one else for the job besides Henry and Arcus anyway.
As the Crown Prince had said, the capable allies within the palace were already drowning in their workloads. Once the union began functioning, the burden on everyone racing against the clock — Arendt himself included — would lighten.
But in exchange, the Crown Prince's own workload would balloon. Half of everything Arendt had been doing until now would land squarely on his shoulders.
Is this his way of telling me not to charge out ahead on my own?
Since the man was evidently determined to suffer for it, there was no need to talk him out of it.
But letting it slide entirely would leave a sour taste, so……
Arendt resolved to feed him a properly bitter pill next time.
The Khan Union was not the only project Cantares had pushed forward.
A few days later, Arendt received new news through Zereon, who visited the quarters.
"A summit?"
"Yes. The royal family of the Lucain Kingdom has requested one. His Highness the Crown Prince will attend in His Majesty the Emperor's stead."
The Lucain Kingdom could hardly summon the Crown Prince of the Callion Empire to and fro at will — this was surely something the Crown Prince had engineered himself.
"A document containing the same contents has already been delivered to the unit commanders. His Highness ordered that you, Sir Arendt, be informed verbally, like so."
"Which means…… I should prepare as well, I take it?"
It would ordinarily be unthinkable for a mere apprentice knight to attend such a gathering, but the Crown Prince had apparently arranged matters on that front too.
At Arendt's question, Zereon gave a slight nod.
"Yes. I will inform you of the detailed schedule shortly. The entire Imperial 3rd Knight Order is to depart on the expedition as His Highness's escort, so it would be wise to prepare in advance."
"Yes sir, I'll keep that in mind."
Leaving the empire empty for a long stretch didn't sit well with him, but this, too, was something that needed doing at least once.
As Arendt gave that answer, Zereon offered a brief smile and slipped out of the quarters.
Things are moving faster than I expected.
The Crown Prince, it seemed, remembered Arendt's words — that the empire shouldn't shoulder this burden alone, but should draw the other nations in as well. Moreover, the fact that part of the diplomatic authority once held exclusively by the Emperor had passed to the Crown Prince was a development Arendt found rather pleasing.
It amounted to the Emperor — who in the novel had hung a step behind — deciding to step into this affair as well.
Bit players who had hidden behind the curtain, holding their breath, were emerging one by one onto the stage, making their presence felt.
This was, unmistakably, a good omen.
In the end, the heads of eight nations declared their intent to attend.
With a single exception, all of them were countries that had adopted the Luce Religion as their state faith.
"Hah, hah…… Three of these, we went through the riot incident, and…… *cough, cough.* The rest probably just want to properly understand what's going on right now…… hah, hah! Fewer than I expected."
"Well, nothing to be done. If you wanted to gather more people, holding the summit inside the empire would've been better."
As Cantares grumbled, Arendt replied absently, resting his wooden sword against his shoulder.
Etiquette of a Crown Prince or whatever else it was supposed to be, the man lay sprawled flat on the ground, gasping for breath, and shot him a sour glare.
"Whew…… You're the one who told me to delegate more to the others."
"I never said anything quite so drastic."
There was a purpose, too, in insisting the summit be held in the Lucain Kingdom — to emphasize that this crisis was not the Callion Empire's problem alone.
"Enough with the theatrics and get up already, will you? We're wasting time."
"You little…… someday, I swear, I'm going to hit you."
Seizing a rare stretch of free time, the two of them had been crossing swords at the Crown Prince's private training ground.
Though calling it a sparring match was generous — it was a deeply one-sided affair in which only one party got thoroughly beaten.
Using his sword as a crutch, the Crown Prince barely hauled himself upright and growled ferociously, and Arendt twisted his lips in open mockery.
"Do it if you can. But from the looks of it, Your Highness ought to learn to walk first. Your legs are wobbling like a newborn fawn's."
"Do you actually want to die?"
"I'm merely offering honest counsel. With stamina that pitiful, would you even manage a single swing of the sword if the enemy invaded?"
"……."
"Fleeing properly would be a blessing. Though I wonder what exactly you plan to do with legs that decrepit. Whether you'll even manage to arrange your succession properly is beyond me."
"……."
If only he truly could, he would have pounded that detestable mouth of his again and again — but the fact that not a single word of it was wrong was what galled and infuriated him most.
The succession remark excepted.
Summoning the boy briefly to pass along one thing and another had been the root of the disaster. He should have realized it the moment he chose the training ground as the meeting place.
Driven to the limits of his endurance, Cantares had no choice but to stoop to petty accusations.
"You…… you're enjoying this, aren't you? This is revenge, isn't it?"
"Me? Why? Have you done something wrong to me, Your Highness?"
From the way his lips curved into that smirk, there wasn't so much as a fingernail's worth of effort to hide his personal gratification.
"You. One day I'm going to have you arrested and thrown in a cell for lèse-majesté."
"Don't make me repeat myself, Your Highness. Go right ahead — if you can, that is."
"Damn it, get out of my sight!"
Finally, the Crown Prince flung his wooden sword aside and panted heavily, wiping the sweat that had drenched his handsome face.
The insolent apprentice knight facing him was, meanwhile, still bone-dry — and that fact only made the Crown Prince angrier still.
"Anyway, finish what you were saying. If you won't talk, we go another round. I'm a very busy man."
"You truly are a piece of work, aren't you……."
Too drained even to be angry, Cantares simply heaved a deep sigh and collapsed where he stood.
"They're all nations on friendly terms with the Callion Empire, so it'll be an easy crowd to speak before. No one will raise much of a fuss over one apprentice knight sitting in. So you come to the summit too."
"Hmm."
Arendt tilted his head, feigning deliberation.
"Summoning me all the way out here just to say that — I'd guess there's something you want from me?"
"You're infuriatingly quick on the uptake."
There was exactly one thing the Crown Prince could possibly want from this insufferable apprentice knight.
Something that Laios or his other trusted men could not do.
Wiping his sweat one more time, Cantares finally began.
"Do you know of the Nephele Kingdom?"
"No, this is the first I'm hearing of it."
"It's a passable little kingdom on the coast, and they've announced they'll attend this summit. They've adopted the Luce Religion as their state faith, but they're not particularly active in foreign affairs — a quiet backwater, really."
Up to that point, nothing especially noteworthy stood out.
Having slowly caught his breath, Cantares added, with sudden seriousness:
"But their heir is rather brimming with ambition."
"What kind of ambition?"
"A few years ago, at a gathering of successors, he declared that he intended to go down in history as the greatest monarch his kingdom had ever known. So I asked him, half in jest, whether he was planning a war of conquest — and he only laughed."
Before the Cult of Cernion had begun to raise its head, the world had slumbered in peace for a very long time. Wars of conquest between nations had ceased ages ago, and even with the non-human races, there had been no great disputes — each side had respected the other's domain and kept its distance.
And in the midst of all that, the heir of the Nephele Kingdom had quietly confided his aspirations to the heir of the Callion Empire.
"Why would he go out of his way to tell you that? Isn't that the sort of ambition one usually hides?"
"Who knows. Probably a probe. If he ever truly acts on it, he'd have to consider how the Empire would react."
"And what did Your Highness say to that?"
"'There are no eternal enemies and no eternal allies in international affairs — that is the nature of history. But any monarch who disturbs the order beyond a certain measure has met nothing but ruin.' That's what I told him. Though I can't say whether he truly took the advice to heart."
It was already quite an old story.
He had kept a wary eye on that kingdom just in case, but to this day, the Nephele Kingdom had shown no movement whatsoever.
"From what I hear, their king is a moderate man who worked steadily to correct his crown prince's temperament. But a few days ago, word came that the king suddenly collapsed."
"Then the crown prince holds the real power there now?"
"That's right. And it wasn't the king who informed us of attendance at this summit — it was the crown prince. Given the timing, it seems to have been his decision, after the king collapsed."
"It is certainly suspicious."
Arendt, who had been listening quietly, nodded.
"So that's why Your Highness, who has done nothing but avoid me until now, went out of his way to make time for this. Seeking me out only when it's convenient — what a fine monarch you'll make. Ahh, the future of this empire is ever so bright."
"……You got your licks in, so cut me some slack."
"Someone might get the wrong idea, Your Highness. When have I ever hit you?"
"You hit me with words. With words."
Grumbling briefly, Cantares waved a dismissive hand.
"Regardless, it does leave me uneasy. Their king didn't seem to have any intention of attending in the first place — the country is far too remote. Well, perhaps he's simply curious about the Evil God Cult……."
"That would actually be the better scenario."
The crown prince had stayed docile all this time because the king was hale and the Empire stood firm and unshaken.
With the king incapacitated and news of the Empire in disarray reaching his ears, he might well be starting to think the moment had come.
After a moment's thought, Arendt shrugged.
"If it's an internal power struggle within the kingdom, or — as you said — a war of conquest, then I won't involve myself. That's not a domain I have any means to affect."
"I know. I wouldn't ask that much of a mere apprentice knight."
"Understood for now. I'll pass it along to the Commander as well."
The worst-case scenario would be the Evil God Cult having already extended its hand that far — but with nothing yet certain, it wasn't a thing to be said aloud.
Rolling his eyes, Arendt stole another sidelong glance at Cantares.
"Setting that aside — aren't you getting up? You said you wanted to beat me to a pulp. Don't tell me you're giving up already. And here I thought you had enemies to face down and an empire to lead."
"……Damn it, fine, you win — just do everything yourself!"
In the end, Cantares snatched up the fallen wooden sword and hurled it — a futile gesture of resistance.
Arendt caught the flying sword cleanly by the hilt and handed it back to him.
"You do need to get up, after all?"
"……."
At the sight of that handsome face smiling sweetly, a hand extended as if to pull him to his feet, the Crown Prince felt — for the first time in a long while — something that could truly be called fear.