The Gaze That Follows
What struck him anew was how deeply the Callion imperial family was beloved by its people.
From the moment the party departed the Imperial Palace, they were met by crowds lining both sides of the great road, packed shoulder to shoulder so as not to interfere with the procession. Some called down blessings from the god, and a few even showered flowers in front of the carriage bearing the Crown Prince himself. The Callion imperial family still lived on in the people's hearts as descendants of heroes, carved deep into memory.
Arendt watched the spectacle with complete indifference, his gaze fixed instead on the magnificent carriage ahead. Perhaps to answer the crowds' cheers, the Crown Prince opened the window and leaned out, waving toward the people with his face fully on display. Every trace of the usual, irritable tyrant was gone — in his place stood only the dignified Crown Prince.
And Arendt's impression of the sight was...
That's exactly the posture you want for an assassination.
Granted, with monsters of knights swarming on every side, no one could possibly dream of pulling it off.
Paying no mind to his own musings, the party escorting the Crown Prince moved at a crawl. The sheer mass of spectators meant that even escaping the Imperial Capital took considerable time. Only once they had fully left the city behind and reached open plains devoid of settlements could they finally pick up the pace.
And so began the long, tedious journey to the Lucain Kingdom.
At every city they passed, crowds surged at the news of the Crown Prince's procession, until Cantares finally issued an order to skip the cities altogether and camp in the open instead.
"Are you sure you'll be all right, Your Highness?"
"I had to camp well enough during Crown Prince training. Besides, this way we can rest a little more comfortably."
The Crown Prince waved his hand vaguely, looking somehow worn down. Smiling and waving for the crowds was fine for a day or two, but after days on end it seemed even his stamina was starting to flag.
And so, that day, camping was decided.
It was hardly roughing it — the moment tents capable of holding their vast retinue were all erected, it looked as though an entire village had sprung up overnight on the empty plain. The Crown Prince's tent in particular was so resplendently decorated, from the very outer surface, that it resembled a miniature of his office in the palace.
Arendt, who had been silently observing this arrangement the whole while, finally spoke the thought he'd been chewing on for days.
"That would be a perfect setup to be assassinated, honestly."
"......"
He said it directly, to the Crown Prince himself, who had come out after dinner for some air, claiming he wanted to enjoy the evening breeze.
"......Are you planning to assassinate me or something?"
"I have no such intentions at the moment. But who can say? Plans have a way of forming later on."
Arendt answered leisurely, standing before the bonfire.
"If a plan does form, tell me as fast as you can. I'll need to snitch to Commander Laios."
"Understood. I'll handle it quietly and without a trace."
A single round of banter far too vicious to be exchanged between a Crown Prince and a mere apprentice knight.
Oblivious to all of it, the knights busied themselves arranging the night watch rotations, and the servants were absorbed in cleaning up after the evening meal — while Arendt, standing with his arms crossed and his weight cocked to one side, simply stared at the bonfire.
"Why are you standing here spacing out by yourself?"
"Don't misunderstand, Your Highness. I'm not spacing out — I'm on guard duty, in my own way. This is my assigned sector, after all."
Cantares studied the profile of the apprentice knight beside him, who answered so indifferently, but as always, reading what lay behind those eyes proved impossible.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing much. That roasting meat over this fire would be delicious."
"......Are you hungry?"
"A little?"
Once again, another utterly pointless exchange. Even so, Arendt never took his eyes off the great bonfire.
He was pretending otherwise, but the farther they traveled from the Imperial Capital, the more tautly his nerves were wound.
That, presumably, was also why the Crown Prince had looked so precarious standing before the crowds.
Something is annoyingly off...
It wasn't strong enough to ignore, and it was subtly grinding at his nerves, to the point that irritation was beginning to creep in.
A gaze?
That was as far as his guess went, but singling out one pair of eyes among the countless personnel nearby was no easy task. The owner wasn't radiating killing intent so brazenly that anyone would notice, and whoever it was managed to erase their own presence with considerable skill, even in a place crawling with knights — clearly no amateur.
The other seniors don't seem to have noticed at all.
Given that Laios had readily approved the camping arrangement, he must have sensed nothing either.
Yet the truly interesting thing was this: now that Cantares was right beside him, the gaze had vanished entirely. If anything threatening the Crown Prince were to happen, Laios would have already drawn his blade and come flying.
Which meant the watcher, unwilling to draw the pointless scrutiny of a camp where everyone's attention was fixed on guarding the Crown Prince, was lying low for now.
In other words, the target isn't His Highness the Crown Prince, but...
Him.
The moment that thought clicked into place, the faintly bristling wariness inside him settled back into ease. Arendt pulled a biscuit from his pouch and popped one into his mouth.
"Your Highness."
"What."
"Dealing with a lunatic calls for a lunatic, wouldn't you say?"
"What?"
Caught off guard by the non sequitur, the Crown Prince faltered for a moment.
"......Hold on. What scheme are you cooking up this time?"
"Nothing yet. If you insist on being precise, I'm designing a scheme. But the other side is a Crown Prince of a kingdom, so I figured I ought to mind the lines I don't cross."
"......"
Why did a promise to mind the lines sound so ominous?
Noticing Cantares's unease, Arendt finally lifted his gaze and looked at him properly.
"When you asked me for this, didn't it mean you'd already thrown out the idea of a peaceful resolution?"
"That is... true enough."
Whenever anything was entrusted to Arendt, the scene promptly devolved into absolute chaos. Everyone in the palace knew it by now, and the Crown Prince occasionally moved him precisely because of it. And yet... watching him ponder something over alone and snicker to himself like this still managed to set his heart on edge.
"Wait. You just said you don't know anything yet?"
"True, but it doesn't hurt to brace yourself a little in advance."
Arendt replied breezily, shrugging his shoulders in his usual manner. Watching him, Cantares let out an awkward laugh.
"The one who needs to brace himself is me."
"Well, that's also fair."
Arendt answered indifferently, turning his gaze back to the bonfire as it roared to life once more.
"But one thing is now certain."
"What, exactly, you brat?"
"That I'm even more exceptional than you gave me credit for."
With that baffling remark, Arendt held out a biscuit to Cantares. The Crown Prince's eyes filled to the brim with sheer exasperation.
That strange presence continued to dog him, now and again, all the way until they reached the Lucain Kingdom.
"Hey senior, don't you sense anything off?"
"Hard to say. Can't say I do."
He'd asked Arthur as well, but this was all the answer he got. Coming from a man who was by no means dull, such a lukewarm response meant the watcher was hidden among the party, sneaking glances at Arendt alone. And whenever Arendt joined anyone's side, those eyes would vanish like a ghost — so there was no longer any doubt about the target.
Well, this is unexpectedly fun.
If Prince Alois was entangled in this, and the watchers' target was himself, then it pointed to exactly one conclusion: Prince Alois... or the Kingdom of Nephele behind him, was harboring the Cult of Cernion.
He briefly considered tipping off the Crown Prince or Laios, but curiously enough, it was Laios who approached first. During a break in the march, the Commander sought Arendt out and dropped the question without preamble.
"Are you aware?"
"Aware of what?"
"That a gaze has been trailing you since we left the Imperial Capital."
He had fooled the eyes of the other knights, but of course, Laios's keen senses could not be evaded. Arendt looked up at his Commander anew.
"That look on your face — what's it for."
"I'm just astonished you noticed and did nothing about it. It wouldn't be strange at all if you'd already thrown a fit and demanded we halt the whole party to hunt down the culprit?"
"......"
Laios's brow twitched, once. But he quickly recovered his composure and gave his answer evenly.
"Because it seemed like you knew, and were watching how things unfolded. Does it have anything to do with the task His Highness the Crown Prince entrusted to you this time?"
"Seriously. You even knew about that?"
"He summoned you privately, didn't he?"
"My, Commander. It seems you've finally developed a bit of awareness."
Laios badly wanted to land a punch on the apprentice knight gushing pure, unadulterated admiration, but he exercised patience this time as well.
"In one more day we'll be crossing into Lucain territory. If you sense a dangerous situation coming, speak up beforehand."
"A dangerous situation involving me? Or a situation where I put someone else in danger?"
"Both."
"You've gotten good at jokes, Commander."
"That was not a joke."
Thwack.
Having at last planted a knuckle squarely on Arendt's forehead, Laios returned to his position. Arendt, irritably rubbing the spot he'd been struck, made his own way back as well.
And then, the next day.
Just as Laios had predicted, the party set foot across the border of the Lucain Kingdom.
Upon entering the royal capital, an enormous welcoming crowd greeted the Crown Prince, just as it had at their departure from the palace.
"It's the Crown Prince of the Callion Empire!"
"Long live Crown Prince Cantares al Callion!"
The crowd waved fervently and showered flower petals as the party pushed through them and into the castle, where the Crown Prince of the Lucain Kingdom had come out in person to receive him.
"May the glory of God Luce be with you. Crown Prince Cantares, it brings me great joy to meet with you once again."
"It's been some time, Prince Victor. I trust you've been keeping well?"
When Victor del Lucain, smiling radiantly, offered his hand, Cantares took it without hesitation. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, and his face — somewhat younger than Cantares's — radiated an air of gentleness and warmth. Even Cantares's easy, unguarded manner toward him made his fondness plain.
Victor then turned to the knights standing in formation behind the Crown Prince and squared himself upright.
"You've all traveled a long way. Quarters have been prepared, so please follow the attendants and rest from your journey. Should you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."
"We are grateful for your hospitality, Your Royal Highness."
When Laios, speaking for the knights, bowed his head courteously in respect, the Crown Prince gave his orders.
"I will go on ahead to pay my respects to His Majesty the King. The Order is to rest for now — only the essential guard detail will remain with me. You've all worked hard on the road."
"Yes, Your Highness. By your command."
The Crown Prince of Lucain relayed instructions for guiding the Order and several other matters to his aide, and then disappeared into the royal palace alongside Cantares.
Letting the aide's litany of welcome remarks wash over him once more, Arendt glanced casually around his surroundings.
The instant they had crossed into the royal palace grounds, the gaze that had clung to him until now vanished as though it had never been.
Back inside its own walls, is it?
It was safe to assume the enemy was already lying in wait somewhere within the Lucain royal palace. Whatever happened, it would happen here, inside.
Shallow, clumsy trickery.
But when it came to schemes and games of wits, he had every confidence he wouldn't lose. And against an opponent so obliging as to announce their intentions this plainly, playing along for a round wouldn't be difficult at all.
It seemed this affair would turn out far more entertaining than even the Crown Prince had feared.