A Bountiful Night Stroll
Perhaps it was because they had all collapsed together in the flames of war once before, then rebuilt themselves around the same time and kept company with one another ever since, but the nations of this continent showed remarkably little cultural difference from one another.
The languages were nearly identical, apart from subtle differences in pronunciation, and even the architectural style of the royal palaces and the clothing of the people ran strikingly parallel.
If there was one thing unique to this particular kingdom, however, it was unquestionably the food.
The unfamiliar dishes delighted the guests' eyes and palates in equal measure.
"……You're eating well, I see."
Watching Arendt pop a dessert into his mouth and chew with obvious relish, Cantares curved his lips into an awkward smile.
Come to think of it, that rascal hadn't skipped a single snack even in the middle of their journey.
Arendt slipped another pastry into his mouth and answered with conspicuous indifference.
"Your Highness, why not try surviving on nothing but damp bread in an underground dungeon for a few days? You'd come to appreciate exactly how important a proper meal is."
"I'll pass."
"What a pity."
Though to be fair, it was probably less the dungeon and more the years he'd spent in a one-room studio eating nothing but instant food that made him like this.
The gathering where Arendt was diligently working through the tea and refreshments was, under ordinary circumstances, an affair reserved for the official representatives of each nation. Arendt and Laios had only been permitted to attend because they qualified as Cantares's escorts.
"That one there. Crown Prince Alois."
"Hm."
Macaron in hand, Arendt glanced in the direction Cantares indicated.
A man stood deep in friendly conversation with Crown Prince Victor of the Lucain Kingdom.
Not that anyone would mistake him for less than royalty—his reasonably handsome profile, combined with his meticulously polished manners, gave an impression of composure at first glance. But to Arendt's eyes, the mask he wore over it all was plainly visible.
The exact opposite of Prince Llewellyn.
His measured tone and bearing certainly befitted an exemplary crown prince, yet even in the middle of conversing with Victor, his eyes kept roving the room—and in them flickered a sharpness he had failed to fully conceal.
"And the one behind him?"
"Third Prince Matthias."
This time the answer came from Laios.
"He appears to be traveling in Crown Prince Alois's retinue."
"Hm……."
Unlike Alois, Matthias carried himself with a timidity quite unbecoming of royalty.
"They don't seem to get along particularly well."
"Alois holds the palace in his grip through fear, more or less. Once you've lost the contest for succession, there's nothing left to do but grovel before the crown prince."
"Grovel…… you say."
Arendt rolled Cantares's explanation around in his mouth along with his dessert.
"Why? Something bothering you?"
"No, not really."
After a moment's deliberation, the apprentice knight added lightly,
"I just wonder whether a man who calls himself a prince would really stay that docile."
Even a worm will wriggle when you step on it.
But he never got the chance to say those words aloud.
Crown Prince Alois had turned his gaze toward them.
As the crown prince began approaching with a pleasant smile, Cantares lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Looks like that guy's taken an interest in you."
"What can I say—I'm popular."
"……"
Laios wore a distinctly sour expression at the frivolous exchange between prince and subordinate.
By then Alois had drawn near, and he offered the crown prince a light bow of greeting. Laios and Arendt likewise stepped back a pace and paid their respects.
"It has been some time, Crown Prince Cantares."
"Crown Prince Alois, indeed it has. I'm glad to see you looking so well."
As though the courteous words he'd been exchanging moments ago had all been a lie, Cantares extended his hand with a genial smile spread across his whole face.
"It is entirely thanks to Your Highness's consideration."
"Prince Matthias, it's been a while."
"Y-yes! Thank you for remembering me, Crown Prince Cantares."
Matthias started violently and hurriedly bowed his head. Alois glanced once at his younger brother, then shifted his gaze to the two men standing behind Cantares.
"The two behind Your Highness…… that would be Commander Laios de Winfried, of whom I've heard so much. And beside him, Apprentice Knight Arendt von Eckhart, if I'm not mistaken?"
"A pleasure to meet you, Crown Prince Alois."
With Arendt kept behind him, Laios took a single step forward.
"I've heard much of your exploits, Commander Laios. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish in the days ahead."
"Thank you."
Alois nodded at Laios's curt reply, and was just turning his gaze away when his eyes met Arendt's head-on.
Those cold golden eyes, staring straight at him, made Alois falter without meaning to.
And in the very next moment—
Ssk. A crooked smile settled over the man's finely shaped mouth.
"That the crown prince of an entire nation would remember the name of a mere apprentice knight like me. I am honored, Your Highness Alois."
"……"
The words themselves were, beyond any doubt, impeccably courteous. But in the man's eyes gleamed something that mocked him outright.
"Crown prince?"
When Alois's face abruptly stiffened, Cantares called to him in puzzled tones.
Jolted back to his senses, Alois forced a smile.
"You keep some truly splendid knights, Your Highness. I look forward to the day we may speak at greater length."
"As do I. Visit the Empire next time, and I'll see to it you're treated handsomely."
When Cantares flashed an easy grin, the crown prince bowed once more in farewell and promptly took his leave.
Which left poor Prince Matthias stranded, gaping in turn at his brother and at the Crown Prince, utterly at a loss.
"What is it, Prince Matthias? Was there something you wished to say?"
"……It, it would be presumptuous of me, but, Your Highness……"
"Matthias!"
Just as the hesitating Matthias finally managed to open his mouth, Alois's voice cracked across the room like a whip.
In the end, the prince never finished his sentence. He ducked his head in a stiff bow and hurried off after Alois, scurrying like a scolded child.
Once the two had drawn far enough away, Cantares was the first to speak.
"Our third prince looks like a man with a great deal to say."
"In this situation, I can only think of the stale old scenarios, unfortunately."
Alois Nephele.
Arrogant, high-strung, and possessed of a vanity that demanded he confirm his prey with his own two eyes—a man drenched in the urge to show himself off.
In that case, there was no reason for this side to waste breath on false modesty either.
Pff. Cantares's lips curled upward.
"Come to think of it, he did seem more interested in the two of you than in me. I can almost forgive it in Laios's case, but a crown prince of a nation memorizing the name of a single apprentice knight?"
"Exactly what I was thinking. I can't wait to see what he shows us. Perhaps he'll treat us to the sight of some assassins."
Arendt hummed the words as if he'd never heard anything so amusing.
Laios shot him a sidelong glance, then spoke.
"Arendt."
"Yes?"
"Later tonight, go take a stroll with Arthur and Licht. The grounds near your quarters—or better yet, the eastern gate."
"Ah…… a night stroll, you mean."
The apprentice knight blinked for a moment at the non sequitur, then let a faint smile slide across his face and nodded.
The night stroll had proved remarkably fruitful.
All three of them had come home with their arms full of the harvest, after all.
"How many does that make?"
"Five."
"Eight on this end."
Thud. Licht dumped the assassin he'd been dragging along onto the ground, and Arthur heaped his own catch into a pile beside it.
"Five for me as well. Eighteen in total—that's quite a lot, isn't it?"
Arendt tossed the corpses down carelessly, without so much as a change in expression.
"Were you two unable to take any alive?"
"We tried. The moment we moved to pin them down, they took their own lives. These are no ordinary men."
It seemed they'd been sent as a handpicked company of the genuinely dangerous sort. Still, evading Laios's monstrous mana sensitivity had never been a possibility for them.
"They were holding still until dawn, planning to move then. Getting ambushed from behind instead must have left them completely dumbfounded."
"Hey, Arendt. What the hell are these guys, anyway?"
"Probably the work of Nephele's crown prince. No hard proof yet, though."
Arendt gave his answer with weary indifference.
"What an idiot. Sending assassins with Commander Laios right there."
"Speaking of which—why would the crown prince of Nephele send assassins at all? Wait. Now that I think of it, you were going on about gazes or something on the way here. Don't tell me they've been tailing us since then?"
"You only just figured that out? What do you plan to do with a brain that sluggish."
Under his junior's insolent jab, the two seniors could do nothing but groan.
Because the little brat wasn't wrong.
"At this point we can make a fair guess at who they were after, too……"
"And who's behind them."
Arthur trailed off, and Licht picked up the end of the sentence. Then both their gazes turned, naturally and inevitably, toward Arendt.
After all, only one person out there would go to such troublesome lengths to get at him.
Licht muttered darkly,
"After being beaten that badly…… he still means to pick a fight with you."
"I know, right? Think of how many people have already learned that lesson the hard way. At this point it's not courage anymore—it's just hubris."
"Nothing new under the sun, I suppose, but you really don't spare so much as a speck of worry for yourself, do you."
By the time Arthur chimed in with the same complaint, Arendt was grumbling about how absurd they were being.
But that lasted only a moment before his eyes drifted back toward the heap of "harvest."
From the assassins' pockets came the all-too-familiar Invisibility Scrolls.
It was the standard method the Evil God Cult's lackeys had always used.
If they'd charged in all at once with the scrolls already active, it would have been manageable, but it could have given him a genuine headache.
Even so, that's far too bold.
Or did they simply write him off as a single apprentice knight?
He had a fair sense of what the scheme must be. Amid a gathering swarming with royalty, with the Crown Prince himself in attendance, the death of one apprentice knight would hardly be worth a headline.
And the one who'd ordered the hit was a crown prince himself—so if anything went wrong, he no doubt intended to brazenly push it off onto someone else rather than own it.
Filthy and cheap, but that was precisely the difference that rank made.
And if it came to that, the whole thing could even be staged as "an apprentice knight who laid down his life to save the honored guests here."
The Lucain Kingdom, having permitted assassins to slip into its halls, would be forced to share the blame. That muddied the investigation nicely—and he would slip away from the whole affair like a loach.
That won't be happening.
Their scenario had already fallen apart—so it was up to this side to put on a far more entertaining show.
A sly smile crept across Arendt's lips.
Prince Matthias.
He could still picture it: the man shadowing his brother's heels in fear of the crown prince, yet unable to hide the unease gnawing at him.
That alone made him perfect prey.
"By the way, how are we disposing of the bodies? If we leave them like this, there'll be an uproar. We should report to the royal family first, so——"
Arthur, staring down at the mountain of assassins, glanced out of habit at Arendt's expression—and flinched hard.
"……Arendt."
"Yes?"
"Stop making the face of a man who just thought of something fun. It's genuinely terrifying at this point."
Licht, apparently having spotted the same thing, edged over and prodded him in a tone of deep discomfort.
But the other party was Arendt. Not a word of it landed.
"An uproar, you say? Now that sounds promising."
Having finished his calculations, Arendt turned back to his two seniors with a face of pure sunshine.
"Seniors, lend me a hand, would you? And let me say this up front—this falls squarely within the scope of what Crown Prince Cantares asked of us."
"……What now?"
"I'll explain at leisure later. But first—"
Thud, thud. Arendt kicked aside the assassins sprawled at his feet.
"Let's move these somewhere."
"Move them where?"
"Where to?"
The moment Arthur and Licht's eyes went round, a mischievous smile bloomed across Arendt's lips.
"Why, to Crown Prince Cantares's chambers, of course."
"……"
"……"
The faces of the two knights twisted in exquisite agony.
At this stage, it seemed, even they had no curses left to spare.
A crown prince tampering with an apprentice knight was…… well. Perhaps not the end of the world.
But when the target was the Crown Prince?
Not only would it hand Alois a stinging slap in the face—it would become the most effective possible lever for terrifying someone already drenched in fear.
That crown prince had surely reasoned, by "common sense," that no matter how the dice fell, a single body like his own could always be written off and discarded.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was an apprentice knight utterly unacquainted with common sense.
Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined an apprentice knight dumping a pile of assassin corpses into the guest quarters where the Crown Prince himself was staying.
"How could men born at the top ever begin to understand what the little people below them are thinking?"
"For the love of—just shut up."