Co-Conspirators
With Richt's single remark, a heavy silence settled over the room.
Only Matthias, who had failed to grasp what was happening, went on blinking around at the others with wide, bewildered eyes.
"An artifact? What do you mean by that? Surely you're not saying it actually exists...?"
"When something is dismissed as legend, it means there isn't a single record of what the thing is or where it lies. Is that correct?"
When Laios opened the question, the prince nodded dumbly.
"Th-that's right... it's only mentioned in passing, tucked into a corner of the records handed down in the royal family. Something along the lines of: acquired by chance during the war, but someday it must be returned..."
If he said war, he almost certainly meant the great war of the distant past — which would make the artifact something dating back to the age of Emperor Khan.
Arthur pressed a hand to the back of his neck, looking pained.
"No doubt something they'd covet, then. And here I wondered why they'd gone so quiet lately."
"What does 'it must be returned' mean?"
At that, Arendt — silent until now — abruptly tossed out the question, and Matthias answered vaguely.
"I couldn't say... They say the record itself is a handwritten journal left by the founding king, but opinion is split on whether it's genuine or a forgery..."
"Fine. Then let's assume for now that it's real."
As the apprentice knight took charge of the conversation once more, the eyes of everyone in the room naturally gathered on him, and with each exchange, the outline of the affair began to come into focus.
"That creature Lexion visited Crown Prince Alois before the summit — around the time Prince Victor and His Highness the Crown Prince were still debating whether to hold talks at all."
"..."
"Whether he sought out Alois after news of the summit broke, or the two had already met before that, we can't say yet. For now, let's set that aside."
"So the creature that entered the palace drove the king unconscious, then advised Crown Prince Alois to attend the summit — is that the shape of it?"
"Yes. He went and asked someone to be killed, most likely. In exchange for Alois carrying out the assassination, Lexion would render the king incapable of action... a bargain of that sort may well have changed hands."
Arendt nodded as Cantares picked up the thread.
"With both the crown prince and the king shoved neatly out of the way... they would have expected one of the two — the princess or one of the princes — to fall in line behind the crown prince."
"No subject would dare treat the crown prince's companion carelessly. Even if he strutted about the palace doing whatever he pleased, I doubt anyone would have interfered."
It was nothing more than a chain of speculation, but it hung together remarkably well.
And as the connections grew clearer, Prince Matthias's face grew correspondingly whiter, drained of all color.
Arendt, however, still wore a dissatisfied expression.
"...Now what's eating you?"
"Nothing. Just thinking."
He couldn't name a precise reason, but something about it kept snagging in his mind.
It felt as though he were overlooking something.
This isn't their style.
Scheming behind the scenes like this, pulling people's strings bit by bit — it would have suited them far better to invoke the gods' power, dominate people openly, and flaunt their destructive force.
It had been the same earlier, too. The further he dug, the stronger the sense of wrongness became.
As if someone had forcibly rewritten a perfectly well-made script.
Cantares, having studied the apprentice knight lost in thought, spoke up again.
"Two things are clear for now. Something has befallen the Kingdom of Nephele, and the crown prince may have designs beyond what we've seen."
"...Then let's start by doing something about the crown prince."
After a moment's further silence, Arendt shrugged as if nothing had happened.
The scenario was already wrecked beyond repair anyway; from here on out, there was nothing to do but rely on the actors' own talents and improvise freely.
"This won't end so tamely — there's bound to be more. So let's wrap this part up as quickly as we can."
Fortunately, they'd bought time on the pretext of the crown prince being attacked. There was still room to breathe.
Matthias, who had been listening in a daze, hurriedly stepped in.
"W-wait, please. What are we to do about the palace, sitting empty as it is?"
"If emptiness is the problem, then we fill it, at least temporarily. Though that too will be little more than stalling for time."
Arendt replied as if it were nothing at all.
"Your Highness, can you contact the princess in the palace?"
"Ah — yes, I did bring a communication orb..."
"Then send word to the princess ahead of time. Tell her a friend will be paying a visit soon."
"A... friend?"
When Matthias blinked at the out-of-nowhere remark, a faint smile crept across Arendt's lips.
"It might not be a bad occasion to make one. A rather troublesome human, granted, but still."
"You — don't tell me..."
Catching the suspicious note in his voice, Arthur asked reluctantly,
"I contacted him a while ago. As it happens, he says he's not far from here."
That made it perfectly clear whom Arendt meant.
Cantares let out an awkward smile.
"Prince Llewellyn suffers for his craft, I see. Though he does seem quite pleased with himself."
Past or future, that knight would be the only one alive who could put a nation's prince to work at the tip of his finger.
"And what will you do about the crown prince?"
"Hmm. What would be best, I wonder."
Alois must already feel cornered. But this side, too, had only suspicions — no ironclad evidence to pin him down completely.
After a brief pause, Arendt flashed a toothy grin.
"He does seem to have had everything his own way until now. I'd say we can afford to throw a little hardship onto that smooth-running life of his, don't you?"
"I'd say he's had hardship enough already."
Richt murmured under his breath, but naturally his words were ignored.
The others felt much the same. The man had tried to kill a single apprentice knight and somehow ended up picking a fight with an empire — the state of his insides could only be imagined.
Arendt's thinking ran a little differently, though.
He's got a long way to fall yet.
He turned his gaze on Matthias.
"Prince Matthias. If you harbor even the slightest lingering attachment to His Highness the Crown Prince, say so now."
"Ah — wh-what...?"
"Because from this moment on, I intend to cast that childish crown prince straight into the abyss. If you mean to stand in the way, I won't stay quiet about it."
"...?!"
Matthias could only stare at Arendt, utterly dumbfounded.
He had sensed the strange atmosphere for some time now — it was this young knight, after all, who had been leading the conversation despite the Crown Prince's presence.
But to speak that way even to the prince of a sovereign nation...
He stole a glance at Cantares, but the man showed no reaction whatsoever.
Which meant he was of the same mind as that knight.
Golden eyes, utterly devoid of readable emotion, swept slowly over the fragile prince.
"I am offering Your Highness a final chance. Is a future in which that tyrant becomes king of Nephele truly what you desire?"
"..."
"This is a man who kills what displeases him, who harms others, who even stretched a hand against his own king. It would serve us better to remove him before he causes something far worse."
Quiet, yet piercingly distinct, the voice drew the prince in until he found himself hanging on every word, as though spellbound.
"But standing against the crown prince with your strength alone would be difficult. So make use of us."
At those last words, Matthias finally awoke to reality.
In truth, no other choice remained to him.
From the moment Alois had joined hands with an intruder and harmed the king, he had all but forfeited his right to bear a nation.
From the lips of Matthias, who had opened and shut them uselessly several times, a dry voice finally broke out.
"...I'll — I'll help."
Once the words were out, the rest came easily.
Matthias closed his eyes slowly, then opened them, steadied his breathing, lifted his head, and looked Arendt square in the face.
"I will not stand in your way. No — let me help as well. This is a matter of the royal house. I cannot simply stand aside."
"A word of warning: I intend to use every trick in the book."
"Neither I nor the royal house will ever hold the empire to account for whatever you do. I will speak to His Majesty the King myself afterward. And my sister will surely stand with me."
The prince, who had been trembling like a leaf mere moments before, poured the words out with such force that a fierce determination was steadily filling his eyes.
Good enough.
This much would serve nicely.
Wearing a satisfied smile, Arendt became aware that the knights and Cantares were all staring at him.
Evidently, the sight of a man sweet-talking and swallowing a nation's prince whole did not sit easily on the stomach.
Shrugging with perfect composure, Arendt passed the final choice over to Cantares.
"You've heard him, Your Highness. What will you do?"
"Don't ask me now, after running your mouth to your heart's content."
Cantares grumbled in irritation, but soon nodded without hesitation.
"Prince — I will say it once more. I swear upon my honor that we will do nothing, on any pretext born of this affair, that would bring harm to the Kingdom of Nephele. From this very moment, the prince and we are... yes."
The Crown Prince paused briefly, searching for the right word, then smiled faintly.
"Co-conspirators. Do you understand?"
"Co-conspirators..."
Matthias, rolling the unfamiliar word around in his mouth, nodded deeply in turn.
"I understand."
Bound by neither nation nor station, gathered for one purpose alone — to drag down a crown prince. Co-conspirators... or actors.
With the matter settled, Arendt threw out the next topic.
"They failed to eliminate their target, so they'll most likely circle back for another chance. That's what we wait for."
"But security at the palace has been tightened. They won't be able to move freely."
When Richt pointed this out, Arthur cut in.
"...I wouldn't count on it."
"What?"
"The tightened security is only around the quarters of His Highness the Crown Prince and the other distinguished guests. And besides—"
The ones the enemy was after were someone else entirely.
No one present failed to grasp what he'd left unsaid.
The eyes of everyone except Matthias turned, quite naturally, toward Arendt.
Right on cue, the apprentice knight broke into a wide grin.
"Well, well. Senior Arthur, actually using his head for once."
"Do you actually want to die?"
Arthur growled in irritation, and that too was ignored.
A languid voice drifted back through the communication orb.
"Dear me. So it went badly for you after all."
"After all? What is that supposed to mean? I never ordered an attack on the Crown Prince. I told you to bring me that apprentice knight — nothing more...!"
Rather than killing him on the spot, the plan had been to abduct him and hold him hostage — to force even Laios de Winfried himself onto the stage.
If Laios, the very pinnacle of the sword, had a single weakness, it was how unfailingly soft he was when it came to his own people.
But before the plan could even be set in motion, the situation had careened off in an entirely unexpected direction.
"The assassins almost certainly did not attack the Crown Prince. They would have proceeded as planned, with Arenldt von Eckhart as their target."
"Then why did it turn out like this!"
"Please calm yourself, Your Highness. This is simply how he operates. Using the assassins' corpses, he staged the scene to make it appear as though the Crown Prince himself had been assaulted."
"What?"
Alois echoed the words in alarm. But he quickly recovered his composure, pressing hard at his temples.
"...Right. There's no way they defied my orders. I suppose it makes more sense to say that demented brat arranged all of this himself."
It was safe to assume the Crown Prince and the other knights had gone along with the deception. If that was true, it was an utterly absurd bunch beyond all reason — but no matter.
"In any case, you seem to find yourself in some difficulty, Your Highness. What do you intend to do from here? I have no intention whatsoever of withdrawing from our arrangement. Kill Arenldt von Eckhart, as agreed."
"..."
There was unmistakable mockery in the voice coming through the orb, yet Alois could not erupt in his usual fury.
It was perfectly clear that the mistake had been his own.
His anxiety mounted. He had thought it such a simple matter — and for things to have come to this, he had no choice but to admit he had been snared in his own trap.
"The ones you lost this time were your own men, were they not? The ones I lent you are still intact, surely?"
"...That's right. There's still one more chance."
"Precisely. This is the last, so I trust you will not fail this time, Your Highness."
A soft chuckle rippled through the orb.
Unable to stomach it, Alois was about to snarl something back —
Knock, knock.
At the sound of someone rapping at the door, the transmission was cut off unilaterally.
Clicking his tongue, Alois shoved the crystal orb carelessly out of sight.
"Enter."
"Yes, brother."
The door swung open, and the one who slipped in was none other than Matthias. As his younger brother fidgeted at the doorway, a faint frown creased Alois's brow.
"What is it? Speak."
"I-it's just, brother... there's a matter I..."
"Stop stammering and say it plainly!"
The Crown Prince, whose irritation had been stacking all day, roared.
Facing the man he had feared his entire life, the frail third prince felt his heart hammering wildly out of control.
But Matthias drew his breath slowly and steadied himself.
I have to do this properly.
Entrusting the fate of the royal house to men of the empire had already been a blow to his pride. So at the very least, he had to see his own share of the burden through.
Straining to still his trembling hands, Matthias spoke slowly, deliberately, each word distinct.
"...Brother. Was it truly you... who sent assassins after Lord Cantares?"
The opening curtain of a play staged for Alois's eyes alone.
It was the first line.