The Prince's Fishing Line
"...What did you say?"
It took Alois a long moment to force the words out.
Trembling like a leaf, Matthias showed no sign whatsoever of retracting what he'd just said.
"I asked whether it is true, Your Highness, that you orchestrated the attack on the Crown Prince of the Callion Empire."
"Ha!"
The absurdity of it wrung a hollow laugh out of him.
He had arranged for assassins, that much was true — but he had never, not once, ordered them to strike the Crown Prince.
Except to explain that, he would have to confess he'd moved the assassins in the first place. His own predicament looked more ridiculous by the second.
"Talk nonsense in your sleep, not to me. Do you even hear what's coming out of your mouth right now?"
"I do! I am not so foolish as to miss even that much!"
Matthias squeezed his fists tight and barely managed to force the words out.
His younger brother — the one who normally couldn't hold a proper conversation with him — had an unprecedented stubbornness burning in both his eyes.
"You... who put you up to this? Who've you been talking to?"
"Whatever I may have heard — can you deny it, Your Highness? What do you intend to do about this...!"
The words spilled out faster and faster, his emotions surging, until Matthias could no longer hide the anguish written across his face.
"Because of you, our kingdom is finished. The foundations of the state have been threatened — did you honestly believe the imperial family of Callion would simply sit still?"
That part was no act. It was the truth.
The Crown Prince had promised not to harm Nephele, but the kingdom had effectively handed him an enormous weakness all the same. And once the Crown Prince became Emperor — perhaps even long after that — that weakness would cling to Nephele's ankles without mercy.
Every bit of this had come from the blockheaded judgment of a crown prince who never thought a single step ahead.
Alois, who had listened in a daze, felt his face twist into something wretched.
"And you, I take it, are prepared to clean up after yourself. Where did you hear such filth, that you dare spew it at me? Was it the Callion Empire?"
Matthias said nothing.
The silence was as good as an answer.
"Don't tell me it was that green apprentice knight. 'Crown Prince Alois has gone mad and tried to kill the Crown Prince!' And where's the proof? You wouldn't presume to humiliate me without anything behind you, surely?"
Matthias remained silent.
"A few words from that damned whelp, and you dare interrogate your own prince? Do you actually want to die?"
"If I wanted to die, I wouldn't be doing this!"
But the shout that burst out of him in the next instant made Alois flinch instead.
"It's true. Sir Arendt told me. That you received payment and moved to assassinate the Crown Prince... that if this continues, war will break out between our two nations, and that it must be resolved before it comes to that."
"..."
"So what do you intend to do now?"
Matthias glared at the crown prince with eyes blazing with fury.
Of course, it was nothing but bluster. No evidence would ever be found. But it was equally true that it could not simply be dismissed.
If word got out that he had provoked the Callion Empire, every nation friendly to the empire would be certain to make its displeasure known as well.
Grit.
A grinding sound escaped from between Alois's lips.
'They said they wouldn't retract the deal.'
Watching his brother rage and froth made the back of his neck go rigid.
They couldn't press him without evidence either, so they must have decided to shake this side loose through Matthias. Which meant they'd come sniffing around precisely because they'd run out of other options.
He knew perfectly well that this boy didn't genuinely trust and follow him. The resentment he'd been sitting on all this time had simply been prodded by Arendt's silver tongue and detonated in this shape.
The moment the thought reached that far, Alois's head snapped up.
'Wait.'
Yes. There was no evidence. Which meant they'd failed to find any way forward and had dragged Matthias here to squeeze him instead.
And if that was the case, they would hold on to Matthias and not let go until they turned up something concrete. Which meant...
Which meant there was a way to turn that around and use it.
It made no difference to him whether this idiot lived or died. And if he played his cards right, pinning the whole affair on the boy was entirely possible.
"Your Highness?"
"...You're right. The situation is dire, Matthias."
The sudden softening of Alois's voice made Matthias stumble backward a step. But the crown prince, as if the fury of moments ago had never existed, wore a faint smile and moved closer.
"The survival of the kingdom is at stake. So you're going to help me."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"I trust you have no wish to watch Nephele fall. You carry royal blood too, so I'm sure you understand exactly what I mean."
Tap.
When Alois's hands settled onto his brother's shoulders, the blood drained from Matthias's face.
The crown prince gripped down hard so he couldn't slip away, menace bleeding into his voice as he added:
"If you'd rather not die, that is."
Deep in the night, the knights were shooed out of the Crown Prince's chambers and had no choice but to return to their own quarters.
It was an awkward hour to sleep, but there wasn't anything that urgently needed doing, either. They drifted into the small room assigned to Arendt and slumped onto the sofas and chairs, letting the time drain away — until Arthur suddenly broke the silence.
"...So Prince Matthias just never learns what actually happened?"
"That's right."
Arendt's languid reply drifted back.
Contemptuous glares began raining down from his seniors, but Arendt couldn't have cared less. He simply sipped at the tea a servant had brought, in no hurry at all.
"That's just how the world works. You live long enough, you get a taste of life's bitter sides. That's all it is."
"..."
The two knights could only stare at their youngest with looks of pure disbelief.
Prince Matthias genuinely believed, down to his bones, that the Crown Prince had been attacked — and he had resolved that if it could save his kingdom, he wouldn't hesitate to betray his own brother.
By the time he learned he'd been deceived, events would already have passed the point of no return.
Then again, who could possibly imagine a knight who'd use the Crown Prince as a prop like that?
Arendt lowered his teacup and regarded the two of them with pity.
"It has to be at least that much to count as a threat. Any softer, and he'd never have listened in the first place."
"..."
"Besides, it's his own fault. He's spent his whole life running away because he was scared, so it's only fair he get pushed to the front lines once. If he'd stood up to that lunatic inside his own kingdom, he wouldn't be in this ugly position."
"Arendt, not everyone can be as ruthless as you."
"Heartless bastard."
Richt's measured remark was followed hot on its heels by Arthur's considerably more direct cursing. Arendt didn't so much as acknowledge either of them; he just picked up another biscuit and ate it.
"I'm not expecting anything great from that prince. As long as he plays his part, that's enough."
And for his part to work properly, Prince Matthias had to remain ignorant of the truth of this affair for just a while longer.
He couldn't manage his own expressions, let alone pull off method acting.
So Arendt had given him only one instruction: go confront Prince Alois and demand the truth.
We'll take responsibility for whatever happens, he'd said — and while you're at it, pour out everything you've ever wanted to say to him.
Granted, given the boy's spineless temperament, even that was no small ask.
Richt thought it over for a moment, then muttered skeptically.
"...Still, I'm not certain Prince Matthias will hold to our side to the end. If the crown prince puts a blade to his throat, I doubt he'll endure it."
"That's exactly why I didn't tell him everything. And Senior — think about it the other way around. Do you really believe Prince Alois would just leave Prince Matthias alone after he's turned against him?"
"...?"
Caught off guard, Richt lifted his head and looked at Arendt.
Arendt leaned back comfortably in his chair and continued in that characteristic, indifferent — or perhaps bored — tone of his.
"He'll come charging over frothing like a mad dog, guaranteed. A brother who's been away on a long trip comes back and suddenly demands, 'Father of mine, did you send assassins after the Crown Prince?' Of course the very next question out of his mouth would be—"
"..."
"Who fed you that story. Was it the Callion Empire?"
A thick smile spread across Arendt's lips as he mimicked the crown prince's angry tone, mocking it.
The man murmuring those words looked, oddly enough, in a thoroughly good mood.
"The mere fact that a connection now exists between Prince Matthias and me — don't you think that alone would make that crown prince see red?"
He spoke of it lightly, but at this very moment they were weaving a colossal plot to sink the heir of an entire nation. And yet the ringleader himself sprawled about like a cat parked in front of a hearth — the cognitive dissonance was unavoidable.
"Prince Matthias is going to make a splendid fishing line for us."
Once he'd played his part, Arendt had told him, he was to stay quietly at Alois's side. No matter what happened, he was not to defy him — just obey, meek and docile.
Everything was already unfolding in the palm of Arendt's hand, rolling along precisely as intended.
Arthur let out a hollow laugh.
"Honestly, I'd rather jump off a cliff than make an enemy of you. At least make sure I die pretty, will you?"
"If you ever hear of a plot against my life, give me advance notice. I'll see you off cleanly."
"..."
Tossing out once more the same joke he'd once shared with the Crown Prince, Arendt settled lazily back into his chair.
Richt, who had been watching the two of them with weary resignation, changed the subject. No — if he didn't, he felt his very identity as a knight might begin to crumble.
"That said, are we truly meant to do nothing? It looked like you and His Highness the Crown Prince talked at some length."
"Yep. You seniors just stick around with me, and when the moment comes, you do the one thing you're best at."
"The one thing we're best at?"
At Arthur's puzzled question, Arendt waved a hand vaguely in the air.
"What else are you two good at besides swinging swords? Until then, just sit tight and behave yourselves. So go on — wipe your feet and get some sleep."
"..."
"..."
The two swordsmen fixed Arendt with eyes brimming over with resentment, but it accomplished nothing. The way this guy was stonewalling them could only mean one thing: he truly wasn't going to say a single word more until the time came.
In the end, the two knights bowed their heads, surrendering on every front.
And then, the next morning.
Arendt was mid-yawn, smoothing down his rumpled clothes, when a crisp knock made him lift his head.
"Who is it?"
"Forgive the early hour. Is Sir Arendt von Eckhart present?"
Fastening the last button at his collar, Arendt opened the door to find a servant of the Lucain Royal Palace bowing his head in greeting.
"Good morning. I trust your accommodations have been satisfactory?"
"Barely. What business brings you at this hour?"
"Prince Matthias of the Kingdom of Nephele asked that this be delivered to you."
Accepting the folded note, Arendt stole a glance at the servant's face.
"My thanks. And your name, if I may?"
"Stel, Sir Knight."
After another brief look at the man, Arendt unfolded the note and read its contents.
Forgive me — but I would like a word with you in private, if only for a moment.
A handsome smile settled over Arendt's lips.
"Just as expected."
To think the boy was helping things flow along this smoothly — Matthias had more of an actor's instincts in him than anyone had given him credit for.
"One moment, please."
Leaving the servant waiting outside, Arendt fetched a single sheet of paper and scribbled a short reply.
"Deliver this to Prince Matthias."
"Understood, Sir."
Taking the neatly folded note, the servant bowed his head slightly and withdrew.
Click.
The door closed again, and the room returned to its quiet.
"Stel, is it..."
Rolling the name he'd just heard around in his mouth, he found a snort of laughter escaping him.
How considerate of them — it seemed he wouldn't need to bother with any further dirty work. The other side was moving first.