A Snake Slipped into a Gentleman's Pocket
‘So even I am just one of the tools.’
It was an absurd thing to hear, all over again. Positively arrogant, really—to call the heir who would inherit the empire nothing more than a tool.
If even one of the people standing before him now had heard those words, they would have flown into a rage and demanded Arendt's head on the spot. And yet Cantares did not think it was entirely wrong.
Slightly offensive, of course.
‘At least that bastard doesn't bother hiding the snake coiled inside him.’
If anything, Arendt was the sort who wielded what he possessed better than anyone, so long as it was paraded at the right moment. Impossible to fathom what went on in his head, sure—but he never concealed his true intentions. Unlike the people he was about to face.
Cantares had deliberately summoned only the nobles who stood opposed to him, under the pretext of explaining recent events and hashing out countermeasures. When the East Vault, the Marquis Grig mine incident, and now the auction house attack were all laid out as threads of a single web, the nobles' expressions shifted by the second. Merely suspecting such a thing was one matter; hearing it from the Crown Prince's own mouth was quite another.
After a long silence, it was Marquis Lanford who spoke first.
"……You say you intend to issue a proclamation across the entire Empire, Your Highness."
Lanford asked with careful courtesy, and Cantares answered without so much as a flicker of expression.
"Indeed. I plan to launch a full-scale manhunt for the mark our enemies use. Does something about that trouble you?"
"Not at all, of course not. I merely wished to ask, once more, whether a greater degree of caution might not be warranted."
"Casualties have already mounted. What use is more caution now? If anything, I'd say we are already rather late."
A chill crept into the Crown Prince's smoothly smiling eyes, and a faint crease formed between the Marquis's brows.
"……I had no intention of provoking Your Highness's displeasure. I beg your forgiveness."
"No, no. A vigorous exchange of opinions is the most vital nourishment an empire can grow on. So please, speak your mind freely in the future as well."
The Crown Prince settled back into his seat and continued in a leisurely tone.
"I understand what worries you. It is the source of the information that you find untrustworthy, yes?"
"……"
The assembled councilors flinched visibly. Everyone knew perfectly well whom the Crown Prince meant. Arendt von Eckhart. A scattering of needless coughs broke out around the table—a telling glimpse of just how greatly his presence had grown of late. Once upon a time, no one would have spared a passing apprentice knight's name a second thought.
Watching the empire's elder statesmen betray their discomfort toward a boy still wet behind the ears, Cantares found himself quietly amused.
"His conduct is certainly open to criticism. But I do not believe that should erase everything he has risked his life to accomplish."
"Naturally not. It is only that the coincidences are simply too many."
At Lanford's words, several others slowly nodded along.
"Coincidences, you say?"
"I ask that you hear me out without anger, Your Highness."
"Go on."
"The Imperial Knight Orders hold the glorious privilege of attending Their Majesties the Emperor and the Crown Prince more closely than any other. Everyone knows this. And so I understand that Their Majesties take particular care in the selection of knights."
Marquis Lanford's voice rang out clear and distinct in the quiet council chamber.
"Thus Sir Arendt von Eckhart, as a member of that order, must surely be a talent befitting the station. I hear his swordsmanship is remarkable for his age. And yet I cannot overlook his conduct, his past transgressions, and everything that came before the East Vault incident."
In a single sentence, his meaning was this:
"I cannot convince myself that Sir Eckhart's loyalty is genuine. I trust the others here share my doubts."
So that's the game.
Cantares rested his chin on his hand and waited silently for the rest.
"I know it is unseemly to distrust so young a man. But with matters of state at stake, I believe caution upon caution is the correct course."
"You are not entirely wrong."
The moment words of agreement left the Crown Prince's lips, the room stirred faintly. Cantares adjusted his posture and went on.
"Nor can my own judgment be assumed infallible. Sir Laios is a trustworthy commander, but as you well know, he dotes endlessly on his subordinates. He may be unable to look at Sir Arendt objectively."
No reply came back from Marquis Lanford. The others, too, only held their silence—for the Crown Prince had already poured out of his own mouth everything they had hoped to say.
After a long pause, it was again Cantares who broke the quiet.
"My, look at the time. Let us end things here for today and continue the discussion next session."
Everyone rose from their seats with troubled faces and bowed toward the Crown Prince. Only, as Cantares walked out of the council chamber, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that looked for all the world like a man hatching some wicked scheme.
The saying that the curious get hurt fit no one better than Arendt von Eckhart.
‘The one who strikes first wins…… hm.’
This was his own opening move. Truthfully, it was no different from slipping a venomous viper into the pocket of some well-mannered gentleman—but regrettably, no one seemed to have appreciated the gesture for what it was.
‘You did ask me to nudge them along for you, didn't you?’
He was beginning to look forward to seeing just how brilliantly Arendt's silver tongue would perform against those old serpents.
"Huh?"
It was Arthur who first spotted the figure blocking their path. As he let out a puzzled sound, Arendt lifted his head as well and looked straight ahead.
"Hard at work again today, I see, Sir Arthur Norbert. And Sir Arendt von Eckhart."
An elderly gentleman they had never seen before approached them slowly, hands clasped behind his back. Arthur wore a bewildered expression for a moment before recognition dawned, and he bowed.
"Good day to you, Marquis Lanford."
"Mm. It is not Sir Arthur I've come about, but the apprentice knight beside you."
"Excuse me?"
Arthur turned to look at Arendt. The brazen youngest knight simply stared at the Marquis with an air of having expected this all along—indifferent, or perhaps mildly bored.
"Spare me a moment of your time, Sir Arendt."
"I was taught never to follow strangers."
"……Strangers?"
"Yes, strangers. Would you happen to know who I am?"
"Hey—hey!"
Aghast, Arthur lunged to clamp a hand over his mouth, but Arendt dodged him with a simple duck of his upper body.
"We've never so much as exchanged a greeting, and you don't exactly look familiar either. If you have business with me, you ought to start by identifying yourself, shouldn't you?"
Marquis Lanford's face had already hardened into stone. He pressed firmly at his temples several times, as if to smother his rising temper, before finally speaking again.
"So I've heard……."
"Outrageous. Disrespectful. Abrupt. It's one of those three, isn't it? I hear it all the time."
"You—you—you're insane?"
Arthur shrieked, but Arendt merely plugged his ears as though the noise were beneath him.
By now the Marquis seemed to be struggling considerably with his own composure, his mind reeling from an avalanche of remarks he had never once imagined he would hear from a mere boy. Arthur, wedged between the two of them, was forced to endure a most unwelcome sense of déjà vu.
But unlike the many who had been insulted by Arendt before him, Marquis Lanford made the wise call. Instead of reprimanding the boy, he reopened his mouth with deliberate calm.
"I see. You entered the Imperial Palace only recently, so I suppose it's possible you wouldn't know who I am."
Oh-ho. So he's no ordinary fool.
As Arendt studied him, a smile that no one caught flickered across his lips.
"I am Lowen de Lanford. I govern a territory in the north of the Empire, and from time to time I lend a modest hand in the Palace's Bureau of the Treasury. If it's no trouble, might I ask for a moment of your time?"
Well, when a man put it that politely.
Arendt scratched the back of his head a couple of times, then nodded readily. "Fine by me. It's not as though I have any pressing appointments."
"Hey, but—"
"Can't be helped, can it? A distinguished elder wants a word with me."
It was blatantly transparent, and on the surface rather insulting besides—but not incorrect. After a brief hesitation, Arthur heaved a deep sigh and rattled off some pointless nagging in Arendt's direction.
"Don't go showing off your lack of manners. Marquis, I'll take my leave then."
Arthur departed at a brisk pace, the unease never once leaving his face. Once the two of them were finally alone, Marquis Lanford studied Arendt with a faintly novel feeling.
He was indeed the handsome young man of reputation, but far greener than anticipated. And yet those calm, settled eyes showed nothing the least bit childlike.
‘Not the sort to be read at a glance, then.’
It was a voice thick with displeasure that roused the Marquis from his musing.
"What business could be so urgent that you had to waylay a man simply walking down the road?"
"My apologies. In truth, I have no particular business to speak of. You happened to pass by, and I merely wished to share a brief conversation."
Marquis Lanford composed his expression and began again.
"Think it the shameless prattling of an old man if you like. It's only that your name has been coming up rather often at council of late."
"Why does everyone take such an interest in me?"
"Your modesty runs rather deep. I am well aware you aided the commanders and rendered great service."
"It was nothing. Half of it was done on impulse, if anything."
Even when the subject was his own achievements, his attitude remained uniformly lukewarm.
"On impulse…… what an amusing turn of phrase. Certainly the sort of thing one can only manage in one's youth."
A small, fleeting smile touched the Marquis's lips. Arendt, quietly watching his expression, abruptly let out a short sigh.
"And as you well know, Marquis, mine is a position where I must roll when told to roll."
"Hm? Because you are an Imperial knight?"
"Not just that."
Arendt cast a furtive glance around, then held out his wrist toward the Marquis. The silver bracelet hidden beneath his uniform came into view under the sunlight.
Only then did the Marquis truly grasp what Arendt meant.
"Good heavens…… so it's a leash."
"If I want to survive, I must fetch and deliver whatever His Highness desires. By any means and every method."
Tucking the bracelet away again, Arendt grumbled under his breath.
Those words amounted to a declaration: he did not follow the Crown Prince out of any fondness. A flicker of intrigue crossed Marquis Lanford's eyes.
"That…… sounds like a hard road you walk."