Welcome Home, Little Brother
"Ereb! My beloved little brother! You've made it back safely!"
Ayres threw his arms wide, as if he might rush forward and sweep Ereb into an embrace at any moment.
"...Brother."
"That's right, my brother! You've had a hard journey, traveling so far!"
Messi had assumed the man wouldn't actually go through with the hug. He was wrong. Ayres wrapped Ereb in a tight embrace and even stroked his dust-caked blond hair.
"Do you have any idea how worried I was? And Father and Mother besides. No more of these dangerous stunts, you hear me?"
"Y-yes..."
"That answer's rather halfhearted. Do you truly want to watch your older brother lose his mind? My beloved little brother!"
Even the forbidden romance novels peddled in the marketplace wouldn't dare print a line like that. This was clearly no ordinary opponent.
The important thing was that the performance had a purpose. One glance at the faces around them made the atmosphere plain enough.
"That's the First Young Master for you. Still wrapping his arms around this young lord who hasn't grown up even after getting married..."
"He's cut from a different cloth, isn't he? He'll make a fine lord, no doubt about it."
It was the picture of a benevolent older brother shielding his inadequate younger sibling — and the crowd was eating it up. Even so, Ereb couldn't muster a shred of resistance. He simply hung his head before his older brother, shrinking into himself.
What's he playing at?
"Haha, let's go inside. Father will be waiting for us."
Ayres immediately slung an arm around Ereb's shoulders and made to pass through the inner castle gates.
Messi decided this could not be allowed to play out. If they walked in like this, Ereb's homecoming would be buried, and the only image left in the people's memory would be the First Young Master riding in at the head of the White Horse Cavalry. Precisely the outcome Ayres wanted.
He couldn't let that happen.
"Young Lord. Aren't you... going to introduce me?"
At the sudden formality in Messi's voice, Ereb's face went blank for a beat before he collected himself.
What am I doing? I can't hand the initiative to my brother. If I keep getting swept along like this, I'll never beat him.
He had Messi now. If that guy was inserting himself into this, he had a reason. Ereb decided to play along.
"B-Brother. Forgive the late introduction. This is someone who helped me a great deal in the Forest of Resentment."
"...Someone?"
Ayres looked Messi up and down. Messi met that gaze with a smile.
Not the sort who welcomes unexpected variables. I can read it right off his face.
"And who might you be? That crest belongs to House Thalen."
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Messi, of the Forest Tribe from beyond the Forest of Resentment, and heir to a noble pure bloodline. Young Lord Ereb and Count Thalen have personally vouched for my standing."
"...Little brother. One does not vouch for a person's status so carelessly."
He issued the quiet warning to Ereb even with the man in question standing right there — a rather blatant show of contempt. But Messi had deliberately raised his voice when introducing himself. He wanted the people of the territory to hear.
Eyes began turning toward him one by one. The exotic features, the black hair, the black eyes. The truth was, everyone had been wondering, even if they hadn't said it aloud.
Just what was this other-race fellow, anyway?
And when they learned he was a prince of another race, they were all astonished.
"Wait — so that means there's a nation of other-races in the Sea of Trees?"
"Looks like Young Lord Ereb brought that fellow here. I'd love to know the story."
Before Ayres could interject, Messi stepped forward before the people of the territory. He brought his hands together in a martial salute, almost like a cupped-fist greeting — a pose he'd once seen in a martial arts film, chosen to project as exotic an air as possible.
He composed his voice and considered. What manner of address would make them most receptive, with the least resistance?
Here, I am a prince of another race. But flaunting royal authority won't help me now. Strutting around calling myself a prince with not a single retainer at my side would only breed resentment...
The picture of how to play this came together clearly. Humble himself in speech — but never lose the distinctive confidence of someone of high birth. Shoulders and chest held straight. Meet their eyes directly as he spoke.
Messi opened his mouth.
"Greetings. Word of Ahental Territory's prosperity, and of the diligence and integrity of its people, has reached even our tribe. To come here and witness it with my own eyes is an honor I can scarcely express."
Not a lofty register. A deep, even voice, the kind that inspired trust, each word enunciated with care. Everyone cocked their heads at the other-race man's words.
They were known even in the land where those other-races lived? It was hard to believe — and yet it felt rather good. That their reputation had spread even to people they had never met in their lives. They couldn't help but listen.
"I give thanks to Gaia for granting me this opportunity. I had lived my life in the forest when I encountered this courageous young lord exploring the Forest of Resentment, and through him I came to feel a deep admiration for the lands of Ahental. A house of such renown must be different, I thought — what manner of place must their territory be? I could not contain my curiosity, and so I followed him. And now, at last, I have met all of you."
Half the speech elevated Ereb; the other half was praise for the people of the territory. The crowd's mood couldn't help but lift. What's more, they were clearly astonished that their young lord had explored the Forest of Resentment and returned unharmed.
It was a place even the Woodcutters were rumored to have given up on. More precisely, it was the ancient ruins there — but few among the common folk would have known that distinction.
The people of the territory reacted in all manner of ways, swelling with pride. As their excitement rose, Ereb's and Ayres's expressions reversed from moments before.
That accomplishes what I set out to do.
In introducing himself, he had made clear what Ereb had achieved — and that it stood apart from the First Young Master. This was enough. Push further and Ayres would only grow suspicious. Strike and withdraw.
"I am glad to offer my greetings in person to the great people of this territory. The occasion seemed to present itself, and so I stepped forward. Though my station and my appearance may differ from yours, I hope you will look upon me kindly."
He wrapped it up as if greeting them had been his only purpose. The people of the territory nodded in satisfaction. An other-race man who praised them — a person of noble standing among his own people, and yet not a trace of arrogance to be found. And that fluent Central tongue besides. Thinking he'd studied so hard out of admiration for them, how could they not feel a fondness for him?
Cheers rose from the crowd, lauding Ereb for upholding the territory's prestige. Ayres's face had gone a little stiff.
"...I suppose that's a prince of another race for you. You have a remarkable way with words."
"You flatter me, First Young Master."
"I don't believe I've introduced myself as the First Young Master yet."
"Ah, is that so? Being Young Lord Ereb's older brother, I naturally assumed you were the First Young Master. Might I ask your name?"
Ayres said nothing. At Messi's brazen brushing-off of the slip, his eyebrow twitched in a peculiar way.
"Ereb, my beloved little brother. You've brought back quite the interesting fellow."
"...I merely brought him because a capable man was curious about our territory. And I owe him a great debt besides."
"Well done. Debts of gratitude and debts of vengeance must both be repaid. Now then, let's go inside together."
The icy tone as he looked at Messi suggested he wasn't talking about gratitude.
Already in his bad books, am I?
Messi clicked his tongue and made to enter the castle gates, when a conversation among nearby townsfolk drifted to his ears.
"Our lord's blessed, that's for sure. With the First Young Master around, no worries about the succession — and with the Second Young Lord so brave, this land will be well protected."
"That's right! Nothing to worry about."
Even after hearing of Ereb's accomplishments, they still didn't even consider him as a potential lord. Messi felt a sour taste in his mouth. It meant the gap between the two brothers in the people's hearts was so wide that even a rivalry with the First Young Master couldn't take shape.
Changing that perception would have to come first.
The lord of Ahental whom they met in the inner castle's reception room had a more ordinary appearance than expected. He was not a tall man — perhaps five foot six, shorter than both Ereb and Ayres — and his face, if one were to liken it to an animal, had a distinctly rat-like quality to it.
The two brothers were blond, while their father's hair was brown, which had been puzzling — until Messi saw their mother, and it made immediate sense. A woman of blond hair and sculpted beauty sat beside the lord in a dress that left her ample bosom frankly on display. The brothers had clearly inherited a great deal of their mother's blood.
The lord spoke.
"Ereb, come here."
At his gesture Ereb approached, and the lord gave his fully grown son a light embrace.
This family really does love their hugs.
Unlike with Ayres, though, Ereb accepted his father's embrace without any resistance.
"Thank goodness you're safe. You stubborn, foolish boy... Didn't I tell you to wait a few more years and prepare properly before setting out?"
"I'm sorry..."
"If I'd known you'd fly off like a moth to a flame, I never would have approved the plan. You nearly made your father into a monster who sent his own son to his death."
It was the Ahental lord's unique method of scolding. He chided his son while still holding him, patting his back.
"Do you have any idea how worried your mother was?"
"...Mother was?"
Ereb looked at her with skepticism. She averted her eyes from his gaze.
"Of course, this is only a father's scolding. I'll have a separate word for you as head of the house."
This time he pushed Ereb back and regarded him with a solemn gaze. He clearly had his own philosophy when it came to handling his children.
"I heard from Grotein that fewer than half the knights made it back. Is that true?"
"It is. Twenty-eight knights of Ahental fell there. I had a memorial stone raised for them in a nearby village."
"And? Are you satisfied?"
Ereb said nothing. The viscount's criticisms rolled on without pause.
"The Ahental knighthood is our house's shield and guardian. If your brother's cavalry is the sword, your knights are the fortress of our family. Are you happy, having sacrificed them?"
"They were the sons of our vassal houses. By dying, those houses have placed our family in their debt. If they come to me with demands on that basis, I'll have no choice but to grant them — did you ever consider that?"
"What's more, you took the magic scrolls my dear friend spent years creating. Seeing as the scroll pouch is empty, it seems you used those up as well... Was what you spent them on truly worth it?"
They were cutting words. Ereb kept his head bowed and said nothing. Messi had expected a notorious wastrel to raise hell even with his own family, but that didn't seem to be the case.
"Did you achieve anything?"
"I made a valuable connection, and I found a treasure in the ruins."
"...A connection and a treasure?"
Viscount Ahental glanced at Messi.
"That would be you, then. The one holding forth in front of the castle?"
"My name is Messi, Viscount Ahental. I've heard a great deal about you from the young lord."
"Yes, Messi. I heard your speech quite clearly myself. What about Ahental Territory could possibly intrigue a prince of another nation enough to bring him all this way?"
Before Messi could answer, Ereb spoke first. He seemed to think Messi, who had come trusting in him alone, was being interrogated, and wanted to help.
"I brought him here."
"You did? Why?"
"Before he is a prince, he is an exceptional healer. He will surely be of help in treating Erena."
Messi bowed his head. This was the position they had decided on after discussing it the entire way to the territory. It wouldn't raise the First Young Master's guard, and it would also give Messi time to settle inside House Ahental and observe the power structure. An other-race healer whom the Second Young Lord had invited for the sake of his ailing younger sister — there was no more unassuming title than that.
But the moment the viscount heard those words, his face twisted.
"Did I not... tell you to give up on matters concerning Erena?"
"But... Father."
"How long do you intend to torment that child with false hope, only to disappoint her?!"
His voice rose as if a raw nerve had been struck.
"Must her only father go on being a liar in his daughter's eyes? 'This person will heal you' — I've said those words hundreds of times already. And now it's not even a priest, but a healer?! That child would laugh herself sick!"
Messi had been given a heads-up by Ereb, but the viscount's attitude toward the possibility of treatment was thoroughly negative. After countless failures, he seemed to have reached a conviction. The dangers of healing magic played a part as well.
"Stop clinging to this, Ereb. Is Erena only a sister who matters to you if she can walk? There are any number of paths to happiness that don't require walking. We simply need to show her that."
Viscount Ahental turned his head to look at Messi.
"I'm sorry you came all this way. You should simply go back. Still, it wouldn't do to send you off immediately, so I'll have you put up in the territory for a few days."
"...I can't accept that."
"What did you say?"
At Ereb's reply, the lord's face flushed red with anger. Watching the scene unfold, Ayres and his mother wore delighted little smiles, as if things were going quite well.
Messi watched it all in silence.
Ereb shoved Messi behind his back and took a step forward.
"Didn't you ask about results a moment ago? I brought back a treasure."
"Are you saying that fellow is the treasure?"
"He's a friend who can decipher at least a portion of that treasure. Because the treasure is an ancient grimoire, written in a long-forgotten tongue. Father."
At those words, the reception room fell into a hushed silence.