War on the Table (3)
Originally, I'd wanted to train under Mente Knight starting at age ten. I'd planned to steadily rebuild my skills through direct instruction and sparring sessions with her. But the very same Mente Knight was tied down in Morgania.
She was permitted to visit Gibraltar regularly to check on me, but she had to spend most of the three years serving as a knight of Morgania.
"Are they finally letting you go in Morgania?"
"As if. I had no idea the Grand Duke was that obsessive until now."
Mente Knight flicked her wrist lightly the moment she entered the waiting room next to the reception chamber.
"Lucky for me I grew as much as they invested in me, or I'd be too ashamed to show my face."
"Your height's still the same, though."
"Wanna die?"
Mente Knight's skills had undoubtedly improved.
"After all the trouble I went through finding a martial art that suits you, and this is how you repay me?"
"You still haven't broken the curse, and you're stuck at 139 centimeters."
"Once I become a master, I'll grow taller than you are now right away."
"Then I sincerely hope you achieve mastery. The Morgania Grand Duke must be wishing for it just as earnestly."
"You cheeky bastard."
Mente Knight snatched up a wooden sword from the wall. Unlike a standard practice bokken, it was a single-edged blade sharpened on one side—a dao.
"Even now, I could demand the captaincy of the new knight order."
"But the reason you could grow like this was because of my request, wasn't it?"
"Fine, fine. Thanks to whoever pushed me to train in all sorts of ways, I discovered talents I never knew I had."
Bwoong!
"Give her a sword instead of something else, and she gets this strong."
The kingdom had a strong sense that the sword was the king of all weapons.
"No one could've imagined I'd rise to Morgania's number two spot, right below the Grand Duke himself, with something other than a sword."
They dismissed anything besides straight swords as inferior or incapable of reaching mastery. Even among swords, they didn't consider imperial-style blades like the blade mainstream.
"How's that? Your master's dao arts."
"But you're not a master yet."
"Soon. And once I am, the Grand Duke will bend over backward to extend my contract. Wouldn't that be a loss for you?"
"I'm nowhere near your level right now anyway."
I gripped the wooden sword with both hands.
"Even at full power."
"!!"
One step. Seizing her moment of carelessness, I unleashed mana throughout my body and charged forward, but my swing cleaved only empty air.
"Dangerous kid."
Mente Knight stood at a slant, the tip of her blade pressed to my throat.
I'd attacked first, yet before my strike could land, she'd dodged and countered at my neck.
"Your 'eyes' keep up, but your body can't follow. Heh, still fun as ever."
"That's why I hope my body catches up soon too."
"Yeah? Can't wait for the day I cross blades with the future hero for real."
Mente Knight giggled as she withdrew her blade. I lowered my forward swing and picked up a staff from against the wall.
"Going with that this time?"
"No. I have to escort the Queen, so I can't keep sweating like this."
Deep down, I wanted to clash until I was drenched like Noir before dinner.
I've honed my future techniques five nights a week, two hours each time on average.
I yearned to pour three years of effort against someone stronger than Robert—a true advanced knight.
But the knights trailing her would hate the sweat, even if the Queen wouldn't mind. Better hold back for now.
This was just a quick strike check during the brief gap while Father and Queen Carmen conversed.
"After chatting at the mansion, you'll head straight to inspect elsewhere."
"Right. The official schedule includes touring the gates personally, visiting the orphanage, and dinner here."
She apparently didn't know about the nocturnal rooftop date at the orphanage.
"Escorting her after dinner too?"
"Huh? No. Viscount Heks takes over then. I'm only up to the official schedule."
"You'll be on guard duty through dinner, then."
The midnight date was probably Viscount Heks handling it directly. He knew more about Father and the Queen's relationship than Mente Knight and could intervene accordingly.
"Grey. Mind if I show you this while we talk?"
"Go ahead."
Mente Knight wrapped a wide cloth around the staff's tip.
"One of the honor guard protocols: the ceremonial drill."
She swung the staff lightly.
"Nostrum marching formation. No music, but it doesn't matter—this is what the music's based on anyway."
Despite her small frame, the cloth at the staff's end fluttered and billowed spectacularly.
"And the finale like this."
Thud!
She stamped the staff's butt on the floor, and the cloth at the other end whipped sideways from inertia.
"Show me more moves?"
"No need. That's enough. Couldn't really get it from books alone."
"Why learn royal honor guard drills?"
"They're cool."
"...Fair enough."
It was cool, sure, but also a protocol I hadn't learned before regression.
The academy doesn't teach it, and by adulthood, Nostrum was done for.
I'd mastered imperial protocols from a century ago, but kingdom ones were foreign territory. Learning now meant I'd have use for it anywhere later.
"I'll keep demonstrating, so watch and memorize. Ears open for my questions, mouth for answers."
"Yes, Master."
"You trying to betray your mother or something?"
Her thrust into empty air felt like it pierced my heart.
"I'm not betraying Mother."
"Then why bring the Queen here? Especially pregnant?"
"Mother does fear her a bit."
She had, in the past.
"She has sins to atone for with the Queen."
"That's all on the margrave's side. The broken engagement."
"Once Mother chose to marry Father, she became a perpetrator too. She stole him from the Queen."
"Cold-blooded. You hate the marchioness that much?"
"I don't hate her."
But adding anything more would truly betray Mother.
"Just by not saying more here, I'm already taking her side."
"...What if the margrave suddenly changes overnight and cheats with the Queen?"
"Pfft!"
A laugh burst out briefly.
"Sorry, Master. Didn't see that coming."
"I'm serious. He's human."
"Yes, he is. Hmm... Master, care for a hypothetical within a hypothetical?"
I sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside me. Mente Knight set down the staff and approached slowly, settling next to me.
"Master, your ear."
"Spit it out."
"Honestly, even if Father took the Morgania lady as a second wife, what's the problem?"
"......."
Mente Knight's face filled with shock the instant she heard it.
"You...."
"You've heard something from the Grand Duke. If not, I can explain here."
"No, I heard. But I thought it was a joke...."
Her eyes wavered.
"You're really going to do it?"
"If necessary."
"...No justification."
"Won't his past conduct provide that?"
"......."
Mente Knight pressed her forehead with a hand and sighed.
"Then what's happening in there right now is...."
"Not the second act of a romance between old lovers reunited. They might've entered as Crimson and Carmen."
"But only the Gibraltar Margrave and Morgania's 'Regent' remain."
"Seven more years."
Here.
"Until Naria ascends the throne, Margrave."
Treasonous plotting was in full swing.
"Can't we speed it up?"
"Speed it up? How? Even if we rally the council for new laws, what good if Saint vetoes them?"
"He stamps everything else just fine."
"Can't seal succession with just a royal seal. Needs bloodstained fingerprints."
Throne inheritance. By kingdom law, Nostrum's king must always be an adult.
"Margrave. Planning to repeat history?"
"......."
"Sudden death, abdication, deposition—anytime a minor takes the throne, calamity strikes this nation."
"Isn't that the royal curse from the founder?"
"But it happened every time. So it's not a curse—it's prophecy."
Just drag him down? Impossible.
"Looks like superstition, but with ten repeats, it's ironclad customary law."
"......."
Nostrum had faced crises for nearly five centuries, the worst when no adult king sat the throne.
"Who knows now with the dragon pact broken, but we can't risk repeating a disaster killing tens... no, hundreds of thousands."
"Same here. No plans to pile corpses into mountains in the gorge like with Lord Cardian."
Was it the dragon-founder's pact?
"Minors can't rule Nostrum. ...Ancient royal custom."
Or just recurring coincidence?
"Frankly, without custom, I'd have dragged that bastard down ages ago and ruled as Naria's regent."
"Regency? Everyone who's done it met bad ends."
"Listen, Margrave. Who am I?"
"Carmen."
Some historians claimed regency itself signaled national doom.
"Right. All regent queens ended badly. But if I die alone, fine—Naria becomes queen and dies too."
"Until the next heir, Nostrum bloodline reaches adulthood."
"Exactly. Can't watch that. Or make my daughter bear a child at forty? No way."
Yet unbroken for five centuries meant caution for posterity—especially contemporaries.
"Customs are exhausting."
"Law, procedure, justification, post-revolution rule. Thinking that far, this is right. If just dragging him down, I'd choke him myself."
"Call me then. I've wanted his head since forever."
"Just the head?"
"His filthy hands too."
Queen Carmen smirked.
"So wait seven years. Build justification meanwhile."
The margrave's expression unchanged, he leaned back comfortably on the sofa facing her.
"That covers why spare the incompetent king seven years. Shall we discuss afterward?"
"......."
"Margrave. Purge him, and I'm alone."
Queen Carmen crossed her legs, smiling leisurely.
"Think the central nobles leave me be?"
"Who'd touch the queen mother's mother?"
"What if your father dies?"
"......."
"Morgania's power stems from blood, wealth, information—but root is military might."
She extended her hand.
"Without Gibraltar alliance, can't guarantee what follows."
"You want my strength?"
"Obviously. Justification's plenty. Grey Gibraltar."
"Grey's matter...."
"Queen Naria's national marriage. Perfect excuse for Gibraltar entering the capital. Ah, you can stay, Margrave. But Grey goes to the capital."
Queen Carmen beamed, tilting her head slightly.
"Become in-laws, or marry me. Your choice in seven years: one or the other."
"To avoid marrying you, I marry my son to your daughter?"
"Of course. Ah, ideally both. Pedigree? Who cares—no blood mix anyway."
"...It'll mix eventually."
"Oh."
At the margrave's self-mocking quip, Queen Carmen froze mid-pose.
"...Joking too much. You've changed a lot, Margrave? Three kids, one more coming?"
"Something like that."
"...Changed too much. Where's the man who punched the king's face over groping his wife?"
"Right here. And that hasn't changed."
The margrave shrugged calmly.
"For Gibraltar's future, playing expectant father isn't impossible."
"......."
"So, about that."
The margrave hesitated, then straightened and spoke.
"The national marriage needs more time to discuss."
"What?"
"Actually, a few days ago, Grey said...."
"...Huh?"
Crash!
Something shattered.
"...What?"
"Your Majesty, surely—"
Bang!
The door flew open violently.
"Grey Gibraltar—!!"
Queen Carmen stormed out, face beet-red, bellowing my name.
"Carmen. Calm down. That's—"
"Margrave, stay put!!"
She yelled at Father, who flinched back while grabbing her wrist. He didn't let go.
"...Yes, here."
"You."
Queen Carmen pointed accusingly, striding toward me. Father trailed hesitantly.
"Mid-conversation with the margrave, and out comes this gem."
Her voice flat. Dangerous.
This was Colonial Governor Carmen Morgania.
When was she last this mad?
When she told me to handle Noir impregnating three noble ladies and playing dumb? When Letar killed too many and got an imperial warning, ordering me to rein her in?
No.
"Explain."
This was it.
"You."
The most dangerous moment yet.
"What did you mean, 'even without loving my daughter, marry if necessary'?"
"......."
Ah.
"Was that sincere? You, who said anything for love?"
I'd let my guard down.
"Naria...!!"
"Was that it? The marriage alliance between me and Princess Naria."
Queen Carmen—no, Princess Naria's mother had arrived.
"That was it?"
"Hm. Not for others' ears."
I'd thought it was something huge. Or was she faking anger to test me?
"Told Father recently, so delivery was delayed."
Either way, miscommunication born of insufficient talk.
"Needs separate explanation for Your Majesty."
Father must've slipped discussing future plans.
Not a huge slip, though.
Father could say it.
"Your Majesty. I...."
Just that she didn't know well. Or misunderstood wildly.
"Know Princess Naria better than anyone—better than she thinks."
"So that means—"
"Your Majesty."
I bowed briefly—to her and Father each once—then whispered softly into her ear, for her alone.
"This idea isn't mine. It's hers."
"......What?"
"She's against it. Against."
Not me.
"Ask Princess Naria yourself. If for the nation, marry Grey Gibraltar—a man you don't love?"
"......."
"She'll answer exactly thus. To the letter."
In this world.
No one understood Naria as perfectly as I—or better.
"Even unloved, if necessary... marriage is possible, no?"