Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Imperial Envoy (2)
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“Planning to join the patrol tomorrow?”
“Seems he wants to see the battlefield firsthand and pay respects to the souls of the settlers who lost their lives.”
“Did a priest come along too?”
“The Bishop of Shilde did.”
Late at night, Fernandez was sipping tea in Kirhas’s chambers, chatting with her. Kirhas fumbled through her memory, reciting the conversation she’d painstakingly memorized between the Duke and the prince.
“Nothing else noteworthy?”
“The knight who came with him was the chatty one. The prince... he just smiled through most of it.”
Kirhas recalled the prince’s enigmatic smile, impossible to read. He had conducted himself with flawless courtesy and decorum during the meal, but he’d clearly avoided engaging directly in the conversation.
Fernandez stroked his chin and chuckled at her words.
“What do you make of it?”
“The prince’s personal visit? Astonishingly bold. We confirmed Ironside’s direct involvement, and the imperial family knows it too. How can he stay so composed?”
No matter how gently put, the prince’s position was as precarious as sticking his head into a guillotine. As Fernandez saw it, the visit meant one of two things: the Emperor didn’t want conflict with Revye, or the prince wasn’t truly aligned with the Emperor.
That conversation just now made the latter far more likely. In truth, the Emperor had no reason to tolerate Revye. If Revye publicly antagonized the imperial family over the past few days’ schemes, the justification would lie squarely with the throne.
“I need to speak with the prince.”
“Shall I arrange it?”
“Alone, if possible.”
“His escort knight was incredibly meticulous. Looked like he’d follow the prince even to the privy.”
“Haha.”
The prince’s escort knight. From the Order of the Radiant Holy Spear. That order answered directly to Captain Revans, and Revans was the Emperor’s closest confidant. Was he there to “protect” the prince... or “watch” him?
*Knock knock.*
“Who is it?”
Kirhas spoke in a languid tone, laced with irritation. She was finally stealing a rare half-day alone with Fernandez.
“Lady Carbellier, daughter of the Duke. Great Chieftain.”
“The Duke’s daughter...? Let her in.”
The beastkin warrior standing guard outside opened the door. Soon, a figure in an opulent evening gown with fiery red hair entered. It was Rene.
Fernandez caught a whiff of sweet perfume as she stepped in. Noble ladies dousing themselves in scent after a social was commonplace... but this smelled different from what he’d noticed at the banquet hall earlier...?
Rene glanced at Fernandez before approaching the Great Chieftain and giving a slight bow.
“Forgive the late hour, Great Chieftain.”
“What is it?”
“I have business with one of your retainers.”
“With Fernin...?”
Kirhas’s eyes flashed sharply as she glared at Fernandez. Again? Really? Fernandez shrugged and shook his head. What “again”?
Ignoring the tension between them, Rene crossed her arms and stared straight at Kirhas. The soft silhouette of her evening gown seemed to grate on Kirhas’s nerves. She replied coldly.
“Say it here.”
“I request a private audience.”
“You dare... to the Great Chieftain’s consort... A chaste Duke’s daughter, in the dead of night, alone with him? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, ‘in the dead of night,’ ‘alone.’”
She was pushing it. Fernandez couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. Rene Philippa de Carbellier was a seventeen-year-old noble lady. No matter how clever or bold, she couldn’t escape the playful mischief of youth.
Kirhas flinched at Fernandez’s laugh. She urgently mouthed over the Duke’s daughter’s shoulder at Fernandez, who leaned against the wall. “Already that far...?” “What do you mean ‘already’?”
*I sometimes wonder what Kirhas thinks I am.*
-She thinks what she sees, probably.
-Shut up.*
Fernandez shrugged and approached Kirhas. He showed her the courtesy a beastkin of the hound clan might expect, kneeling on one knee.
“It’s late. Allow me to escort the lady back to her chambers.”
“Fernin...!”
Kirhas’s eyes trembled with disbelief and betrayal. Fernandez signaled briefly in Heretica hand signs. “Tactic.” Kirhas replied with a gesture dripping maximum sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Of course you will.”
“Oh my, thank you. I hope I’m not interrupting your sound sleep, sir.”
“I require little sleep, my lady.”
“Goodness. I’m the opposite—always oversleeping in the mornings. Shall we walk a bit?”
Rene provocatively extended one arm gracefully, draping it over Fernandez’s.
* * *
The palace inner gardens weren’t much to look at after the recent destruction, but on this warm spring night with a gentle breeze, the moonlit fountain was beautiful. Fernandez walked silently beside Rene for a while.
“Isn’t the weather just perfect?”
Rene, who’d been pouting slightly, forced a smile and said it. Fernandez stopped by the fountain and looked down at her. For some reason, she clasped her hands together, her emerald eyes sparkling.
“What’s your business.”
“...You’re making this awkward. No sense of romance?”
“Save the romance for books. I assume you provoked the Great Chieftain for something important.”
“Missed my friend?”
“Rene Philippa de Carbellier, daughter of the Duke. Don’t friendships require mutual benefit?”
“Tch.”
Rene turned away, her enthusiasm deflated. She gazed at the fountain and whispered softly.
“Things are getting weird.”
“Have you spoken to the prince personally?”
“Yes. And he wants to see you now.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Do you two know each other?”
Fernandez shook his head briefly. Rene shrugged.
“My position doesn’t allow me to be seen carousing with foreign men at night, Sir Cerned. But involving the Sultan seems like a bad idea.”
“Meaning the prince and Emperor are at odds?”
“The Empire is going to collapse.”
Rene declared it flatly. Her eyes gleamed coldly.
“Prince Robert, right?”
“Old buildings aren’t renovated—they’re rebuilt.”
-Rustle.
From behind the garden shrubs, along the narrow path beside it, Robert strolled out leisurely. He wore a light tunic with a longsword sheathed at his side.
Forewarned of his approach, Fernandez regarded him without surprise. In his past life, his operations had centered on the Empire’s eastern borders, so he’d had little direct contact with the northern hero. Seeing the hero in his youth felt a bit strange.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Robert Tremulere.”
“Albert of Dane. Your Highness.”
“Dispense with the formalities, Sir Albert Cerned. If a Round Table Knight of Dane bows so low, what will King Vicente think?”
Fernandez paused mid-bow. He let out a short laugh, thinking.
*Right—Ironside knows who I am.*
-Didn’t he say Robert was the Auditor General? How’s he connected to Ironside?
-Every organization needs treasury approval.*
Fernandez lifted his head and crossed his arms. The two men quickly sized each other up. Strong. Even more than expected, up close.
*Indeed, master of the northern seas.*
-In the past life, the elves had declined. By current naval power, Robert couldn’t match the Gaimern royals.
-Robert’s not just strong at sea.*
Erik the pitch-black was better at inland wars than naval ones. Northerners inherently outclassed continentals in build and raw strength. Facing a unilateral ambush from such foes, with all fronts and ports crippled in isolation, this man had turned the tide.
Heroes were a dime a dozen these days. Fernandez smiled self-deprecatingly. Even a continent full of them had fallen in the end.
“I’ve heard much of your renown, sir. Well deserved. I’d love to cross blades right now, but circumstances prevent it—frustrating.”
“Too kind, Lord Tremulere.”
Lord Tremulere. The prince’s title wasn’t hereditary, so this diplomatically treated him as the second son of a mere county. Robert laughed instead.
“I heard plenty about you—impressive tales. Bold, yes, but I hadn’t heard you were this straightforward. Rumors understated you.”
“Amid all the praise for Lord Tremulere, I don’t recall ‘unpretentious’—memorable.”
“Haha! Hahaha! Sir Cerned, neither of us wastes time. Shall we get to it?”
Robert laughed heartily and sat on a garden bench. He leaned back against the armrest, boldly crossing his legs. His ice-blue eyes shone with arrogance.
“Kingmaker. Who do you think will claim the next throne?”
“Kingmaker?”
“The man who put the obviously doomed Vicente on the throne. Hearttaker’s rise was probably your doing too? Like a street troupe romance. That’s what my subordinates call you in code: ‘Kingmaker.’ I saw it in your reports.”
“So, not just Auditor General.”
“Indeed. My apologies—I was lax in managing my underlings, leading to that mess. But isn’t it a blessing? It ended the Fifty Years’ War.”
“Haha. Well...”
Fernandez smirked at the brazen Robert. He’d misjudged. This wasn’t a capable prince aligned with Ironside. A different beast stood before him.
-Not Ironside’s patron...
-Ironside itself.
*Extremely... capable. Impressive.*
Why hadn’t this man vied for the throne in his past life? Had Rene’s political maneuvers been more intricate than he’d realized?
“From now on, forget I’m imperial prince, second son of the Tremulere counts, Empire’s Auditor General, palace minister of Gür... all that nonsense. I’m Special Task Force First Division, Ironside’s Gray Circle. Its leader—Angel.”
“Astonishing. Truly.”
“Don’t look it?”
“What expression do I have, then, Angel?”
“You’re amused, Albert.”
Fernandez touched his lips with a hand, realizing he was grinning wider than even he expected. Yes, he had to admit it. Meeting past-life heroes and hearing their secrets was enjoyable. But more than that...
Unraveling the world’s mysteries was better. Less inquisitor’s duty, more black mage’s curiosity.
“Asking again. Who’ll take the throne next?”
And this was a test from the head of the continent’s top intelligence network.
“Rene Philippa de Carbellier.”
“Eek?”
It was the hiccup of the future emperor.