The Madwoman's Invitation (9): The Royal Intelligence Chief
The intelligence chief of the royal palace. This bastard had been collecting info on me through various channels even after I retired. He was the one who sent Brione my way too. Of course, Elua was pulling the strings behind him... Come to think of it, didn't he end up siding with Elua? Whatever. Just looking at his face pissed me off enough.
I reached out and grabbed his ear.
"Get over here. Come on, you fucking dog."
"Aaaah! That hurts!"
"You piece of shit? I just wanna live quietly, so don't fucking push it. You keep this up, and I might flip the whole damn table."
"I'm sorry...! My ear...!"
The nobles who'd been ignoring me were now pale as ghosts, trembling like leaves. The one who'd first recognized Francois hesitated, then approached me and bowed his head low.
"W-We were rude... Please forgive us, Your Grace..."
He didn't know exactly who I was, but figuring I had ties to high officials, he'd guessed I was at least a duke. No point giving these clowns etiquette lessons now, so I just patted the noble's lowered head.
"Yeah. Let's get along."
He looked way older than me—at least a count—and this moment was probably the most humiliating of his life. Getting his head patted by some young punk whose exact title he couldn't even pin down? That'd be a rare experience for most men his age.
"And you lot behind him—rotten Epicurean cheeses* left to mold in a warehouse for a decade."
The noblewomen I'd singled out shook like aspens, avoiding my gaze. The high officials, grasping the situation, politely pretended not to hear and looked away.
"Count yourselves lucky. If you weren't born nobles, no kitchen would take you as scullery maids. So quit flapping your gums like you're hot shit."
With that, I wrapped things up and chased off the nobles who'd been giving me trouble.
"Heh heh... Bertrand. Still got that foul temper and iron balls of yours. Making remarks like that to nobles at a banquet full of dukes."
"The minister'll handle the cleanup."
The defense minister gave a wry smile and patted my shoulder, looking troubled. Over yonder, a cluster of elderly gentlemen were eyeing us. Let's see... Edran, Dolerion, Sabel, Bibelif... The elder statesmen of the noble council—dukes and marquises. Those old fogeys were the real power pulling the strings.
They'd probably get suspicious of me and start digging. The banquet incident? The minister and his crew would cover for it.
I averted my gaze from them and snapped curtly at the defense minister. "Those fucking pricks started it. Pisses me off."
"Haha! You're right. Wet-behind-the-ears brats who got lucky being born to noble parents, acting all high and mighty."
Kekers Marquis laughed heartily. He was noble-born, sure, but he'd built his fortune through sheer business savvy, so he had the right to say it.
"Uh... p-please let go of my ear..."
The intelligence chief, still clutched by his ear, fidgeted and grabbed my wrist.
"You listen up. Show interest in me one more time, and I'll dump every last one of your intel goons into the palace moat."
He knew damn well I could—and would—do it if provoked. He bowed repeatedly, mumbling apologies.
"Balder. How've you been? All well?"
The cardinal approached with a fawning smile.
Oh, right. While I'm seeing his face, time to ask a favor.
"Skip the greetings. Tell the chief saintess to grant a holy blessing."
"Pardon? Out of the blue? For whom...?"
"Black mage. Works at my inn. She's bathing in holy sword spring water 'cause of her black magic power."
"Black mage? At an inn? Working? Holy sword spring water?"
The cardinal stared like I'd spoken in tongues, not comprehending a word.
"Ugh, fuck. Can you or can't you?"
"I'd have to talk to the chief saintess first. She's never bestowed a holy blessing like that... A black mage, you say? Black magic and holy power are polar opposites—mess it up, and she could drop dead on the spot."
"If I say do it, do it. Talk to her and let me know."
"Y-Yes, sir."
The cardinal bowed with a good-natured grin. That's why I liked the guy.
Francois stood a short distance away, alone. Shock and bewilderment etched her face as she watched me. The way the palace bigwigs treated me must've been utterly baffling to her.
Her confusion mirrored mine a bit. Francois, of the Audrion house? Then I'd just smashed everything right in front of her eyes.
That explained why she hadn't revealed her family to me... We'd need to talk this out calmly later. No brushing it off.
Anyway, it felt like old times. Shame I hadn't run into any real old comrades who'd fought tooth and nail beside me...
"Minister. Why'd you call me but not my comrades?"
"Er... well..."
The defense minister trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the question.
Hm... Elua's orders, maybe? Since I'd bumped into him anyway, I figured I'd probe the palace situation a bit more.
"Minister... over here a sec."
I grabbed his shoulder and dragged him to a corner of the banquet hall.
"Scram. I said beat it. Don't follow."
I shoved away the intelligence chief trying to eavesdrop—true to form—and barked at him.
Francois stood there blankly, just staring. Sorry, Francois... but I had to leave her alone for now.
─────
Behind a pillar in the banquet hall, I rapid-fired questions at the minister.
"Minister, give me the rundown. What's the deal here? How'd the king die? Old age? Assassination?"
"Bertrand. You're not a top-secret civil servant or hero anymore. Why do you care?"
"You wouldn't be curious? Old man's gone, and that crazy bitch is about to wear the crown?"
He didn't flinch at my blunt talk. He'd heard it for years—no need to overreact now.
"Princess Elua is legitimate heir. The kingdom's only direct bloodline. Any issue with her taking the throne?"
"That's not the point. It changes everything depending on how the king died. Why play dumb?"
"Bertrand..."
"And what about Duke Alvis? A duke drowns at sea on vacation? Come on."
The minister gave a bitter look at my barrage of tough questions.
"Of course not. But even if it's suspicious, what then? You gonna step up like old times?"
"Nah. I'm no politician or noble. Not itching to dive into this cesspool."
"But Elua ascending like this feels off."
He turned serious. "You sure? No plans to meddle in politics?"
"Obviously. If I wanted in, I'd have stayed after Demon King's head rolled—prime of my career. Why ditch it all to run an inn in the sticks?"
"Hm... true..."
The minister fell silent, scanning the surroundings. Checking for eavesdroppers. Then he pulled a pen-like rod from his pocket and swept it around.
"Magic detector? Palace must be a real shitshow."
"Intelligence and mages are all with the princess now. Can't speak or sip water carelessly here."
"Total clusterfuck, in other words."
Being back in the palace was dredging up old habits...
"Bertrand. You're the only one I can trust—no political baggage, no spy vibes, no power hunger."
"Cut the fluff. Get to it."
He stepped closer and whispered, "His Majesty... might not have died naturally."
Figured. That sturdy old coot wouldn't just drop dead. But "might not" instead of "didn't"...
"Suspicion but no proof, huh."
"Mm..."
He clammed up. Couldn't badmouth the princess who might hand him military command.
"Then why'd Gobert suddenly ship out to the front?"
"King's orders. No clue on the reasoning. Maybe to dodge an assassination... Forget I said that."
Got it. Minister suspected foul play too. Half-brother to the front, rival noble dead, king conveniently croaks? Assassination's the obvious call.
"Any deathbed words from the old man? Will or testament? Pick a successor?"
"Not that I know. Found him passed in bed one morning..."
"So Elua's queen, end of story?"
"Bertrand... after you retired and left, the princess's condition deteriorated sharply..."
The minister cut off. His eyes flicked behind me.
"There you are, Balder."
A chilling voice slithered over my nape like a lick. I twisted my lips into a smirk.
The star of the show had finally arrived.