Den of Vipers (12): Father Summons Me?
Father's looking for me? He rarely seeks me out unless it's something major... I wonder what's going on.
Though he was his biological father, Gobert had little emotional connection with him. As a child, he'd been close to Elua; as an adult, to Bertrand. If asked whether he shared a close bond with his father... well, Gobert was deeply skeptical.
To him, his father was a man with a kindly smile but no real shared memories—someone uncomfortable to be around. And Gobert knew full well that behind that smile lurked the viper's fangs typical of the royal palace dwellers.
In any case, he quickly checked his appearance and followed the servant. As expected, the servant didn't head down the central corridor of the palace but took the emergency passage connecting the inner and outer wards. It was a remote path rarely used, so Gobert guessed his father must have something highly sensitive and cautious to discuss.
After navigating the winding route, they reached his father's study. Standing guard out front was Kamei, dressed in casual clothes with a short dagger at her side.
Kamei was the kingdom's undisputed top knight. Taller than most men, with broad shoulders and a muscular build honed like a beast's. She possessed near-instinctual combat sense and savage strength. The kingdom's finest swordsmen had challenged her, but none could match her—except Bertrand.
When Bertrand first arrived at the palace, still not even an adult, the guards had mocked the fresh-faced kid strutting around with a sword too grand for him, calling him all show. Bertrand wasn't one to let that slide. Without even drawing his Holy Sword, he battered dozens of fully armored guards with the sheathed blade, then stormed straight to the guard headquarters.
Kamei, already waiting in the training yard with sword drawn upon hearing the news, clashed with Bertrand immediately. The result was a perfect, overwhelming defeat. And it wasn't even sword-on-sword—they never crossed blades. Faced with swordsmanship she'd never seen before, Kamei rolled across the ground multiple times without a single scratch on her.
If she'd at least taken a mortal wound, it might have been bearable. But as the kingdom's self-proclaimed best, the blow to her pride was immense. From then on, she harbored resentment toward Bertrand—or rather, she grew cold, ignoring his very existence. Then again, that was her personality to begin with, so no one really knew how Kamei truly felt about him.
Though beaten by Bertrand, he was a being beyond human limits. Kamei remained the kingdom's strongest knight, and even guarding the king in plain clothes with just a dagger posed no real risk.
She met Gobert's eyes but offered no greeting or bow—just a curt nod. Used to such treatment and knowing her temperament well, Gobert smiled and lightly inclined his head in return.
Stepping inside, he found the king seated on the sofa, welcoming Gobert with that affable smile. Gobert was a bit startled. It wasn't as if years had passed since their last meeting—they crossed paths about once a month—but the king now looked every bit the frail elder.
The Demon King's resurgence, bizarre natural phenomena, and endless power struggles with neighboring kingdoms had aged him drastically over the past decade, that much was true. But perhaps, having overcome all those trials, the sudden peace had caused him to let go of the willpower that had sustained him all at once.
Like a man who'd slaved away his whole life only to fall ill and die the moment he tried to rest.
"Have you been well?"
As Gobert sat opposite, the king asked with his usual gentle smile.
"Doing alright?"
"Same as always. I rise late, stroll the inner gardens, read in my quarters, play cards with the servants, tend my potted plants... nothing changes."
"I figured you'd be bored stiff with Balder gone."
"Bertrand leaving is... regrettable, of course, but I can't very well meddle in his decisions."
"True. You've always been like that, even as a boy—respecting others' wishes, never throwing tantrums or digging in your heels if something didn't suit you."
"Yes..."
Gobert's impeccable character, praised by all. Fine for human-to-human relations, but woefully unsuited for surviving the viper's den that was this palace. Yet by some stroke of heavenly luck, he'd made it this far.
"So, what brings you to summon me so suddenly?"
"You've stayed completely detached from palace politics, living as if you don't exist—out of necessity, regrettably."
The king sidestepped the question.
"In other words, you're the only one in this scheming, filthy palace untouched by the muck."
Nicely put: untouched by the muck. Bluntly: irrelevant enough that no one bothers approaching him.
"Even if your birth mother schemed like a serpent and met her end on the execution block, you're still a prince of my blood. You can't live like this forever."
"Haha... yes... I'm not sure."
Gobert brushed it off with his trademark kind smile. His father rarely said hurtful things to others, so there must be some other reason behind it.
"I'm getting on in years now, and lately, I've had a premonition that my days are numbered."
"Please don't say that. You're still—"
"It's not idle talk, Gobert. I truly feel it these days."
Knowing this wasn't just age-related whining, Gobert nodded silently. His father had always kept him at arm's length deliberately; if it were mere chit-chat, there'd been countless opportunities over the past twenty years. But he'd never taken them. Clearly, there was something specific on his mind.
"You're aware discussions about succession have arisen lately."
"Not really. No idea."
Gobert, accustomed to playing deaf, mute, and blind, answered naturally.
"Why do you think that talk's surfacing now? The ministers know my end is near."
"Is that so? I haven't sensed anything like that."
"It's not just my age, Gobert. Over the past six months, Elua has..."
The king fell silent for a moment.
The rightful heir to the throne, Princess Elua. After Bertrand left, her condition had worsened. Coincidence or not, during the decade Bertrand stayed at the palace, Elua rarely pulled her dramatic "mad stunts." But mere months after his departure last winter, she'd attempted suicide twice and tried to kill servants three times.
Those afflicted by the Sirdanel curse died young, before adulthood. Elua was still alive, but she could drop dead any moment. For the kingdom's sole legitimate heir, it was an alarmingly unstable state.
"The ministers are worried. If I die, Elua must become queen, but as you know, she's no fit material."
"Well... a position shapes the person, and Elua's no fool."
"Of course she's not. That's precisely the problem, Gobert."
Elua was clever. That's why no one could properly rein in her mental breakdowns and antics. Magic didn't work on her for some reason, making it impossible even to restrain her safely.
"Many fear Elua ascending. Sensing that, she's been quietly building her own faction for some time."
Gobert had expected as much. It'd be weirder if she hadn't. At this point, he sensed something suspicious in the air. His father wasn't one for personal talks, let alone debating kingdom affairs. Yet here he was, suddenly bringing up succession and deeming the first-in-line Elua unfit.
"Elua must not become queen, Gobert. It would be the end of Verabche Kingdom."
"I'm not sure. I've no interest or thoughts on such matters."
"The noble council has settled on Duke Alvis of the south as a successor candidate, backing him fully. With Elua doomed to die young and you never in the running, they're seizing the gap."
Gobert knew of Duke Alvis by reputation: talented, virtuous, a rising star in the council thanks to vast wealth from his southern domains.
"But we can't crown someone outside Sirdanel, Gobert. That's simply not possible."
"I see. If you say so, Father."
Gobert kept giving vague replies, trying to avoid being drawn into the heart of it. The king, sensing his intent, spoke up.
"You shall inherit the throne, Gobert."