Chapter 102
Chapter 102
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: The Second Prince
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Second Prince, Dallas von Edbalt.
If one were to speak purely in terms of birth order, he was the man closest to the throne after Michael.
No, if one set aside martial prowess and considered purely human qualities, he could even be seen as more suited to the emperorship than Michael.
Handsome features. A bold personality. Even the charisma to draw people in.
Where Michael inspired awe through overwhelming power, Dallas assimilated people with his bright smile.
That said, his martial strength wasn't lacking either. He was exceptional as a knight as well.
While Boris and Erwin could be considered firmly under Damian's heel, the same couldn't be said yet for Dallas.
He had just one blemish. Being born as Michael's half-brother.
Where Erwin lamented his fate in comparison to Rubia de Clarent, it was nothing compared to Dallas.
The difference between Erwin and Rubia was such that, frankly speaking, even discussing it was an insult to Rubia.
No one expected Erwin to ever catch up to her. The gap was that vast.
But Dallas and Michael were different. The difference between those two didn't feel as immense as one might think.
Yet catching up was impossible. It was a gap Dallas could never bridge, even if he sold his soul.
One could only imagine how that overzealous Abigail von Edbalt had hounded him.
Perhaps as a result, Dallas's inner self was more twisted than that of his other siblings.
In the end, it all traced back to their parents. The father's neglect and the mother's overbearing nature had corrupted the imperial heirs.
'He has a knack for scheming too.'
The palace terror incident and the giant glass snail fiasco before his regression—could they both have been Dallas's plans? It wasn't impossible.
After Arkin von Edbalt departed, Damian had sent a letter to Dallas requesting a meeting.
The reply came promptly. It said his schedule was open, so they could meet immediately.
Damian headed to Dallas's residence with Paruzan. Her presence was essential for proper verification.
"Kyaa~. Kyaa~."
The bone fragment frolicked in Paruzan's palm.
It rejected the other servants, yet acted cute toward her. What on earth was the difference?
"So, what's this little guy's name?"
"It doesn't have a special name. I just call it the bone fragment for convenience."
"Bone fragment~. Bone fragment~."
"Kyaaa! Kyaaa!"
When she scratched it just like one would a cat, it let out unreserved sounds of pleasure.
Dallas's residence wasn't far. So Damian walked through the palace with Paruzan instead of taking a carriage.
Her aura sense might detect something along the way.
"Isn't that Lord Damian? And the woman next to him..."
"It's not Lady Agnes... someone else."
"Well, it'd be weirder if a man of his caliber only hung around his fiancée."
Perhaps because it had been a while since he'd strolled the palace grounds, people paid especially keen attention.
"No odd vibes from anyone we've passed so far?"
"Not yet. But okay for the males, why are the females glaring at me?"
"Probably because you're next to me. Plenty of them get jealous like that."
"I see..."
"What are you doing?"
Paruzan suddenly wrapped her arms around one of Damian's, leaning her full weight against him.
"Look over there! Look over there!"
"Are they really lovers? This could be quite the scandal."
"Don't even think about reporting it. He's got real backbone. With Lord Damian's temperament, it won't end well."
The reactions from those around them grew even more heated.
Thinking it some strange prank, Damian tried to pull away from Paruzan, but one look in her eyes changed his mind.
This wasn't the gaze of a socially inept girl. It was a hunter eyeing her prey. This, too, was one of Paruzan's traps.
"There's one. Reacting with unnatural calm. A woman? She seems pretty strong."
Damian hadn't sensed anything yet.
But among the women currently in the palace, the number of skilled ones was limited.
'Ciel.'
The Empress's sword. And Boris's lover. Also the one who had attacked Rubia de Clarent.
'Didn't expect her to be skilled in tracking or ambushes.'
She was one of the top ten active knights. Damian had assumed she'd excel in standard one-on-one combat.
But she was a woman shrouded in many mysteries. Her fate during the civil war had remained unclear.
"Still, no hostility. Seems like just surveillance."
Was it the Empress's will, then? But there was her relationship with Boris too. He couldn't presume her motives rashly.
"...Enough clinging already."
"Why? Doesn't matter."
Paruzan flashed a mischievous smile and pressed closer.
It was no longer the hunter's expression. Nor was it purely innocent—more like a sly, impish glint.
"Heeheehee. People's reactions are hilarious."
It wasn't just about feeling his warmth through contact. She was reveling in the hypersensitivity around them.
A central imperial culture different from the South. Every variable was novel to Paruzan.
They arrived at Dallas's mansion like that. The atmosphere differed from the other palace buildings. It resembled a fortress on the borderlands instead.
"......"
"......"
"Hyaat!"
"Die!!"
Even the figures visible past the main gate were like that. Fierce-faced warriors were tending weapons or sparring.
"What are these guys?"
Having seen well-dressed nobles until now, Paruzan tilted her head at the sudden sight of barely clothed warriors.
"Dallas's vassals."
"Vassals?"
"Think Anna and Felix."
Mentioning those two made Paruzan tense up rigidly. Especially since she'd suffered much at Anna's hands.
"Damian..."
"Renekht..."
"Indeed, strong."
They merely offered light nods to Damian or whispered among themselves.
They felt less like palace affiliates and more like Dallas's private soldiers.
"Lord Damian. Welcome. Please, come inside. His Highness the Second Prince eagerly awaits your visit."
A well-dressed butler greeted Damian's group. If anything, his presence seemed out of place in this mansion.
The interior was normal, at least. Ascending grand stairs led to a lavish receiving room.
"Come on in, Damian. Who'd have thought you'd be the one sending me a letter first. Your big brother here was a bit touched."
Dallas welcomed Damian with arms spread wide. As a knight, his build rivaled Damian's.
"Brother Dallas. It's been a while."
It hadn't really been that long. Damian's memory of ever meeting him was hazy to begin with.
"Now, now. Take a seat first. I've heard plenty from Boris and Erwin. They say you put on quite the show at the Mage Tower."
Dallas chuckled amiably and offered tea.
'His facade really is that of a fine gentleman.'
Unlike Boris or Erwin, his acting didn't show. Or perhaps he didn't even see it as acting.
That was how he'd gathered such rough warriors under him. Among Lucas's children, his talent for drawing people in was the greatest.
"......"
"......"
Behind him sat his muscle-bound vassals, expressionless.
Dallas's attire wasn't ordinary either. He wore the pelt of a massive wolf like a cloak.
Naturally, not a common wolf. It was from a northern mana beast—a werewolf.
"You've been in the North for a while, haven't you?"
"Ah, you noticed. I was just helping Brother Michael for a bit. Got this pelt from a hunt up there too."
"Ooh, ooh!"
Paruzan blinked repeatedly. The hunter's instinct stirred at the sight of an unfamiliar mana beast hide.
"Ahem."
"Tch..."
But the butler's pointed glance made her step back.
"I am Paruzan. I accompanied Lord Damian at his invitation to visit the palace briefly."
Paruzan bowed to Dallas. Both he and the butler looked surprised.
"Wow... The lady who visited the palace the other day had manners too, but our vassals are still so..."
"I'll redouble my efforts, Your Highness."
The butler bowed his head. It must happen often, as Dallas just waved it off.
"Paruzan, was it?"
Dallas leaned toward her with a gentle smile.
"They say southerners have such appealing skin. No wonder Damian keeps you close."
Dallas lifted Paruzan's chin with his index finger. The motion was so natural that resistance didn't even cross her mind.
No, Paruzan had no intention of resisting to begin with. If Dallas approached like this, she welcomed it.
Her hand stroked Damian's thigh. The prearranged signal meaning Dallas was indeed "in the cave."
"Oh dear. I've gone and erred with the lady. Her exotic beauty got the better of me."
Confirming where her hand had been, Dallas exaggeratedly retreated with a flourish.
"Never knew my little brother had become such a man. But honestly, a beauty like you devoting himself to just one woman? That'd be a crime in itself."
It was a tightrope walk between jest and insult. Strangely, it didn't grate.
If Boris had said it, Damian would have warned him. If Arkin, he'd have punched him in the face.
Dallas's smile held an inexplicable power that defied common sense.
"So, what brings you to see your big brother?"
"Does it need a reason? I've returned to the palace after so long. Meeting the family elders is only natural."
Lucas was in seclusion, Abigail away on inspection, and Michael still in the North.
Thus, Dallas was currently the imperial family's representative.
"Heh, really. You've gotten better at flattery."
He said as much, but his expression showed no displeasure.
He flattered others well, and in turn enjoyed being flattered.
"No major incidents in the North?"
"Well, with Brother Michael there. It'll pass quietly this year too."
"Even so, the northern wastes are a demon realm, aren't they? If those giant mana beasts living there pushed toward the capital, it'd be terrifying."
Damian probed reactions while asking. But nothing unusual surfaced. Did he still not know about the giant glass snail's fall?
"I have a question for you too, Damian. Is it true you're doing some special training with your fiancée? Sword training without mana, right?"
"Yes."
"Hey, Shakyia. Looks like the opponent you've been waiting for has finally shown up."
Dallas's gaze turned to one of his standing vassals.
His face was hairless save for eyebrows, covered in large and small scars. The look of a warrior who'd danced on the edge of death.
He wore a leather cloak instead of a shirt. Oddly, only his right arm was bandaged.
"Ah, introductions. This is Shakyia, a vassal I picked up in the North recently. From some vanished minority tribe, apparently. Heard he does the same training as you."
Shakyia scanned Damian with dull eyes. Sizing him up.
"Ugh..."
Paruzan's body trembled faintly. Her keen senses made her especially sensitive to the pressure he exuded.
"Damian. Renekht. Strong. Body. Like. Shakyia."
"Forgive his speech. Says he injured his head as a kid, no helping it."
"Fight. Want. Dallas. Permission. Please."
Shakyia placed a hand on the sword strapped to his back. Ready to draw at Dallas's say-so.
"He's too belligerent. First time we met, he challenged me right off the bat. So, Damian, fancy a go?"
"What do you mean?"
"A fight. Purely physical."
"The sparring you do with Lady Agnes. Excluding mana, using only the body. Shakyia's been itching for it. My vassals aren't enough to satisfy him."
Shakyia grinned toothily as Damian met his gaze. More glee than provocation.
"It'd be good for my vassals too. And training with someone besides Lady Agnes would help you. Ah, of course, I'd pay properly."
At Dallas's gesture, the butler brought two weathered tomes.
"Your hobby's collecting rare books, right? These are from some abandoned northern ruins. Can't you indulge me, for old times' sake?"
If they were mere old books, he might've hesitated. But not anymore.
Both were Books of Hell—Mem.
'Perfect timing. Just what I needed.'
To feed another Mem to the bone fragment and check its reaction. If it could keep growing, it might even reach Molech's level.
"Very well."
A Book of Hell for each spar? A steal.
Moreover, he needed ongoing contact with Dallas.
"You sure?"
En route to the training grounds, Paruzan whispered.
She knew she should use formal speech with Damian, but it still felt awkward. So she opted for whispers.
"Don't worry too much. It's just a spar. No mana from either side."
And he had no intention of losing. No matter how experienced a warrior Shakyia was, he couldn't beat Damian without aura.
"You stay back for a bit."
"Kyaa! Kyaa!"
Damian handed the bone fragment to Paruzan. No reason to keep it in his pocket mid-spar.
"Shakyia versus Damian Renekht?"
"Finally something worth watching."
"They say it's that style?"
"Why train excluding mana, anyway?"
"Still, should be fun."
Vassals who'd heard the news packed the area. Damian and Shakyia faced each other at the training ground's center.
"Here we go."
At Dallas's raised hand, a translucent barrier enveloped the grounds. An Anti-Magic Barrier.
Damian drew Derek's sword, Shakyia his massive curved blade.
Tadak! No need for a referee since it wasn't a formal duel.
Kading! Their swords clashed, leading to a test of strength.
Chaeng! Chaeng! The metallic clashes pierced the chill air with fervor.
It felt different from facing Agnes.
Back then, it was about technique. With Shakyia, it was raw power colliding.
'Something's...'
The crowd's heated cheers faded. Damian focused on Shakyia's sword.
'Déjà vu?'
The blades' differing designs meant no similarity in technique. But fundamentally, something akin to Damian's own sword was visible.
"Iron. Wolf."
Derek's moniker slipped from Shakyia's lips.
"My. Sword."
Shakyia provided the answer to his question.