The Weight of a Crown
“How long has it been?”
That night, after Arnat had retreated, Hamori asked Dolen. It was the first thing he said after dismissing the servants before heading to bed.
Dolen’s complexion looked much more relaxed than before. His eyes, fixed on the ceiling as he lay down, were as calm as a lake in the dead of night.
“It was last year. I never imagined I, too, would fall victim to Crystallization Syndrome.”
“Why—why didn’t you tell me immediately, Father?” Hamori asked with a sigh.
Dolen replied, “Because it would have interfered with your training.”
It was a heartless answer. Even though Hamori could feel the affection buried within those words, he felt a pain as if his father were pruning away his own branches.
“To me, you are more important than any training!”
“Everything has a flow. To disrupt it brings about unforeseen consequences. Just like me, right now.”
“This is too much. This is simply too much. You have Crystallization Syndrome… that’s a death sentence for a practitioner.”
For a practitioner, Crystallization Syndrome was like a grim reaper waiting at the end of one’s fate. While some lucky few might avoid it, those who developed crystals within their bodies almost always met a painful end. But there was another reason why the disease was so feared among practitioners.
It was the fact that one must not activate their Essence, not even for a moment. The second they did, the crystals would drain the Essence and consume the flesh itself.
“It is part of the process of succession, you brat. When you have children of your own later, you will understand how I feel.”
Yet, Dolen laughed with a sense of relief. It was a temperament befitting a lay priest of the Wind Temple.
“It’s a bit early, but I must prepare for retirement. A sickly monarch cannot be a source of strength.”
“You’re retiring?”
“Well, would you have me continue to rule in this state?”
Hamori’s eyes widened. He had known his father’s condition was serious, but he hadn’t expected to hear talk of retirement from the monarch himself, not even a day after returning from his training journey.
“Only fools cling to a position when they are inadequate. And before I am a monarch, I am a priest of the Wind Temple, my son.”
“You are also my father.”
Hamori spoke with emphasis, as if asserting that this was the most important quality of all. And in truth, it was. Hamori’s mother, the mistress of the Hesno household, had passed away during childbirth. Dolen, who had married solely for love, was a devoted husband, and thus he had never taken a second wife or remarried.
Dolen nodded and said, “Indeed. So, it does not matter that I am no longer the monarch. I am simply moving toward a life that suits me. And you, too, have merely arrived at the position that suits you.”
Movement. It was a teaching of the Wind Temple. Flow always moves from top to bottom. But movement is free to go anywhere, and thus, it is never bound.
Hamori felt not the dignity of a monarch from Dolen, but the dignity of a father. The blind devotion of a child who had once wanted nothing more than to resemble his father now shone with the clarity of his tempered spirit.
“Will I be able to become a good monarch like you, Father?”
“One is always fearful and trembling before doing anything. Look at your father and you will know, won’t you? I was just as terrified when I first contracted the syndrome.”
Hamori laughed at Dolen’s playful banter. Even in his illness, his father remained cheerful. It was only right to smile back. At that moment, Dolen’s hand, resting on the bed, covered Hamori’s.
“Do not worry, my son. You will do well.”
Hamori lowered his head, unable to answer. His father was a sick man. Yet, the warmth transmitted from his words and his hand gave Hamori more strength than ever before.
“Please rest, Father.”
After turning off the light and carefully closing the darkened door, Hamori walked down the hallway. It was time to make full preparations as the successor of the Hesno house, whose value had been recognized.
In the days that followed, the Hesno household was a flurry of activity. The news that Dolen had stepped down from the throne and his son, Hamori, had returned to become regent became the talk of the city. And the reason was quite absurd.
“A young son as regent? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
“I heard something like this happened in Keloras a long time ago.”
“Huh, really?”
“They call this kind of situation proxy governance.”
“Forget the fancy words you don’t even understand and just drink your ale. Anyway, our new regent will handle things well enough on his own!”
Such bewildered reactions from the citizens were only natural. Usually, the younger one is the successor, and it is normal for them to become the master of the organization only after a legitimate transfer of power. However, the Hesno family followed the teachings of the Wind Temple, and thus they accepted this rare succession structure with flexibility.
Hamori sat on the monarch’s throne as regent and gained the right to question Dolen and his advisors.
This change progressed with a speed that defied comparison.
It was so fast that the local lords lamented missing their chance to curry favor.
And coincidentally, this change brought about an outcome Hamori had not anticipated.
Because he had given the lords no time to prepare, they were forced into a state of self-reflection, agonizing over whether they had done something wrong.
When the congratulatory letters and gifts from the lords finally arrived, the castle’s stewardship department shrieked with joy. After all, no one dislikes wealth that can enrich their living environment. In those days, laughter never ceased in the Hesno castle.
And it was during those days that Arnat suddenly announced his departure.
“I believe it is time for me to leave.”
“You are going?”
“I, too, must carry out my duties.”
Hamori looked at Arnat with an expression that didn’t know what to say. He was a man who had shown the capacity to heal a monarch because of a connection, without ever speaking of his own mission. Naturally, it was only right to offer words of gratitude. But Hamori could not overcome the greed in his heart.
“Is my father… going to be alright?”
In the end, Hamori chose to lean on the medical professional as a patient’s family member. He was a man from whom one could expect at least that much kindness.
Arnat shook his head and said, “It is Crystallization Syndrome. Even I cannot cure this.”
That was a hard truth for Hamori to accept. Hamori gave a self-deprecating laugh and said, “I am a pathetic son.”
“It is not your fault, Regent Hamori.”
“There were good successors in my life, but no good sons. My father never remarried. I grew up away from my lonely father, running only toward a certain succession, and now I am in a position where I must accept my father’s tentative death sentence. Can you still call me a good son?”
The man who had come out with the mission to kill a prince for the sake of his family looked at the young regent in silence.
“Just by trying to live up to those expectations, you are a good person, Regent.”
It was a word spoken to another, but also to himself.
“And Monarch Dolen’s condition is not severe. While a full recovery is difficult, I have taught him how to continuously mitigate it. You will be able to significantly delay the worsening of the symptoms.”
Hamori, who had been thinking of farewell words, discovered something strange in Arnat’s statement.
“Wait. Didn’t you say it was an incurable disease? That even you, Lord Arnat, could not fix it? But now you say a full recovery is difficult?”
“It means the possibility is not zero.”
“Please, I beg you to teach me.”
He had been about to leave without a word. Arnat looked at him quietly. Arnat felt compassion for this young friend, but at the same time, he felt jealousy. How happy it must be to be by the side of a dying father.
It was the jealousy of a son who had been forced to leave his father behind to pursue responsibility during his father’s most difficult times. Therefore, Arnat thought: if he finds the clue in my words, I will give him advice; if not, I will leave.
Hamori caught the clue.
“I am grateful for the immeasurable grace of your kindness and service thus far, Lord Arnat. However, I ask you just one more time. If there is even a sliver of possibility, as a son, I intend to grasp it. Lord Arnat, please, I beg you to tell me.”
Arnat’s mouth slowly opened as he watched Hamori bowing his head.
“Do you know about the Healers?”
Hamori nodded at the clue that flowed from Arnat’s lips.
“I do. Are they not the servants of the temple who, in the distant past, used Essence to make the barren land fertile and heal the people?”
“That is correct. You know of the Three Methods, do you not?”
Hamori nodded.
Firmo, Aurio, Moror.
There is no practitioner who does not know these three methods of using Essence, which are the basic qualifications required for training and, at the same time, encompass everything.
“If you know that, the explanation will be a bit easier. Depending on individual differences, the Three Methods show quite a large difference in skill. I am somewhat superior in Firmo and Moror, and thanks to that, I was able to absorb some of the Essence from the crystals in the monarch’s body.”
“You absorbed it?”
“Essence is a power with easily variable properties. You cannot completely uproot the foundation, but if you tune it well, you can make it slower than the existing growth rate. I estimate the next ten years. It might be possible to ‘endure’ until then.”
“My father’s lifespan… are you saying it only has that much left?”
“Ten years is a sufficiently long time, Regent Hamori.”
“Yes. It is a long time. For us, that is.”
Hamori’s expression twisted in pain.
“Lord Arnat. You Cellabris people live nearly twice as long as ordinary people in exchange for being born on the land of the gods, do you not? Even in your eyes, do ten years of my father’s life seem long?”
“It is a time that might be a child’s entire lifetime. Ten years is a sufficiently long time.”
Arnat realized the meaning of those words too late. Arnat was a member of the gravekeepers. And just a short while ago, the 34th King of Cellabris, Hartras Cellabris, had entered eternal rest to mark the National Soul Festival.
There must have been the king, the close attendants and advisors who served him, and even their children, excluding those who were chosen to dedicate themselves to the new king. Realizing that his words were nothing more than a light complaint, Hamori finally dropped his head.
“And to add one thing, all Healers belonged to the Earth Temple.”
“The Earth Temple?”
“Yes, Regent. To cure the monarch’s condition, you need those who deal with the origin of Essence. You need those who connect the Earth Temple and the lineage of the Jongdae-suksa.”
“But are they not the ones who left Cellabris thousands of years ago? My life has been short, but I have heard that they have not revealed themselves for over two thousand years. I do not know if that is true or false, though.”
“It is true. I do not know about other things, but at least that record certainly exists in the royal archives of Cellabris.”
Hamori’s pupils trembled.
“If so, finding them…”
“It could help in your father’s recovery. The healing arts they handle are techniques possible only because their Moror has reached a state of mastery. That is the reason I cannot fix it, and the reason they can, as I have just told you. That is all I know.”
Hamori bowed his head once more. This time, deeper than before.
“Thank you. Truly, thank you so much.”
“It is nothing. I pray for your father’s long health. Regent Hamori.”
Arnat bowed and turned his back. That was his farewell. Arnat, who had slipped out of the monarch’s hall, walked through the castle corridors and eventually left the manor as well. The castle guards knew of the existence of the gravekeeper, whom they had seen several times.
Arnat walked away, drawing aimless steps just as he had when he first visited the Hesno castle. The moonlight and starlight of the night, as always, hid the wanderer in subtle darkness.
It was a very long way back, but at least he was a wanderer with a firm purpose.
Demz village is peaceful.
A life with no wild beasts, no attacks from Exiles, abundant resources, and comfortable sleep. If the past six months had been so difficult, Asdin was now living a life he had only dreamed of six months ago.
A life of eating on time, sleeping on time, following a regular training routine, and learning what is necessary to keep pace with the world.
This was exactly what Srem had promised Asdin.
That was why there were times when Asdin would stare blankly at the road entering the village once a day. Hoping that Srem might visit again, just as he had appeared and disappeared.
However, the guest who arrived this time was not a very welcome one. It was Urnil, who always kept his gaze on the surroundings, who discovered the guest first.
[Asdin. Look to the left.]
Asdin followed the instruction and turned his gaze. A boy was approaching with hesitant steps from the corner of the village.
Asdin remembered that face. It was Pun, one of the children of this village.
A few weeks had passed since the first introduction ceremony. Demz village was busy with the sowing season, and the children helped the adults. As a result, Asdin had had several opportunities to run into the children while working. However, as he had warned, Asdin ignored the boys.
But Toby still glared at Asdin, showing fierce hostility. Of course, whenever Asdin glared back with intent, Toby had no choice but to look away.
And every time that happened, Toby was puzzled. That a child smaller than himself could have eyes as scary as an angry adult was an experience hard for a boy of the same age to understand.
The problem was that, thanks to that, Asdin was known among the adults as an outcast child. The reason was something most adults knew, and Asdin was also certain of it in his heart.
The child Srem brought.
Because of that, Toby hated him, and the person Asdin currently trusted most was the same.
Still, Asdin didn’t care. Even if others didn’t, at least the village chief, Lukedi, treated him normally. He was also the person Srem had trusted and entrusted him to.
Therefore, Asdin ignored Pun.
If it hadn’t been for the words that came out of those hesitant lips, he probably would have continued to ignore him.
“Hey, I’m sorry, Asdin.”