Chapter 107 — In which families are complicated (5)
The room turned deadly silent.
It was a tense silence, incomparable with the subdued silence after Mimosa left.
All parties narrowed their eyes and carefully examined their opponents.
Crimo didn’t turn his gaze and just stared at Phlox, with his fingers folded under his lips.
His expression unreadable.
Vern, who wasn’t caught in the gaze contest, quickly examined Seven.
Scarlen and Sangria did the same.
The man in the center of attention didn’t flinch, and if one was to be frank, had rather sleazy reaction to all of the stares.
Seven seemed lost in thought, his face betraying a hint of fatigue and confusion.
Vern quickly recalled the rumors of assassination attempt on the Saint’s life from about month ago.
Those were quickly dismissed by the Saint himself and people around, but now it turned out it was true.
And the assassin was wearing Rubrun’s emblem.
Not only that, from what Vern saw, he was also an outstanding mage.
Add to that the assassination attempt at Crimo’s life today, led mainly by Purplus’ forces, and not so pretty picture would be painted.
If the Saint was murdered, or if the information about the assassination attempt was confirmed to the public, or if Crimo was seriously hurt or killed today because of Purplus’ relic…
In the current situation, the war could be triggered with just a small spark.
But there was something that bothered Vern even more.
‘What Little Phlox just said… That sounded like something which Am would say…’
Though he wasn’t exactly sure what it was about, Vern finally arrived at the conclusion he was unconsciously avoiding all this time.
‘Both me and Saf are deeply connected to the ruling families… There are two people favored by gods, but there is no way gods would agree for anyone else but Am to be a Saint when they can choose, so considering that there was no change… Yes, Am must be a Saint again…’
Vern chose his thoughts very carefully, avoiding recalling Saffra and Amara’s age information as much as possible.
It was quite easy considering the fact that he had a man, who tried to murder his younger brother, just in front of his eyes.
“I’m afraid I have no idea what Priest Phlox means.”
“Is that so? I thought I spoke quite frankly.”
“In Rubrun, spiting into someone’s face has quite a different meaning from ‘speaking frankly’.”
“It appears I offended Lord Archmage, I apologize. Will you care to accept this gift of apology?”
Phlox responded to Crimo’s growing ever colder glare with an even wider grin and pointed at Seven again.
Before Crimo could spit out any venom that crawled on his tongue, Vern quietly suggested:
“He is a mage. As such it only natural that we treat him at least a cup of tea at our house, correct?”
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If one was to translate what Vern said into ‘frank’ language, it meant:
‘He is the guy, who helped Purplus’ envoy with the teleport. We should at least interrogate him before disposal.’
Crimo pressed his lips for a moment and then lightly nodded.
“I’ll accept this gift as an apology.” He stressed out the word ‘apology’. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Purplus’ Representative Phlox?”
Phlox took the hint from Crimo reminding her of her position and shook her head.
“No, I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Goodbye then.”
Phlox bowed lightly, and Alexandrit beside her preformed a deeper bow.
Without adding any words of blessing as was Purplus’ custom, but not Rubrun, they turned around and left.
Seven’s gaze followed them out, but neither of them turned their heads even slightly to look back at him.
Their goodbyes were quick like a slash of a blade.
But Seven didn’t have time to think about it, because a gaze colder than steel, turned towards him.
Crimo was silently observing him, as if trying to peel down his skin and see the depths of his soul.
Even Seven had to brace himself not to flinch at that gaze, though it was hard to say if the shiver he felt was because of that gaze or the young man beside Crimo, Vern, who wasn’t even staring at him, but at the wall, deeply in thought.
Still, their combined auras were something to bow a head to.
“Your name and origin?”
Seven opened his mouth, then closed it hesitantly.
He unconsciously glanced at Scarlen, and as if he found his words.
“I believe it would be in the best interest if I took off this disguise first.”
“And why is that?”
“It will be the best proof of my identity.”
“Sounds like your identity is quite unbelievable.”
“According to my current understanding of the situation, that would be correct.”
Crimo observed him for a second, then turned his head to look at Scarlen and Sangria.
His gaze danced back and forth between them, as he carefully thought about his decision and then said:
“Master Sangria, please help our ‘gift’ with that.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Sangria bowed and then motioned for Seven to move.
They entered an adjacent room.
When they disappeared from the view, Scarlen glanced at Crimo with a question in his eyes.
Though he didn’t mind staying by his side, he wasn’t quite sure of Crimo’s thoughts.
Feeling his gaze, Crimo answered with a slight frown on his face.
“He kept glancing at you. I caught him doing that at least four times since he entered.”
“Ahhah… I see, my Lord is very considerate.”
“Did Grandmaster Scarlen noticed anything about that man?”
Vern, who fell into deep thought for a moment, suddenly asked.
Scarlen tilted his head and answered:
“Nothing much. His soul felt a bit older than most, but the attendant, who was at his side felt similar, so I just thought that they were Purplus’ secret guards disguised as attendants.”
Demons had unique abilities related to souls, and that included some surface level observation, but that ability was quite weak and imprecise.
For example, even if Scarlen used his spiritual sight to look at Vern’s soul, he wouldn’t be able to say that he was the first Red Throne’s Ruler Vermillian or that his soul was shattered before.
He would be only able to say that there were some damages, but they could be attributed to Vern’s poor health.
Vern understood those limitations and nodded.
What he was wondering about was if Seven had a soul or any vengeful ghosts hovering around him.
‘…!’
Suddenly, something clicked in his brain at the word ‘vengeful’.
He looked up and scrutinized Crimo.
Crimo blinked, unsure about his younger brother’s sudden attention.
“Come to think of it… You almost don’t eat… if you eat, it’s usually something red… you are extremely sensitive to sunlight… and sometimes you move beyond your tattered body should allow…”
“Vern…? Is something wrong?”
“Crimo, are you a vampire?”
Crimo, who opened his mouth to express his worry, froze.
His eyes opened wide and mouth hung half-opened.
It seemed as if his mind went completely blank.
As he wasn’t in the state to reply, Vern turned to Scarlen.
“Is he a vampire?”
Scarlen was also looking at him with his mouth half-open, but his eyes were slowly lighting up, as if the things, which always bothered him, were clicking into place.
He answered with a low:
“Ohh…. So that’s why.”
“… His canines should be a bit sharper than normal.”
“Young Master, I didn’t have an honor of looking into my Lord’s mouth. How should I know that?”
Vern just gave Scarlen a pathetic glance.
As he was in a form of a youngster, who only entered adulthood today, its power was doubled.
Scarlen couldn’t help but bit his lip and turn his gaze away.
Vern looked at Crimo, who was still blankly staring at the wall, again and asked:
“You really never thought about it?”
“… I just thought I was under such stress I fell sick.”
He mumbled weakly, suddenly realizing there were simple answers to all the strange conditions his body submitted him to through the last few years.
An awkward silence fell, as Crimo desperately tried piece himself together.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps.
Sangria and Seven were coming back.
The three men, who were making very dumbfounded and confused faces, quickly used their years of experience in the political world to pull on poker faces.
But those faces were threatened to break the moment Sangria and Seven entered.
Sangria had a dazed face, as if he still couldn’t figure out the situation, and looked back and forth between Seven and Scarlen.
It was only natural reaction.
Because after Seven shed the layers of disguise he was put on, his face held uncanny resemblance to Scarlen.
Though not the same, quite characteristic for Scarlen’s straight nose and thick lips were extremely similar.
Uncaring about the shocked eyes around him, Seven gave an old-fashioned bow:
“Iben of Black Forest greets Lord Archmage of this era.”
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