Chapter 63
The Calendian Royal Family
“Martell, Illumca,” Connie started as she walked down the stairs. “I am thinking about visiting my mother’s grave tomorrow.”
“Even though she had no connection to you?” Martell asked. He had learned about Connie’s true self when she preached about cultivation, thus could not understand why she would do such a thing. She was Cornelia’s mother. Not hers.
“Despite Cornelia’s lack of care towards anything but the futile pursuit of knighthood, there are people who loved her and there are people who despised her. Such as the foolish prince I just met,” Connie answered his question. “Thus far I have only known what she knew, but not what others knew about her. At the same time, I’m also curious about the Steelheart’s secret.”
“Why do you want to know that? It sounds like a waste of time” Illumca asked. She saw no use to know of Cornelia’s past.
“Know yourself then you shall know your enemy,” Connie said as she grabbed three apples from a cart passing by and flicked a silver coin to the peddler.
“What is that?” Illumca received the apple and bit into it, the sweet juice running down her chin.
“I’m taking a big liberty, but it was a saying by a famous scholar in my old world.”
“What does it mean?” Martell asked as he caught the apple that Connie threw with a glancing look.
“In this case it means I have to know Cornelia better to know who my enemies are. Not just the obvious ones, but also the ones hidden behind the curtains.”
“Ah,” Martell nodded, enlightened by her wise saying. “I am learning something new every day.”
“As you should. I’m not doing a good job if you aren’t. By the way…” Connie stared at the familiar thing around the Beastfolk’s neck. “Why are you wearing that collar again?”
“Oh, this?” He fiddled with the collar on his neck. “In the Capital, it’s much safer for me to walk around with a Slave Collar, otherwise the traffickers might have ideas. I fixed it last night.”
“I see, quite smart,” Connie nodded. “We are going to have a long day tomorrow. So how about a nice late lunch and a stroll around Courandhel before we start the evening lesson?”
“Sounds good!” Illumca ran up to Connie and entwined her arm with hers.
“Eeh? Evening Lessons?” Martell complained.
“Yes. You are going to be at Sword Knowing by the end of our stay in Courandhel if it’s the last thing you do!”
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That night Prince Mikael sat in front of the King and his Queen on a long table. Both men sitting at different ends of the long ornate table that could accommodate 22 people. The Queen sat to the right of her husband.
Usually when they had dinner together they rarely minded propriety and often casually chat with each other, but tonight the dinner was only accompanied by silence.
King Gerard was a man of great bearing and dignity. His body still retained the traces of harsh training he had undergone since youth, with only the white gold beard and the creases under his eyes as the only sign that he had aged.
On the other hand, Queen Margarethe was a grand woman with a kind demeanor. She was 15 years younger than her husband. Her every action, from how she sat to how she ate was a result of many years of training. Gentle and elegant. Yet tonight, her movements were fast and slightly violent. Knife and fork going against the tableware audibly.
After the main course was finished, the servants poured some wine for them.
The King sipped upon the wine in silence. In front of them, Prince Mikael was looking down at his untouched glass of wine.
“F-father…I-“ he could no longer bear the silence and decided to speak first.
“Your Father has not finished his wine,” the Queen said slapping her fan on her hand. In Mikael’s ear, it sounded like the sound of judge’s gavel.
The King did not hurry to finish, swirling the wine, sniffing it, and then taking a short sip.
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It was supposed to be quite a good quality wine. Fragrant and not sweet. Unlike most murky wines the commoners and lower nobles drink. But right now, it tasted like nothing to him.
Finally, the King upended the glass into his mouth and put it down. Only then did he start speaking.
“I received an official letter of complaint from the Maiden of Water about an hour ago,” he said while calling for his adjutant, a middle-aged man with curled moustache to come over and hand him a letter with a piece of broken red seal still on it. He put the letter down and pushed it away.
“Do I need to read you the content?”
“N-no. Father, it was not my fault!” He tried to defend himself. “It’s Cornelia. She’s the one who provoked me!”
“The proud Knights of the Kingdom. Ganging up on an unarmed girl. Your ex-fiancée at that,” Queen Margarethe said, voice trembling in fury. “And drawing swords inside the Church,” She put down the letter with a deep frown. “Are these children so free that they dare blaspheme against Junnaveil?!”
The Queen, as a member of a long line of old-fashioned Nobles, once lived for a year in the convent for spiritual training. As a result, her connection to the Junnaveil Faith was deep.
“It doesn’t matter whether he blasphemed or not,” The King said, earning a sharp look from his wife which he cursorily ignored. “All that matter is that our son had done a stupid mistake.”
He then looked at his stupid son. “And you know what that mistake is?”
“Yes…Father,” he said, no longer trying to shift the blame. Knowing that it would draw his ire even more. “I was too rash and offended the Maiden of Water.”
“Unlike Vorzenny, whose Head of the Faith is also the King of his country, our and the Junnaveil Faith stood together against the demons. Our deterrent, the heroes can only be summoned if we work together! One must never be on top of another. Otherwise, the balance between the country and its people will break. Do you understand?”
“Yes…Father.”
“Even more, losing the blessing of the Maiden of Water will affect the acceptance of your rule. Do you understand the weight of this? The implications of this would not just affect you, but also your wife and your future children,” the King said, his voice increasing in volume. “Do you think just because you are my son, you can always go against anyone with no repercussions?! You are no longer a child. Grow up!”
“Dear, your temper,” the Queen said as she rubbed on the man’s back.
“But Father. The Maiden of Water is nothing more than a figurehead for an old-fashioned belief! You yourself said that they are behind the times,” Mikael said. “And now that we have “that”, their existence will no longer be of importance!”
“Silence!!” the King’s voice boomed. “That is a state secret!!”
“I cannot, Father! We are the Royal Family! By blood and by right we are superior to the common rabble!” the Prince said. “As proof, I was chosen as the Top Student of the Tower, beating even Eleanora, the Successor of the Archmage Alberich!”
“Title alone does not make a good King!” King Gerard said as he pointed harshly at him. “You are getting too close to the Nobles. Their mistaken sense of superiority is affecting your judgment.”
The aging king leaned back and regarded the view outside. “Do you know how many Nobles are fighting in the Frontline against the demons right now?”
“…I…cannot say,” The Prince haltedly said.
“Not more than 10 percent of those we sent to that hellish place. The 90 percent are made up of those who serve the Military,” King Gerard stated the facts. “And do not think that I don’t know that you sent regular Knights to aid her during her journey to the Capital.”
“…!” Mikael’s eyes widened and he bit his lip in frustration.
“I am old, but I have many eyes, Mikael. You are young and gifted. But you are only a cub. Compared to an old lion like me or the Generals, you are still inexperienced.”
He tapped his fingers, ruminating a thought that appeared in his head as a result of his disappointment. “It seems that I have been too lax with your education. I should send you to the Frontline to get a taste of what we have been facing.”
“Dear!!” The Queen was surprised. She might be angry but not so angry that she would send her one and only son to the battlefield. “Please reconsider!”
“Father!” The Prince was stricken by horror. The Frontline is a hellhole where demons could come from anywhere and death was not the worst. The worst would be becoming demon chow. “I am your son!”
BLAM!
The King’s hand slammed against the table causing Mikael to flinch.
“You dare say that as you cower behind my affection?!” His palm leaving a deep dent on the hard table. “My decision is made. In a month, you will head to the Frontline. Bring those private guards of yours, let them taste what hell is like, then perhaps it will grind out their arrogance,” the King said, his gaze fiery as he reminisced about his time in the battlefield.
He did not become King solely by blood privilege. He became King because he earned the respect of his subjects through blood and sacrifices.
“Now leave,” King Gerard motioned with his arm and left the table, along with a concerned Queen.
Sensing that he could not persuade him today, Mikael decided to back down and walked out the door where he saw Lionel. He was sitting on a chair with unfocused gaze.
“Lionel!”
“Y-yes, Prince Mikael,” the youth woke up from his daydream and followed his steps.
“You’ve been dazed ever since we got out of the Church. Is the loss taking that much toll on you?”
“N-no, Prince. I am just slightly fatigued,” he said. He could not very well speak of his worries. For it was not proper.
While walking along the hallway affixed with many luxurious ornaments and dark red carpeting, Mikael threw out curses. “Dammit. If it wasn’t for that damnable bitch, I won’t be sent to the Frontline!”
“The Frontline?!” the announcement jolted Lionel from his imagined paramour. “Why are you being sent there?”
“Not just me, us!” He answered miserably.
“I see.”
Prince Mikael frowned slightly when he saw that his friend did not share his misery. Unlike the cowardly Prince, Lionel was a brave man.
As a Knight, Lionel was very gifted and the thought of going to the Frontline made him imagine of all the chances that he could get to try out his skills and the honor it would bring to his House.
“Get a few of your people to tail her. And tell me whatever you can find about her. I can't believe she got that strong without doing something illegal.”
“Understood,” he replied. When he saw that the Prince was putting on a mantle, he raised an eyebrow in question. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Serin! I feel suffocated in this damned castle.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you wait for tomorrow? It’s very late at night. It’s not appropriate.”
“That’s why I have you, right?” The Prince answered haughtily. "Call for the Carriage!"
All Lionel could do was let out a sigh before he did what he was ordered to do.