NOVEL SIMPLE Book 8: Chapter 2
The Imperial Capital of Grantsrale in the Earthworld Empire.
One girl sat in a room of the Imperial Palace. Lowellmina Earthworld, the youngest Imperial Princess of the Earthworld Empire.
News had made its way across the continent about how Imperial Prince Demetrio had recently tried to ascend the throne for himself, which ended up catching the middle prince, youngest prince, and Lowellmina in a domestic conflict. Amid this turmoil, it was, in fact, Lowellmina who had emerged victorious. She pushed aside the armies of the middle and youngest princes, and the eldest brother fell from power just as the throne was within reach. Then, by undergoing the required ceremony, she announced her legitimacy as the future Empress.
Lowellmina was a modern heroine. Although she hadn’t yet risen to the throne, which could trigger a revolt, it was no exaggeration to say the eyes of the entire continent were on her every move.
As for what sort of task a figure universally described as “legendary” was undertaking at the Imperial Palace…
“I’m going to power puke…” She faced a mountain of paperwork with a deadpan expression.
“Your Highness, please don’t cut too loose when you’re out of the public eye,” her subordinate, Fyshe, advised next to her.
Imperial Princess Lowellmina’s constant groaning as she slumped over a desk of unprocessed paperwork didn’t exactly scream “dignified.”
“You think I’m taking it easy?! I’m giving you all I have to offer! And all I can offer is this pukey feeling!”
“Please choose your words with more care.”
“Violently pukey!”
“Your Highness…” Fyshe flashed her a despondent look, and Lowellmina pouted childishly.
“Can you blame me?! I haven’t had a moment to rest since I made the announcement!”
“I understand, but…”
Lowellmina was the former leader of the Patriot Faction, which was known for lamenting their concern over the future of the Empire. On top of that, she had defeated her three older brothers and boosted the numbers of the Patriot Faction by absorbing the eldest brother Demetrio’s followers once he fell from power. The factions of the two remaining brothers also weakened upon losing the war, and their unification was steadily deteriorating. In the eyes of society, the odds were clearly in Lowellmina’s favor.
—However…
“Our faction might fall apart. I’m soooo screwed…”
As it turned out, Lowellmina was in a tight spot.
To start, the Patriot Faction had always been scared that the battle for the throne might destabilize the Empire, which was why they had banded together in the first place. And now, their representative, Lowellmina, had announced that she would join the fight without any warning—even if it was the eldest prince’s doing. Many of the people in the faction were like, “Hold up, this wasn’t the agreement.” And could you blame them for having that reaction?
In addition, Demetrio’s faction wasn’t actually loyal to Lowellmina. They had only half-heartedly joined her on account of the eldest prince’s insistence. Plus, it would have been awkward to join the other brothers’ factions, since they’d recently crossed swords with them, and these two groups were also on the decline anyway. If they were being honest, more than a few were waiting to crush the princess who had caused Demetrio’s downfall as soon as she slipped up.
As the icing on the cake, opportunists were banding under her, too. Like the eldest prince’s faction, they felt no loyalty toward Lowellmina. This itself was not much cause for alarm. The issue was that most of them were angling to be Lowellmina’s husband. The value of snagging a beautiful bachelorette who might be next in line for the throne was priceless. With this role on the line, a battle—an intense one—had broken out within the faction.
As if the tension wasn’t already bad enough, Lowellmina couldn’t stand being treated as a prize in their bro fight. This was the source of her constant groaning.
“In the end, I’m being underestimated once again.”
The Patriot Faction thought she was contributing to violence in the Empire.
The eldest prince’s faction looked down on her for defeating their leader through what seemed like sheer luck.
The guys aiming for her hand in marriage undermined her and didn’t believe for two seconds that a woman could rule the Empire.
She had to do something. She had to prove to everyone in her faction that the person named Lowellmina was worth serving.
Except she still didn’t have the slightest clue how to go about that.
“I’m going to power puke…”
This was the only conclusion she’d arrived at.
The middle and youngest princes were busy scrambling to gather their forces because they’d lost. Lowellmina was attempting the same thing because she’d won. Victory or defeat, the outcome seemed to be the same, oddly enough.
“Fyshe, tell me something funny,” Lowellmina said out of desperation.
Fyshe looked sullen. “Unfortunately, as someone who is glued to your side, everything that I’ve experienced, you’ve experienced.”
“I don’t need you to be all logical! Tell me a funny story to lift my spirits! Make something up if you have to!”
“…Very well. I have a rather comedic tale about an attendant who became so delirious after many nights of accompanying her very busy master that she got lost on her way home.”
“…I’ll give you a day off sometime, so let’s pretend that never happened! Okay?!”
“Hmm? There’s no need to act so flustered. It’s just a story made it up on the spot.” There was a terrifying quality to Fyshe’s grin.
Lowellmina internally vowed never to broach the matter again.
“Ah, I wouldn’t call it a ‘funny’ story, but the object of your obsessions, Prince Wein, will be attending the Gathering of the Chosen.”
“Oh, is it that time already?”
At present, people considered the Kingdom of Natra an ally of the Empire and part of Lowellmina’s faction. This, however, was just the public opinion. The relationship between Natra and the Empire—the relationship between Wein and Lowellmina—was in a precarious state, teetering by the slightest change in conditions.
This Gathering of the Chosen was the same way. The prince insisted he’d ensure the Western nations wouldn’t encroach on the Empire, but this was Wein. He had to be plotting to form some kind of relations with them.
Fyshe looked troubled. “Is there a chance Natra will side with the West?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s very realistic for them to sever ties with the Empire. Unless something drastic happens, he’ll want to maintain our current relationship.”
“But that may not agree with what the West wants.”
“Precisely.” Lowellmina smiled. “Show me how you’ll fight against these Western monsters, Wein.”
It was a dream, almost suffocating, one that led her through a dark swamp. The mud bonding to her feet grew heavier with every step. She kept treading forward—through the pain, through the suffering, through the urge to cry. She pressed on, even as the sludge dragged her down.
What lay up ahead? That was anyone’s guess—
“ Ngh.” Ninym’s eyes snapped open.
Shoot! she cursed, instantly regretful.
She was inside a carriage. Wein was heading to the Gathering of the Chosen, and Ninym was selected to accompany him as part of the delegation. Hair dyed black, she was in the same carriage as Wein as both his servant and his guard—but she’d inadvertently fallen asleep.
At fault were the sunlight pouring through the windows and the gentle rocking of the carriage. At any rate, she was a disgrace to guards everywhere for displaying this moment of weakness, for falling asleep in front of her master.
“Your—”
Your Highness. Ninym was about to call out to him, but the words caught in her throat. Her crimson eyes watched Wein doze with his chin in his hand, arm propped up against the window frame.
…Wein fell asleep, too.
Ninym looked at his peaceful expression and sighed, experiencing some respite from the crushing weight of her dream earlier. She continued to gaze up at him. Time passed quietly, the carriage lightly rocking.
…Ninym stood without a word and cautiously glanced to her sides. Wein didn’t stir. Even the guards surrounding them on horseback weren’t paying attention to the occupants inside. —In other words, Ninym could do whatever she pleased here, and no one would know.
…Gently now. Gently.
Ninym knelt next to Wein. Her earlier dream was to blame for this. She felt compelled to indulge herself—just a little. She rested her head on Wein’s chest and nuzzled her cheek against him like a puppy snuggling with its master.
“Mm…” Wein mumbled softly, and Ninym stiffened. He gave no other indication, however, that he was awake. Relieved, she rubbed her cheek against him twice…and then a third time.
As she did, Wein’s hand sleepily moved to stroke Ninym’s head. He wasn’t awake; this was pure habit. Whenever his consciousness was hazy, Wein—a man often busy pampering Falanya—often mistook anyone who put their head against his chest for his little sister.
Unfortunately, he was still in dreamland, so he would sometimes stop moving as if he were a marionette with cut strings. Fortunately, it took only a bit of prodding to get him to start again. In all of Natra, only Ninym and Falanya knew about this little secret.
“Haaah…” Ninym felt herself break into an easy smile. These secret moments were impossible when Wein was awake or when they were in the public eye.
He’ll wake up if I keep pressing my luck, but maybe if it’s just a little longer…
Wein’s fingers combed through her dyed hair. As she basked in the sensation and continued to tell herself that it would be one more minute—
Ka-thunk! The carriage lurched.
“Nnghh, yaaaawn—” Wein groaned. His consciousness settled in his mind, and his eyes opened. Through his blurry vision, he saw…Ninym sitting across from him.
“Oh, Ninym. You’re awake?”
“—Yes, I just woke up.” As she steadied her panicked, ragged breath, Ninym flashed him a smile. She had moved with such speed that even Wein failed to catch her in that instant between sleep and consciousness.
“Hey, Ninym, was Falanya just here?”
“What? She’s in a different carriage. You know that.”
“Oh, right… Was I dreaming? But that was so…”
“A-anyway, Wein! Now that you’re awake, let’s review our strategy!”
“S-sure. What’s gotten into you? But I guess you have a point.” Wein was confused by her behavior, but he went with the flow and switched gears. “Not sure if you can call it a ‘strategy,’ really. We’ll meet the Holy Elites in Lushan—and rip a hole in their trap, which I know is there, one hundred percent.”
The old capital of Lushan. Holy ground for devotees of Levetia and the current forum for the Gathering of the Chosen.
“Do you really think they’re up to something?”
“Definitely. They wouldn’t invite me to their little Gathering on a whim or from momentary madness.”
Only Holy Elites could attend the Gathering of the Chosen, technically. During the same conference in the capital of Cavarin, Wein was just invited to a private audience with the king of the nation that took place at the same time, not to the meeting itself.
“I probably wouldn’t have been so suspicious if they’d come up with another excuse…but there’s no question that this invite is for the Gathering of the Chosen. The letter was in Holy King Silverio’s own hand.”
The Holy King. A man chosen by the Holy Elites. The head of Levetia. Silverio currently held the position—and he was rumored to have a close relationship with the director of Levetia’s Gospel Bureau, Caldmellia.
“Which means Director Caldmellia probably had a say in the matter.”
“And if we’re dealing with that witch, you know she isn’t just being nice.”
Ninym sighed. “We can’t get out of this with some excuse…which really sucks.”
“Considering everything, we’d be pretty dumb to think they’d just leave Natra alone.”
The Kingdom of Natra, nestled between the Eastern and Western continents, was a buffer zone. As regent, Wein had developed a foreign policy to play the opportunist and cater to both sides. It had worked well when it was a poor nation—the other countries were confident that they could put Natra back in its place if push came to shove. That was how the country had been able to skirt danger while maintaining friendly relations with everyone for so long.
Now, Natra had grown exponentially. This doubling in size made them a legitimate power in the eyes of the rest of the continent. Their presence put pressure on top military leaders in the East and the West, forcing them to reconsider what would happen if Natra ever decided to set its sights on them.
If one took a quick glance at Wein’s career since rising to power—that is, his constant warring against Western nations—it was natural to conclude that the situation was leaning favorably to the East.
“There’s an unmistakable threat in this invite. It’s basically saying, ‘If you want to side with the West…and Levetia, then you’d better show up.’ If we turned it down, I bet they would label us heretics.”
If that happened, it would make Natra an enemy of the West. Wein wanted to avoid this outcome, which meant he had no other choice but to attend. Despite his obvious favoritism of the East, the West continued to be gracious. That alone told him they weren’t yet ready to cast Wein and Natra aside.
“In that case, I would assume the West is planning to either ally with Natra…or force us to cut our ties with the Empire.”
“It’s possible.”
Princess Tolcheila of the Soljest Kingdom had once told him that Natra’s days of sitting on the fence were over. She was right. The Western nations were going to make sure of that.
“So what will you do, Wein?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wein answered with a smile. “I’m gonna keep things vague!”
“…is what I imagine His Regency is saying.”
Behind Wein and Ninym’s carriage, a second stagecoach with the same appearance rolled forward. There were three people inside—Princess Falanya, her guard Nanaki, and Falanya’s recently appointed vassal, Sirgis.
“So he’s planning to play both sides for as long as he can.”
Sirgis had just finished explaining Wein’s strategy to Falanya. She intended to confirm the truth on her own with Wein at a later date, but she had gotten Sirgis to explain this to her, so she wouldn’t take up too much of her brother’s busy schedule trying to decipher his plans. It also helped the princess measure the abilities of her new vassal.
“Geographically speaking, if a full-scale war broke out between the East and the West, Natra would become the front line. Whomever we side with, that will not change. If this happened, Natra would be crushed in an instant despite its impressive growth.”
“Hmm,” Falanya groaned. “So Natra has made significant progress, but there’s still room for improvement.”
“On the contrary. I believe this expansion has brought us trouble,” Sirgis replied politely. “Other nations see Natra as a significant threat. As it stands, if we decide to stop dithering, it will incite the Eastern and the Western countries to take drastic measures. In short, the very act of Natra announcing their preferred alliance may spur both sides to engage in war.”
“Being a tiny nation was difficult enough, but to think prosperity would bring us just as much trouble. It’s not fair…”
Falanya let out a weary, involuntary sigh. It was clear that her brother wasn’t currying favor by choice. He was maintaining a very delicate balance for the sake of Natra and its survival.
I’m sure it’s not so simple. Even Wein is only human. He must be suffering and voicing his complaints where no one can see…
This was no laughing matter. It wouldn’t surprise her if her brother’s heart was tormented by the thought that the future of Natra was on the line.
I have to come into my own as fast as possible so I can help him.
As Wein occupied her thoughts, Falanya cemented her dedication to the cause.
“Keh-keh-keh, you must think you’re so sneaky, calling me over there so you can corner me in front of the Holy Elites. But don’t you even think of trying me, Caldmellia. I’ll make sure this Gathering of the Chosen is the most draining, pointless, and unproductive meeting of all time…!”
“……”
“Hmm? What’s up, Ninym?”
“Nothing, I was just thinking it must be hard being such a huge wimp.”
Wein blinked at her. What in the world could she possibly be talking about?
“—Your Highness, the city has come into view,” the carriage driver called out.
The two opened the window and looked outside. The outline of a city was before them. The old capital of Lushan, where the Gathering of the Chosen was to be held—
But the city outside wasn’t Lushan.
Their destination was still several days away. This was one of the transit points that led to it. There wasn’t much in terms of sightseeing and no real point in stopping outside of rest and resupplies. Wein, however, had business there.
“All righty. How about a messy prebattle skirmish?” Wein asked with an invincible smile.
Then—
“—I’ve been waiting for you, Prince Wein.”
The king of Soljest, Gruyere, smiled ferociously at Wein, having arrived at the city earlier.
King Gruyere was the one to propose this get-together.
He was hoping to conduct a secret meeting before their arrival in Lushan.
Wein had agreed to Gruyere’s suggestion without a second thought. The Gathering of the Chosen was just ahead, and he was entering the lair of the West’s most dangerous mortals, those at the pinnacle of the West. One could not simply walk in and have things go their way without a single card in hand, so when Wein was offered the opportunity to earn one in negotiations beforehand, hopping on board was a no-brainer.
Of course, his negotiation partner was King Gruyere—one of those high-profile devils. The two had gone to war with each other in the past. Wein just barely managed to eke out a victory, and the two countries had established friendly relations afterward, but it wouldn’t be any surprise if Gruyere secretly harbored less than cordial feelings. Wein had to approach this with caution.
“—I can’t say I was expecting this,” Wein mumbled in exasperation.
The reason for his annoyance was right before his eyes. The giant was heartily eating from a lineup of dishes on the table in front of him.
“What’s the matter, Prince Wein? Why, you’ve hardly touched your food,” Gruyere commented, promptly downing the wine in his custom glass, which was three sizes larger than normal—yet somehow tiny in his hand. “Not feeling well? Or did the fare not suit your palate? In that case, I can have food from Natra prepared.”
“Please do not fret, King Gruyere. I’m in good health, and the food is excellent. That said—” Wein began with a wry smile, “I am a bit surprised. It appears that your body has regained its original form.”
“Oh, this?” Gruyere replied, slapping his potbelly.
Gossips once whispered that Gruyere was as corpulent as a pig, but he had slimmed down to the point of being unrecognizable, in part attributed to the stress of losing to Natra. Now that they had reunited, however, it was evident he was back to his massive self.
“Getting this back took a lot of effort. Maybe it’s because my stomach got smaller; I dined like a bird. Look, I’ve only eaten five plates.”
“My, what a display of self-control.”
“Right? People might mistake me for the most pious of devotees under Levetia.”
“It would be no mistake. If I were to rip open your stomach, I believe it would overflow not with fat, but the miracles of God.”
“Ohh! In that case, I suppose my meals are offerings to the divine. I can’t just sit here whining about a small appetite!”
Gruyere gave a hearty laugh as he gobbled up two more servings and was polishing off a third. He didn’t show the slightest hint of animosity toward Wein. In fact, one could only say he was in the best of moods. Their ages were far enough apart to be parent and child, yet there was camaraderie between the two. From an outside perspective, any concern that their relationship might sour would be deemed completely baseless.
—Well, there’s as good a chance as any, Wein thought. While Gruyere appeared to be all smiles, he was probably cold as an empty wasteland at night on the inside.
Wein wasn’t being especially the passive type, and neither was Gruyere. Even if his jubilance was authentic, the king had to be chatting with Wein and simultaneously plotting his and Natra’s downfall. Politicians were incorrigible creatures, you see.
“So, King Gruyere. Shall we get to the heart of the matter? I take it you did not call me here to catch up?”
“I wouldn’t mind some idle gossip if I’m being honest. Talking with a young man with gifts like yourself is exhilarating… Oh, don’t glare at me. I do have an actual reason,” Gruyere replied as Wein shot him a sharp look. “Do you know what sort of discussion will take place at this Gathering of the Chosen?”
“There will be talk of how to deal with Natra, I presume.”
“Indeed. But that’s far from the only topic on the agenda. There is also the situation with the Empire, Levetia’s recent expansion into the East, revisions to our current creed, and much more. In addition, they’ve invited one more outsider besides you.”
“This is news to me.”
At present, there were six total members of the Holy Elite if one included the Holy King.
The king of Soljest Kingdom, Gruyere.
The brother of the king of Velancia Kingdom, Tigris.
The prince of Falcasso Kingdom, Miroslav.
The duke of Vanhelio Kingdom, Steel.
The representative of the Ulbeth Alliance, Agata.
And the Holy King who governed over the Holy Elites, Silverio.
These six were the current Holy Elites, and each had the proper qualifications to match. Aside from Wein, the one other person likely to join this conference was—
“Could it be…the new ruler of Cavarin, King Skrei?”
“Ah, so you know of him.”
The Kingdom of Cavarin was located south of Natra. The previous king, Ordalasse, was a Holy Elite and was unfortunately assassinated by a general in his own army, Levert. The general attempted to place the blame for the assassination on Natra, but tragically, history has recorded Levert as beaten by his own game.
Losing both their king and their general left the people—nobles and commoners alike—concerned about their future, pressures mounting. The nation was rocked off its foundation, but the matter had finally been settled in recent days. After a number of political twists and turns, Ordalasse’s son, Skrei, received the lion’s share of support.
The situation in Cavarin is still ongoing, however, and Skrei hasn’t secured his position. I’m sure he’s looking for a strong foothold right about now.
That was Skrei and Cavarin’s line of thinking. And another organization was on the same page…
Cavarin faces the central merchant city of Mealtars. In other words, it’s a strategic entry point for the West. Even Levetia wants to have some power there.
It was Levetia. As for what might happen if the two got together—
“It’s exactly what you think. The agenda for this Gathering will include King Skrei’s admission into the Holy Elites. If all goes to plan, he’ll be welcomed in.”
“How very fortuitous.”
With the power of a Holy Elite, Skrei could exercise his authority over his unstable nation. And if Levetia made Skrei a Holy Elite, they would gain influence in Cavarin and the ability to strong-arm the East.
“The introduction of a new Holy Elite would revitalize the West. At this rate, it seems that the discussion of Natra will end as a tiny footnote.”
“A surprising comment, coming from you,” Gruyere said with a bemused sniff. “Wouldn’t hiding in Skrei’s shadow without anyone even touching on the topic of Natra be the best thing to happen for you?”
Anyone with eyes could tell that Natra was toeing the line between East and West. And naturally, Wein wouldn’t admit a word of this.
“You misunderstand, King Gruyere. I wish to take this opportunity to be accepted among the Western nations. I would love to contribute to Levetia.”
“Ha. Sludge would pour out of that stomach if I cut it open,” Gruyere answered with a grin. “Anyway, that brings us to the topic at hand. The truth is, Prince Wein, a certain someone asked me to meet with you today.”
“What…?” Wein frowned, and a knock came at the door as if in response.
“Come in.” Gruyere beckoned in the visitor before Wein could even ask for a name, and the door opened.
“We’ve met once already, but it looks like this is our first official introduction, Prince Wein.”
A man appeared before them. He was a full decade or so older than Wein, and his robust presence indicated he was in the prime of life. One could also tell by his energized demeanor and physique that he was no ordinary person.
Tigris gave a civil bow as Wein stared at him sharply.
“I’m Tigris of Velancia… How about conspiring with me?” the Holy Elite Tigris suggested with a grin.
“I wonder if my brother is okay…”
Falanya waited in another room of the building while Wein continued his discussion with the others.
“There is no need to worry. I’m certain Prince Wein will return to us in one piece.”
Ninym smiled gently next to her. She normally would have accompanied Wein, but unfortunately, they were in Western territory. Even a Flahm with dyed hair would be met with unnecessary trouble if she stood out too much, so Ninym stayed back with Falanya.
“I have total faith in Wein, of course. But I’m getting a little antsy. Don’t you feel the same way, Ninym?”
“Well, yes…”
Although he had guards with him, Ninym always felt off when she wasn’t with Wein herself. In a way, watching over Falanya was a form of distraction.
As the two fidgeted next to each other, Nanaki stood guard from the shadows. What are they doing out there? he thought as the door swung open.
“Pardon all!”
A plucky voice heralded the appearance of a young girl. Falanya recognized the intelligent-looking face with chestnut hair.
“…Oh, you’re here, too, Princess Tolcheila.”
Princess Tolcheila of Soljest. She was King Gruyere’s beloved daughter and a character Falanya wasn’t all too sure how to deal with.
“Aye. Top leaders from every nation are meeting in Lushan during the Gathering of the Chosen, so Father suggested I introduce myself.”
Tolcheila plopped down across from Falanya with a buoyant smile. Although sent to Natra under the pretext of studying abroad, the girl was essentially a hostage in Natra. Tolcheila, nevertheless, continued to run around freely and do her own thing. She even visited her homeland on occasion. She must have recently gone back to join King Gruyere’s delegation.
“I take it you’re here for similar reasons, Princess Falanya?”
“Yes. After all, my brother is busy with the Gathering of the Chosen.”
“Well then, shall we compete to see which of us can curry the most favor with the most important members here?”
“…I won’t do such a thing. This isn’t a game.”
“No confidence? Well, with a body like mine, I can certainly understand why you might turn tail.”
“I am not turning tail! Besides, we have almost the same figure!”
“It appears you’re clueless. There is a difference between being scrawny and unripened.”
Tolcheila roared with laughter, and across from her, Falanya’s expression soured. Maybe it was their differing viewpoints or personalities. Maybe it was shared history from a previous life. At any rate, Falanya couldn’t see eye to eye with Tolcheila at all.
“Come to think of it, isn’t Prime Minister Sirgis serving you now?” Tolcheila asked. “I heard he disappeared after Delunio banished him, and no other country would openly accept him, but to think he’d end up working for the little sister of the man who brought about his downfall. Tell me, what tricks did you use to pull him in?”
“I persuaded him through heartfelt sincerity.”
“Sincerity, you say?” Tolcheila repeated, her lips curling. “Don’t you wonder whether he is being sincere? Couldn’t he use you to assassinate Prince Wein in his sleep? For any ex–prime minister, tricking a little girl is child’s play.”
Her tone was scornful.
You’re in over your head. How careless, she seemed to deride between her spoken words.
If this had been half a year earlier, Falanya would have grown testy and objected to such accusations. But on this very day and in this moment, her response was different.
“—I appointed him fully aware of the danger.”
After all, Falanya had steeled herself on the matter, determined to follow through with it.
“My brother continues to surpass his trials and press onward. I have to catch up to him. That’s why I can’t afford to stay on the safest or most reliable path. If I don’t seek out more challenging situations, I’ll never reach more challenging places.”
“Hmph…”
Tolcheila was slightly daunted by the fluidity of Falanya’s answer. However, this lasted only a brief instant before she broke into her usual confident smile.
“Very well, then. In that case, do try not to take a tumble. Pitfalls often magically appear when and where you least expect them. Your dear brother, the object of your admiration, should be realizing that right about now.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Who knows? Well, I’m sure you’ll understand when he gets back.”
Tolcheila’s cheerful grin made unspeakable anxiety spike up inside Falanya.
“…What’s going on here, Gruyere?”
The Holy Elite Tigris.
Now faced with the unexpected appearance of a major player—one whom he was planning to meet at the Gathering—Wein looked not at him but at Gruyere.
“I thought this was supposed to be just the two of us, Gruyere.”
Wein’s civility had vanished, and he didn’t hold back his grievances. Naturally. Inviting unrelated persons to a meeting without prior notice was basically an ambush. At this rate, Gruyere had no grounds to complain if Wein backed out.
“Sorry, Tigris asked me to keep quiet,” Gruyere replied, but Wein wasn’t convinced.
“You could have mentioned it earlier.”
“It’s my fault, Prince Wein,” Tigris cut in. “In all official capacities, I am currently at a different transit point. To keep my location secret, I had to conceal information even from you.”
“There you have it. I admit we weren’t exactly transparent, but we ask you not to leave just yet.”
“…You owe me one, Gruyere,” Wein grumbled, body language indicating his reluctance.
Well, I suppose we’re on the same page, he thought.
Contrary to his external attitude, Wein was perfectly calm. In fact, he wasn’t mad at all, though he had to admit he was shocked. He considered Tigris’s appearance as an excellent opportunity.
That being said, Gruyere did him a favor by acting out of line. Now, Wein could wring something out of him by amping up the theatrics and acting thoroughly dissatisfied. There was a part of him that wanted to pretend to walk out to see if his opponent would try and stop him.
Gruyere said he’d been asked to arrange this meeting. And he didn’t put up a fight to admit fault or resist owing a favor to Natra… That means Tigris must be offering him something—money or otherwise.
At the same time, it served to show that Tigris was serious about this—that he wanted to meet Wein in secret using these means.
The Holy Elite Tigris…
The younger brother of the current king of Velancia and a Holy Elite. His back story was an odd one. Instead of the king, the second-born prince had the title of a Holy Elite, which was seen as an authoritative figure. It was like having two kings in the Kingdom of Velancia.
Was the title bestowed upon him or did he pry it from the king…? It’s hard to tell just by looking at him…
“What’s wrong, Prince Wein?” Tigris asked with a puzzled look as Wein pondered in silence.
“…Nothing. I suppose I was just overwhelmed to meet someone as distinguished as the king’s brother.”
“Ha-ha-ha, what a thing to say. I’m a nobody—a fool—compared to you and all you’ve been able to accomplish.”
“I refuse to believe that. A fool could never rise to the rank of a Holy Elite.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I hate to admit that my brother is a recluse. He pushed this role on me, annoyed by the prospect of being invited to conferences for it.”
Tigris continued.
“Oh, but please don’t take this to mean that my brother and I don’t get along. I’d say we’re quite close. In fact, our relationship is similar to the one between you and your younger sister.”
“…I see.”
With Tigris in front of him, Wein could see the confidence in his every movement, his energy. Like Gruyere, Tigris was an unshakable pillar, and he didn’t give off a carefree vibe that he would wait around until something fell into his lap. He did what he needed to with his own hands. In other words—Tigris and Wein were cut from the same cloth.
“I understand, Prince Tigris. I believe we’ll get along well.”
“I’m happy to hear you say so, Prince Wein.”
Tensions were so high, you would have thought they were holding knives at each other’s throats, and yet the two had on mild smiles. The air between them was so suffocating, anyone with a weaker constitution would have struggled to breathe, but the giant observing from nearby was not one of them.
“Watching the youth fight pairs well with any drink,” Gruyere said, taking a sip of the wine in his hand. “I’m here as a mediator, so allow me to step in just this once. If the two of you play around too much, someone like Caldmellia will gleefully take advantage of you.”
The two younger men grimaced. Even if they pushed each other down, a third party would ultimately profit off them. It would be juvenile if they remained stubborn, especially when a king warned them of the obvious.
“…May we discuss the matter at hand, Prince Wein?”
“Yes, by all means.” Wein sighed, and Tigris began his explanation.
“You may have heard this from King Gruyere already. One of the topics to be addressed during this Gathering is King Skrei’s admission into the Holy Elite. To be honest, Levetia thinks this is a bit premature.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it critical for Levetia to acquire Cavarin’s territory?”
“That’s right. It’s the land that’s critical.”
Wein realized what Tigris was getting at. “…I see. As long as Levetia has influence over its lands, the ruler doesn’t necessarily need to be the authoritative power of its territory.”
Without its king, Cavarin was on the decline, which meant its neighbors were preparing to swoop in and conquer it themselves, rather than reach out to help.
This was no different for the West. Although Levetia united them, it didn’t guarantee friendship. One might say it was inevitable for them to seize this opportunity to extort people, resources, and land from Cavarin.
The biggest concern was the Eastern Empire pouncing on the chance, but luckily enough, they were preoccupied with a family squabble. The West could breathe a sigh of relief and flock around Cavarin.
“But now Prince Miroslav of the Falcasso Kingdom has stepped in.”
Miroslav, another one of the Holy Elite. From what Wein had heard, this man was around his age.
“So the current king of Falcasso gave him the title of Holy Elite?” Unlike you, Tigris, Wein silently added.
Tigris beamed as if he could hear Wein’s thoughts. “That’s right. The king of Falcasso is already old, so he appointed the prince as a Holy Elite to start preparing for the transfer of power.”
“That king is a difficult person. The thought of our many secret feuds gets my heart racing. Time is a cruel mistress for taking that away from us.”
Gruyere seemed to be genuine. Based on Gruyere’s attitude, Tigris’s story, and the situation in Cavarin, Wein understood one thing.
“—In other words, you both don’t think very highly of Miroslav.”
Gruyere and Tigris flinched—just barely—at Wein’s statement.
Miroslav was as young as Wein. He hardly had any experience in politics or foreign policy. Even if the transfer of power was inevitable, the Holy Elites understood this and showed no mercy.
“That was why he approached Skrei. If he joins your ranks, Skrei will acquire more allies, and your support will mean he can’t go against Miroslav after he’s appointed, right?”
When Wein pointed this out, Tigris broke into a wry smile.
“Are you assuming we don’t think highly of him? We wouldn’t dream of disrespecting a fellow Holy Elite. Right, King Gruyere?”
“But of course. As followers of Levetia, we strive to build honest and sincere connections.”
Wein snorted. They hadn’t corrected him on Miroslav’s goal.
“So,” he said, “the three of us will team up to compete against Miroslav and Skrei… Is that the main point of this meeting?”
“For the most part,” Tigris replied. “It’ll just be you and me, Prince. Unfortunately, King Gruyere turned me down.”
Wein glared at Gruyere. “…So King Gruyere isn’t involved in this discussion? I feel like I need some answers on why he’s allowed to sit in on this conversation.”
“You don’t have to glare at me. Witnessing this exchange was part of the deal when I set up this meeting between the two of you. Consider my lips sealed. I would never do something so boring like tell anyone else about this.”
“I do believe you on that point, King Gruyere.”
“……”
Wein looked at Gruyere for a while longer before finally turning back to Tigris. “…Tigris and I will team up. That’s fine. But what happens then? I’m just one prince.”
Wein might have been invited to the Gathering, but the Holy Elites would have the floor. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to say anything at all. After all, these foreign nations had spent the past several years learning they would get screwed over anytime he was involved.
“I agree it’d be risky for just the two of us. But I’ve actually got another connection waiting in the wings.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say. Well, not here anyway,” Tigris replied, glancing over at Gruyere. Even if he trusted the king, that apparently didn’t mean he’d spill every detail. “If you’re saying you’ll join me, I’ll introduce you once we arrive in Lushan.”
“And you think the three of us can turn the tables that way?”
“Yes. We’ll push for you to become the next Holy Elite instead of Skrei and rewrite the balance of power.”
There were currently six Holy Elites. Wein would be the seventh if all went according to plan. He didn’t know who this coconspirator was, but if it was another Holy Elite, Wein knew where Tigris’s mind was at. If three out of seven Elites teamed up, they would have a substantial amount of power.
“…I get what you’re saying, but there’s one thing I want to check.”
“Ask away.”
“If this works out, what would you think about the relationship between Natra and the Empire?”
Of course, their success was purely hypothetical. Pushing Skrei aside to become a Holy Elite was difficult enough. Even if it wasn’t, the other Holy Elites would do everything in their power to stop Wein. This was why the prince wanted to know what came after.
“Well, I would want you to respect the position of Holy Elite,” Tigris answered.
So basically, to sever all ties.
The Empire was a potential enemy to the West, so it was unlikely the Holy Elites would welcome him into the fold with open arms, but Wein had something to say about that.
“Aren’t you being restrictive? Physical combat isn’t the only way to engage in war. Having a Holy Elite with strong connections to the East could be useful in a battle of the wits.”
“I admit it could be key. Still, there’s no guarantee this would always be to our benefit.”
Gruyere smiled with delight as he watched their exchange. Although both men insisted Wein’s ties to the East would give them an advantage, Tigris was clearly apprehensive that Wein might use his connections to betray them.
Prince Wein doesn’t want to take a side, and Tigris wants to crush any chance of betrayal. No wonder they’re at an impasse. Not to mention that even if Tigris recognizes the benefits of forming connections with the East, he doesn’t think we need Natra as a proxy.
Tigris and Gruyere were of the same mind. Natra was a dangerous partner to deal with. Even if Wein did join them, Natra’s relationship with the East was their greatest asset. Tigris, however, had no idea when they might betray the West and toss them aside. So he would take this advantage away from Natra and make it his own. He determined this to be the most ideal course of action, and—
“Ahh, I wonder about that,” Wein said with a smirk. “If you’re thinking about the future, I’d really say Natra is the better option.”
Tigris and Gruyere caught the meaning behind his words in mere seconds.
The future? Oh, he’s talking about once the three of them form an alliance and shift the balance of power among the Holy Elite.
As soon as one of us decides to take that influence for himself, the other two will be in the way.
If Natra continues to have open relations with the Empire, it’ll be a source of criticism.
In other words, Prince Wein is saying, Accept my terms now so you can kill me easier later.
Gruyere couldn’t help but smile, and Tigris groaned under his breath.
“…I see. I can’t give you a definite answer here, but there’s room for negotiation,” Tigris replied. “And I do know one thing: Partnering with you is worth my while.”
“Really?” Wein questioned as if testing the waters.
“Of course,” Tigris replied with a self-assured nod.
It was confidence; he knew glory would shine down on him in the future. No, it was determination that said he would have it served to him through brute force if necessary. In the words of Gruyere, this man was keeping a massive beast within him. If Wein could make an ally out of him, nothing would be more reassuring.
And so, Wein thought, That’s why…
I see why Gruyere is obsessed with him.
Tigris secretly admired Wein. He was still young but mature for his age—despite a lack of experience. He spoke fluidly and was quick on his feet. Most importantly, he didn’t show a shred of timidity even in the presence of two Holy Elites. Every inch of him emanated a fierceness that said, I’ll exploit it every chance I get. Tigris liked that about Wein. He didn’t want submissive mediocrity in an ally. Only someone with skill that kept you on your toes would win him over.
And so, Tigris thought, That’s why…
“—Okay, let’s shake on it.”
Wein extended his hand to Tigris, who smiled and took it. It was here that their joint bid for power was formed.
Tigris is strong. There’s no question this man will rise to the top.
Prince Wein is the real deal. If anything, he’ll only get better from here on out.
Oddly enough, the two had reached the same conclusion.
I know Prince Wein has some kind of grand scheme in mind.
But Tigris’s goals will never overlap with mine.
In that moment, they thought the same exact thing:
Whatever happens, I’ll have to kill this guy in the end—
The meeting would be preserved for future generations in the historical records left behind by King Gruyere. The united front between Wein and Tigris, however, would be extremely short-lived. As the people of successive eras pondered what might have happened if their collaboration had only lasted longer, their relationship was dubbed as thus:
An unlucky alliance.
“I’d say that was pretty productive,” Gruyere abruptly remarked.
He saw Tigris off with Wein as the prince left for his original transit point to prevent news of their clandestine meeting from leaking.
“You, Tigris, and a mysterious third party, huh? Looks like our Gathering is going to be quite a show.”
“You’re pretty relaxed about this, Gruyere,” Wein said, glancing at him. “Do you plan on casting the deciding vote? Don’t forget you’re part of the Gathering, too. If you watch the rest of us fool around, you might end up on the menu before you know it.”
These incendiary words deepened Gruyere’s smile.
“In this world, the most rewarding lives get a kick out of putting themselves on the line. And don’t forget, Prince Wein. The day I pay you back for my recent failure is sooner than you think—”
And so the meeting came to a peaceful conclusion. The next day, Wein’s and Gruyere’s parties set out for Lushan, where the beasts were waiting up ahead, thinking of their secret feud.