Chapter 248 — 제라이츠

Chapter 248

Zeraitz

The moment Elric’s party stepped into the grand command tent—

Whoooosh!

As if they had crossed into another world, an air completely unlike the outside swept over them.

Heavy. Stifling.

Through it, countless gazes burned.

With Crown Prince Zeraitz—Lord of the Grand Headquarters and Supreme Commander—as the centerpoint:

To the left sat the high mages gathered under the banner of the Hexagram.

To the right, the senior martial officials led by the Eight Lions.

One and all, figures worthy of being called the Empire’s finest.

They wanted to see for themselves what the man who had shaken the front lines of late actually looked like.

“Oh, and who might this be! Our hero! Our star! Is it not the Duke of Chanseong!”

Then, Crown Prince Zeraitz, seated at the highest place, rose first, his smile brighter than at any time in the world, and greeted Elric with exuberant warmth.

To an outsider, it would have looked like comrades—or long-lost kin—reunited after some old misfortune had torn them apart.

So Elric could only stare blankly, wondering what had gotten into the man.

The same went for Sailor and Hermann, who had followed in and were offering their bows.

Hmm? Have I had it wrong all this time? Does the Crown Prince like Elric?

When Sailor blinked and shot a look at Hermann, Hermann gave a soft snort.

After so long at each other’s side, the two could exchange half a conversation with their eyes alone.

No chance.

Right?

Then why is he acting like that?

Because there are too many eyes on him, I’d wager.

Even so, he’s putting on one hell of a show.

Heh. Can’t argue with that.

Hermann had to forcibly swallow the smile pushing at his lips.

Then he turned his gaze forward again.

Crown Prince Zeraitz. One who had once almost become his son-in-law, and now was nothing but a bad memory and worse feelings.

Knowing how sly and calculating he was, Hermann had worried for Elric when they first stepped in—now that the Crown Prince had marked him, surely he would try something.

Zeraitz wants to shine more than anyone else. So of course he would try to sabotage Elric, who would soar brighter than he ever could—that much was clear as day.

But seeing it with his own eyes now, Hermann’s thoughts shifted.

Next to Elric, the Crown Prince looked small.

True, Zeraitz had kept up his training and possessed a solid build.

In fact, in sheer physique he wasn’t so different from Elric.

And yet…

Set the two side by side like this, and Zeraitz all but disappeared in Elric’s presence.

Elric himself offered no particular answer or reaction; the only one chattering away was the Crown Prince. But the longer it went, the more he seemed to fade.

No. That’s not it.

Hermann thought on it for a moment, then let out a thin chuckle.

They’re not even the same kind of vessel.

Comparing them at all did Elric a disservice; the gap between them was that large.

Elric shone brilliantly on his own. Zeraitz only flailed beneath light reflected off someone else’s brilliance.

Even Prince Kromhel, who had greeted Elric warmly a little earlier, looked better by far.

Which led him to wonder:

Is that man truly fit for the next imperial throne—a seat meant to stand above all others?

He had spent a lifetime with loyalty to Empire and Crown in his breast.

Perhaps because of that very life, he could only worry for the imperial house’s future.

If only…!

Hermann drifted into a deep, brief thought, but was pulled back to the present as Crown Prince Zeraitz came closer.

“Marquis. Seeing you return in such hale form fills my heart with pride. You have suffered much.”

A gentle smile played at Zeraitz’s lips.

But under the surface, he was seething.

It was irksome enough that Elric—whom he’d hoped would conveniently die abroad—had returned too formidable to touch lightly.

Worse, with so many eyes upon them, he had tried to craft a gracious mood, only for Elric to give him nothing—no reaction, no warmth—which made rage boil up inside.

This was the Grand Headquarters’ gathering of its many powerhouses, high nobles, and knights.

This was supposed to be where he, and he alone, “lauded” those who had done great deeds. And they were supposed to “be moved” by that imperial favor.

—With this war, Your Highness must seize everything Elric Mervinger has built and cast him aside. But before that, you must impress upon the court, high and low, that Elric Mervinger is, in the end, Your Highness’s “man.”

He kept replaying the Fourth Bureau Chief’s morning admonition in his head.

If there was any consolation, the next greeting would be Hermann.

Though he had lost face in front of Elric, surely Hermann would receive him warmly.

Once upon a time, Hermann had been closer than greedy kin.

Even if the betrothal had been broken, he believed their true feelings remained.

But—

“I am merely grateful for Your Highness’s consideration.”

…

Hermann offered nothing but that dry, impersonal reply.

Outwardly, he was impeccable, every inch the famed Blue Lion of chivalry.

And that was it.

No follow-up. No polite thanks for imperial favor saving his life, no praise for the Crown Prince, no embellishment of his own merits.

Anyone could see he had no wish to trade words and meant to keep his distance.

How dare—!

Zeraitz had to choke down the surge in his temper.

He didn’t completely hide it; one side of his face twitched hard.

The watching eyes fell suddenly silent, glances flitting back and forth.

…

…

At this point, no one could miss the fine, prickly air between the Star’s Retinue and Crown Prince Zeraitz.

Next was Sailor Holmes.

“Hah-hah-hah-hah. It has been a long time indeed, Your Highness. I saw you only when you were very young, so to behold you so fully grown—this old man is overwhelmed with feeling.”

Unlike the first two, Sailor poured on the honeyed words, which only fanned the flames in Zeraitz’s gut.

“A year ago as well… I spoke side by side with the Ash Lion. I was the one who delivered the written orders.”

“Ah, is that so? I’ve been discourteous. My apologies. Age is catching up—my memory keeps slipping, and I’ve been battered about outside of late, so perhaps the senility’s gotten worse, heh.”

Polite as it sounded, everyone knew the barb: a rebuke of the Grand Headquarters for abandoning the Star’s Retinue in the back of beyond.

Bubble, bubble—

Zeraitz’s insides boiled over again.

Next came Isabel.

…

As the strategist of the Star’s Retinue, Isabel said nothing; she bowed, calm and contained.

She wore neither the braids that had suited a future Crown Princess, nor the pretty dresses of old.

She wore a uniform like any other man, her hair hastily tied up. Her alabaster skin had tanned slightly bronze from long days in the field.

And the beauty once said to shake the continent had not dimmed in the least.

If anything, it was a different beauty, a different allure.

There was fragrance.

Once, he might have teased her as a flower without scent. Now she exuded a fragrance of poise and crackling confidence, more than anyone.

Zeraitz bit down hard on his lower lip.

Why…! Why do you look at me like that, Isabel?

His feelings for her still burned.

But seeing her eyes now, Zeraitz understood.

To Isabel, he was nothing anymore.

No former fiancé, no old memories.

To her, he was simply the Empire’s Crown Prince—and her superior officer.

In the end—

Swish!

Unable to fully tamp down his fury, Zeraitz whipped his body the other way and barked:

“The greetings are finished. We begin the council now!”

* * *

Heh-heh-heh. He looks about ready to drop dead from rage.

Arms folded, Mephisto chuckled, watching Zeraitz’s face cycle red and redder by the second.

He had never hidden his contempt for the Crown Prince, and now was no different.

Still, holding it in that much is something, I suppose.

Mephisto’s lip curled.

Humans are all like that. Fragile things who’d die if you so much as poked them, yet forever posturing, conjuring rights they don’t have so they can lord it over others.

That’s called the order of human society.

Which is why it’s stupid.

Raised in nothing but the law of the strong, Mephisto still didn’t grasp human structures.

Well, I agree with part of it.

Elric’s eyes shifted subtly.

“Been a while.”

Beside him, Gai greeted him warmly.

“Yes. It’s been a while, Lord Gai. I received your gift.”

Gift.

He meant Sion—and the Elder Council.

Gai’s mouth curved.

“How was it? I tried to put some thought into it. I hope it pleased you.”

“It pleased me very much. It gave me quite a boost, too.”

“If I can stake a debt on a young hero, there’s no bargain more profitable.”

“A debt? Now that’s unkind. Didn’t you call it a gift?”

“A gift, by nature, goes both ways.”

Watching Gai answer so evenly, Elric could only click his tongue inwardly.

Can’t beat him.

No wonder he could handle that monstrous Elder Council at will and keep the First Seat of the Hexagram.

And unlike several houses that had taken heavy losses this war, House Neresta had preserved nearly all its strength.

No—he’d heard they had actually hardened their position.

With two of the Hexagram dead already, more than half the Mage Tower’s real power had effectively fallen into Gai’s hands.

Through war, he was expanding his might even faster.

And he had made the world properly fear the Elder Council… In the postwar reshuffle, House Neresta would all but rule unchecked.

And he still won’t show his hand.

Elric opened his inner eye and skimmed Gai—then had to cluck his tongue.

As with Augustine, there was nothing to see.

No grain, no threads.

Seamless. Complete.

Meaning his strength rivaled Augustine’s.

How does one house have two monsters like this?

All the more reason for Elric’s fighting spirit to blaze.

A wall called Neresta only made him hunger harder for strength. It meant Mervinger still had that far to climb.

On the off chance, he opened his inner eye wider.

Gai’s smile deepened.

As if to say, I know exactly what you’re doing.

Tch. That’s far enough.

Elric gave up trying to size Gai up.

He sat back and swept the room with his gaze.

He saw excellent mages—if not on par with Gai or Augustine—and martialists whose aura, while not Hermann’s equal, was nothing to scoff at.

But Elric was certain.

There’s no one here stronger than me.

At most, someone equal.

Only now did he feel, in his bones, how far he’d come.

Which is why—

Here. In this room.

A clear goal welled up.

I’ll carve out my place.

Mervinger. Duke of Chanseong. I’m taking back a standing worthy of that name.

Thock.

Crown Prince Zeraitz’s seat clicked as he sat.

He opened the floor.

“Before we begin the main council, once again, on behalf of the Empire and the Imperial House, I extend praise to the Duke of Chanseong and the Star’s Retinue for their great service and achievement.”

Clap, clap.

Zeraitz clapped lightly, face blank.

No one joined him.

“But I have a question. Elric Mervinger, Duke of Chanseong. Just one thing.”

His intense gaze speared Elric.

“Why did you collude with the rebel faction?”

Meeting that stare, Elric thought:

So he means to brand me a traitor from the start.

He could see what Zeraitz was after: laying the groundwork to lump him together with the Red Lion and dispose of them both as traitors.

As expected.

Of course, he had no intention of letting that happen.

Guess I’ll have to remove the Crown Prince first.

The Mage Who Devoured Talent