Chapter 106

The capital of the Kingdom of Alharn.

The capital of a country with a long history had a splendor to it. With Founding Day, the kingdom's greatest holiday, right around the corner, decorations had started going up all over the streets. From a week before Founding Day, the whole city would be filled with flowers.

Riding through in a carriage, the northern commander Ricardo Hamilton looked out at the lively streets. He usually came down to the capital after Founding Day, so it had been a long time since he'd seen the preparations from the start.

"Think they'd let me head back before Founding Day?"

"What are you talking about, all of a sudden?"

"If I came down early, wouldn't it be fair to head back early?"

Sergeant Leopold Doak looked at his superior the way you'd look at a madman.

Ricardo felt relieved. Ever since finding out about his sister's death, his dear sergeant had been... a little unpredictable. He understood, of course. Of course he understood.

But watching the sergeant, right there next to him, swing from manic laughter to gloom several times a day made it impossible not to worry. Ricardo had told him he could take as much time off as he wanted while they were in the capital, but Leopold had refused.

I'd rather be working. If I sit still...

When Leopold put it like that, sending him away didn't feel right either, so he'd let him work as he'd asked. Even so, the thought that he really should have made him rest kept nagging. And in equal measure came the unease that leaving him alone might mean he did something no one could take back.

At any rate, he'd steadied out over the past few days. He'd started glaring at his superior with that familiar insolence, the way he did back at the northern base. Ricardo found it funny that of all the sides of his sergeant he'd seen, this was the one he found reassuring.

Still, it was much better than the listless version. He didn't have to worry anymore about the nightmare of a capable subordinate throwing a resignation letter down. Not anymore. Probably not. Probably... not?

"Try wishing for something realistic."

"Hmm..."

Ricardo let out a short grunt and swallowed what he'd been about to say.

If he dug his heels in, it wasn't impossible. The king these days wasn't the sort to be difficult about that kind of thing. If the northern commander pressed hard that he couldn't leave the northern base empty for long, he'd get his way.

It wasn't a matter of approval or disapproval. That was simply Ryan Adler's temperament. As long as no one made a real spectacle, the king didn't come down hard. That said, he didn't give a free pass to anyone who took things too far, either.

Ricardo didn't think Ryan Adler was some extraordinarily brilliant, wise king. But if the country had run along without any major disasters for over thirty years, wasn't that enough?

Whatever the capital's people griped about, to Ricardo's ear it sounded like the whining of the well-fed. The current king didn't step forward and involve himself in this and that, but it wasn't as if he'd actually thrown up his hands on state affairs and was just goofing off. Sometimes a country survived just because there was a king at all. And the other way around — take the king away, and a country could collapse in an instant.

That was why, when Waldemar died, they'd scrambled to put someone who wasn't even royal on the throne, wasn't it?

I don't hold much of a grudge against the previous king.

Harold Bertholdt had said that with the face of a man who very clearly held a great deal of grudge.

He seemed to have realized that if he'd said what he really thought, he'd have been arrested on some charge or other — lèse-majesté, treason, whatever they wanted to pin on him. Ricardo found it thoroughly galling that Harold seemed to have grown mysteriously cleverer since returning to the capital.

No one's said as much to me, but I suspect it's thanks to my brother that this country has kept muddling along all this time.

Your brother, meaning...

Not exactly slacking off, but an unmotivated king was still holding onto power. Being stationed at the northern base, Ricardo hadn't given it deep thought, but from now on he'd have to.

Ricardo had no personal friendship with Albrecht Bertholdt, but he had met him. And as it happened, he'd witnessed Albrecht's first meeting with Grisha Lambert.

It's possible.

That had also been a time when the two princes were the subject of unpleasant rumors. About the younger prince, it was mostly that he'd been dragged into things by his older brother, but the first prince...

"Doak."

"Yes?"

"Weren't you and the second prince the same year?"

"He was a year behind me."

"You crossed paths a few times, though?"

Leopold nodded.

"Yes. He's a well-known figure."

"Because he's a prince?"

"That's the biggest reason, yes."

Ricardo didn't like politics. Not that anyone did, but the feeling of being pushed around by external factors that had nothing to do with him — it didn't sit well.

But what could he do? Ricardo himself was in a position to exert that kind of influence, so he had to humbly accept it when it worked the other way.

And when it came to matters concerning the throne, could you really avoid them just because you wanted to? If it was already set in motion, Ricardo had to look for whatever way he could to minimize the damage.

"The first prince used to visit his brother often."

"...The first prince did?"

Ricardo, who'd never heard anything about the princes' academy days, was taken aback.

There was a fair age gap between the two princes. By the time the second prince was at the academy, Carlisle would have long since graduated.

"Doing what, when he visited?"

"Doing what — well, he'd come around with his household guard in tow..."

Ricardo raised an eyebrow.

"He'd corner the second prince and demand to know whether anyone was bullying him, and so on."

"At his age?"

"I actually thought about joining the household guard once."

"You? Why? What's so great about the household guard!"

Ricardo was genuinely startled.

If they hadn't been in a carriage, he'd have jumped out of his seat. When Leopold shot him a pointed look, Ricardo caught himself and cleared his throat.

"Er, the household guard is a venerable institution that upholds the palace's, ah, old traditions, and handles that sort of, well, dignified work!"

"...I heard the pay was good, that's all. And working in the capital, you can commute from home."

"Ahem."

"Aren't you being a little too obvious about hating them? It doesn't matter in front of me, but while you're in the capital, do be careful, Commander."

Ricardo laughed sheepishly.

Leopold looked at that face and sighed.

"Anyway, once I saw the first prince I lost my nerve about working under him, so I looked into other things and ended up at the northern base."

"The royal guard?"

"My grades weren't quite..."

"Your grades were good. So — the first prince visiting a lot, I get. What about the second prince?"

"How he was, you mean..."

Leopold thought back to the second prince as he'd seen him at the academy. Nothing particularly stood out. A quiet boy who kept his shoulders hunched, ducking into the library away from his older brother to read.

That was already ten years ago now, so who knew what he was like these days. If only he'd turned out not to resemble his brother.

"Meek, is he? Then maybe he takes more after his father."

"...I'd ask you not to refer to the king that way, sir."

"That's up to me."

Ricardo snorted.

"Not many people know this now, so I'll tell you, since you'll be staying in the capital with Harold. Pass it on to Harold later."

"Yes?"

"Though there's probably someone else who'll tell Harold first."

The reason he'd taken this stuffy carriage instead of riding was, actually, this.

There was a northern commander's residence in the capital, but the days he didn't use it in a year outnumbered the days he did. Ricardo didn't manage the residence, and he couldn't tell whose influence had reached the people working there. When he'd been talking with Harold, the residence had been completely empty, but now it was full of people, so he had to be as careful as he could.

Amusing, that the soundproofing of this cramped carriage was the most reliable thing around. This was why he hated coming to the capital.

"The queen."

"Yes."

"She's my cousin on my mother's side."

"...You're royalty?"

"What are you talking about? What my cousin married wasn't the king — it was the Marquis Adler. Terrible-looking man."

Leopold's face said he wanted to leap out of the moving carriage.

For someone who'd committed to helping Harold dig into his sister's death in the capital, folding this early wasn't a good sign. Then again, to this young sergeant, the king would be a distant thing.

"Do you know what the Marquis Adler's hobby was?"

"...No."

"Tending his kitchen garden."

"..."

"My cousin too. You should've seen the two of them going after a centipede that came out of the garden. Quite a sight. A commotion like you wouldn't believe."

Ricardo's mouth curled up sarcastically.

But for all the words, the nostalgia in his face and voice was unmistakable.

"The Marquis Adler swung a hoe at it with real valor. My cousin was so thrilled she was practically hopping in place. Ridiculous..."

The Adler marquisate hadn't been a wealthy house, and neither had his wife Gloria's. Aside from being on friendly terms with the crown prince because they were distant relatives, there wasn't anything remarkable about them. Ryan had even planned to give up the title, saying the domain's taxes were a burden. Gloria had agreed.

They weren't destitute, so running what was left of the orchards would let them live comfortably enough. Ryan Adler's life plan had been completely upended when Waldemar Alharn — the man he'd thought of like a younger brother — died.

"Do you know when Carlisle was born?"

"The first prince, sir."

"You think he was a prince from the start? When the Marquis Adler became king, Carlisle was three."

Ricardo paused, then added playfully,

"I even changed his diapers."

"..."

"I'm not trying to defend anything the first prince has done."

"I know that, sir."

The northern commander's dislike of the first prince was well-known.

Ricardo dropped the humor entirely. The Carlisle Adler he'd known and the first prince Carlisle were different people.

He wasn't going to be swept up in old memories.

"But things are different at the northern base. There's no room to worry about what happens in the capital. Not unless something else goes wrong."

Something like bloodshed, for example.

He only hoped nothing of the sort would happen. Ricardo let his voice trail off. His sharp subordinate must have caught the meaning behind the words — his face hardened.

"You keep that in mind too."

"Yes, sir."

"The northern base doesn't back anyone. It follows the king's will."

Just then the carriage slowed. Ricardo checked the window. They were near their destination.

Leopold hesitated, then asked,

"Will Sir Bertholdt be all right? I heard he's staying with the Marquis Roys now."

"He's been tangled up in this from the start. It's you I'm worried about."

"Sir?"

"If it starts feeling like something you can't handle, say so and come back north."

"..."

"And are you still in contact with your academy year-mates?"

"With some of them, yes."

"Look into the second prince for me, would you? I'd like to have some idea of what kind of man he is before Founding Day."

"Understood."

The carriage came to a full stop. Ricardo gave his clothes a quick check and stepped out. Leopold, face set with grim resolve, followed him out.

Ricardo looked up. A splendid, solemn building spread out before him.

"I've written Harold to let him know you'll be staying to help. I'll be back in the capital for Founding Day, so we can talk again then."

"Yes, sir."

"You don't need to be that tense."

"How am I supposed to not be?"

"Even after listening to me just now, you're tense?"

"That's exactly why I'm tense!"

"We finished the important business during your leave. Today's more of a... well, a family gathering, really."

Ricardo cackled at his sergeant's ashen face and headed into the palace.