Chapter 11: Invitation from the Crown Prince

The Martial Arts Tournament had ended with Krena taking home the championship but losing to Sword Lord Dverg. Now, she had made it her goal to fight him again next year and win.

In all likelihood, having the tournament champion duel Dverg was a measure to prevent said champion from getting overconfident. After graduation, these students would be headed for the battlefield. Previous winners that were too full of themselves acting without orders on the front lines would not only put themselves but possibly their entire troop in danger, even potentially causing their deaths.

After the tournament, a ceremony was to be held in one of the academy’s halls. The top sixteen participants were all invited, as were the various foreign dignitaries and aristocrats, including Viscount Granvelle. Naturally, Allen had not been invited, but he had slipped a Bird G into Krena’s pocket so he could tell what was going on as if he were there in person.

Krena did not receive a trophy, medal, or monetary reward—however, the crown prince did give a speech congratulating her on behalf of everyone present. He finished off his toast with, “You fought well indeed, young woman. Continue wielding your sword for the sake of our country.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Krena replied in a loud voice that reverberated throughout the venue. Allen could not see the prince’s face, but judging by the stir that ran through the surrounding guests, he was taken aback by quite a bit.

By the time the ceremony ended, the moon had already climbed high into the sky. Allen walked Krena back to the base, where they found Viscount Granvelle waiting for them in the multipurpose room they usually ate their meals in. He was there for his secondary reason for coming to Academy City. Before him sat Keel and Nina; Cecil and Dogora were present as well.

“Hmm. I do discern Viscount Carnel’s features on your face,” the viscount mused aloud.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Keel replied, somewhat nervous. He was well aware that he was facing the man who had caused the House Granvelle Affair. As the next head of House Carnel, the boy was doing his best to put on a brave face.

The man sighed. “You don’t have to be on your guard, you know. I only came by today to bring this.”

One of the knights standing behind the viscount approached Keel and placed a piece of parchment on the table, spreading it out.

“What is this, sir?”

“A contract. With His Majesty’s signature.”

Keel, Cecil, and Dogora all repeated the word “contract” softly under their breaths. Krena alone nodded and went, “I see, I see,” indicating that she had no idea what was going on.

The contract specified the conditions related to Keel restoring House Carnel. First, the boy had to carry out his duty under the command of either the Kingdom of Ratash or the Five Continent Alliance. Second, notable military achievements could potentially shorten the five-year service period. Just as the viscount said, the parchment carried the king’s name and the royal seal.

“In other words, His Majesty is officially promising to restore House Carnel?” Keel asked hesitantly.

The viscount nodded. “That’s right.”

Up until now, the deal had been nothing more than the word of a royal envoy. However, after two months of maneuvering in the royal court, Viscount Granvelle had obtained official confirmation from the king in the form of a physical contract. The royal family only issued contracts for extremely important matters and when dealing with major nobles or other nations. In short, it did so very rarely. Normally, minor matters between nobles were settled by one of the ministers. And yet this time, the king had written one up for Keel alone.

“Why...did you go to such lengths for me?” Keel asked, sounding mystified. He could not understand this special treatment in light of what his father, Viscount Carnel, had done. Moreover, according to Rifol, the crown prince already had his eye on the viscount, and not in a good way.

“Nobles uphold their contracts. Nobles also take responsibility for their actions. This is me doing what needs to be done as the head of House Granvelle.” The viscount continued, saying that he did not regret taking down House Carnel in the slightest. However, even though he had done it for the sake of his daughter, he did feel a certain degree responsible for cornering a neighboring territory of so many centuries to the point of ruin. What he did for Keel was the result of him seriously considering what was demanded of his station.

“Next, take another look at the contract. It is also signed by Count Hamilton and myself.”

“I’m sorry?”

Sure enough, there were two more signatures on the parchment. Below them was more text.

“M-My lord, this is...”

“Restoring a house that’s been completely dismantled is a huge undertaking. Count Hamilton’s and my signatures there compel us to assist you with the process. House Hamilton will become House Carnel’s parent family again, and both of our Houses will aid you as much as possible.”

The viscount continued, saying that, although it was not explicitly written in the contract, Nina and the servants would be given a place to live at the Hamilton mansion while Keel was away on duty.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

The words of gratitude flowed naturally from Keel’s mouth. He could feel the hatred and resentment that he had felt toward House Granvelle melting away in his heart. Without hesitation, he picked up a pen and signed the contract right then and there as Nina looked on. His dream of reestablishing his family name had just taken a massive step toward becoming realized.

When Keel had finished signing, the viscount added, “However, there is something you have to keep in mind.”

Unsurprisingly, the king was not in the best of health. He was fast approaching seventy years old, which was considered very old in this world. Consequently, he was often bedridden as of late and increasingly leaving his royal duties to his nephew, the crown prince, instead.

The restoration of House Carnel was to begin five years after Keel’s graduation. That said, there was a reasonable chance that the crown prince would have ascended to the throne by then. Although the contract would remain in effect if he had, there was no guarantee it would still be carried out.

Even so, Keel did not look worried. “It does not matter. I will become a noble again, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure of that.” He then asked the viscount to hold on to the contract for safekeeping, just in case the crown prince came looking for it to destroy it after he became king.

Seeing that the conversation was over, Allen ducked into the next room to bring over a small box. “Sir, please accept this as thanks from our entire party.”

The viscount was overcome by this gesture of gratitude from the group of children his daughter’s age. “Thank you. I will open it now, then,” he said, pulling back the lid of the box. “Hm? A ring?”

“Yes, sir,” Allen replied. “This is an Anti-Poison Ring we obtained from a dungeon.”

The entire party had agreed together to give the viscount this drop from the Rank A dungeon. However, after the viscount pulled out an actual contract signed by the king, Allen now believed that it was an insufficient token of appreciation.

“Are you all sure about this? I would rather Cecil wear it, though.”

There were monsters with poisonous attacks in the dungeons. The viscount was about to turn down the gift out of his consideration for his daughter.

“Don’t worry, father. We take potions every day that protect us from all status effects.”

Although Cecil called them “potions” so her father would understand, she was actually referring to Grass C’s Awakened Ability, Potherb, which completely removed debuffs from all party members within a radius of fifty meters as well as granted protection from them for the next twenty-four hours. Allen used one every morning at breakfast, affecting even Nina and the servants, who were not adventurers. As it turned out, the conditions for who was considered a party member was much looser than he had first thought.

Deeply moved, Viscount Granvelle gazed at the ring before looking up. “Cecil, you’ve found some very good friends.”

It had been thirty years since the viscount had first joined noble society, and in that time he had navigated countless plots and intrigues that filled the world of nobility. He now realized it had been a long time since the word “friend” last left his lips.

After conversing a while more, the viscount came to a start. “It appears I’ve stayed for quite some time,” he said, standing up. “Zenof, we’re heading back.”

“Please stay the night with us, sir.” Allen insisted.

He was about to add that they had plenty of rooms when a commotion sounded outside the front door. He headed over, puzzled at what it could be, and found two men standing outside. One was holding an illumination magic tool that revealed the royal crest on the carriage they had arrived in.

“May I ask what is your business at this late hour, good sirs?” Allen asked.

One of the men sniffed irritably. “Viscount Granvelle is here, yes? We’re looking for him.”

“Viscount Granvelle, sir?”

“That’s right.”

The men had rather overbearing attitudes despite calling so late. Allen recognized what they were wearing—their clothing matched the outfit that the man who had accompanied Viscount Carnel to Granvelle mansion wore.

“The hour is late, so the viscount has already retired to his room. May I ask who I should tell him is visiting?”

“We’re royal envoys. Tell him we’re here on business from the crown prince.”

“Very well, sir. Allow me to show you to the drawing room.”

Allen opened the door all the way and led the two visitors, not to the usual multipurpose room but to a smaller drawing room furnished only with a pair of loveseats facing each other. He then returned to the multipurpose room to inform the viscount about the envoys’ arrival. The viscount headed over to the other room with Allen and Zenof in tow. Once everyone was gathered, the envoys revealed that the crown prince had heard Viscount Granvelle was in Academy City and that he wanted to have dinner together the next day.

The viscount, who had intended on catching the afternoon magic ship home, said, “Th-That’s rather sudden...”

“Are you implying that you wish to turn down His Highness’s invitation? That is fine as well. We can convey your decision.”

“Of course not. The invitation honors me, and I would be delighted to attend.”

Zenof cut in. “My lord, I shall accompany you.”

“What is this? Viscount, do you feel the need to be accompanied by a guard while dining with His Highness? Is this some kind of statement?”

Having been told in a roundabout way to come alone, the viscount found himself at a loss for an answer. He was aware that he and the crown prince were on rather tenuous terms, and were anything to happen to him, all fault would fall on himself for being careless enough to attend without a guard. Would he simply disappear? Or would there be a cover story about getting assaulted by hoodlums on his way back? No matter what happened, no one would fault the crown prince for it.

Just as one of the envoys was about to press Viscount Granvelle for an answer, Allen spoke up. “My lord, if you will be dining with the crown prince tomorrow night, then I shall come as well.” Although he was wearing his school uniform, he bowed like he had done as a manservant.

He was making the point that it was uncustomary for nobles to head out alone, and so was offering to go along as an attendant. Back when Allen had quit and become a guest of House Granvelle, he had stopped calling the viscount “my lord” and switched to using “sir.” The viscount looked startled for a second at Allen reverting his manner of address, but quickly accepted the offer. After Cecil’s kidnapping incident, he knew that Allen could be relied on in a fight.

I’m glad I never returned my manservant uniform. It’s only been six months since I quit, so it should still fit me.

The only thing Allen had returned was the House Granvelle crest carried by servants. He had not given back the uniform, which was still “sleeping” in his Storage. He was aware he had grown a bit taller since he had quit his post, being in puberty and all, but he figured it would not be enough to look awkward in the outfit and raise suspicions.

The envoys made no protest regarding a manservant coming along. Their reaction amounted to “So you had a manservant enrolled at the Academy.” After pressing home that the viscount was to arrive on time, they then got up and left.

＊ ＊ ＊

The next day came. Viscount Granvelle, with only Allen as an escort, headed to the high-class inn where the crown prince was staying. Cecil had said that she wanted to go too, but her father talked her out of it. After all, the royal envoy involved with arranging her kidnapping had been in the crown prince’s service, so there was no telling what dangers might be in store. Allen agreed with the viscount’s call.

So, the crown prince is in the Kingdom faction, huh...

A week ago, Allen happened to ask Rifol about the crown prince and the royal court in general. One thing that he ended up learning was that, after the Demon Lord appeared, two factions had formed within the Ratashian government: the Kingdom faction and the Alliance faction. Needless to say, the two were constantly at each other’s throats.

The Kingdom faction believed that the national interest was of top priority, and that Ratash ought to send only the bare minimum of aid to the Allied effort. To support their stance, the Kingdom faction often brought up the fact that before the Demon Lord, Ratash had suffered centuries of invasions from expansionist Giamut. “How dare Giamut be so bold-faced to turn around and ask for help?” was the general attitude of this faction. It would indeed be catastrophic if the Giamutan Empire fell to the Demon Lord Army, but nothing was better than the two permanently locked in eternal conflict.

On the other hand, the Alliance faction agreed with the ideals of the Five Continent Alliance and believed in prioritizing international cooperation. In this day and age when the Demon Lord was threatening the entire world, being occupied with self-interest was simply reprehensible in their mind. The Academy faction was a smaller clique within this faction.

One large reason why the rift between these two factions had grown so deep was because the Alliance faction had been in control for two consecutive reigns. This had led to the Land Reclamation Decree and the establishment of the system rewarding veterans with prominent positions in the royal court and fiefdom-wide tax cuts. No expense had been spared in helping the war effort against the Demon Lord Army.

This had fostered significant discontent among the major noble families that formed the old guard. As they rarely had Talented children, they could only watch as the lower nobility continued accruing benefits when their Talented children returned from the battlefield. Lately, not only had the Alliance faction taken over the top ranks in the military, but they were also beginning to encroach upon ministerial positions. The upper nobility believed that it was only a matter of time before they lost their standing.

Therefore, they decided to throw their support behind the crown prince, the son of the current king’s older brother. In turn, the crown prince actively worked to unite the Kingdom faction under his name. The current king had a son of his own, but when put under the pressure from the most influential nobles at court, he had had no choice but to name his nephew as his successor. And now that he was old, his influence was waning along with his health.

Whereas the Kingdom faction was made up of the most powerful noble houses, the Alliance faction had a strong grip on the military through its ties with the Academy. Because these two factions differed on such a fundamental level ideologically yet were roughly equal with each other in terms of power, Ratash remained broken and divided. The crown prince had gone so far as vowing to halve the support Ratash would send to the Alliance.

When Viscount Granvelle and Allen reached the inn, an envoy guided them to a waiting room. “Please wait in here.”

“Mm.”

So, this is an inn for members of the royal family to use. Oh! I’ve never seen this type of fruit before. Lemme take a bite— Oh yum, this is delicious!

Allen gleefully helped himself to the fruit on the table. After all, he was probably going to remain on his feet afterward and would not get much to eat. The viscount said he did not need any fruit, so Allen put all of the rest into his Storage. The two then went back to waiting, but despite how much time had passed, no one came to pick them up. Eventually, Allen sat down next to one of the potted decorative plants.

“What’re you doing?” the viscount asked him.

“Making recovery items. I’ll give you some. Use them when you need to.”

“Really? How kind.”

“Anytime, sir.”

Allen was always busy these days creating recovery items. Each week, he received a total of thirty thousand Rank D and E magic stones from the Adventurer’s Guild, three times the amount he had been processing before summer break. He was turning all of them into Fronds of Life and Seeds of Magic. Normally, he did this on the sly during morning classes; however, due to the sharp increase in the number of stones, he was starting to fall behind. Now, whenever he had a spare moment, he would dedicate it to Creating, Synthesizing, Strengthening, and Awakening cards.

My Summons Squads are taking quite a beating in the Rank A dungeons. I really wanna reach Strengthening Lvl. 7 as soon as possible.

Another hour passed.

They sure are making us wait a lot. Can they hurry it up? I have a feeling today’s gonna be the day when we get a gold treasure chest, so I want to get back in time to fill our Rank A dungeon quota.

One more hour passed.

Okay, this is waaay too much waiting. Seriously, get a move on already! Return me my gold chest! I feel like today’s the only day it’ll show.

Allen was getting irritable enough to start feeling like it was the crown prince’s fault that his party had yet to see a single gold treasure chest. Only then did a royal envoy come to fetch Viscount Granvelle and Allen. He led them to the extravagant dining room on the top floor reserved for royalty. The man sitting by himself at the massive table—hair swept back, a glass of wine in one hand, and looking every inch a villain—was Invel von Ratash, crown prince of Allen’s home country.

“Looks like I kept you waiting,” Prince Invel said coolly.

“A small price for the honor of an audience with you, Your Highness,” Viscount Granvelle replied, as if implying that he would be willing to wait no matter how long it took.

C’mon, do you have any idea what you made me miss? Although, admittedly, I did come here of my own free will.

“Mm, I like that attitude of yours. I can only hope everyone in the Alliance faction takes a page from you someday.”

Behind the crown prince stood several knights in full armor. The viscount gasped a little when he laid eyes on them. Allen stepped forward to pull the viscount’s seat back for him, then stood behind the chair. Throughout the process, Allen made sure to avoid eye contact with the prince, who only cast his eyes over the boy for a split second and thought nothing more than that he was a young attendant.

The food was carried in, and the two men commenced their meal without a word. The knights remained stock still, staring straight at the viscount. They appeared ready to draw their swords at a moment’s notice. At the very least, the viscount was protected against any attempts at poisoning him, as Allen had had him consume a Potherb ahead of time.

Suddenly, the crown prince broke the silence. “Yesterday was quite the surprise. Are you properly disciplining Sword Lord Krena? She was barking like a loud dog. And Sword Lord Dverg was certainly his usual self, heading straight back to the battlefield without so much as a ‘by-your-leave.’”

He was referring to Krena loudly replying to him both at the arena and the ceremony. As for Dverg, he had skipped the ceremony outright and boarded the first magic ship to Giamut instead. Based on what the crown prince was saying, the Sword Lord had not even gone over to greet him. According to Rifol, Dverg had always been like that. Of the numerous stories circulating about him, there was a particularly famous one about how he had skipped his own marquess appointment ceremony at the royal palace to go fight on the battlefield instead.

“Sword Lord Krena is being allowed to grow as she wishes at the moment. Allow me to apologize on her behalf for her disrespectful attitude toward Your Highness.” The viscount lowered his head in apology.

“I see. It must be the right call, seeing how she managed to seize the championship.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness.”

“And things are going well for your fiefdom too, I hear.”

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness? I-I suppose so...”

“A Sword Lord was born in your realm and now you’re able to mine mithril again. You’ve even managed to destroy your archrival. Everything’s just been smooth sailing for you, hasn’t it? Tell me, do you have any advice for how to make the stars turn in my favor?”

“‘Destroy’ is a bit...”

The viscount’s oldest son, Mihai, had died on the battlefield, so it could hardly be said that everything had been “smooth sailing” for him. However, he chose not to bring it up. Instead, he gently rebuffed the usage of the term “destroy.”

“Your performance at the audience hall was quite impressive.”

“Performance, Your Highness?”

“Was it not an act?”

The crown prince stared pointedly at the viscount as the knights behind him shifted their weight forward slightly. It was as if the entire room was waiting for his reply.

However, the viscount chose to remain silent. Eventually, it was the crown prince who backed off.

“That aside, His Majesty sure has gotten eccentric over the years, going so far as to issue such a contract for a mere child of some now-defunct minor noble House. And thanks to someone fanning the flames, now I’ve had to get involved too.”

Ah, so silence was the right answer just now.

The crown prince shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as if lamenting something unbelievable. Apparently word of the contract written up for Keel’s sake had reached his ears.

“As a joint signatory on that contract,” the viscount said in an even tone, “I will also cooperate to the best of my abilities once the young man finishes his duty and returns to restore his House.”

“Once he finishes his duty, you say.” A smirk appeared on the prince’s face, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

Allen perked up. Huh?

“Is there a problem with what I said?”

“If I recall correctly, the wording of that contract was such that Ratash could decide where the young man in question is to be stationed. I was thinking of sending him with the Sword Lord. Giamut’s been pressuring me to send them eager fighters, you see.”

Clearly, the crown prince knew that Keel now lived with Krena. And he was right about what the contract said.

Oh, is he going to send them to a particularly dangerous part of the front line? Please make it the most dangerous spot!

Allen was doing his best to maintain a blank face, but a smile still slipped out for a brief moment.

“I...see.”

“Of course, since your daughter is apparently a part of their party, she would be accompanying them as well.”

Viscount Granvelle leaped to his feet. “Now just hold on a moment, Your Highness! Please!”

The knights immediately reacted by reaching for their blades, but the prince gestured for them to stand down. “Why are you so surprised? Those of you in the Alliance faction only care about fulfilling your duty, right? And every division of the front lines needs personnel.”

This was what the crown prince had wanted to get at. In short, he was telling the viscount that the cost of cooperating with the Five Continent Alliance would be the life of his daughter. None of the Sword Lords born in Ratash after Dverg had survived. Keel and Krena dying pointless deaths would serve as a potent warning of what would happen to those in the Alliance faction who opposed the crown prince. Furthermore, by sending the newly born Sword Lord to a demanding corner of the battlefield, he could maintain the appearance of being cooperative with Giamut. Everything about this arrangement benefitted the crown prince.

Interesting. So the crown prince has a head on his shoulders after all. All right, looks like it’s about time for me to take action. Otherwise, the viscount might start making concessions.

“This sounds like a great opportunity for earning military accolades,” Allen said so softly only the viscount could hear.

“What?! Allen, what do you mean by that?!” the viscount demanded, sounding agitated.

“Please rest assured, sir. I will protect Lady Cecil. There is nothing to fear.”

“Hm? What is the matter? Which reminds me—you with the black hair...” The crown prince looked suspiciously at the manservant that the viscount was so furiously whispering with and suddenly recalled Krena conversing frequently with this boy at the arena yesterday. Black hair was a rarity in this world, so it had left an impression.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Allen bowed slightly in greeting.

“You were there. At the arena.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I was watching the tournament as one of the Sword Lord’s companions.”

“You’re a companion of hers?”

“Yes, Your Highness. We are in a party together, of which I am the leader. Lady Cecil and Keel are also members of the same party.” And Dogora too.

“You’re the leader? Not the Sword Lord?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Strength is not all there is to being a leader, after all.”

“You at least know how to speak, young man. In that case, what is your opinion of what was just discussed?”

“I could not be more grateful for the increased opportunity to make our mark on the battlefield.”

“Pfft!” Viscount Granvelle could not help but spit out the food in his mouth. His very soul seemed to have escaped too, by the looks of things, leaving him on the verge of fainting. He was probably fervently wishing he had come alone.

“Viscount, that’s disgusting.” Prince Invel chided before turning back to Allen. “Well, unlike the current king, I have no intention of making a serf a marquess. However, if your achievements merit it, I might consider giving you a reward.” He smiled as if looking at a brat who had no idea what he was talking about.

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Allen cried, bowing deeply.

Good, that went well. Did I come across as a mere servant dreaming of riding on the Sword Lord’s coattails?

Eventually, the dinner was over and all parties went their own way, with whirling thoughts driven by differing purposes and motives filling their heads.