Chapter 79

As a young crown prince, he hadn't understood those words from his father.

Lecashe was just a name rotting away on the edge of the realm.

There were certainly no shortage of rumors about them, but they'd never once shown themselves in public, so none of it ever really landed.

The previous emperor hadn't explained why Lecashe had to be feared until a few years later.

Without them, the monsters of the Forest of the World Tree would sweep across Aleta. We don't have the strength to hold them back.

But Aleta is strong, Father.

I was full of fire like you once. Go and see for yourself. You won't be able to laugh at the monsters of that forest after that.

With that, his father had sent him off to Lecashe territory.

That was when he saw Lyssel for the first time.

A boy much younger than himself, soaked through with something gloomy.

Welcome, Your Highness.

Aflant Areta.

The Grand Duke had cut an imposing, broad-shouldered figure, but his son looked half-starved, gaunt to the bone.

The current Grand Duke might've been worth watching, but the heir, no matter how he looked at him, seemed pitiful.

Greet him properly. He's the crown prince.

Pleased to meet you. I'm Lyssel Lecashe.

With eyes like a rotting fish's, the boy ground out the words barely above a whisper.

He looked like he might just die where he stood, and his younger self had arrogantly ignored the greeting.

After that first hello, he hadn't crossed paths with him again, just stayed a few days and then went into the forest with the Grand Duke.

That day, he met hell.

After nearly dying, he'd been pulled out alive by the Grand Duke — a humiliation he'd never forget.

When he returned to the palace, the emperor was waiting.

The emperor said little, only asking,

Do you understand now?

…Yes.

Call it cowardly if you like. There's nothing for it. We have Aleta to protect.

Yes. But Father — the Grand Duke is one thing, but his son looked too weak.

He'll be fine once he grows up and inherits the seat. As long as he has the seed.

The… seed?

That's right. You know about the Holy-Demonic War. The seed steeped in demonic energy that Lecashe carries.

Is that a good thing, then?

No. The seed is a defiled thing, drenched in demonic energy. But it does grant tremendous power. Have you ever heard of a Lecashe who was happy?

No.

Right. They all go mad, or they kill themselves because they can't bear it anymore. That's what demonic energy does.

But if they're going to lose their minds later anyway, why are they so strong and yet hiding away on the frontier? Is it really the curse, like the rumors say?

That's not the whole of it, but I'll tell you about that another time. You don't need to know it yet.

It was only just before his death that the previous emperor finally told him how Lecashe could be used.

That was hypnotism.

Because of it, Lecashe became a useful thing in their hands.

But the moment they ended up on opposing sides, he finally understood why his father had been so wary of Lecashe.

Without the hypnotism, Lecashe would have been a threat by sheer existence.

Lecashe could never be allowed to step out into the world.

They just had to stay buried on the frontier, guarding the Forest of the World Tree. That was all.

He'd thought that arrangement was solid. Unbreakable.

"Crrk."

If not for Iberin.

No matter how he turned it over, he couldn't make sense of it.

A woman who'd had a son and been living like she was dead — what had changed, that she'd suddenly started moving?

The emperor's eyebrows sharpened upward.

Get rid of her, then. As fast as possible.

"Is anyone there!"

The moment the emperor shouted, the door opened and the head attendant came in.

If Civelli had still been alive, he'd have handled it through him, but with the hypnotist business so recently surfaced, using a hypnotist again would carry too much risk.

This was Lecashe — he had to account for the assassination failing.

That fox of a Grand Duchess wasn't the type to let it slide if a hypnotist tried to kill her.

"You called for me, Your Majesty."

"Bring Duke Cherity here. Quietly."

---

A civil uprising had broken out in part of the south, but everywhere else, life was calm.

It was someone else's problem.

That said, after a long stretch of peace in Aleta, the sudden uprising had set tongues wagging.

And buried beneath the uproar about the uprising, talk of an ijet mine in Lecashe was bubbling to the surface too.

"It hasn't even been long since ijet was made public, and now a mine?"

The nobles were circling like hyenas, brains spinning over how to forge a connection to Lecashe.

"Maybe I should just move down to the Gelta region myself."

"Ohoho — that's a great idea."

"As a neighboring lord, it'd be a lot easier to build a relationship with Lecashe."

To the central nobles it was practically a demotion, but for nobles who couldn't get any real position in the capital, it actually wasn't a bad angle.

"They're having trouble suppressing the uprising, I hear."

"They're not going to push all the way up to the capital, are they?"

"Oh no, why would they. They'd run into the residents of the capital before they got anywhere near."

"Word is that because of what's happened in Gelta, some of the other nobles who'd been squeezing their people the same way have dropped their tax rates by a wide margin."

"And that actually works?"

"Hard to say."

There were nobles who exploited their people everywhere you looked.

Watching Gelta come apart made them realize, if they kept it up, they could end up in the same situation any time.

The uprising had put the noble class on edge.

It wasn't on Gelta's scale, but the nobles with guilty consciences had started giving their people a little breathing room.

Not many, not yet — but some.

"So because the suppression's going badly, the capital is sending someone in?"

"His Majesty was absolutely furious, I hear. My husband came home pale and told me those nobles are walking dead men now."

"Tch."

"Sounds like he's planning to send the knights, in any case."

The talk about the uprising bounced lightly back and forth among the nobles.

In the meantime, Cherity received his summons and went to see the emperor.

---

The news that the emperor was deploying the knights to put down the uprising spread quickly.

So did the news that the man leading the charge was Duke Cherity.

"I met Duke Cherity once, at a party."

"Did you?"

"Yes. He's really good-looking."

"…Good-looking? You used to say I was the best-looking…"

Lyssel trailed off.

"Oh — of course Lyssel is the best-looking! It's the kind of face people split on. He's good-looking in a completely different way from you."

"Either way, you're saying he's good-looking."

"But he's not my type."

"What's the difference?"

"Oh, there's a difference, a huge one."

"That being?"

Lyssel was relentless.

She didn't really want to spell out the difference, but he looked like he'd keep asking until she did.

"Duke Cherity looks too holy. Like someone untouched by the grime of the world, you know? I prefer Lyssel over that kind of—"

"So I have the grime of the world on me, then."

"No — no, that's not what I meant. It's about looks. Only looks! And compared to you, Lyssel, Duke Cherity isn't even worth the dirt under your toenails!"

"I see."

"Plus I actually had a conversation with him once and he was completely off his rocker. Lyssel is the best."

Only then did a small smile creep onto Lyssel's mouth.

The moment Iberin saw Lyssel smile, she grinned back like a lovesick fool — then froze.

Wait, was he openly jealous just now?

She wasn't the only one to pick up on it. Rozelia, Pons, and Rotte, who'd been listening from the side, all wore the same odd expression.

It was as if their faces were saying:

His Highness, jealous?

Good heavens. What's happening to the world.

Our master is getting jealous!!!

On top of that, somehow word had gotten around about her and Lyssel sleeping together every night, and everyone gave them strange smiles whenever they saw them together.

Iberin figured no amount of excuses was going to fix it at this point.

"But Lady Iberin, Duke Cherity is off his rocker?"

Rozelia, who'd been listening quietly, must have gotten curious and asked.

"I've actually met Duke Cherity too."

"Huh? Where?"

"At the temple. He came to the temple all the time. I never got the off-his-rocker impression, though. I get the holy feeling Lady Iberin's talking about, sure."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No. I just saw him from a distance."

"That reminds me — what did you actually talk about with him?"

"He asked me what it was like to have demonic energy inside me."

"What a piece of work."

Rotte said it without a beat.

To someone already suffering because of that very thing — he just asked outright?

"What did you say?"

"I was too thrown to give a real answer. But he did say something a little odd."

"Odd?"

"That my illness wasn't from a curse."

Of everyone in the room, only Lyssel — the one person who actually knew that — went wide-eyed.

He hadn't told Iberin about the curse.

She'd read the original story, so she already knew without anyone needing to say it.

"He really said that?"

"Yes. It was a strange feeling. Everyone else points fingers and calls it a curse, but Duke Cherity didn't."

Lyssel went quiet, looking lost in thought.

"Strange, all right."

"Oh — and he said he'd come if I invited him to Lecashe territory."

"Huh? Really?"

The most shocked of all was Pons.

He was the one who'd explained Duke Cherity's almost pathological obsession with holiness to Iberin in the first place.

And Duke Cherity had volunteered to come?

"That really is strange. For Duke Cherity to say something like that first. He's a man who can't stand demonic energy."

"Probably just talk."

"Right?"

The conversation about Duke Cherity ended there and the topic shifted, but Lyssel's face still looked uneasy.

Even the fact that Duke Cherity was the one coming to put down the uprising seemed to nag at him.

---

Duke Cherity's expression had moved past chilly and into faintly furious.

He'd answered the emperor's summons only to be handed an order that defied reason.

"Your Grace. Where shall I take you, sir?"

"Annette."

"Yes, sir."

"The emperor has lost his mind."