Chapter 391 - Not One Likable Thing About the Bastard

["Bring every minister over to your side."]

That was the condition the Queen had set Krang. Only once he fulfilled it would they discuss the throne. The Queen had said as much, and Krang had kept his word. "Your Majesty."

Krang looked at the Queen. She looked back at him. Encrid did not know it, but the Queen had no desire for the throne. Nor did she want power. What she wanted was a quiet, peaceful life. Her dream was to admire flowers in spring, then seek the shade of a tree in summer and chat as she cooled off. To gather autumn leaves, and in winter, drink warm tea while watching snow fall outside her window. All the better if she had someone dear beside her through it all. In other words, all she wanted was to spend her days with someone truly good, rather than in a marriage chosen to preserve her throne. For an ordinary commoner, it would have been an extravagant dream. But she was the Queen of Naurilia. For her, it was a modest one. As a person, she was ill-suited to the throne. She wanted something other than power. Yet she stayed. She did not shirk her responsibility. She did what she could. Once, she had wanted to divide her power among the noble houses, including Vaisar, and leave. ["Do that now, and Naurilia will split into at least three pieces. Oh dear, and all three will either be annexed by other nations or collapse. Ah, one that fares particularly well might survive as a city-state. Now, what was it you said you intended to do?"] Those had been Marquis Vaisar's words. He was the Queen's teacher, and he was right. The Queen was the last bulwark holding those mighty power brokers in check. She could not leave. But she had no wish to hand the throne to a bastard like Count Molsen, either. 'Your Majesty... Father.'

On one of those nights when she missed her father, a gift arrived from the late king. ["Kdianat Langdeers Nauril. They tell me that is my name."]

It was like seeing the late king in his youth. He bore a strong resemblance to her as well. Krang had sought out the Queen before beginning any of this. He had needed to see her. He had needed to know whether Naurilia was a country worth spending his life protecting. If it was not, he should never begin. ["The late king had so much love to give."]

Those were the Queen's first words to Krang. She meant them. The late king had had many women. Despite having a queen and concubines, he had often gone wandering. It was a wonder he had only one illegitimate child. The two had talked. Afterward, Krang had left, returned, and met the Queen again, until at last they had reached this moment. "Have you asked your question?"

The Queen had said there were others she still needed to ask the same question. Whatever her dream, she loved the kingdom where she had been born and raised. That was why she had not turned away from her responsibilities. There were three people she meant to ask. The first, naturally, was Krang. The second was Marquis Vaisar. She had considered making the marquis a grand duke, then gradually transferring the throne to him. Of course, there was nothing she could do once her teacher refused. Afterward, she had included the Marquis of Fertile Lands among her candidates, but Marquis Vaisar opposed that as well.

["It will end in ruin, no matter what you do."]

He knew that preserving this nation required a central figure everyone could acknowledge. Finally, the Queen had needed to ask Count Molsen. If he truly cared for the country, should she not yield the throne even to a man as repulsive as a Ghoul's tongue? Doing things she hated had become something of a specialty of hers. But she had never even managed to ask. 'What an absurd turn of events.'

The thought crossed her mind just before she answered. It really was absurd. She had intended to pose a question, only to find just one person left to answer it. The two great nobles had already sided with Krang, while Count Molsen, the remaining person she might have asked, had made himself a traitor. Molsen was a man worthy of being called a hero. Even so...

'That does not make his methods right.' What he wanted was the throne, not the country. The Queen could see that. Thus, only one choice remained. "Was this your intention?" she asked.

Krang's eyes crinkled in a smile.

"I merely thought that those who love and would protect the kingdom would be the only ones left." In the end, this was a situation Krang had engineered. He had taken the Marquis of Fertile Lands under his wing and reached an understanding with Marquis Vaisar: whatever happened, if he survived, Vaisar was to stand behind him. Marquis Vaisar lowered himself onto one knee, his old knee lightly touching the floor.

"May this old man say a word?"

The Queen nodded. Keeping his head bowed, the marquis spoke.

"May you fulfill your dream, Your Majesty." She had spent more time with him than with the late king. He could well be called a second father. The Queen did not answer. She simply looked at Krang, her eyes betraying no emotion. Krang had proven himself. Beyond the ingenuity of his methods, was it not plain to see that every minister left in the audience chamber was on his side? "Repel the threats from abroad and punish the traitor. Do so, and I shall place the crown upon your head myself," the Queen declared. Encrid realized that Krang had done all manner of things to make this happen. There was no other way they could have reached such a conclusion. Above all, he also realized that Krang and the Queen had already settled this between them.

'He began all this with a promise of the throne.' "Take care of yourself, Your Majesty."

Krang turned to leave.

"I shall. Go and do what you must."

The Queen rose as she called after him. Krang paid his respects and turned away. Vaisar and the Marquis of Fertile Lands followed him. Encrid left with his companions too. Just before leaving, he glanced back. He saw the Queen reach out to the woman who appeared to be the court mage beside her. Her gesture carried a concerned inquiry: Are you all right? The mage waved her hand dismissively. Was he imagining it, or was their relationship more than ordinary? It was not something Encrid needed to know. "Where did you go?" he asked Esther.

"Some bastard tried to talk me into joining his side." There was no need to ask who. Count Molsen. He would indeed be a mage, just as he had claimed himself. Encrid had thought there would be nothing he could do if Esther left. But she had stayed. Should he ask why? He doubted he would get a proper answer. Just because? Or because she felt like it? Even so, he wanted to ask. "Why didn't you go?"

Esther turned her head at the question. She had just returned from burning two half-baked mages who were chanting pathetic spells to something resembling heaps of ash.

"I've never been one to do as others say," she said. For someone who claimed that, Encrid thought, she seemed quite willing to grant his requests. Krang walked steadily along, talking with the two marquises. Words like promises and conditions passed between them. They also discussed predicting Count Molsen's next moves and using the two marquises' troops to defend the capital. Ingis joined the conversation as well. "Your Highness, I have brought a force with me," he said.

Krang answered without so much as a pause for breath, as though the matter required no thought.

"I will provide you with several fine horses. Rest briefly to recover from your journey, then you should return." He wore the same smile as ever. Did he not find the count's words threatening? These new arrivals were a definite military asset, yet Krang was telling them to go back. Ingis considered for a moment and was about to speak when Krang spoke first.

"Keep the southern threats at bay. That is your duty." Ingis agreed. He had secured about three days, but if there was nothing for him to do here, he needed to return. Stop Count Molsen? He did not consider that his task. But from Krang's position, surely forgoing someone of his strength required considerable resolve? It would. Surely it would. Yet Krang did not hesitate. Was this what it meant to have the makings of a ruler? His master had said something similar. ["He seems too fine a vessel to let shatter here. Go and help him."]

Had those words not brought Ingis all this way? Listening from behind, Encrid felt a little disappointed by Krang's words. But it could not be helped.

'What if I ask for a bout before he leaves?'

No, that would not do. Encrid was not Rem. He knew how to be reasonable. This man had raced all the way from the southern battlefield without even wiping the bloodstains from his armor. Knowing his exhaustion and hardship, Encrid could not ask that of him. Anyone else hearing his thoughts might have tilted their head in doubt, but Encrid knew when to step in and when to stay out. Had he not merely listened earlier, until Krang addressed him? "Enkie, I hear Border Guard is under threat. You may return immediately as well," Krang said from ahead.

Encrid nodded and replied,

"Should be fine even if I don't go." Audin was in Border Guard, and so was Krais. If the danger were truly serious, they would already have sent word somehow. Just because every scout had been blocked, did that mean they lacked the means to get a message through? This was Krais. He would already have prepared dozens of ways to save his own skin. More importantly, with Audin and Teresa there, even the rhythm-breaking proto knight who had barred Encrid's way would be helpless. And how many proto knights of that caliber could there be? The man had indeed been overwhelmingly skilled. His only problem was that a bastard named Ragna had turned up. As things stood, Audin was the most likely person to fight Ragna to a draw.

'I should save my worries for people who need them.'

And behind that same Audin was the scheming Krais. In any case, his answer drew both marquises' gazes to him.

"Is something wrong?"

Encrid asked calmly, sounding genuinely puzzled. Both marquises wore peculiar expressions. The Marquis of Fertile Lands blinked, while a corner of Marquis Vaisar's mouth twitched on his otherwise expressionless face. It was Encrid's casual way of speaking to Krang. Seeing that, Krang chuckled.

"Leave him be. I told you he's my friend."

"Your Highness, it will undermine your dignity."

"You must consider how others will view it." Both marquises had already decided to serve Krang. Their advice was appropriate. But this was Krang they were speaking to.

"If a few mere words—no, words from a friend I made myself—are enough to diminish my dignity, then I was never capable of much to begin with." A king must uphold his dignity. A king must place everyone beneath him. A king must stand proud and alone. Was that truly the only way to prove himself, to prove himself a king? It was like a question posed to the world. Even now, Krang expressed his convictions and showed his mettle. He was different. The weight of his words set him apart from ordinary men. The solemn mood soon vanished.

"What if I scold Enkie for hurting my feelings, and he decides to join the enemy?"

Krang's voice was full of mischief. Both marquises' faces twisted oddly. They knew Encrid's abilities. They also knew the Lunatic Company under his command. Without them, there was no telling how the battle against Count Molsen would turn out. They could not call upon the knight order, either. No, they could, if they pushed hard enough. Sir Cyprus would probably come, the south be damned. Krang knew that too. Even so, he had to stop the count without summoning him. It was not only the immediate crisis that mattered. Preventing civil war was merely a step along the way. Krang had decided this was necessary for what would follow his ascent to the throne. First, they would be unable to repair the damage caused by failing to hold off the great southern nation of Rihinstetten and the Demonic Realm. Second...

'If I cannot even keep my own word, who will heed it?' He had fought the count with words. When neither could be declared the victor, Encrid had raised his hand. It had been an absurd moment, but one thing was clear: since words could not settle it, they would decide the winner through deeds. That meant stopping the count without the knight order. Krang had to do it. "You'll help me, won't you?"

Encrid nodded at the question that accompanied the jest. Watching the two of them, the marquises sensed that they were men of a different caliber. Just as one might expect, perhaps. The moon had risen before they knew it. As they made their way out from the audience chamber, moonlight filtered through the windows. The fighting seemed to have ended and the aftermath been dealt with; the commotion had ceased. A group of Royal Guards approached the party, then stopped. A man in a dark gray helmet led them.

"I greet Your Highness."

He knelt on one knee. Krang nodded.

"You have done well." "... I shall accept my punishment later, and beg your forgiveness in due course."

"I do not say this because you took my side. You did what you had to do."

With that, Krang sent him on his way. Nor did it end there. Most of those who approached were well-disposed toward Krang. Encrid thought this was his strength. Everyone who came to know him, talked with him, and spent time with him came to acknowledge the man he was. Perhaps it was a power to win people's hearts. As they walked on, an orange-haired woman knight came into view, clutching her abdomen with one hand. Her broken nose had changed her appearance in an odd way. Judging by her limp, she was in a truly wretched state. She stopped as she approached and lifted her head. "Encrid."

Her eyes were fixed not on Krang, but on Encrid alone. Her gaze held only him. Encrid knew she had survived. At the same time, he realized that he had made it past today. Had the ferryman said this would be great fun? He had to agree. He had saved the person he wanted to save. That alone satisfied him. A ticklish feeling stirred in his chest. Aesia was there, alive, moving and walking, breathing through her mouth even if she could not breathe through her broken nose. "Sleep well?"

He put all of that into the question. Aesia gave a small laugh, then clutched her side. These were not injuries that would heal in a day or two. "You know each other?" Krang asked beside him.

It was time to explain that she had blocked his way and sided with the enemy, but had her reasons. Encrid opened his mouth.

"A proto knight. A good fighter. Not quite as good as me, though." The corners of Aesia's eyes lifted a little at that. For Krang, the explanation was enough.

"You had better recover from those injuries."

"Pardon?"

"We have a civil war coming up," Krang said with a smile. He spoke as though this were an everyday matter, as casually as suggesting they have a meal. He showed no sense of crisis, but he was right. This was the beginning of a civil war. What the count had proposed was to settle their contest through war. What had he prepared? Encrid was actually looking forward to finding out. Whatever it was, he wanted to slash, cut, and thrust his way through it, then press on to see the count's ugly mug. Threatening Border Guard? Trying to lure Esther away? There was not one likable thing about the bastard.