Chapter 108

The Capital, Battengart

Battengart, the kingdom's capital.

Situated in the central part of the continent and at the heart of the kingdom, Battengart lay beside the Silva River, near the edge of a mountain range.

Through the window, I could see fertile farmland in the outskirts along the Silva River, which supplied the capital with water and food. Livestock farming flourished there as well, supported by that abundance.

After passing through the outskirts, we came upon Battengart's gates. The steel gates and solid stone walls cast stark shadows beneath the sun, bearing witness to their history and majesty as the kingdom's last line of defense.

As our carriage approached, the capital's guards arrayed along the walls brought their spears and shields into formation in unison. Had they already been informed of our arrival?

"It's House Whitewolf! Open the gates!"

After a very simple identity check, the gates opened and the guards saluted as one. Our carriage rolled onto a bustling street, bringing us into the capital's outer city.

The Silva River ran through the heart of the outer city, where merchants, artisans, and ordinary citizens mostly lived. Merchant vessels flying colorful flags floated on its waters, a sight quite different from Frecce. It also highlighted the capital's prosperity, which was on an entirely different level from Whitewolf county.

"Wow!"

Seraphia's eyes went round as she gazed out the window.

She had rarely ventured beyond the county. Recently, the [curse of bitter cold] had kept her from even leaving the lord's castle very often. But now she had awakened the Authority of Bitter Cold[P].

'The curse of bitter cold's effects are gone, too.'

... Should I call this Iliana being Iliana, or what?

While I was pondering that, we reached the capital's inner city. Stately mansions lined the streets, befitting a district inhabited primarily by nobles, high-ranking officials, and wealthy merchants. Libraries, a grand square, and an academy were located here as well.

The nobles invited bards and regularly held cultural events featuring music, painting, theater, and more. Numerous scholars and artists also visited to share their knowledge. This was the center where the Kingdom of Battenberg's high culture was born and exchanged.

"Woooow!!"

Seraphia's eyes grew even wider. Like an excited child, she couldn't stop marveling at the sights unfolding before her.

Meanwhile, the carriage turned north and finally climbed into the high ground overlooking the royal palace. Soon enough, we reached the palace itself.

"Wooooow!!!"

Seraphia's eyes looked ready to split open, but then—

"Wooooooooow!!"

It looked exactly like Berserk Fuss[?].

* * *

Doors adorned in gold. Marble floors gleaming in the light. And a royal garden filled with fragrant flowers. It all felt less like reality and more like a world out of a fairy tale.

"Wooooooooow!!"

Seraphia couldn't help exclaiming at the magnificent sight, but...

"Stop making such a fuss and get out."

"... Yes."

She hunched her shoulders and climbed out of the carriage.

Yet the moment her feet touched the ground, the majestic sight of the palace spread before her made her eyes widen again.

"Wow, this really is—"

She swallowed the rest of her words. Just as she glanced over to gauge Adrian's mood as he stepped out of the carriage, a voice greeted them.

"Welcome. You must be weary after such a long journey."

The palace doors opened, and a neatly dressed man walked out. He was middle-aged, and every word and movement conveyed dignity and refined authority.

"I am Edmund Harens, the palace's lord chamberlain."

As someone who attended the royal family, the lord chamberlain held no lowly position. He was a count palatine—a count of the court. In other words, he held the rank of count. Likewise, the palace's head maid was a noblewoman of comital rank.

Conversely, a count who held a border territory was a marcher count. House Whitewolf belonged to that category.

"I'm Seraphia Whitewolf."

"I am Adrian Whitewolf."

Seraphia and Adrian paid their respects to Edmund in turn.

"His Majesty has been informed of your arrival. However..."

Edmund inclined his head slightly.

"He is presently unwell and has conveyed that he cannot grant you an audience immediately."

"Then..."

"You may stay in the guest suites until His Majesty has recovered his strength."

"The guest suites?!"

Seraphia cried out in surprise before she could stop herself.

Understandably so. The palace's guest suites were not open to just anyone. They were reserved for foreign royalty and high-ranking nobles. Such treatment was more than the two of them deserved: neither was even a provincial count yet, since neither had formally inherited the title.

"Her Highness the Queen ordered that the Lady making her debut in high society this season, along with all members of her family, be shown to the guest suites."

"Oh, I see."

"I shall escort you myself."

At Edmund's gesture, the palace maids and attendants all bowed low to welcome Seraphia and Adrian. Seraphia felt as though she had become a princess in a fairy tale.

"This way, please."

Just as they followed Edmund into the splendid palace interior, a voice called out.

"Well, look who it is!"

* * *

At the sudden voice, I turned to see a youthful-looking fellow. An arrogant expression. A rounded jaw. A calculating smile tinged with coldness. And an attitude that suggested he knew me.

Yet I didn't recognize his face.

When I activated Predatory Instincts[S], his information appeared before my eyes.

==<Character Information>==

Name: Walter Battenberg

Classification: Kingdom Animalia, Class Mammalia, Family Hominidae, Human

Sex: Male

Age: 15

Traits: None

'Walter...?'

He was the Kingdom of Battenberg's third prince. Queen Marceline's second child.

Walter strode toward me, then looked me up and down like a snake twisting its body as it sized up its prey.

"Why, if it isn't Adrian, our kingdom's famous wastrel."

His eyes held a startling amount of cunning for a fifteen-year-old. He knew me as a wastrel and looked ready to exploit that reputation to the fullest.

That made sense. My name had been thoroughly excluded from the events in Violess. All the credit had gone to Isolde and the Holy Kingdom. Of course, the people of my county knew I was no longer a wastrel, but others did not.

Perhaps that explained the faint smile on Walter's lips, laced with mockery and derision. He had obviously come to pick a fight with me.

But a chance encounter and a passing impulse? This was far too deliberate. In other words, rather than Walter acting of his own accord...

'Did someone put him up to this?'

It seemed someone was trying to provoke me and complicate matters.

'It wouldn't be Queen Marceline.'

I wasn't her target. Seraphia was. If only for the sake of the upcoming court season, the queen would be wary of me disrupting order in the palace.

Then the person in the palace who might do something like this...

'Marquis Segretus?'

The kingdom's Chancellor, Marquis Segretus. It could only be him.

It seemed word had reached him that I was sponsoring Iliana.

'Marquis Segretus has enough influence to manipulate royalty?'

As a political leader second only to the king, it wasn't surprising. Even so, his authority and clout appeared greater than I had expected.

"Your Highness, these are guests of the royal family who have traveled a long way."

"I know, I know. That's why I'm giving him such a warm welcome."

Edmund, the lord chamberlain, intervened, but it did no good. Walter continued to tilt his chin at me, his expression openly mocking.

The Royal Knights escorting him stood at ease. Yet their faces were filled with scorn and derision directed at me.

The wastrel of a count's house. Apparently, everyone knew that reputation, even in the capital and the palace. Then again, even Avarus, who had used Transmog to become Viscount Veneron, had recognized me immediately upon hearing the word "wastrel."

"I was so delighted to hear that the wastrel holed up on the frontier had come all the way to the palace in person."

Walter made no effort to hide his mockery. Nor did the Royal Knights hide their sneers.

'So this is how you're going to play it.'

Using an untouchable royal to get under my skin. A scheme as cunning as one would expect from the palace's wily old snake. But even the crafty Marquis Segretus had overlooked something.

"Still, for someone who's traveled so far, you've certainly surrounded yourself with women. I suppose your reputation as a wastrel is well earned when it comes to that particular talent."

Provocations like that were nothing more than irritating noise to me. On some level, it was pathetic that he was saying this despite knowing perfectly well that these were maids brought along to attend Seraphia.

"Just as the rumors say, your talents seem to shine brighter in bed than on the battlefield."

Unfortunately for him, I had endured far too many taunts in my previous life to fall for such crude bait. The imperial soldiers in particular would grind their teeth whenever they saw me. Their provocations had reached extraordinary heights, starting with a casual morning greeting of "Hey, you beastly little fuck!"

["I can see exactly how a heart-eating monster like you came into this world."]

["What kind of monster did she fuck?"]

["We owe your family an apology for ever being happy to have a child like you!"]

["Hey, hey, his family's already powdered sugar in a columbarium."]

["Pwahahahahahahaha!!"]

They had showered me with all manner of creative insults.

'Even that feels nostalgic, in its own way.'

Anyway.

"Your Highness, it is improper to keep the palace's honored guests waiting so long."

"All right, all right. You really do like to hurry people along, Chamberlain."

At Edmund's firm intervention, Walter shrugged languidly and stepped aside.

"... This way, please."

As I passed Walter, his mocking voice sounded behind me once again.

"Still, as a noble, you know..."

"You shouldn't lay your hands on every woman who comes along. If your family tree gets too complicated, it can cause trouble with the succession later."

But such crude taunts were practically cute compared to the imperial soldiers'—

"For instance, if your little sister gets pregnant, that child would be both your offspring and your niece or nephew, wouldn't it?"

My feet stopped before I realized it.

'Ah.'

... Even the imperial soldiers could learn a thing or two from that.

* * *

Adrian stopped abruptly. A sneer had barely formed on Walter's lips when a disbelieving chuckle escaped Adrian, who still had his back to him.

"Your Highness, a Blacksmith I know well once said this."

Then Adrian slowly turned to look back.

"Human nobles are far ruder than primitive men, because no one will bury a stone axe in their skulls for being rude."

"... What?"

Walter's face went blank with bewilderment.

Adrian's gaze passed over him. He examined each of the Royal Knights escorting Walter before his eyes finally settled on one man.

Ellen, the deputy commander of the Royal Knights. A prodigy considered certain to reach the rank of Master within the next five years.

Adrian fixed his eyes on Ellen, then spoke in a calm voice.

"The Royal Knights' foremost duty is to protect the royal family. And the most basic part of any protective assignment is keeping your charge under control so they aren't exposed to danger."

And yet.

"Your master is running wild like a rabid mammal, with sewage stinking up his mouth."

"Wh-what did you say?"

"What the hell is a knight who serves as deputy commander of the Royal Knights doing, not even putting a leash on his master?"

"You little bastard—!"

Just as Walter shouted in outrage—

THWAAACK!!!

An explosive boom erupted beside him. It sounded as though the air were splitting and the earth were being torn apart.

Walter slowly turned his head. Adrian was standing where Ellen had been only a moment ago?

Ellen was... flying through the air far away.

KRAAAASH!

A tremendous tremor followed as Ellen slammed into a palace wall. Walter caught his breath with a gasp, then swallowed hard.

What kind of madman attacked a Royal Knight inside the palace? And more importantly...

'Ellen couldn't even react?'

The deputy commander of the Royal Knights had been sent flying without even reacting. A prodigious knight who was certain to reach the rank of Master within five years.

And at the hands of some worthless wastrel...?

Walter's eyes shot wide.

Adrian wasn't sparing Walter so much as a glance. His red eyes, as though steeped in blood, were fixed solely on Ellen, embedded in the wall.

"Your negligence just got your master killed once."

Adrian's footsteps rang against the palace floor as he approached, as though dozens more deaths still remained.