Chapter 19

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: A Change of Plans
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Thinking about it now, it was truly strange. Walter was a man who obeyed the king to a degree he himself considered foolish.

But at that time, he had disobeyed the command without any resistance.

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, lost in thought for a moment. But a question he hadn't been able to answer for nearly a year wasn't about to be resolved so easily now.

“Still, hearing you speak, Grand General, I can tell Her Majesty is no ordinary person.”

The voice broke through his thoughts, and Walter slowly lifted his eyelids.

“I heard she was quite famous as a prodigy at the academy, but she surprises people with all sorts of clever moves. To think she could handle the lords on her own, without any backing. I can't imagine Duke Kill losing a war of words to anyone.”

“Everyone must feel similarly. That's partly why no one dares to easily refute Her Majesty… which is a relief.”

Standing before the lords, she seemed like a completely different person from when she was alone with him.

Her peculiar actions weren't those of someone born with the disposition of a ruler, nor were they an act of playing a queen.

The way she changed her expression and aura as naturally as breathing was, in many ways, unnatural for a young lady just past twenty.

Her unusual detachment regarding the deaths of her kin, her tendency to base her words and actions on rationality while excluding emotion—these were all traits of those who had lived a long time in the world.

What word could describe such a person?

To call her an old soul felt ambiguous, and to label her as merely precocious seemed somehow inadequate…

Well, the label didn't matter. What was important was that these traits didn't come across as flaws.

The way she calmly laid out her will, the path forward, and the matters of concern in a soft voice often inspired a strange sense of reverence.

Whenever Walter spoke with her, he felt the illusion of becoming a child. It was truly odd not to feel humiliated by this feeling, coming from a young lady so much younger than himself.

“The more you see her, the more fascinating she is.”

He concluded his assessment of her with a calm smile.

At the rare sight of the Grand General's smile, Zen flinched and drew back. Walter, to hide his awkwardness, turned and began walking again.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

A sunset that seemed to set the land ablaze spread thickly over the shadowed sea. The western sea of the kingdom, the ocean that marked the continent's edge, dazzled the eye with its brilliant light.

“Has it gotten this late already…”

Goedel Kill straightened his hunched body and rose from his spot.

He opened his clenched fist and slowly inhaled the earthy scent from his palm. From the damp soil, he could faintly smell the aroma of ripe grapes.

He turned his gaze from the sea to look behind him. Beyond the ducal castle, beyond the endlessly stretching vineyards, a manor so vast one had to turn one's head completely to gauge its size revealed a magnificent sight, comparable to the horizon itself.

The garden, filled solely with grapevines and not a single flower, was a perfect reflection of his character as a wine connoisseur.

“They've grown quite plump this year as well.”

Gazing at the manor, the corners of Kill's mouth curved into a smooth arc.

The grapevines, nearing harvest, were heavy with clusters of grapes, enough to make the branches bend. When this autumn ended, the ripened fruit would soon find their way into oak barrels, brimming with fragrance.

The most important ingredient for making good wine is time.

The raw ingredients, the water, the vintner—all are important, but no one would dispute that time is the most crucial element of all. Endure the long wait until the astringency fades and an unimaginably complex aroma emerges, and even the cheapest wine can be elevated beyond a certain standard.

Reborn through aging, the wine tempts people with its sweet aroma and flavor. That incredible taste, born of patience, preached the greatness of time to Kill with every sip.

If wine is like this, what of man?

And how long had he himself been growing?

His body and mind, his ideals and beliefs, had long since matured. At the culmination of a great history that could not be dismissed as mere narcissism, stood Goedel Kill.

“‘Be a light unto yourself,’ was it?”

With a dry laugh, he let the soil in his hand fall back to the ground. The earth, which must have guarded this place for eons, trickled through his fingers.

Perhaps not as long as this soil, but he too had watched over Parnas for a very long time.

Like all its people, he too had naturally come to see Parnas as his own. It was only natural for one born in this land to love it. That was why, until the king's death, Kill had devoted himself endlessly to the country he loved.

But after the king died, another option presented itself.

To belong to the country.

Or to possess the country.

His anger toward the new queen did not influence his decision. In truth, from the moment the king and the crown prince died, Kill had already resolved to choose the latter path.

The time had come to unleash his long-suppressed nature. The desire to be a monarch, a desire he hadn't known he possessed, burst forth like a cork popping from a bottle.

Yes. Like the aroma of wine.

Before his talents withered, he would spread his benevolence far and wide.

“Father. So you were here.”

His son, appearing through a narrow path, interrupted his moment. Despite Kill's displeased gaze, the son held out a letter with a flushed face.

“It's a proclamation from the Royal Palace. The Captain of the Royal Guard delivered it himself and left.”

“Whees Bomdeman came in person?”

His son nodded. Kill glared at the letter with an expression mixed with surprise and displeasure.

“What was his expression like?”

“He's a Raphi, so I couldn't read his expression well. He just said to deliver it to you, Father, and then left.”

Whees Bomdeman. He recalled the haughty Raphi who always lingered by the Grand General's side.

A Raphi, who rarely obeys another's command, came to deliver a letter from the palace? Did that mean he too acknowledged that girl as queen?

…It couldn't be.

Walter Hyverge, that man, must be behind it. He's probably just carrying out orders for now.

Kill narrowed his eyes and tore open the letter with a sharp sound.

“……”

A sneer crept onto his face as he read the letter. After finishing, Kill folded it and fluttered the paper before his son, as if telling him to read.

The son carefully took the paper and, his face still flushed, read it quickly.

“To hold the coronation on the day she enters the palace… she must be quite impatient.”

“Indeed. To think she would hold her coronation even before mine.”

“If she declares her ascension, the lords will be greatly shaken. Is it alright to just let it happen? Wasn't your plan to strike first by luring Arsinoe here, Father?”

Kill frowned, lost in thought.

He had thought it would be difficult for her to move after he declared independence. Since it wasn't outright treason, it would be hard for her to find fault with him.

Besides, that girl had neither the resources nor the justification to become queen. Playing the part of a ruler within the Command, Walter's domain, wouldn't be difficult, but she couldn't rashly step outside and start making claims about being queen.

The only time the girl could make a move was when Kill officially and grandly declared himself king.

Hence, the coronation.

Having declared the founding of a new nation under disgraceful circumstances, either the girl or the Grand General would surely show their face at his coronation, whether to assess Kill's situation or to identify the lords who supported him.

They would appear then and do one of two things: either curse him or bless his new kingdom.

If Arsinoe came.

The soldiers were already prepared. He would capture the girl and then exact pledges of loyalty from the other lords.

Walter Hyverge was a concern, but it wouldn't matter if he caused a scene and the girl escaped. One of the two corps he had split off would have already seized the Royal Palace.

Even if Walter remained at the palace, he alone could not stand against Kill's army.

Half the corps would defend the ducal castle, and the other half would advance on the Royal Palace.

That was the core of this operation. For this, he had gathered eight thousand soldiers.

It was slightly inferior compared to the Royal Army, but no matter how brilliant Walter Hyverge was, he couldn't possibly rally the twenty thousand soldiers of the Royal Army in such a short time.

The only forces he could mobilize immediately would be the thousand or so standing soldiers centered at Central Command.

…What if Walter Hyverge came instead of Arsinoe?

The operation would become even easier. Facing him would be too much even for his elite troops, but Walter causing trouble here meant the capital was empty.

Without the Grand General, the Royal Army was just an ordinary army. Taking the vulnerable Royal Palace would be a simple task.

Forcing the presumptuous girl to her knees and receiving the lords' allegiance. It was a simple affair, with no complications.

However, the foundation for all of this had to be his own fake coronation.

That's right. ‘His own’.

His coronation, not that of the girl named Arsinoe.

“I see. If that girl strikes first, it will make me look ridiculous.”

If the girl were to hold her coronation first, he, as the latecomer, would be at an absolute disadvantage.

No, he might even be seen as a traitor plotting against a frail, lone queen.

No… more than that.

A coronation is not a simple ceremony. It is the occasion for a monarch to reveal themselves to the people of the kingdom for the first time.

The palace gates are opened to welcome the people, food is distributed, and a festival is held. Through this, the people naturally come to revere the new monarch's benevolence.

To ruin such an occasion would be the same as turning one's back on the people's sentiment.

The coronation must be stopped.

In that case…

“We'd best change the plan.”

Kill dusted the dirt from his hands and turned his gaze toward the sunset-drenched sea.

“Just before the girl's coronation, at dawn, we move. We'll strike her before the palace gates open.”

“Then, what about the troops…”

“That bastard Walter will obviously be by the girl's side. Except for the guards, all remaining forces will charge the Royal Palace. If we advance all at once, he might notice, so we'll have to move in smaller groups. We can certainly conceal an army of that size.”

“And what will you do, Father?”

“What's a banquet without the guest of honor? I will go to the capital as well. You will guard the castle and await news.”

He spoke confidently, but there was no reply. His son, his face filled with worry instead of joy, looked at him and swallowed his words.

When Kill narrowed his eyes and chided, “Did you not hear me,” his son reluctantly forced something like a smile.

“Understood, Father. I will await news of your victory.”

A breeze brushed across his awkwardly smiling face. As his hair lifted, the right side of his son's face, which had been hidden, was revealed.

Where an eyeball should have been, there was only an empty darkness.