Chapter 6

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: An Unlikely Heir
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#6

Eighteen. As she came of age, Lucy found there were many more things she could do.

She hadn't entered the academy to become a soldier in the first place. What she wanted was to learn how to command an army, to understand their way of thinking, and to meet Walter Hyverge.

Now that all of that had been accomplished, she had no lingering attachments to this place.

“I'm planning to leave the detached palace with my mother. I think we'll live in seclusion in the north for a few years.”

“What are you talking about? Do you think His Majesty will allow it? Didn't you say your mother isn't even allowed to leave the palace grounds?”

“Exactly. That's why we're going to sneak out.”

“That won't be easy... No, wait, seclusion? Where in the north are you planning to go?”

“Pomnos.”

Geronimo stared at Lucy, his mouth agape, his expression one of disbelief.

But, as always, he reluctantly showed a sign of acceptance, figuring she must have some scheme up her sleeve.

“Hey, Arsinoe.”

“What?”

“Of all the people I know, I think you're the craziest.”

Lucy covered her mouth, feigning a look of surprise.

“How strange. I feel the same way when I look at you.”

“Get lost... Anyway, isn't Pomnos that ridiculously cold place? Why go live where the Raphi are instead of a place fit for humans?”

“We have to run that far so the royal family won't come looking for us. I'm sick and tired of being summoned by the official queens and treated like a slave.”

“I guess if you go that far, no one will be able to find you.”

Geronimo chuckled and shrugged, his expression understanding.

Top of the class and dead last—academically, they were polar opposites, but their shared background as children of concubines made them closer than anyone emotionally. Gazing at Lucy with a warm expression, Geronimo extended his hand for a handshake.

“Live well, and contact me once you're settled. I'll come visit once I'm established, too.”

“Okay. Let's meet again.”

They exchanged a light farewell and parted ways. Neither looked back, but their faces held the conviction that they would surely meet again.

One by one, students left the dormitory, and Lucy, the last to remain, packed her belongings with slow hands.

She owned so little that there was hardly anything to put in her bag. She tossed in a few items of clothing and some writing utensils, then took the letters and documents she had exchanged with various people to the incinerator and burned them.

The area around the incinerator's chimney, stained with soot, was wet with rainwater and cast a strange reflection.

Lucy stared intently at the chimney, its color varying from top to bottom, then confirmed the embers had died out before turning away without hesitation. The subsiding rain tapped on her small shoulders, leaving dark patches.

“Time to head back.”

After lingering for a while, Lucy let out a long sigh and lifted her bag.

From the academy to the royal palace was four hours at most. It wasn't a great distance.

“I should arrive before nightfall. And if I leave with Mother right away...”

We'll reach Pomnos in half a month.

Muttering to herself out of habit, Lucy boarded a carriage bound for the capital.

The preparations for leaving the palace had been finished long ago.

The plan was to slip out of the detached palace through the door behind it, which led to the dining hall and the outer garden, then take a prepared carriage and head north.

When the king discovered her mother's absence, he would fly into a rage and dispatch soldiers, so they had to escape as quickly as possible without leaving a trace.

By changing horses along the way and continuing north, they could meet a guide they had arranged for in the east and easily reach Pomnos.

“Haaah...”

After enduring a few years in Pomnos, she would be able to return to the capital.

The moment she arrived at the palace, she would have to be on constant alert, so she wouldn't be able to sleep. After organizing her thoughts, she closed her eyelids and slowly let her consciousness drift away.

Beyond her dimming consciousness, a coming storm cloud drifted in like fog, then quickly sank below.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

An unusually short summer passed, and autumn arrived.

That winter, rain fell often instead of snow, and a similar season repeated itself once more.

And so, two years later, during the summer.

The king died.

The King of Parnas, who had boasted of his robust health just a month prior, took to his bed citing the change of seasons and passed away just like that. In stark contrast to the vigor with which he had produced royal heirs, it was a remarkably anticlimactic death.

But there was no time to grieve.

As if in succession, the Crown Prince died, followed by other princes, princesses, and queens, all losing their lives one after another. In a royal family overshadowed by death, only the third and fifth princes survived.

However, the third prince's tongue was stiff and his legs were paralyzed, leaving him unable to move properly, while the fifth prince had lost his sight and was confined to his bed.

The wave of illness was not confined to the royals. The servants who attended them also died in succession, and the royal palace devolved into a state better described as a house of mourning than a palace.

Faced with the unprecedented situation of a vacant throne, all the nobles gathered in one place, tense. Unlike their usual gatherings, which were rife with sarcastic barbs, the council chamber was filled with an eerie silence.

“Are we to leave the throne empty like this?”

A man in his early old age broke the silence with a bitter expression.

The great lords, who had been maintaining their silence, raised their heads one by one to look at him. It was Goedel Kill, owner of the largest estate in the kingdom and the duke who held the blessing of the Twin Mountains.

“Let us leave the grieving to the kingdom's subjects. Should we not be contemplating the practical matters at hand?”

At the voice of the man with the most influence among those gathered, the lords' expressions brightened considerably. Kill continued, his gaze fixed on the empty air, his expression bitter.

“I hear you too have struggled with this epidemic. But we cannot remain lost in sorrow forever. We need someone to resolve this situation.”

A few nobles, quickly discerning his true intentions, asked for the floor with shining eyes. However, Kill raised a hand, signaling that he was not yet finished.

“Everyone understands that the Parnas line has ended. If there is anyone here who intends to enthrone the third or fifth prince as our sovereign, let me say this in advance: do not speak such nonsense.”

Unspoken glances flew rapidly across the endlessly long table.

Enough time passed for their scattered thoughts and beliefs to coalesce somewhat, and Kill, who had been patiently enduring the silence, spoke again, his voice heavy.

“I do not wish to waste time on futile debates, so I will get straight to the point. For now, from among those present here...”

“The bloodline of Parnas has not yet ended.”

The calm voice was not particularly loud, yet it echoed with unusual clarity through the hall, amplified by the sharp, tense silence.

A young voice, out of place in this gathering. All the lords stared wide-eyed in the direction of the speaker.

Kill, too, turned his head toward the sound, raising an eyebrow.

The old man's eyes fell upon the man known as the second coming of the God of War.

“I am not referring to the third or fifth prince. I know of one who is of His Majesty's bloodline, whose legitimacy is recognized, and who is of sound body, free from illness.”

“And who might that be?”

Walter took a steadying breath, briefly debating whether he should mention her.

Then, letting out a short, inaudible sigh, he continued in a monotone voice.

“Arsinoe Thea Neoparnas.”

At the mention of a name so vulgar it was difficult to even utter, everyone held their breath. At the same time, Kill's eyes narrowed, and he glared fiercely at Walter.

Walter added, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“She is the Fifth Princess, born of Lady Ansilla.”

At the unfamiliar name, the lords furtively exchanged glances.

None of them knew Arsinoe, but they all knew who Ansilla was. And from the context, they understood that he was referring to the daughter of that concubine as a princess.

But Arsinoe was not a proper princess, and she was a figure of far too low a station to be mentioned in this assembly.

“She... cannot be considered a royal heir. You may think it acceptable, Sir, but in terms of legitimacy, her shortcomings are too great.”

Duke Kill spoke cautiously on behalf of the other lords.

Walter moved only his eyes to look at him. His inorganic gaze held a faint chill, as if looking at something profane.

“It is not right to debate legitimacy based on the womb from which one was born. Even you, my lord, cannot deny that half of her being is of His Majesty's blood.”

A resolute silence fell once more at his firm tone. Amidst the hesitation to speak rashly, only the sound of clearing throats betrayed the presence of people.

The one who broke the seemingly endless silence was an unexpected figure.

“Your words have merit, Sir. But we are not here to discuss such fundamental principles. In these chaotic times, surely we cannot enthrone... a child born of a concubine as our sovereign?”

Duke Witten, who had been observing the situation with a smile, interjected in a low voice. As if on cue, people began to throw out sarcastic remarks.

“Indeed. No matter how few candidates we have, the daughter of a dancer of unknown origin...”

“It may be late to say this, but His Majesty was a bit excessive. To think he would take a concubine in the sacred palace. And a dancer from a western nomadic tribe, no less. I could not help but be disappointed.”

“How can you speak of a child of such an uncertain background as a candidate for the throne? Are your words not the ones that are mistaken, Sir?”

“The throne for a woman who hasn't even properly studied the royal arts? The very fact that such words are being spoken seems to show just how little you regard the royal family. Am I wrong?”

Sensing the escalating atmosphere, Kill raised his hand with a deliberately stern expression.

“That is enough. I did not grant you permission to speak.”

Though his voice was not loud, it carried enough weight to quell the disturbance.

Duke Kill, after quietly surveying the assembly, turned his gaze to Walter. He then spoke in a voice as devoid of emotion as possible.

“Sir Hyverge. I have no wish to refute your opinion. However, she is an unprepared candidate.”

“Unprepared, you say?”

“Had His Majesty treated her as a royal heir and educated her during his lifetime, I too would have readily accepted your opinion. But what we need now is a talent who can lead the palace immediately.”

“Then allow me to ask just one thing.”

Walter, who had been calmly listening to Kill's words, slowly closed and opened his eyes. Then, fixing his gaze on the empty air, he spoke.

“Is the talent you all intend to elect now a regent who will be entrusted with vicarious rule, or a new king?”

The moment his direct words echoed through the chamber, the lords held their breath.

No one wanted a mere regency. Furthermore, no one was unaware that everyone in this room had gathered with the desire to become the next master of the throne.

The Grand General, who was keenly attuned to the currents of the time, was not ignorant of this either. Walter fixed his gaze on Kill's eyes and continued in a low voice.

“If what you all desire is a discussion about a new king, then I urge you to think carefully before you speak. And please, I hope you will recall the first article of the Royal Army's code of conduct.”