Chapter 7

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Third Answer
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“One, we pledge our loyalty to the royal family of Parnas and will devote all our strength to its protection!”

A booming shout echoed from beyond the window.

Walter stopped and watched the unit members reciting their service creed before training.

As an officer recited the first article, the soldiers standing in formation repeated his words. When scolded to raise their voices, the soldiers shouted, following the officer’s command.

The unusual volume was likely because the Grand General, who had been at the Western Command for nearly half a year, had finally returned to the capital. Or perhaps it was due to their pride that the lords, the very foundation of the kingdom, had chosen Central Command as their meeting place.

They had only chosen Central Command as an alternative because the royal palace was sealed, but he could see how the soldiers might misunderstand.

Walter averted his gaze, his expression ambiguous, showing neither pleasure nor displeasure at their sharp discipline.

“Sir Hyverge.”

A soft voice tinged with a western accent brushed past his ear. Walter composed his features and slowly turned.

A noblewoman with a generous expression approached at a leisurely pace, fluttering a fan. Her short hair was pulled back so tightly into an updo that not a single strand was out of place, seemingly reflecting her meticulous personality.

“It has been a while, Marquess Rutherford. My apologies for not greeting you before the meeting.”

As he slightly bowed his head in courtesy, Marquess Rutherford, Vanessa Rutherford, waved a plump arm and spoke graciously.

“Oh, not at all. The meeting was convened so hastily, I doubt I would have had the leisure to accept your greeting. Are you returning to the command post?”

“Yes. Is the meeting already over?”

“My. Wasn’t today’s meeting just a matchmaking session to get on your good side? What’s the point in continuing when the person whose approval we seek has already left?”

The Marquess covered her mouth with her fan and chuckled. In contrast to her smiling face, her eyes, as she looked up at Walter, held a sharp glint, like a reptile sizing up its prey.

“It was absolute chaos after you left. So very amusing.”

“I cannot imagine anything amusing would have occurred.”

“Shall I tell you what was discussed?”

She folded her fan, a curious smile spreading across her face. Not seeming to expect an answer, the Marquess’s eyes sparkled as she continued on her own.

“I don’t know what you may think, Sir, but no one in the Council considers the late king to have been a great ruler. After all, his response to the great famine three years ago was a mess, as was his handling of Talkisin's Rebellion. Whenever a crisis struck, His Majesty did nothing. We thought the throne might be stabilized by the many heirs he produced, but in the current situation, even that has become useless.”

“Marquess Rutherford. Such insults to the royal family are…”

“I’m not trying to speak ill of them. Don’t you see the point I’m trying to make?”

Walter fell silent, his face impassive, and slowly shook his head. She let her smile fade and cautiously checked if anyone was listening nearby.

“You believe the royal family is paramount, but the Council wants change. They are tired of Parnas. Had you declared yourself king, they might have readily followed your lead.”

At her blunt words, Walter shot her a cold glare.

“I am a protector of the royal family, not one who will sit on the throne.”

“And that is the problem.”

The Marquess folded her arms and tapped her side with the fan in her hand.

“There were many who disliked you from the start. They kept their heads down because you hold military power, but now that it has come to this, someone will surely try to break you.”

“Is that so.”

“This is just my thought, but the one who will receive your loyalty and begin a new dynasty is…”

“Duke Kill cannot become king.”

At the firm reply, the Marquess’s mouth fell open, her words halting mid-sentence. Walter swept his disheveled hair back, his weary gaze returning to her.

“He is a man who genuinely worries for Parnas, so it is understandable that Duke Kill would harbor such ambitions. However, I cannot acclaim him as my sovereign.”

“Then who can be your sovereign?”

“I wonder. It is not just him; none of the lords present are fit to be king.”

The Marquess burst into a laugh she had been holding back.

Unsure what was so funny, Walter tilted his head and stared at her with a puzzled expression. The Marquess continued her cheerful laughter for a long moment before rubbing the powder from her fingertips.

“So everyone was just waiting for the pinecone to drop, not even realizing the tree that should be in the pine grove is somewhere else entirely. I prided myself on having lived as a loyal subject for quite some time, but this is disappointing. Why can we not become king?”

Walter tilted his chin down, studying her with a cautious gaze.

Unlike her light, joking tone, the Marquess's eyes were filled with a profound seriousness. Realizing it was a sincere question, Walter chose his words carefully.

“All of you lords are politicians.”

A gentle breeze through the window ruffled his hair, tickling his forehead. With a hand that clearly betrayed his annoyance, Walter swept his hair back again and continued.

“If you had to choose between accepting fifty dying refugees and securing fifty cattle to distribute to your people, what choice would you make, my lady?”

“Personally, I would want to choose the former, but considering the position of my people and the practical benefits… it would be the latter.”

“Precisely. A politician is a pursuer of interests, always living to gain something. They will never accept a loss.”

Her lips formed a straight line as she nodded for him to continue. Walter cautiously took a step back, assuming a more respectful posture as he looked down at her.

“I do not mean to condemn. That is your nature and your role. And I am the same. I may use fine words like ‘protection’ and ‘devotion,’ but most of what I do involves eliminating and excluding enemies based on what is advantageous. However… a king.”

Walter moistened his lips and lowered his voice.

“A king is one who embraces and protects all. One who views the future from the most objective standpoint and endures loss for the sake of a righteous future. We are merely those who follow him, calculating interests to realize his ideals under his rule.”

“That is a very ambiguous statement. Enduring loss? And that is why we cannot be king?”

After a moment of thought, Walter added gravely.

“Yes. Not just you, my lady, but everyone present in that room would choose the cattle over the refugees. That is why you cannot be king.”

“Then what about a king? Does he choose the refugees?”

“He would choose the refugees, and at the same time, command us, his vassals, to secure the cattle. Then he would distribute the cattle to the refugees, helping them become farmers.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“My, a third answer.”

A faint, barely perceptible smile touched Walter’s lips as he nodded.

“To choose a path the common man cannot forge. To guide all onto the right path, even if it takes some time. That is the righteous path a king must walk.”

The Marquess’s lips curved into a smile as she looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“The king you desire is quite demanding. Well then, in your view, who is closest to being a king right now?”

Walter’s mouth turned down as he averted his gaze, offering no answer. Seeing his apparent hesitation, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Could it be… that concubine’s daughter who was brought up earlier?”

“It is Princess Arsinoe.”

“Arsinoe… So you truly mentioned her because you believe that princess has the makings of a sovereign?”

A heavy silence followed the end of his sentence. Walter fixed his clear eyes on her and nodded.

“Yes. That is correct.”

The Marquess raised a hand from her folded arms and slowly stroked her full chin.

A flurry of complex, indefinable emotions crossed her face, finally settling into an ambiguous smile.

“It piques my interest that you think so. Are you truly considering her as the next candidate for the throne?”

“It is merely a conclusion I reached based on legitimacy and justification. It’s not as if my thoughts alone can make it happen, would they?”

At his polite reply, the Marquess answered with a reluctant expression.

In the current climate, teetering on the brink of war, a Grand General who commanded the adoration of his officers was, in himself, a symbol of a king.

Though he was known for his constant humility, the Marquess wondered if he was lowering himself to this extent to test her. But seeing his calm expression, she realized he was sincere and let out a hollow laugh.

“I understand your philosophy, Sir, but the future is unknowable. I wonder if you will still hold the same thought a month from now.”

“What happens in a month?”

“Duke Kill said he will convene the Council again in a month. Today’s meeting was inconclusive because of your opposition, but it will be impossible to leave the throne empty any longer.”

Fiddling with the edge of her fan, the Marquess took a step closer and lowered her voice.

“I hear they’ve been gathering soldiers in the Kill duchy lately… I imagine if you continue to oppose him like this, the Duke will have to make a decision.”

“…”

“I’ll tell you this beforehand: I will not take either side. I don’t believe either of your values is wrong. Well, I do hope for a peaceful conclusion.”

With a sharp snap, she opened her fan and, with an elegant gesture, began to wave it, offering a smiling gaze. The Rutherford family crest, engraved in the center of the plain fan, caught the light and shimmered softly.