Bibliophile Princess, page 8
I hissed under my breath, tempted to close my eyes so I didn’t have to see where this was going. No matter how much Earl Tralles wanted to resist orders, he’d picked the exact wrong words to do it.
“Earl Tralles. Answer me this. Who do you serve? This country and its royal family? Or someone else?” The prince’s voice was like a cobalt blade covered in frost, and the way he wielded his words was akin to pointing that blade at the earl’s neck. As if to drive home the point that he would brook no further protest, the prince said, “I want this arrangement in writing by the end of today.”
The tense atmosphere had us all rooted in place. Aside from the petrified earl, the prince was attended by several of his personal guard, which I, Glen Eisenach, oversaw as commander. As of late, all of us had been on a razor’s edge, our wariness of our surroundings more heightened than ever before.
Since the king became ill, the present and future of the realm fell heavily on the young prince’s shoulders. It was vexing to watch helplessly at his side as he bore such crushing responsibility all on his own.
No sooner did the prince leave the room than another civil servant came rushing after us to go over the next proposal and documents that required the prince’s immediate signature. Prince Christopher continued down the corridor, responding to each matter the civil servant brought up in as few words as possible.
The current situation had robbed the crown prince of the handsome smile that all the ladies had once revered, though that did nothing to diminish his popularity. The girls in the palace found the chillingly cold atmosphere that pervaded the air around him to be equally appealing in its own right.
As I gazed at our country’s prince from behind, I found myself curious. Was he actually as calm as he suggested, or was he silently fuming? Even as his childhood friend, I couldn’t discern the difference. The one thing I could tell was that Earl Tralles had agitated him. The prince had tried to be fair with him, only for the earl to act obstinately. I couldn’t blame him for snapping.
The one thing that was certain was that Earl Tralles was part of Duke Odin’s faction. Just as he’d shown deference to Duke Odin in his appeals to the prince, so too did the rest of the palace seem eager to throw their lot in with the duke. It was as if everyone had accepted that it was inevitable the prince would take Lady Pharmia as his betrothed.
Likewise, ever since the night Duke Odin told him, “It’s your duty to see that your royal blood continues,” Chris had closed himself off emotionally. Not even a hint of a feigned smile had been seen on his lips since, and he’d ceased jesting the way he once had as well. At night, he barely rested. Those of us who stuck close at his side could attest to that.
It was, perhaps, inevitable that his unexpressed frustrations were being directed at the person who wasn’t present. He had to be wondering what on earth Alexei was doing right now.
The only person who could truly save Chris at this point was Lady Elianna, though. She was also the only one capable of breaking the current deadlock here at the palace. While I had no doubt that many unforeseen circumstances had cropped up in Ralshen, Alexei wasn’t the type to sit back quietly and watch it all happen. Alas, what information did make it to the capital wasn’t promising. Was that an indication that, even with his amazing intellect and abilities, even Alexei was out of his depth? Or did this further point to the enemy making another move against us?
The situation was so vexing I could hardly stand it. If only we could get some clue as to what was happening with Lady Elianna—anything at all. Oh how I wished I could leave the palace in Chris’s place and race there to Ralshen to confirm for myself that she had survived. Then I could bring her back here, and surely things would be so much better for it. Chris would be at ease knowing she was safe and close.
But what if...what if the reports turned out to be true? What if the worst thing imaginable had transpired? What would happen to Chris then?
I clenched my fist, which had become a bad habit as of late.
As we continued ambling down the hall, I spotted someone else making their way toward us. Chris seemed to spot them as well, though he continued giving instructions to the civil servant at his side, his expression unchanged. The other party stopped short out of courtesy to the crown prince, giving a light nod by way of greeting as he waited for Chris and his entourage to pass. For his part, Chris didn’t even blink twice as he passed by the man. He treated this man the same as he would anyone else, in spite of the fact that he was the father of Chris’s betrothed—the woman whose whereabouts and survival still remained in question.
Their completely ordinary, almost indifferent exchange instantly soothed my frazzled nerves. My thoughts immediately wandered to the events two months prior, when I sat in on a meeting between them...
~.~.~.~
At the beginning of the new year, a meeting was conducted in secret—one that was only held after news arrived from Sauslind’s historic enemy, Maldura. Chris steeled himself and attended what turned out to be an extremely brief conference. The only people he brought along with him were Alexei and myself.
I felt no small amount of nervousness—and admittedly some bitterness as well—about one of the other attendees.
“So you plan to entrust this clue to Elianna? That’s the decision you have come to, Prince Christopher?”
The moment we entered and faced each other, this man immediately cut to the heart of the matter, dispensing with all pleasantries in the process. He was in his midforties and looked rather warm and carefree from the outside. Being part of the aristocracy, he also gave the impression of being very generous and open-minded. But in spite of the favorable first impression he offered, his eyes were ruthlessly scrutinizing.
Marquess Bernstein had managed to cut the treasury’s deficit completely, creating a surplus of funds instead. He was currently one of the most pivotal government figures in charge of the country’s finances. People often underestimated him due to his unassuming appearance, but he was one of the wisest men in the entire royal court.
The young man standing beside the marquess was his son and someone we considered a kind and close friend. Nonetheless, given that he was standing with his father, his position in regards to this matter was all too apparent.
“Yes,” Chris answered curtly, his voice hard.
Alexei stood only a step behind the prince. The expression on his face indicated that he found this exchange bizarre.
Originally, Chris was supposed to attend the annual winter memorial service held in the Ralshen Region. The king’s uncle, Lord Bernard, had once held the title of earl there, and part of the purpose of the visit was for Chris to pay the ailing man his respects. But this had all been disrupted when that emergency missive from Maldura arrived. The prince’s betrothed, Lady Elianna, was instead set to go in his place. Chris had already called the Black Wing Knights, one of the realm’s standing armies, back to the capital. Their imposing presence would leave an impact on the visiting Maldurans, and they would also leave with Lady Elianna to act as her armed escort.
Alexei and I were already aware of this much, of course, but the way Chris and Marquess Bernstein spoke to one another implied there was some other information we weren’t yet privy to. No sooner did I wonder what this could be than the marquess let slip a furtive, faint chuckle.
Though widely regarded to be a great and wise prince, Chris reflexively scowled at the marquess. It seemed that even he let his emotions slip when it came to dealing with a longtime nemesis. His was a grudge that had only grown more and more bitter over time. He’d sounded aloof a moment ago when he first responded, but as he spoke now, his voice dripped with anger.
“I must admit, words fail me. All I can say is that I applaud how insidiously clever your little ruse was. First, you submit reports showing increased tax revenues and expenditures on maritime trade, but there are inconsistencies with the number of vessels relative to the reported tax revenue. Not to mention, the books detail an increase in ships from Miseral and the West, among other notable discrepancies. Any actual pertinent information you interspersed among irrelevant details, such as trending marine products that have been introduced into the market, accounts on the influx of human resources, and tax revenue reports. Yes, the way it was done was so loathsome, I should be forgiven for wondering if it wasn’t done purposefully to prevent me from noticing.”
Chris managed to restrain his sarcasm, if only barely, but the message was clear: If you had noticed there were problems, you should have highlighted the specific issues sooner. But although the prince had admonished Marquess Bernstein, the marquess continued smiling the same as he had before.
“My, my, Your Highness, I might understand you taking pride in figuring everything out if you had done so from only one or two reports, but only realizing after poring over years and years of records is hardly something to brag about.”
Marquess Bernstein’s response was similarly sarcastic, the unspoken insinuation being: You should have realized sooner, you half-wit.
I could feel a cold sweat starting to trickle down my back. In spite of how incensed Chris was, boiling with rage beneath the surface, the tanuki—rather, Marquess Bernstein—maintained the same placid facade.
“Besides, I only reported on one of many seeds of corruption. Which of them sprout will depend on the movement of the tides...as well as who steps in to coax them to blossom. Though surely you are already well aware of this, are you not, Your Highness?”
Chris swallowed hard, his hands clenched at his side. Even those of us in his inner circle more or less understood what the marquess was hinting at. Ever since Chris was a child, he’d been particularly wary of one specific person—his mother’s brother, Duke Odin. This conversation implied that Duke Odin would be the one putting political schemes into motion soon. However, it was precisely because Chris was so mistrustful of the duke that he’d summoned General Bakula, who was close to Lady Elianna already.
While I tried to remain optimistic, I noticed Alexei gritting his teeth beside me. He had been closest to Chris ever since we were children, and he’d learned much about the workings of the royal court and its inhabitants in that time. If his reaction was anything to go by, perhaps the situation had already developed beyond the point we could affect any change.
“You...” Chris snarled, “you could have stopped this ahead of time, and instead...” He was clenching his jaw so hard that his words came out in a hiss between his teeth. One normally wouldn’t see this side of Chris, and I could only guess he was expressing his genuine indignance, not as a prince of our country but as one man to another. “You really plan to send your own flesh and blood—your daughter, Elianna—into that snake pit?”
The hostility in his voice was so intense that my hand nearly flew to the hilt of my sword without thinking. I barely managed to hold down my own wrist in time. Worried as I was that such animosity would be returned in kind, Marquess Bernstein’s response was quiet and subdued.
“I would appreciate it if you would not repeat the same childish contradictions.” The marquess gave the three of us a withering look; it was immediately apparent that he was not only admonishing Chris but the two of us as well.
In all honesty, the man had a point. Chris personally didn’t want to send Lady Elianna to a place that was so inhospitable to members of the royal family. Unfortunately, given his position and the current situation, he was left with no other option. He knew well ahead of time that being with his beloved would mean putting her in danger, but he had gone ahead with his engagement to her anyway. Moreover, it was his own family member’s ambitions and the changing of the tides that had brought about this situation, not Marquess Bernstein, but he couldn’t help lashing out anyway. He was likely even aware that his anger was misplaced, yet he still couldn’t stop. The resentment he felt was perhaps childish, but there was no one else for him to direct it at.
Both Marquess Bernstein and his son Alfred stood there quietly and watched. As I scrutinized the expressions on their faces, something occurred to me.
The Bernsteins had carried a hidden name since the time of the Hero King. Perhaps the reason they agreed to stay beside the royal family and serve was that they enjoyed offering support from the shadows without needing anything in return. They didn’t want the attention, accolades, or material wealth that would have certainly fallen in their lap were their deeds to be openly known. They weren’t royalty, after all, and they certainly weren’t gods.
“Your Highness, what have you learned in the years since your birth? Were you taught to walk the path of foolish kings who came before you? To be vexed by your own inexperience while history repeats itself, only to continue relying upon the Bernsteins and their hidden name when anything goes wrong? Am I to understand that’s the road you have chosen?” asked Marquess Bernstein.
He alluded to a basic, albeit philosophical, question: what purpose does a king serve? The marquess’s intentions seemed to be genuine in that regard, but the intense atmosphere made it clear he wouldn’t permit Chris to dodge the subject.
As the air in the room became more and more suffocatingly oppressive, Chris quietly said, “I spoke in error... I rescind what I said.”
The first words they’d exchanged in this meeting were about entrusting the resolution of this matter to Lady Elianna. That was something both Marquess Bernstein and Chris had agreed to. Dredging up old grudges by bickering with the marquess was pointless and benefited no one. The fact that Chris did it anyway, unable to curtail his own emotions, was evidence of how inexperienced he still was—at least in the marquess’s view.
“Well, this isn’t the first time you have acted immaturely,” said Marquess Bernstein with an openly derisive chuckle. “I suspect you will find that during Maldura’s visit here, many ambitious ladies will flock to try to steal the spot at your side while Eli is absent. If I may be so bold as to add further supposition, I foresee the senior ministers council being in disarray as well.” He paused, sounding even more mocking as he added, “Hm, how shall I put this? I guess you could say this is a natural consequence of your hasty, half-hearted attempt to meet the conditions my father and I set forth. Or perhaps, more aptly, I should say it’s a rather predictable repercussion for the naive actions of someone still wet behind the ears.”
The condition the marquess referred to was for Chris to win the approval of the aristocracy for his engagement to Lady Elianna without using the Bernstein’s hidden name to accomplish that. Four years ago, Chris had done just that, but his success was superficial at best. The marquess was implying that unrest still smoldered beneath the surface in spite of Chris’s supposed victory.
All three of us were taken aback by how the marquess snorted in laughter at Chris’s expense, intentionally trying to provoke Chris’s barely restrained anger. This man was an expert at taking control of the situation. Not even Chris stood a chance against him. Suddenly, I found myself nervous and sweating for an altogether new reason.
The marquess drank in our expressions. When he spoke next, his tone was less demeaning than before. “Well, I do respect you for the decision you have come to, at least, Prince Christopher.” For a brief second, it almost sounded as though he was finally giving Chris some recognition...until he added, “That is, your decision to entrust the resolution of this to Elianna in spite of how desperately you have always cherished her.”
Chris’s emotions were probably more volatile in that moment than they’d ever been in his life. There was no trace of joy that the older man had given him an—admittedly backhanded—acknowledgment. Instead, there was pure, unadulterated rage—directed not at the marquess, but at himself. The very air around him seemed to turn black as pitch, smoldering with an unfathomable darkness as he cursed inwardly.
The two exchanged a few more words after that, but the meeting ended rather quickly.
~.~.~.~
Looking back at that exchange, I could finally understand Chris’s resentment. I hadn’t been able to at the time; after the meeting had ended, Alex and I had naturally tried to question Chris about the particulars of what was going on, but he’d cut us off with a curt, “I can’t tell you.”
It made sense in retrospect. He was probably being particularly cautious because he didn’t know where information might leak from. Now that it had become apparent something was amiss among the royal family’s Shadows, I could perfectly understand his hesitation to share. I also felt that he did communicate to us everything he felt he could. Anything that had been left unspoken was a sign of his faith in us, that he trusted us to be smart enough to figure it out on our own.
I could never have predicted that what lay in wait for us was a resurgence of the Ashen Nightmare. Chris, on the other hand, knew well beforehand about the storm that was coming, which was why he had painstakingly expended all his resources to search for a cure. What he had found instead was only a clue, but it was that which he’d entrusted to Lady Elianna. He did it all knowing full well that she might contract the disease herself in the process. Marquess Bernstein had praised Chris for making that call. Instead of locking her away in the safety of the royal palace and protecting her from any possible threats, he had prioritized his role as crown prince and sent her away, for the sake of the realm and its future.
I shuddered at the actions of the family known as Sauslind’s Brain. Perhaps it was silly to be aghast at this point, having known them for as many years as I had, but it was chilling how willing they were to send their own into harm’s way with no compunction so long as they deemed it the best course. Their ability to make tough calls was commendable if not callous.
