I'm getting drunk! (1)
Most nobles each kept a villa within the royal capital.
After all, just because a party was being held at the palace, it didn’t mean they all barged into the palace in broad daylight. And the palace didn’t have the capacity to accommodate all of them with lodging and meals. No, even if the palace did have that kind of space, it was unthinkable for the ruler of a kingdom to house his retainers inside his own residence.
Thus, when nobles arrived in the royal capital, it was customary for them to head to their family’s villa first and wait there, then enter the palace at the appropriate time.
Of course, there were cases where one went straight to the palace upon arrival, usually when there was urgent business with the king, or when an official event required ‘matching words’ beforehand.
“Welcome, Lord Sion Clausen. The palace welcomes your visit.”
The palace chamberlain himself came to receive the main character of this palace-hosted party.
According to rumors, this youth was a wastrel, no, so hopeless a noble son that ‘scoundrel’ was the more fitting word.
Yet, he had spurred soldiers in the war against Nudia, led them to victory, then forced the enemy to retreat in the following defense, and in negotiations had achieved results so overwhelming it was practically a surrender treaty.
Such drastically opposite assessments made the chamberlain’s head spin. One of them had to be a lie, and in cases like this, usually it was the latter.
In other words, the ‘merit’ was often something stolen from another and passed off as one’s own.
‘Frankly, His Majesty the King, and His Highness the Prince, also had their doubts.’
The chamberlain’s doubts, the king’s doubts, and the prince’s doubts were only natural.
Think once, think twice, think thrice, this was “Eva Eva Triple Eva.”
“It’s been a while, Chamberlain.”
“Several years, indeed. And you’ve become much more dashing since coming of age. The young noble ladies will faint at the sight of you.”
“Hahaha.”
Sion could laugh openly at the compliment on his looks.
For the character setting of Sion Clausen was, at the very least, positioned at the ‘top tier’ in appearance. Unlike the descriptions he was used to hearing: ‘manly,’ or ‘vigorous-looking,’ or even just ‘well… looks like something.’ This was far better!
“And those beside you are…?”
“The young lady is Miss Lucia, daughter of the former court magician, Lord Raido. And the man next to her… let us say he is her escort.”
“Ah, so it was Miss Lucia? My apologies for not recognizing you. I’ve scarcely ever seen your face before…”
“It’s fine, Chamberlain. My father is so eccentric that he never let me anywhere near the palace. The man beside me is Yoo-hyun. He’s my father’s disciple.”
“…Pardon? Lord Raido has a disciple?”
“For the record, it’s in something other than magic. Other things.”
At that, the chamberlain let out an exclamation and extended his hand to shake with Kim Yoo-hyun.
The man who had never passed on magic, nor martial techniques, to anyone, yet now he had accepted a disciple?
Surely, as years passed and age caught up, some of the harsh edges had worn away. For reference, Lilith and Lischida were waiting at the Clausen Count family’s villa.
Lischida, though he had surrendered, had been a knight of Nudia until very recently. It was judged too early to bring him into the palace. Lilith, for her part, wished to avoid the swarm of magicians and high-ranking knights who filled the palace, lest someone recognize her, too bothersome, she said.
“More importantly, what brings you to the palace?
The party is still some time away.
His Majesty is currently busy with state affairs.”
Was he asking knowingly, or did he truly not know?
‘Of course you know, Chamberlain. You’re trying to tell a bald-faced lie without even wetting your lips first.’
The report that Sion Clausen had entered the capital would already have reached the palace. And here he was, the chamberlain waiting as if on cue the moment Sion entered the palace.
This was no different from saying the king was waiting for him.
“I have come on behalf of Count Lichten Clausen to report on the course of the war and the post-war measures. And in addition, to request a private audience with His Majesty regarding today’s royal-hosted party.”
Not the son of some provincial noble, but the heir of a frontier March was requesting a private audience. A man who had served as chamberlain in the palace for more than ten years, dealing with the pinnacle of politics, instantly grasped what this young man before him was after.
‘He means that hearing him out will bring some advantage to the crown.’
Was Sion Clausen truly so politically shrewd?
Even ignoring the rumors, the chamberlain had seen Sion before.
Back then, he was a boy with a handsome face but disappointing conduct, utterly below expectations.
But now… he was different.
Different to a shocking degree.
The chamberlain had met countless nobles and foreign envoys himself. So, he was well able to judge what sort of person stood before him, what emotions they carried, even from first impressions.
‘What in the world happened? Not long ago, there were even rumors worrying about the future of the Clausen march.’
People who say they want to change, or that they will change from now on, are everywhere. And more than half, no, nearly all, fail to cast off their true nature, remaining the same in the end.
A coward who flees the battlefield remains terrified of death. A man who once ravished women never escapes lust. A resentful man inevitably tries to overturn everything.
But this youth, Sion Clausen, had changed. The once-dull eyes now sparkled with sharp wit. The once-twisted face now wore a confident smile. And above all, his words and deeds flowed without the slightest hitch as if he had foreseen every situation, and was steering it by his own will.
‘The Count must finally be savoring life again.’
Perhaps the young man really had achieved great merit in war. Not like other noble sons, who made a flowery speech, stood at the very rear lines, then returned safely after watching a bit of fighting.
“…Follow me, then.
Miss Lucia and her escort will be shown to a separate room where they may wait.”
The chamberlain stepped forward into the palace.
Sion followed after, his second time entering the royal palace as ‘Sion Clausen,’ but his first time ever entering the residence of the Hispania royal family as himself.
In this place, where no one was allowed to enter armed, only royal knights were permitted to bear weapons, standing guard. Unseen eyes of the Royal Secret Guardian Order must also be watching keenly.
Skilled magicians were also deployed in numbers, prepared against any assault.
‘And yet, this place is to be ransacked.’
Whether through a weak point somewhere, or else…
‘There’s a traitor within.’
Unfortunately, he didn’t know who that traitor was. Even in the novel, it had not been revealed.
Thus Sion had pondered whether to exploit the coming incident at the palace, or to prevent it.
‘There are still two days of leeway.’
The unprecedented incident in the palace would erupt two days after the royal-hosted party began.
At least today and tomorrow were safe zones.
Wasn’t it said that homework tastes sweetest when you play all you want, do everything you want, and then finish it the night before?
For today, Sion decided to enjoy the party and think over the issue of Kim Yoo-hyun and the princess. And at the same time, he wouldn’t forget to secure his appointment as successor to the Clausen March, and gather allies who would support him later.
“Please wait a moment.”
The chamberlain halted before a door lavishly decorated. He cleared his throat, then, as though the king himself were watching, spoke with utmost caution.
“Your Majesty.
Lord Sion Clausen has arrived.”
“…Let him in.”
A thoroughly ordinary middle-aged man’s voice came from within.
Yet the chamberlain bowed deeply, then with a careful gesture opened the door and beckoned Sion inside.
‘The fact he waits in his private office means there’s at least one more person inside. Most likely the prince. Perhaps he’ll even delegate hosting the party to the prince this time.’
When Kim Yoo-hyun had attended the royal-hosted party, the king had entrusted nearly everything to the prince, himself stepping back to watch events unfold.
Sion paused to consider how best to appear.
The current King of Hispania, Edgar IV, was indeed an able ruler. Politically astute, diplomatically savvy, and unhesitant to exploit any advantage for himself. But the problem, his health had been poor since his days as crown prince.
For a nation, a king in ill health was like living with a ticking time bomb.
‘Compared to that, Prince Erador…’
Though he had not inherited his father’s weak body, sadly he had inherited none of his father’s talents either.
Not that he was stupid, or twisted in nature.
Judged by ordinary standards, Prince Erador was competent and kind-hearted. The problem was, when judged as a future monarch, those traits collapsed into mediocrity.
‘Kindness becomes a weakness, unable to cull the useless. Thin ears lead to vacillation. Even his competence falters once brighter nobles appear around him, he burns with rivalry, alienates them, and they in turn turn their backs on him.’
Had the royal family not been annihilated a year later through the enemy’s exploitation of the princess’s lapse, Prince Erador would have become king, and Hispania would have descended into chaos.
Enemies without, infighting within, a mad carnival of disaster.
‘Therefore.’
Therefore, a choice had to be made.
Should he impress the king with the bearing of a confident, capable noble heir? Or should he suppress the prince’s jealousy by seeming modest and reserved?
It was like a newly transferred private, asked in front of both the current squad leader and the soon-to-be squad leader: “Who’s better looking?”
‘Ha, damn it… When asked about mom or dad, you say don’t do parental jokes. When asked about sauce poured or dipped, you say just eat it. When asked black bean noodles or spicy seafood noodles, you say half-and-half. But to think I’d face another shitty army-style either-or question.’
Damn it!
Choose!
Your choice is?
Between the present power-holder and the future one, which man will you choose?!
‘What a stupid question.’
Of course it was the present power-holder. Oh, and wouldn’t that mean the future one would screw him later, ruin his life?
‘Then just change the future power-holder. Why else do you think this is the promised land of politics and betrayal?’
Even a soldier hailed as an ace could lose his claim as next squad leader and end up in the brig with just one misstep.
Sion had seen such a case right beside him in his service days. And it wasn’t that the guy was bad at soldiering, he was taken out in a single strike by the “absolute mafia pet” of a sergeant above.
The palace was no different.
No, if anything, easier and more pliable. Because at least Sion knew the nobles’ thoughts, the nature and weaknesses of both current and future powers.
“Sion Clausen of the Clausen March. I greet His Majesty Edgar Astarius Hispania, rightful sovereign and head of the royal house of Hispania.”
Unlike the more ‘casually’ courteous noble circles, here in the palace and before the royal family, only the utmost formality would do. Though he was heir of a great frontier March, he had not yet been formally invested as successor, so there was much to restrain him.
Thus Sion bent lightly at the waist and waited for the king to speak.
“Welcome to the palace, Lord Sion of the Clausen March.”
And the wait was not long.
An utterly ordinary reply, like the response of a neighbor uncle when greeted.
“Raise your head. This is no formal occasion, and a stiff atmosphere is not very pleasant.”
At that, Sion slowly raised his head.
‘…The hell. What’s this?’
