Chapter 14. A Secret Strategy of His Own (1)
"I'm not telling you."
"...Pardon?"
"I said I won't tell you."
"..."
Sir Gardin shut his mouth.
As it was, his Crown Prince had already ended up facing the Second Prince in a duel. Because of that, worries were overflowing on this side—so much so that they were like a rich harvest of grain rippling across a blue meadow.
It was a natural concern.
The Second Prince was no easy opponent. No, even by ordinary standards, he was an elite one could barely dare to challenge. And yet, the frail Crown Prince, who had suffered from illness his entire life, claimed he had a way to defeat such a Second Prince.
For a brief moment, Gardin allowed himself to hope.
After all, he was the Crown Prince.
Surely he must have something up his sleeve.
Surely that was why he had spoken so confidently.
Gardin wished, at the very least, to glimpse a small ray of hope. But the words that followed from the Crown Prince were utterly cruel.
"I'm not going to teach you. Why would I tell you?"
"Your Highness?"
"Yeah? What."
"It's all right. Truly. You may simply say that you don't have confidence in winning. No one would blame Your Highness. How could anyone dare to? In this detached palace—no, even throughout the capital—who is there that doesn't know Your Highness's circumstances? Isn't that so?"
He tried his best to comfort the Crown Prince.
He really did.
Such an unreasonable and disadvantageous duel lay ahead. How despairing must the Crown Prince himself be? That was why Gardin had to embrace and console him. He was the Crown Prince's personal physician—this was his duty.
Clenching his fist in resolve, Sir Gardin spoke earnestly, pouring out his thoughts. But the response he received from the Crown Prince was nothing more than an incredulous laugh.
"What do you mean, 'isn't that so'? Not at all."
"Pardon?"
"It's fine. I won't lose. I'll win. Of course, I can't guarantee it yet, and sure, the odds of losing are still a bit higher—but there's at least a chance I can clash with him once. A small chance, but a chance to win. That's enough, right? Don't you feel a bit reassured?"
"No. Not at all."
"Tsk."
"It sounded as though Your Highness were about to tell me your secret to defeating the Second Prince—but then you didn't."
"And then I didn't?"
"Yes. So I wondered if perhaps you were just bluffing."
"Tsk tsk. Then should I just casually reveal a trade secret?"
"Pardon?"
Sir Gardin flinched.
A trade secret?
The Crown Prince continued.
"Think about it. To anyone, it looks like I'm bound to lose to the Second Prince. If I were an outsider, I'd think so too. But I have a strategy I can try in this duel—a special method. Now, would I really announce something like that in advance without a care?"
"Ah..."
"Now you get it, right?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Exactly. A secret that leaks early is no longer a secret. If the Second Prince hears about it and prepares for it, I'm the one who's finished. Isn't that right?"
"That is true. However—"
"However?"
"I feel hurt."
"What?"
The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow at him. Sir Gardin replied with a dejected expression.
"It sounds as though you're implying that if you told me your secret now, I'd go around blabbing about it. I'm not someone with such a loose tongue."
"Haha. Is that so, Sir Gardin?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"So that's why you're hurt?"
"To be honest, yes, Your Highness."
"Be honest twice and you'll start talking back, huh?"
"Of course—ah, no, Your Highness."
"Tsk. Enough. I'm going to sleep. Examine me before I lie down."
"...Understood, Your Highness."
Sir Gardin barely managed to hide his expression.
It was stiff with worry.
His Highness is bluffing.
By any measure, it was a duel the Second Prince was bound to win. Yet the Crown Prince spoke so boldly of a way to win.
Did that secret strategy… truly exist?
Probably not. No.
Sir Gardin shook his head inwardly.
No matter how much he thought about it, no matter how optimistically he tried to view the situation, he could see no way for the Crown Prince to win. There was no strategy to be found.
No—there seemed to be no answer at all.
The Second Prince has a strong physique and was taught swordsmanship from a young age by excellent masters. Rumor has it he's already surpassed the level of a knight-in-training.
At that level, he was already beyond what ordinary people could hope to challenge. And the Crown Prince? He possessed stamina inferior even to that of a common man.
How could he possibly win…
The Crown Prince, still wearing a calm expression.
Seeing that, Sir Gardin swallowed the sigh rising within him. It felt as though dark clouds were filling his heart.
♣
Morning dawned early.
When he awoke, the sky was already filled with thick clouds—much like his own mood. Yet the Crown Prince seemed different.
"Oh, Sir Gardin, you're up? If you're awake, could you step outside for a moment?"
"...Pardon?"
"We've got a guest right now."
Sure enough, a stranger was visiting the Crown Prince's bedchamber. Gardin tilted his head inwardly.
A visitor? At this hour? Already?
The eastern sky had only just begun to brighten faintly. And yet someone had come to the Crown Prince's detached palace at such an hour—this wasn't a marketplace, after all.
Moreover, the visitor's appearance and attire were strange. Excessively plain and modest. He didn't look like a noble. If one had to describe him, he looked like someone who spent all day sweating at work…
"He's a palace blacksmith. I called him."
"Pardon?"
"Looks like you're still half asleep. Just step aside for now. I have something to commission from him."
"Ah—yes, Your Highness."
He was ushered out of the chamber almost without realizing it.
He gestured with his eyes toward the guard at the door, asking silently.
The guard shrugged and replied briefly.
"He really is the palace blacksmith."
"..."
Just what business did His Highness have calling the palace blacksmith so early in the morning? Sir Gardin felt a surge of curiosity and puzzlement.
He pressed his ear tightly against the firmly closed door of the bedchamber. But he couldn't hear anything.
Or rather—he could, faintly.
It felt like he could hear something… but only just.
It didn't quite feel like that… or maybe it did.
The sound brushed lightly against his cochlea, as if touching it—then not.
It felt as though only the most crucial words were slipping past his ears, separated by no more than a single perilla leaf's thickness. Was that just his imagination, or was it intentional?
While he stood there fidgeting for a moment—
Something felt off.
Sir Gardin turned his gaze, and his eyes met those of a royal guard who was looking his way.
"...."
"...Ahem! Khm!"
Feeling awkward, Gardin pulled his ear away from the door.
At the same time, he made a decision.
I can't help being curious. When the blacksmith comes out later, I'll casually ask him.
The fact that the Crown Prince had summoned a blacksmith early this morning—and now seemed to be commissioning something—could this be what His Highness had referred to last night as a "strategy to defeat the Second Prince"?
It certainly seemed that way.
And that was what worried him.
Why commission something to be made? I don't know what it is, but… if it's some strange experiment or reckless undertaking, His Highness's health might worsen.
He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. If it turned out to be something dangerous or foolhardy, he resolved to stop it.
So he would find out. With that determination, he waited for the blacksmith to emerge.
And then—
Someone approached from the far end of the corridor with hurried steps. It was the head steward of the detached palace.
"Steward? What brings you here so early, and in such a rush?"
Indeed, the steward's expression looked urgent. And the answer he gave was just as alarming.
"What do you mean, what brings me? It's a disaster, Sir Gardin. His Majesty has just announced something… something unbelievable."
"Unbelievable? What do you mean?"
"Well—hah. It's about the duel between His Highness the Crown Prince and His Highness the Second Prince. His Majesty has announced the location where the duel will take place."
"The location? Where could it possibly be?"
"Roy–Havi Bridge, outside the palace district. Can you believe it? Right in the heart of the capital city—on a bridge where thousands of citizens will be watching."
"…Pardon?"
Hearing that, Gardin was struck speechless.
♣
"Ordering a duel at the center of Roy–Havi Bridge… is far too cruel a decision."
This was the deepest chamber of the imperial palace.
The Second Prince, Theodore, had requested an audience with the Emperor early that morning. Now, kneeling before his father—the ruler of the Empire—he clenched his fists tightly.
He was furious.
"I could understand accepting my brother's proposal for a duel. It was his wish—he chose to sacrifice himself. I convinced myself it was for the greater good… I could accept that. But this—this goes too far."
"What, exactly, goes too far?" the Emperor asked in a heavy voice.
Theodore raised his head.
"Do you truly not know? A duel on Roy–Havi Bridge… That bridge lies at the very center of the capital."
"I know."
"Then you also know that countless citizens of the capital will have their eyes and ears fixed on that bridge when the duel takes place?"
"Of course."
The Emperor answered without hesitation, as though the question itself were bothersome.
"Roy–Havi Bridge is the largest bridge in the capital. It's spacious—quite suitable for holding a duel."
"Your Majesty."
"I made this decision after considering everything you've just said. No—rather, I hope it turns out exactly that way. I want as many people as possible to witness this duel and carry it in their hearts. That is my will."
"But this is excessive. Even if my brother volunteered for sacrifice, must you go this far? Must you truly make him a political scapegoat before the eyes of the entire populace?"
"It is because that will grant you even firmer legitimacy."
"I don't need legitimacy gained in such a way."
"You may not, but the Empire does."
"Father!"
"I am the ruler of this Empire before I am a father. Before being the father of two sons, I am a man responsible for the lives of hundreds of millions within this realm. And yet here you are, letting trivial familial sentiment cloud your judgment and obstruct the greater cause."
"But still—"
"That's enough. I need hear no more. The stability of the Empire outweighs petty blood ties. Through this duel, you may carry a knot in your heart for years—but in exchange, the succession will be firmly established, and the Empire will enjoy decades of stability and prosperity."
"..."
"At that price, does it truly matter if Rakiel suffers humiliation before the masses?"
"..."
Theodore bit his lip.
As he met his father's gaze—no, the Emperor's gaze—he understood.
No plea would reach him. No appeal, no resentment would matter. The Emperor would remain unmoved, and calmly watch as his son was broken before the eyes of the world by his own decree.
That was politics.
Brother…
His thoughts drifted to the Crown Prince he had met the previous night. He wasn't someone Theodore respected on a personal level—merely a half-brother who shared the same father. A man sickly since childhood, never once fulfilling the role his status demanded.
But still…
He had never imagined that his brother's position would be taken in such a manner.
I hoped for a gentler approach. Not this.
At the very least, a duel before a handful of nobles would have been bearable. But before tens of thousands of citizens? To be forced to collapse in front of them all?
His brother suddenly seemed unbearably pitiful.
I'm sorry. I… I have no other choice. His Majesty has no intention of rescinding his decision, so I…
Crunch!
As he withdrew from the imperial audience, Theodore clenched his fist tightly.
Brother—when the duel begins… I will end it as swiftly and cleanly as possible, so that you suffer as little as possible, and so that your honor is preserved as much as it can be.
The Second Prince swore it silently.
Of course, he never dreamed that at this very moment—while he steeled himself with such grim resolve—Rakiel was welcoming the Emperor's decision with open arms.
On that bridge, of all places? A duel before tens of thousands of eyes?
Then…
All the better.
A satisfied smile spread across Rakiel's lips.