Chapter 134 – In which one must confront their feelings (2)

  “His Excellency…”

  Sangria blinked.

  His surprise, quickly was overturned by logic.

  Of course. If anyone knew the state secret history it would be a ruler themself.

  The Spirit Throne Ruler also needed to know history well, considering their duty of settling down arguments between different cults.

  But…

  “Priest Cotteo, I believe you’re implying that His Excellency Amara knows a lot about this god – Nyxious?”

  Scarlen carefully asked, his eyes staring down at Cotteo.

  The priest just kept on smiling warmly.

  “Indeed, I suspect there is no one among the living who knows more about Luni than His Excellency.”

  Cotteo said it with a carefree air, but the effect this simple statement had on two mages was enormous.

  In the world of long-lived intelligent beings, to say that a nineteen-year-old knows more than anyone else about something could only mean that either the topic was niche, or the nineteen-year-old was a genius.

  It was possible that Cotteo was extravagating, it wouldn’t be surprising considering how Purplus’ citizens worshiped their young Saint.

  But Sangria found her words weirdly persuasive.

  However, there was a problem.

  “His Excellency wasn’t really willing to talk much about this god.”

  “I’m certain that he will tell you, if you ask him nicely.”

  Cotteo’s smile turned even warmer.

  Sangria blushed, suddenly realizing what Cotteo was implying.

  ‘The rumors spread so fast? That’s a bit extreme… You mean in less than two hours, everyone heard about it?’

  He coughed and bashfully replied:

  “I understand His Excellency takes a fancy to me, but I don’t believe it’s a good excuse to bother him…”

  “His Excellency takes fancy in you…?”

  Cotteo looked at him like she was struck by lighting.

  Sangria blinked.

  Was it not what she was implying a moment ago?

  “I mean” Cotteo fumbled with her words. “Of course he fancies you. But he SHOWED you that he fancies you?”

  “Um… Yes…? I believe so…?”

  He glanced at Scarlen, seeking help.

  Did he read the Saint’s behavior wrongly?

  Scarlen was frowning.

  It was clear that he figured something – something political most likely – about this situation, which Sangria didn’t realize yet.

  “His reception of Master Sangria was quite enthusiastic for sure. But we don’t know the Saint, so we cannot draw a conclusion.”

  “Enthusiastic…?”

  Cotteo’s face went blank.

  Sangria could almost feel something breaking inside of her skull.

  It just so happened that Iben and Perlliar, who went to get some scrolls, returned.

  Cotteo stiffly turned to Iben and asked, still apparently dumbfounded:

  “His Excellency was enthusiastic about welcoming Master Sangria?”

  Iben, who was just about to put down some scrolls, paused.

  His face, which returned its previous tranquility, briefly shook.

  “It was certainly the first time I saw Saint this animated… or smiling this widely… But I don’t know him very well, so…”

  Iben looked at the two priests with a perturbed look, as if trying to get them to dismiss his statement as lacking credibility.

  But two priests – Perlliar caught on the situation immediately – were very serious.

  Sangria was starting to sweat.

  Was it bad? Was it bad that Saint smiled at him?

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Of course, Sangria was aware enough of history and politics, to recognize that receiving love calls of a powerful figure is never a good thing, but it seemed he underestimated just how bad it was.

  “It’s not bad, Master Sangria.” Iben, who was exchanging intense glances with two priests, suddenly spoke to him.

  It seemed that he noticed what Sangria was thinking and immediately spoke to calm him down.

  “In fact it may a good thing… for you. At least for now.”

  “Yes?”

  Iben bit his lip, before he continued:

  “The Saint functionally made you untouchable in state of Purplus.”

  *-*-*

  “I wonder what our Lady is planning.”

  Craya looked up from her figurine craving and send a questioning glance to Apric.

  Apric, who was holding a colorful crotchet in her hands, was frowning at an unplanned gap.

  “Well, at least my soul won’t get stuck…” She mumbled, before responding to Craya’s gaze. “I mean that priest. I can’t tell if our Lady wants to woo her or use her.”

  Craya nodded in agreement, recalling how carefully Saffra choose what should be served to eat and how to arrange the priests’ longings.

  She also remembered how Saffra decided to add some ‘evidence’ to the crime scene.

  “If that priest learns it was Lady Saffra, who painted that god’s symbol, she will be really pissed.”

  Apric noted with wise frankness.

  Craya nodded again.

  Truly, it was difficult to figure out what was going through their Lady’s head.

  Did she try to solve the murder? Turn political landscape upside down? Or woo a woman, which she kept explaining to them ‘how cute’ she was.

  Perhaps all three.

  Craya shook her head, trying to get her doubts out of her head.

  “We’re here to help our Lady with all we can.”

  She said firmly.

  “That’s not under question.”

  Apric agreed.

  She then looked up and hesitantly opened her mouth:

  “Do you still…”

  But before, she could finish.

  Bang!

  Tangeri, who went to ran a little errand, came back with a ruckus.

  “I got a clue!”

  The secret murder investigation took a step forward.

  *-*-*

  Crimo put down the communication stone, and massaged his temples.

  Having just finish reading Scarlen’s report on everything that happened in Purplus, and his suspicions about the political situation there, Crimo felt drained.

  ‘Everyone is fighting their own battles, huh?’

  He sighed.

  Scarlen thought that the Saint was in uncomfortable position. To get out of it, the Saint was orchestrating a situation where Rubrun couldn’t help but get involved with Purplus.

  And once Rubrun gets involved, the Saint, who already laid a groundwork for closer relationship, would have an upper hand.

  Crimo agreed that the Saint’s great fancy in Sangria was unusual, and likely politically charged move – something that both the priests Scarlen met and Iben confirmed – but he didn’t believe it was because of Rubrun.

  ‘Our current standing isn’t so good… especially not in Purplus.’

  Perhaps Scarlen had no idea, lacking those difficult experiences of interstates exchanges as a descendant of upper-crust, or perhaps he was blinded by his paranoia of everyone wanting to hurt or use Crimo.

  Rubrun wasn’t what it used to.

  The once center of knowledge and scholarship, the place that could boast about the greatest libraries and most advanced laboratories, the highly educated populace and biggest schools…

  Now it was a shadow of its former greatest, eroded by bloodline politics and squabbling, knowledge gatekeeping and greed.

  In magic fields, they were still respected by others, but regarding everything else?

  The public schools that Vermillian created were closed or turned into private properties long time ago.

  The libraries were plundered. The laboratories abandoned.

  The lower class citizen could no longer afford education and so they fell to ignorance.

  Purplus was different.

  They still were the center of the world.

  They still held say on the worldly stage, their knowledge of gods still holding power, their words still respected, their buildings still grand, their libraries still full…

  It was a gap he could see just from how rulers of distant countries, those beyond the sea of Gemma, would crudely dismiss his letters, or not even answer them, while they sailed miles to just have a chance of conversation with the Saint of a state on the opposite side of the country.

  It made his stomach churn with envy.

  “Digestion problems, my Lord?”

  He looked up, meeting eyes with one of the twin sisters, which were brought by Vern’s insistence on adoption.

  Durio finished brewing a cup of coffee and carefully placed it on the table, away from documents, unlike certain someone.

  “My sister makes this face after she takes a sip of her concoctions. She tends to vomit everything afterwards.”

  Crimo heard from Sangria that one of the sisters showed great interest in chemistry and Sangria gave her a corner of his lab to play in.

  Perhaps it would be wise to give her a lesson about laboratory safety, before she burns her throat or worse.

  “It’s nothing. Just some worries.”

  “Hmm, I see. Guess being a ruler is hard if ‘just some worries’ make, my Lord make such a face.”

  Durio noticed that he was running out of charcoal pens, so she picked a few sticks and pressing them down with her arm residue, began to sharpen them.

  He observed it for a moment, suddenly faced with the strangeness of this situation.

  Crimo didn’t ask her to sharpen the pencils.

  She did it because pencils in Archmage’s office had to be sharpened.

  Before that, she grounded coffee beans and boiled water – she had to bring those things over before, together with a cup and…

  Crimo finally realized where the strange feeling came from.

  For the first time in years he took the throne he realized he was being served.

  Of course, Crimo knew on conceptual level that he was being served, that people moved according to his orders and needs.

  But because trustworthy servants under Archmage’s wing were so sparse, he had to use for more important works than simply serving him coffee.

  So the only ‘servants’ he really met day-to-day was Scarlen and Sangria.

  No, he couldn’t even call them servants, could he?

  Scarlen was at his side out of love and dedication to him, even if Crimo couldn’t easily accept it.

  Sangria was at his side due to debt of gratitude towards his mother and this being the safest place for him to be.

  They had a choice in choosing their master.

  Durio and her siblings technically didn’t.

  Because pragmatism and whims of the ‘most powerful’ people around would lead to only one outcome.

  Her ‘my Lord’ had different texture to how Scarlen and Sangria said it.

  It was a word as dry as a bone without any meat.

  “Am I a good ruler?”

  The question slipped him out in a sudden morbid curiosity.

  Durio looked up.

  She was silent for a moment, calculating the risks of various responses.

  “Do you want to be a good ruler, my Lord?”

  Crimo’s question wasn’t even worth answering.

  The ruler of the Red Magic Throne looked at the windows, where he would be able to see the land – his land, some may say – if only it wasn’t covered by thick curtains.

  Did he want to be a good ruler?

  … Or a powerful one?

  “… Yes, I want to be a good ruler.”

  Durio turned her gaze back to the charcoal sticks.

  Crimo thought it was the end of their conversation, but Durio suddenly said:

  “I was reading about His Reverence Vermillian these days.”

  “… He was a great figure, wasn’t he?”

  “Mm, he was a man of great ideas, if books tell truth.”

  Durio picked up a pencil she had sharpened, examining its sharpness.

  “He reminded me of Young Master Vern in a way.”

  Crimo tilted his head.

  He was always happy to hear compliments about his younger siblings, but for some reason it didn’t sound like a compliment.

  “I read that His Reverence Vermillian burned down a whole city and built Rubio on its ashes. My Lord, no matter how beautiful the promised future may be, I cannot think of a person who burned down my home as a good one.”

  “… I see.”

  She put a pencil in front of him.

  “The blade went too deep and there is a crack. It will break if you press it too hard, so please use it carefully, my Lord.”

  Done with her work, Durio excused herself.

  Crimo sat in silence for awhile.

  He looked at a cup of coffee that wouldn’t work on him, prepared by a person, who didn’t want to work for him.

  There were no answers in the caffeinated abyss.

  But Crimo found hubris that fell asleep across the years he struggled to maintain his power as a ruler, raising its head.

  ‘I want to be better than Vermillian.’

  Crimo secretly agreed with Durio.

  Vermillian was great, but reckless maniac.

  And Crimo wanted to better him.

  … Perhaps he was a little crazy too.

  He shuffled through his documents and found the ‘gift’ Lady Mimosa left for Vern.

  It was a letter suggesting strengthening trade and exchanges between Flavun and Rubrun with the aim of improving lives of lowest classes.

  Crimo, who already obtained permission from Vern to do whatever he wanted with, pulled out a new paper sheet and using pen sharpen by Durio, got to writing…

  *-*-*

  At the Universe Temple.

  By a great coincidence, Sangria ran into the person he was searching for.

  *~*~*