CFCF 39

Episode 39

The previous night, Ren had sat alone in the Emperor’s study, staying up through the night.
The ownerless study was steeped in silence the entire time, and the two guards the Emperor had stationed inside didn’t move a muscle.

—Tap. Tap.

At dawn, a small sound finally broke the silence.
It was Ren tapping his finger on the booklet.
He stared blankly at the core passage he had deciphered throughout the night.

Offer victory to the hungry sword.
Your blood, your moans, your sacrifice shall awaken it,
Pain shall turn to victory,
Victory to glory,
Glory to death.

Below that terrifying warning were the instructions for using the demon sword.

The operation of the demon sword is guaranteed by the user’s life force.
Prolonged use may lead to fatal side effects, including death, and thus it should be used only as a single, one-off measure.

Ren spread his palm and rubbed his face.

‘What in the world…’

To Ren’s knowledge, the Second Prince, Rurik, had possessed the demon sword ‘Belih’ for a very long time.
He didn’t know exactly when the Prince first received the sword, but it was certain that his first victory came when he was a minor.
Therefore, the bestowal of the sword must date back at least over a decade.

‘The master deciphered this book for him in the past?’

Ren recalled the Emperor’s voice.

“He was… quite shocked by the use of ‘Belich’.”

Was he just shocked?
That old-fashioned man would have handed over the deciphered version without a second thought, never dreaming that the mad imperial family would actually use this sword.

‘It’s been about seven years since Master left.’

Come to think of it, around that time, the Second Prince had succeeded in his second territorial expansion and held a victory parade, wielding the demon sword ‘Belih’.

‘Master must have first realized the sword’s usage back then.’

At the time, Ren had criticized his master for forgetting his duties as the Tower Lord, staying so long at the imperial palace.
But now it seemed his master had spent that time trying to persuade the Emperor to dissuade him from using the demon sword.

‘Does Louise know something?’

Naturally, Louise’s voice came to mind.

“I want to know about the demon sword Brother has. The one they say the first Magic Tower Lord offered.”

Of all times, just when Louise wants to know about the sword, this booklet falls into my hands?

‘Could this be a trap set by the cunning Emperor?’

Despite the Tower Lord’s oath sworn on his life, the Emperor had always suspected Ren’s sudden change of heart in taking over the Tower.

‘No, if Louise found out something about the demon sword, then the Emperor isn’t the problem.’

Lately, she had been so unstable due to various matters.
If she found out at this point that the demon sword was consuming the Prince’s life, all hell would break loose.

‘She’s already worried about leaving him alone to leave the palace…’

The reason Ren took on the burden of the Magic Tower, which felt like a nuisance, was actually due to his master’s sweet talk: that by becoming the Tower Lord and swearing loyalty to the Emperor, he could remain by the youngest Princess’s side and protect her.

‘That damn old man, just wait until I find him…’

Moghold must have known everything from the start.
That Rurik was in danger, and that the imperial family would discard the siblings born of the Second Imperial Consort whenever convenient.
So he threw this heavy burden onto me, who couldn’t resist the little Princess…

‘Oh, and then where on earth did he go?’

What always infuriated him more was the fact that even during periods when his master was hidden away in places Ren could never reach, he still often exchanged letters with Louise.
Louise tried to hide it, but he had seen, even if by chance, the letters she exchanged with his master.
He used to think it was absurd how much attention his master paid to the isolated youngest Princess…

‘It was because of the Second Prince…’

He could clearly picture his master, anxiously fretting behind the scenes.
Perhaps the reason the Second Prince had survived this long, wielding the demon sword for over a decade, was due to his master’s secret efforts.
But the memory of when Ren first saw Louise also required traveling quite far back in time.

Seventeen years ago, around this time.
That is, when Ren was ten years old and had not yet manifested his magical abilities.

“I heard His Highness the Crown Prince began the Seven Arts this autumn?”
“Oh my, really? He’s already so tall and handsome, and now scholarly too!”

Ren, putting on airs, bowed his head, pretending not to see the Crown Prince passing nearby.
The Seven Arts were the cultural subjects Imperial nobles usually started around age fourteen, but Ren had already begun the Seven Arts the previous year.
He was, of course, younger than the Crown Prince.

“What did we say about how to behave at the imperial palace?”

He recalled his mother’s voice.
Ren’s mother, Bebit Tamiya Daphte, was the only daughter of the fading Count Daphte family, an ambitious woman who wanted to restore her declining house.
So, suppressing the urge to loosen the suffocating bow tie, Ren watched as the Crown Prince took his seat at the high table.

‘Red eyes, red eyes, red eyes…’

Looking at the Princes and Princesses clustered tightly at the high table, he felt an inexplicable aversion.
It was partly due to the creepy eye color, but more so because of their true nature—acting arrogantly and outrageously simply for being born with the imperial family’s eye or hair color.

‘Looking at them makes my head hurt even more…’

Ren had been suffering from unexplained headaches for a while, and whether it was the uncomfortable seating, the pain was intensifying.
He frowned at the throbbing in his head.
But then, at a seat slightly apart from the high table, he saw a doll-like girl, so small her head seemed to sink in.

‘Pink hair…’

A lovely color that would have been quite adored in any other family, but at that high table, it looked the most shabby.
Perhaps because of that, the child’s red eyes, clearly those of the imperial family, somehow seemed frightened.
After the banquet began, Ren’s gaze occasionally drifted in that direction, probably because of those eyes.
Those eyes that, even while dressed in splendid clothes and seated at the high table, were as watchful and wary as those at the very end of the table.

“It seems the Second Prince will formally walk the path of a knight, doesn’t it?”
“It must be so. Since the legitimate heir is outstanding, the right of succession wouldn’t pass to His Highness the Second Prince, who lacks backing.”
“If he’s going to wield a sword anyway, he should at least obtain the Sword Master qualification to save face for His Majesty.”

Throughout the meal, the adults nearby conversed in hushed tones.

‘So that’s the Second Prince over there.’

Ren tried to guess who the Second Prince was based on their seating.
He had the quintessential Brentani appearance with his red hair and red eyes, but it seemed even those traits were useless if one wasn’t the Empress’s child.

‘Well, it’s none of my business anyway.’

Perhaps a bored expression was beginning to show on Ren’s face, as his mother gripped his shoulder.

“I’ll behave properly.”

The promise he had made to his mother repeatedly before leaving came to mind.

“It’s not like I’m going there to play, and being invited to an imperial banquet is rare.”

Having to forcibly recite the answers drilled into him by his mother for a banquet he never wanted to attend in the first place—no wonder his headache was this severe.
As the music grew louder, the Second Prince, having finished his meal, was the first to rise, asked the Emperor’s permission, and left his seat.
The other Princes and Princesses also began to rise one by one.

“Shall we go bowling in the garden?”

Someone said it loud enough for others to hear, so the noble children of similar age began to sneak glances and step away.
About half seemed to move due to parental urging, the other half somewhat voluntarily.
Of course, Ren was among the former.

“Reni.”

His mother could make him get up just by calling his name once.
After leaving the banquet hall, Ren moved as slowly as a turtle.

‘I’m dizzy… feels like my head will split…’

The imperial palace, where one had to go up and down several flights of stairs just to reach the garden, had not a single efficient corner.
His steps felt as heavy as lead, heading towards forced socialization that no one wanted.

‘If I could just go back and attend my usual Seven Arts lessons like always, I’d accept however much homework the teacher gives.’

When he finally arrived at the garden, the last one there, Ren witnessed an unexpected scene.

“You’re the one in charge of the ball. Go get it.”

A Princess, the only one with golden eyes, pointed at a bowling ball stuck in the mud and spoke.
And she was pointing precisely at that small, pink-haired youngest Princess.