CHAPTER 45………………………………………..
Of course, we’d grown much closer than before. Sapheiros had benefited quite a bit from my help in this battle as well. But there was still the problem of the golems, and we needed to continue developing the mines…
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I feel like I should tell you.”
Oh dear, it’s a bit troublesome to suddenly get proposed to like this!
Just as Adamas was seriously contemplating the matter, knock knock—someone rapped on the door.
“…Huh!”
“What?!”
Startled, Adamas and Sapheiros hurriedly let go of each other’s hands and turned toward the door.
“P-Pantheon?”
Why is he here?!
Standing in front of the door was Pantheon, staring at the two of them with an expression as if he had swallowed spoiled bean water.
“Pantheon. What are you doing there?” Adamas asked with a frown.
“I was taking a walk. I heard voices coming from a building that’s usually closed, so I came to see.”
He lifted the lamp in his hand as he spoke.
“Hahaha. You must have excellent hearing.”
“Yes. I’m quite capable in many ways.”
Ah, that insufferable man. If he weren’t a prince, I’d—
“I don’t like this.”
Right. I don’t like—
Huh? Did I just say that out loud?
“There’s really not a single thing about you I find likable.”
No, that voice—that was Sapheiros?!
Adamas quickly darted her eyes around. Cold sweat trickled down her back.
It’d be bad if Pantheon seized on this. With his personality, he’d definitely pick a fight!
“It’s the first time in my life I’ve been told something like that to my face.”
“Why don’t you keep more honest people around you? Then you’d hear it quite often.”
Their eyes gleamed sharply.
Pantheon deliberately raised his chin as high as possible, trying to look down on Sapheiros, but Sapheiros simply turned his head away dismissively.
“Have you lost your mind? How dare you ignore a prince?”
“Where exactly is this prince you speak of?”
At Sapheiros’ cold retort, Adamas hurriedly stepped in.
“Um, Pantheon. Ross just finished the battle not long ago, so he’s a bit tired.”
“I wonder just how tired one must be to insult royalty right in front of them. The standards here are astonishing.”
Ah, so it’s the ‘royalty’ card now.
And now he’s not even treating me like a lady.
Even though Adamas had accidentally fallen into the past and learned that she might be of marquis blood, she had never truly thought of herself as nobility.
So even if Pantheon spoke like that, there wasn’t much she could say…
Still, it’s unpleasant…
“Why are you speaking informally when we’re not even close? It’s irritating.”
“Gasp!”
Once again, what Adamas had meant to keep in her thoughts slipped out—and again, it was Sapheiros who had said it.
“You’re not even here officially, so why demand authority? Don’t dampen the festive mood. Stay quiet and leave once you’re done.”
“Ha, Sir Sapheiros. You seem to lack any sense of awareness.”
“You’re the one who lacks it.”
“…What?”
“Thanks to you, I ruined the most important confession of my life. Does being a prince make that acceptable?”
At Sapheiros’ words, Pantheon gave a hollow laugh, looking as though he had taken a blow.
“…Ahem. From your perspective, I suppose you might be upset. I’ll generously overlook it.”
“If you understand, then leave.”
“Very well. I’ll take my leave.”
Shaking his head with a displeased expression, Pantheon exited the wine cellar.
Watching his retreating figure, Adamas turned to Sapheiros.
“Ross, Pantheon’s gone.”
“Yeah. Mas, let’s take this barrel. Help me move it.”
“…Okay.”
After hesitating, Adamas approached and grabbed the barrel.
“Um, Ross. Aren’t you going to say what you were about to say earlier?”
“Ah, later. I guess I’m not quite ready yet.”
Sapheiros sighed deeply as he stroked the barrel.
“I-I see. Take your time and think it over before you tell me.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“O-Of course I understand. It’s the confession of your lifetime. And even though Pantheon seems suspicious in many ways, he’s still a prince. It’s better not to be too rude.”
“Understood. I’ll be careful.”
“Good.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
Because you couldn’t propose?
“From the start, I should’ve listened to you and driven them out of the territory.”
Oh. Not about the proposal.
Hiding her disappointment, Adamas waved both hands.
“No, it’s fine. At this point…”
“Actually, I didn’t hear all the details since I was preparing for departure in such a rush, but the marquis seemed to know something.”
“Know what?”
Seeing Sapheiros’ serious expression, Adamas swallowed hard.
“He said it looked like Pantheon and Stephan were being chased by something. That’s why he absolutely couldn’t send them to the battlefield.”
Chased? By whom could princes possibly be chased?
“…Huh? Ah!”
Could it be that?!
When Pantheon returned from the wine cellar, frowning, Stephan—who had been waiting in the room—looked at him curiously.
“What’s wrong, brother? Something happen?”
“It’s nothing. Stephan, how was the servants’ quarters?”
“As expected, nothing there. What about you? Did you check that locked building?”
“Ah, it was a wine cellar. The moment the door opened, the musty smell suggested grain liquor.”
“Really? I figured it was the desert after all. What did you do with the door? You didn’t break it, right?”
“No. I happened to run into Sapheiros and Adamas inside… Ha, damn it!”
Recalling the scene, Pantheon roughly ruffled his hair.
Sapheiros and Adamas tightly holding hands.
As a prince of the Francis Empire, which upheld free love, he felt a twinge of guilt for having interfered in his subjects’ romance.
At the same time, the more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.
Even if he had ruined a once-in-a-lifetime proposal, Sapheiros’ attitude had been utterly insolent.
What a tasteless fellow. Who proposes in a place that reeks of alcohol? If I were a woman, I’d reject him on the spot.
“Brother?”
“This entire marquisate must be insane.”
Come to think of it, the marquis himself was strange.
At a time when even one more soldier would have been valuable, he had opposed their participation.
His reason was that he couldn’t trust people of unknown identity.
So they revealed who they were.
Yet the Marquis of Mano only became more resolute in opposing them. This time, he said it was dangerous.
If he had bowed deeply and begged them to remain for their own safety, perhaps it wouldn’t have been so irritating.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he said that if the princes were injured, it would put the marquisate in an even more difficult position than it already was.
Both the marquis and the knight commander seemed to regard the imperial family as less than dog droppings.
Mano—or was it Nano?
It was undoubtedly a wretched territory.
A marquisate in name only, nearly exempt from tax obligations, located two hundred miles from the capital.
In fact, until this spring, Pantheon had paid no attention whatsoever to the Marquisate of Mano.
More precisely, he hadn’t even known it existed.
This spring, the Royal Palace of Francis underwent major renovations.
When His Majesty decided to restore the Royal Palace, Pantheon had thought the emperor had finally come to his senses.
For six years, he had neglected state affairs, drowning himself in alcohol in the arms of a mistress fifteen years his junior.
It was about time.
Pantheon personally oversaw the renovation.
After all, it would one day be his palace. It was only efficient to renovate it according to his own tastes from the start.
It was during the midst of construction that a large number of hidden diaries belonging to Liger Francis II were discovered.
Pantheon wasn’t surprised.
Before the Imperial Palace was built, the Royal Palace had been the emperor’s residence, and the last to use it had been Liger Francis II.
Liger Francis II.
True to his nickname, the Conquering King, his diaries often contained hand-drawn maps and records of the changes in Francis’ territory.
It was there that Pantheon first learned of the existence of the Marquisate of Mano.
His first reaction had been anger.
He was destined to become the next emperor. How could he not have known of this territory?
In the end, he summoned Hysteria, the scholar who had taught him history and geography in his youth, and rebuked him.
“Judging from the map, the Marquisate of Mano is not small. Geographically, it borders the nation of Robiana. Why was such an important territory hidden?”
Hysteria replied:
“This is merely my personal opinion, but I do not believe that territory truly qualifies as part of the Francis Empire. The Marquisate of Mano lies beyond the Ride Mountains. It was only a hundred years ago that His Majesty Liger Francis I sent a marquis there. It is a poor land that produces desert beans and winter wheat in such quantities that they cannot even be traded, and it pays no taxes.”
Pantheon thundered back:
“I cannot accept that. In Liger Francis II’s records, the southernmost tip of Francis is clearly marked as the Marquisate of Mano. If you omitted it from teaching me about the country I will one day rule based on your personal opinion, that is negligence. Bring me every record related to the Marquisate of Mano at once!”
The records he received were shockingly brief—so much so that one might doubt it was truly part of the empire.
The history of the Marquisate of Mano began with its first marquis, Mano Canoc.
Mano Canoc had been sent from the Duchy of Schweiren to the capital during the reign of Liger Francis I.
Schweiren, the only territory in the empire with a coastline, had long suffered from sea monsters.
One day, a mercenary named Mano Canoc appeared and distinguished himself in naval combat, greatly contributing to the suppression of pirates.
In recognition of his achievements, the Duke of Schweiren sent him to Francisco with a letter of recommendation.
Though it appeared to be an act of acknowledgment, the truth was different.
He was a discarded card.
With the sea monsters dealt with, Schweiren no longer needed Mano Canoc.
An originless mercenary being treated as a hero had become inconvenient.
Liger Francis I not only saw through the duke’s intentions but actively used them.
In exchange for dealing with Mano Canoc, he married his eldest daughter to the immensely wealthy Duke of Schweiren.
And he sent Mano Canoc to a remote land barely fit to be called imperial territory—
Handing him nothing more than a title in name.
Whether he was foolish or not, Canoc quietly lived out his life in that nominal marquisate. After that, his name vanished from the records.
A rather bitter end for a capable mercenary.
Yet even he had more records than those who followed.
About seventy years ago, during the reign of Liger Francis II:
There was a record that Mano Topaz, Canoc’s son, had presented two sacks of desert beans, two sacks of winter wheat, and one sack of dirty diamonds to His Majesty before returning.
Dirty diamonds?
Did that mean uncut diamond ore?
If there were a diamond mine, it wouldn’t be land to leave untouched.
Pantheon found himself tilting his head in puzzlement—but that was all the record said.
What are these inconspicuous beggars…
I see. Now I understand Hysteria’s words.
It’s so absurd I can only laugh.
Pantheon stopped looking into the Marquisate of Mano after that.
He had more productive and important matters to attend to.
After all, he was the First Prince of the Francis Empire—soon to become Crown Prince.
At the time, Pantheon had no idea.
That the Royal Palace might one day house the child of that “dirty” mistress who had not even been born yet…
Half a year later—
He would find himself, limping alongside his now one-armed younger brother, wandering in search of that wretched territory.
