[CHAPTER 60]
Dear Rision.
After sunset, I will be waiting at the tavern in the back alley behind the northwestern square of the Erbinjel Grand Duke’s residence.
Even if you look at it while standing on your head, make sure to leave that friend of yours who is a royal guard behind and come alone.
– With sincerity, Ravellan Arasas.
Rision Catalos cherished and loved Ravellan Arasas like a brother.
Even so, provoking Rision’s temper from time to time was Ravellan’s special talent.
“What kind of nonsense is this supposed to be?”
Through the eyeholes of the mask he wore whenever his identity could not be revealed, Rision saw a handsome young man with chestnut-brown curly hair grinning broadly.
Ravellan Arasas.
The eldest son of the old emperor of the Arasas Empire was dressed like a low-ranking deckhand on a merchant ship.
The fact that such attire suited him perfectly was also very much like Ravellan.
Despite Rision’s own effort to dress as plainly as possible, the moment he stepped into this shabby tavern, he drew the curious gazes of the patrons, something Ravellan possessed a natural ease he could never imitate.
Setting down a mug that might have contained anything, Ravellan rose from his seat.
Then, without hesitation, he pulled Rision into an embrace.
“Liri, my beloved brother!”
While returning the hug, Rision let out a deep sigh.
“I told you not to call me by such a puppy-like name.”
“Bear with it. Even from fifty paces away, you look like blue blood runs through your veins. I have to do this so you look a little less noble.”
Back when they studied together in the Biafria Archipelago, the two of them would sometimes skip class and go to sailors’ taverns to gamble with dice.
Even then, Ravellan blended into the rough environment without hesitation, while Rision stood out like a nail sticking out too far.
Even the tavern mistress, who knew nothing of his identity, jokingly called him ‘the prince from across the sea.’
Taking a seat in the secluded corner Ravellan suggested, Rision pulled the hood covering his conspicuous blond hair further down and cautioned him.
“Do not even mention that nickname in front of my sister.”
Ravellan’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
With just a gesture, he ordered a drink for Rision and spoke in a voice dripping with teasing.
“So you’ll be called ‘Liri Oppa’ from now on?”
Rision could all too easily imagine Elpenlira shouting ‘Liri Oppa!’ at the top of her lungs in delight.
He hurriedly changed the subject.
“Why did you call me out to a place like this? Did I not tell you to stay put at the grand duke’s residence until the promised day?”
“I was suffocating. And I was curious about how Catalos has changed.”
The surroundings were noisy, packed with rough patrons.
Amid curses, shouting, and laughter, their conversation would reach no one else’s ears.
Ravellan looked around with an affectionate gaze.
“It seems there are more Arasas people here than before.”
“Well, yes. Not as many as in the border regions, though.”
“In Arasas, marriages with Catalos people are increasing as well. For now, it’s limited to commoners, but still.”
Ravellan formed a meaningful smile.
“That will change soon enough.”
When the Crown Prince married the Catalos Princess, marriages between Catalos and Arasas would become accepted even among the noble class.
And those who gained relatives across the border would find it difficult to cry for war.
That was why marriage alliances were the best way to build bonds between nations.
A bearded server slammed a mug down in front of Rision and disappeared.
Rision eyed the sloshing black liquid suspiciously.
Ravellan chuckled.
“Try it. It’s not bad.”
“……”
“Look, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
After lightly clinking his glass against Rision’s, Ravellan drained it in one go.
Reluctantly, Rision took a sip of the sharp liquor that carried no discernible flavor.
Setting his glass down and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Ravellan leaned forward over the table.
The playful tone from earlier was completely gone from his lowered voice.
“Let’s talk about Nixandor.”
This was the real reason Ravellan had come to Catalos.
Meeting Elpenlira, who had changed her mind, was secondary at best.
A deep sneer and contempt settled on Ravellan’s face.
“We need to know what that old snake is plotting in Catalos.”
Rision had not yet told Ravellan about the collusion between Ambassador Nixandor and Duke Belua.
It was not something to be discussed in writing.
Which meant Ravellan had independently uncovered Nixandor’s suspicious activities in Arasas.
Leaning back deeply against the chair, Ravellan crossed his arms.
“Since my father appointed Nixandor as ambassador to Catalos, that family’s wealth has increased to a ridiculous degree.”
“Official wealth?”
“Do you think it’s official?”
Ravellan smiled viciously.
“Noble houses of that standing padding their pockets isn’t unusual. Especially when they have my father’s favor behind them.”
Ambassador Nixandor was a cousin of the current Empress, Ravellan’s second stepmother.
Young and beautiful, and unlike the previous empresses, she had borne many children, which explained why the old emperor doted on her and shielded Nixandor.
For Ravellan, who had to remain wary of his stepmother and her children, Nixandor, her loyal hand, was nothing but a thorn in his side.
For years, he had spoken of removing Nixandor before ascending the throne.
“But no matter how wealthy the Nixandor family is, an endless flow of untraceable money like they struck a gold mine is not normal.”
His well-shaped eyebrows lifted.
“I think that gold mine is in your country. What do you think?”
Rision gave a bitter smile.
“A reasonable deduction.”
“There aren’t many charges that would allow me to cut down someone who is a cousin of ‘Mother,’ but this time, I think it might be possible.”
The smile vanished from Ravellan’s face.
“Treason?”
Without a word, Rision took another sip of his drink.
That was answer enough.
Ravellan ran his fingers over the rough grain of the table, as though crushing an insect beneath them.
“How did you find out?”
Rision could not answer right away.
To explain how he uncovered the connection between Ambassador Nixandor and Duke Belua, he would have to talk about Dianu.
Ravellan, of course, knew of Dianu’s existence.
After becoming lovers, Rision had written to him first.
But as far as Ravellan knew, Dianu was merely a lady who had caught Rision’s interest, nothing more and nothing less.
“It would be better to explain that with Lady Ortensa present.”
Ravellan tilted his head.
“The lady of the rose?”
It was fortunate he was wearing a mask.
His face would surely have reddened.
“What does that lady have to do with Nixandor?”
“Without Lady Ortensa, I would not have discovered whose gold mine Nixandor’s truly was.”
“So the lover story was a cover, and you actually recruited her as a strategist?”
“Nonsense.”
“Then did you fall in love, only to discover she was a brilliant tactician?”
Rision rolled the question around in his mind for a moment.
Then he answered slowly.
“Perhaps I fell in love because she is a strategist.”
Ravellan let out a disbelieving scoff.
“I wasn’t sure even while reading your letter, but you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Will you marry her?”
“Yes.”
“And the backlash?”
“I will bear it.”
“Even if you are branded a tyrant who puts his own desires before the nation and its people?”
To Rision, that sounded like, ‘Even if you become just like your father?’
Ravellan must have intended it that way.
That was the possibility Rision had feared the most, both before meeting Dianu and for a long while afterward.
Proof that he had inherited the blood of the man he despised and took as a cautionary example.
Proof that all his lifelong struggle had been meaningless, and that he would be condemned for failing his duty as a ruler to his homeland and its people.
But now, losing Dianu frightened him more than anything else.
“More than the judgment of the masses, more than the name I will leave in history, she matters more.”
Silence fell over only their table amid the noisy tavern.
Ravellan reached out and grasped Rision’s shoulder.
There was not a trace of his usual mischief in his solemn voice.
“Congratulations.”
“For what?”
“For stepping out of your father’s shadow.”
Instead of elaborating, he raised his hand and ordered several more drinks.
Rision accepted his fate without resistance.
It seemed that tomorrow, rather than waking up in the imperial palace, he would open his eyes in the Erbinjel Grand Duke’s residence with a pounding hangover.
Whenever he was with Ravellan, the rules and restraints governing life felt a little looser.
And for today at least, surrendering himself to indulgence did not feel so bad.
Shaking his head lightly, he clinked his glass against the one offered to him.
