TYND 23

Chapter 23

I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, sinking into thought for a moment. But there was no way that a question I hadn’t solved for nearly a year would suddenly be answered now.

“Still, thinking back on it now… I suppose I can at least say that Her Majesty is no ordinary person.”

At the voice breaking his thoughts, Walter slowly lifted his eyelids.

“Heh. You were quite famous at the academy as a prodigy, but you manage to surprise people in all sorts of unexpected ways. To subdue the lords all on your own without any backing… I can’t imagine Duke Kiel ever losing an argument to anyone.”

“I suppose most people feel the same. That’s also why they hesitate to easily refute Her Majesty… which is fortunate.”

The girl who stood before the gathered lords looked like an entirely different person from the one who sat alone with him.

Her behavior was neither the innate temperament of a monarch nor an act meant to mimic a king. It was something stranger.

The way she changed her expression and aura as naturally as breathing—unnatural in far too many ways for a young woman barely past twenty.

Her unusual composure regarding the death of her own blood, the way she removed emotions entirely and acted solely on reason—these were traits possessed only by those who had lived a very, very long time.

What word could describe such a person?

Calling her an “old soul” didn’t quite fit, and calling her “precocious” felt lacking…

Well, the label hardly mattered. What mattered was that these peculiar traits did not present themselves as flaws.

With a calm and even voice, she laid out her intentions, the path ahead, and the points of caution with such composure that a strange sense of reverence welled up.

Whenever Walter spoke with her, he felt as though he had become a child again. The fact that he received such a feeling from someone so much younger without feeling insulted by it… was truly bizarre.

“The more I see her, the stranger she becomes,” he murmured with a faint smile, tying up his thoughts about her.

At the rare sight of the grand general smiling, Jen flinched backward. Walter turned away, hiding his embarrassment, and resumed walking.

A blazing sunset spread across the sea darkened by deep shadow. The western sea of the kingdom—the ocean marking the border of the continent—glittered with blinding, radiant light.

“It’s already this late, is it?”

Goedel Kiel straightened his hunched back and rose to his feet.

He opened his clenched hand and breathed in the earthy scent on his palm. Mixed with the damp soil was a faint, ripe aroma reminiscent of grapes.

He turned away from the sea and looked behind him.

Beyond the ducal estate, past the endlessly stretching vineyards—so vast one had to twist one’s head to take in their full extent—spread a manor large enough to rival the horizon itself.

The garden, filled not with flowers but entirely with grapevines, perfectly suited him—a known wine enthusiast.

“They’ve grown well again this year.”

Kiel’s lips curved smoothly as he gazed across the manor.

Grapes hung densely from the branches, weighing them down. When autumn ended, these plump clusters would soon rest in oak barrels, saturated with fragrance.

The most important ingredient in good wine was time.

The raw ingredients mattered, the water mattered, the maker mattered—but above all, time was the element no one could dispute. With patience, even the cheapest wine would shed its acridness and bloom into complex aromas one could never have imagined.

Once aged, wine was reborn, tempting people with its sweet fragrance and flavor. Every sip reminded Kiel of the greatness of time.

If wine was like this, then what of humans?

How long had he been maturing?

His body, mind, ideals, and beliefs—all had ripened long ago. And standing there, at the end of that magnificent history, was Goedel Kiel—a man no one could dismiss as merely self-indulgent.

“They say one should make oneself a lamp,” he murmured.

With a faint chuckle, he let the soil slip between his fingers and return to the earth. The dirt that had guarded this land for countless ages scattered softly.

He, too, had watched over Parnassus for a very long time—though not as long as this soil.

Like all citizens, he naturally considered Parnassus his own. It was only natural for someone born on this land to grow to love it. And so Kiel devoted himself tirelessly to the country until the king’s death.

But after the king died, another choice appeared.

Would he belong to the country?

Or would he possess the country?

His anger toward the new monarch had little influence on his decision. In truth, from the moment both the king and crown prince were dead, Kiel had already resolved to choose the latter path.

It was time to free the nature he had kept sealed for so long. The desire for rule—something he hadn’t realized he possessed—burst forth like a cork popping free.

Yes. Like the aroma of wine.

Before his talent could rot, he would spread his magnanimity across the land.

“Here you are, Father.”

His son appeared through the narrow path, interrupting his solitude. Even though Kiel cast him a displeased look, the boy—breathless with excitement—held out a letter.

“A decree from the palace. The captain of the royal guard delivered it personally.”

“Whis Bomdeman came himself?”

His son nodded. Kiel looked at the letter with a mix of surprise and annoyance.

“How did he look?”

“He’s a Rafi, so it’s hard to tell. He just said he was ordered to deliver this to you, then left.”

Whis Bomdeman. The aloof Rafi who always shadowed the grand general.

A Rafi, who rarely listened to anyone, delivering a royal letter? That meant he acknowledged her as king?

…No. Unlikely.

It must be Walter Heibergh’s doing. That man was behind her; no doubt the Rafi was obeying orders for that reason alone.

Kiel clicked his tongue and tore open the letter with a loud rip.

“…”

A smirk formed on his face as he read. Once finished, he folded the letter and waved it toward his son as if urging him to read it.

His son accepted it carefully and, still flushed with excitement, skimmed through the contents.

“She plans to hold the coronation on the same day she enters the palace? She must be in quite a hurry.”

“Indeed. I didn’t expect she’d hold her coronation before mine.”

“If she proclaims her ascension, the lords will be greatly shaken. Is it really fine to leave it be? Wasn’t it your plan to summon Arsinoe first and make the first move?”

Kiel furrowed his brow, slipping into thought.

He had believed that once she declared independence, she wouldn’t be able to act easily. It wasn’t treason, so there wouldn’t be many grounds to accuse her.

Besides, the girl lacked both the backing and the legitimacy needed to be a king. Acting as a puppet king within Walter’s headquarters was one thing, but stepping outside to assert authority would be another matter entirely.

She could move only when Kiel publicly declared himself king.

That was the coronation.

Given that she had declared the founding of a new kingdom under less-than-ideal circumstances, either she or the grand general would have to appear at his coronation—to observe his circumstances or gauge which lords supported him.

At that moment, they would choose between cursing him or offering blessings upon the new kingdom.

If Arsinoe came—

His troops were ready. With her in his grasp, he would force the other lords to swear allegiance.

Walter Heibergh was a concern, but even if he caused trouble and Arsinoe slipped away, it didn’t matter. One of the two divisions of Kiel’s army would have already taken the palace.

Even if Walter remained at the palace, he couldn’t face Kiel’s forces alone.

Half the troops would defend the ducal estate, and the other half would strike the palace.

That was the core of the operation.

The eight thousand soldiers he had gathered were for this.

Compared to the royal kingdom’s forces, they were slightly lacking, but even Walter Heibergh—no matter how talented—could not rally twenty thousand soldiers in such a short span.

At most, the immediately available forces would be a thousand regulars centered around the central command.

…And if Walter came instead of Arsinoe?

The plan would be even easier. While facing Walter would be difficult even with his elite troops, the very fact that Walter was here would mean the capital was left unattended.

A kingdom without its grand general was nothing more than a band of ordinary, disorganized soldiers.

Taking the vulnerable royal palace would be child’s play.