novelraw Chapter 312: Execution Ground
Chapter 312: Execution Ground
311: Execution Ground
After the emotional reunion, Jenia broke the silence by speaking, "You must be busy, so I'll ask briefly." Her question was direct: What would he do now?
Now that his existence was publicly known, would he fight against Prince Eric de Yeriel, who had taken control of the Kingdom of Conrad, or seek another path? Lean answered without hesitation.
"I have no interest in the throne."
He emphasized that he hadn't approached her with any ulterior motives. Truly, the throne meant nothing to him.
Jenia looked somewhat relieved.
"Alright. I'll inform my parents of that. Then... Lean, it's time you came to our home. Bring the princess as well. There's no reason for you to stay in this den of criminals."
Lean shook his head.
"I'm better off as I am for now. We can't predict what Prince Eric de Yeriel might do. As odd as it sounds, it might be better for Count Peter to believe that our relationship has fallen apart."
Jenia thought deeply for a moment before protesting. It seemed Lean didn't want to provoke Prince Eric."But will that solve anything? Even if he becomes king, he will continue to target you. I appreciate you risking yourself for our family, but I don't want you to get hurt. Let's face this together. Besides..."
She leaned closer as if revealing a great secret.
"The Cardinal of the Kingdom of Conrad is actually my grandfather. It's a complicated story, but... in any case, he dotes on me. If he knew I was in danger, he wouldn’t sit idly by."
In Jenia’s mind, this was the best course of action. If Prince Eric attempted to move the entire Kingdom of Conrad against Lean, her grandfather, the Cardinal, would intervene. If Eric tried to assassinate him (not that it would be easy), the power of both the Count of Peter and the Baron Monarch could block it.
Her plan was to inform her grandfather that Lean de Yeriel was her future husband, announce that they had not broken off the engagement, and reassure the nobles of the Kingdom of Conrad who feared the consequences of the exiled prince's return.
However, Lean gently stroked her cheek, as if to say she needn’t worry.
"That will happen eventually. What I mean is, there's no need to rush. I have plans of my own."
"And what might those be?"
"I have more friends than you might think."
Lean smiled slightly as he spoke and then raised his head to kiss her cheek.
Rev and Ray.
They were comrades who would support him no matter what. And with Jenia by his side, the road ahead wouldn't be as difficult as it seemed.
"What are you planning?" she asked again, but Lean mischievously refused to answer. As his hand wandered along her delicate jawline...
He got scolded.
***
Not long after, the political scene in the Kingdom of Bellita froze.
Princess Chloe de Tatalia, who had ignited a war after kissing Gilbert in front of Prince Vivian de Isadora, caused yet another scandal.
This time, her target was Toton Tatian, the son of Marquis Benar Tatian.
Princess Chloe and Toton, who had been closely attached at the banquet, disappeared somewhere, and the next morning, the princess returned to the palace. The king did not punish her.
The message was clear.
The silent king had moved the princess to strike both Count Forte, leader of the Swordmaster faction, and Marquis Tatian, leader of the royalist faction. However, the intent behind these moves remained unclear.
Was the king preparing for a war with the Kingdom of Aisel, while also waging an internal conflict?
The nobles were left to clean up the mess. Count Forte announced that he would send his son to the capital church, and now all eyes were on Marquis Tatian.
Depending on how he responded, the two factions could either come together to ignore the king's intentions or clash.
Most nobles speculated that Marquis Tatian had received some subtle indication from the king. The royalists were anxious, and the Swordmaster faction awaited his response.
Meanwhile, Marquis Tatian himself...
– Hiccup
...was merely drinking alone in his office. What occupied his thoughts was not the nobles, the king, or even his troublesome son.
It was Lean de Yeriel.
Things had turned out exactly as he said.
The marquis’s mind was in turmoil. How could Lean have foreseen this? Had he orchestrated the princess’s actions? If the bizarre mirror that Vivian de Isadora had received ended up in the princess’s hands... No, that was too far-fetched. Besides, what would Lean gain from such chaos?
Wait. Could he have calculated that I’d think exactly this? No, that's overcomplicating things. And my son—he’s acting strange too. He’s not the kind to fall for a woman so easily... Could it be that he and Lean have teamed up? But they’ve never met.
Marquis Benar Tatian rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
He had already considered the possibility that Count Herman Forte might be conspiring with his son to bring him down, perhaps even involving Princess Chloe in the scheme.
That explanation made the most sense.
If Count Forte had manipulated the situation, then the kiss between Gilbert and the princess was part of his plan. This would mean that Count Forte was using the current political turmoil to strengthen his own base of power, while also leveraging his son to bring down the Tatian family. If he succeeded, the kingdom would fall into his hands.
As implausible as it seemed, this theory was the most logical. Yet, one thing didn’t quite add up.
Count Forte had no reason to wage war against the Kingdom of Aisel. Even though he had divorced, the Kingdom of Aisel was still practically his in-laws.
Thus, it was unlikely that Count Forte was behind this.
Which meant...
– “From what you’re saying, it seems you still haven’t figured out why the king is using Princess Chloe.”
It all started with Prince Vivian's invitation. King Karoman de Tatalia had orchestrated the entire affair.
The king had always been eccentric, but now...
The marquis recalled Lean’s words.
– “Soon, your son, Toton Tatian, will fall just as Gilbert Forte did. He will fall in love. The king will use Toton, who is madly in love with the princess, to pit you against Count Herman Forte.”
Fall in love, you say?
How could he have said that with such certainty?
At the time, the marquis hadn’t believed him, dismissing it because he was aware of his son’s relationship with Irene. But in hindsight, Lean's words sounded more like prophecy than a mere guess. There was an eerie confidence behind them.
That Toton would undoubtedly fall for Princess Chloe. As if the king had some way to make it happen.
Magic? Maybe not...
There had been no movement from the sorcerer contracted with the Tatalia royal family. Nor from the Kamits Tower, for that matter.
Every move the king made was under my watChapter The same goes for Count Forte and the entire capital, Orville.
...Which means...
– Squeak
Something is happening that I can't even imagine.
The marquis stood up, convinced.
Benar Tatian realized there were things he didn’t know. Without that missing information, there was no way to make sense of what was currently happening.
He looked up at the portrait of his wife hanging on one wall and muttered to himself:
"This is as strange as when you died so suddenly."
The quiet office remained silent. He hadn’t expected an answer.
***
Thanks to Princess Chloe de Tatalia’s latest scandal, or perhaps because Count Peter quietly spread the word that his daughter had not broken off her engagement to the prince, the number of people seeking out Lean began to dwindle.
It was only then that Lean had time to venture outside.
The weather had grown chilly, with autumn deepening. Wearing a ragged cloak as a disguise, Lean left the family estate.
His sister was doing well.
The stern lecture he had given her to distinguish between dreams and reality seemed to have worked; at least on the surface, there were no problems. Since her identity as a princess had become known, she wasn’t mingling with her friends as she used to, but that wasn’t a significant issue.
It was all manageable.
With this, Lean had fulfilled his reason for staying with the Rauno family. Lerialia had learned to respect her elders and to socialize with those her age. Born a noble princess, she could have easily become arrogant, but she turned out quite well.
Even after being exiled from the palace and enduring turmoil, his sister would continue to live without major distortions.
This is the way.
To sort his thoughts, Lean walked through a busy market. After passing the southern gate’s main road for quite a while, he was headed to find Cassia. Fortunately, the feelings he once had for her no longer burned as intensely as they had before.
There was no resentment, no sadness.
No joy, no anger.
Only the quietness of visiting an old friend long forgotten.
And soon enough, the sight of a familiar woman in purple caught his eye. In the bustling market, she was making and selling shoes, just as she had promised to live happily.
Perhaps not the happiest person in the world, but at least she was content. Cassia was being pestered by some street kids.
"Agh! When did I fix this for you last, and you’ve already gone and ruined them again?"
"We’re sorry! Hehe."
"This is going to take a while. Hey! Leave those here. You see those over there on the floor? Wear those in the meantime. You too."
"Thank you!"
The kids, snot-nosed and happy with their new shoes, rushed off. Perhaps due to Ober’s influence, Lean stepped into the shop littered with dirty shoes.
Cassia raised her head, grumbling to herself, but recognized a customer when she saw one.
"Welcome."
"...I came to buy shoes."
"Sure, take a look around."
[Achievement: The man Cassia risked her life to protect – You've earned Cassia’s strong favor.]
That was the extent of Cassia’s interest in Lean. She gathered the scattered shoes from the floor. Lean didn’t look at her for long either.
"My shoes are fine, but I need a pair of travel shoes. For a young girl."
"They should be over there. Can’t you find the right size?"
Lean shook his head.
"No. I’m looking for something more expensive. Durable, soft on the inside, and, if possible, good-looking."
A big spender, huh?
Cassia’s eyes lit up.
"Something expensive, huh... How much are you thinking?"
Lean handed her a gold coin.
"Gasp... Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"…"
Even when she worked at the brothel, she’d never received gold coins. Cassia muttered, "Well, this is going to make work fun for a change," as she accepted the coin.
"What’s the size?"
"About this big."
Lean extended his hand, bending his thumb to indicate the size. Cassia gave him a sideways glance.
"Is that exact?"
"It is."
"Fine. Don’t complain later... What style are you thinking? Since it’s for travel, I assume you want flats, but how high do you want the heel? What about ankle support? Should it be waterproof? You said you want it soft inside—do you want fur?"
Cassia fired off question after question.
Do shoes really need this much attention? Lean was caught off guard and gave vague answers, which made Cassia wrinkle her nose and twirl her hair.
"Fine, I’ll take care of it. It sounds like I’ll need to send you a sample anyway..."
She jotted down notes, her handwriting a messy scrawl, but written with careful pressure.
"Where should I send the sample?"
"To the Rauno family."
"Oh? So you’re from the Rauno family. Then you must know Mr. Ober. I’ll send it through him. What name should I use?"
"Send it under ‘Lerialia.’"
"Okay. I’ll send the sample, and you can tell me if you want any changes."
A sample wasn’t really necessary.
But Lean figured his sister would probably have her own preferences, so he quietly nodded. He hesitated for a moment in front of Cassia, then stepped outside.
Cassia hung a “Working” sign on the door and promptly shut it.
...What was I expecting?
He had only come to see how she was doing. And to buy shoes for his sister. That beggar with the broken arm had been around, too. Had he hoped Cassia would say, "I’m doing just fine and happy"?
He hadn’t done anything for her anyway.
Chiding himself for lingering, Lean headed toward the area where the beggars of Orville were clustered.
The streets quickly became more rundown. In a vacant lot, formerly used for executions and still devoid of any notable structures, a cluster of ramshackle wooden shacks stood. About twenty-five of them, each smaller than a person’s height.
And soon enough, the leader of the beggars came into view. Even with his crooked arm, he displayed surprisingly refined manners, ones that ordinary people wouldn’t recognize but were clearly noble in origin.