Chapter 49

"Does this old man really have to do it?"

"Would you rather I do it? It's no use pretending not to know. You heard everything we were saying yesterday. You've even switched to formal speech now."

Erich was holding the brown horse's reins with a deadpan expression.

Yet it didn't inspire any sympathy.

"But how can I tell sailors that a massive wave is coming! I'm a merpeople scholar, merpeople!"

"Whether it's the sea or merpeople, a scholar is a scholar, right? I'm asking because it seems like it would be effective. If you don't leave quickly, you'll have to ride all night."

What he had assigned Erich was a public opinion campaign.

Coastal villages were sensitive to changes in sea weather.

This was because weather changes were directly linked to their lives.

Large waves, gales, storms, and such.

Spreading rumors that not only sailors but also villages could be damaged would intensify people's anxiety.

Then they would be much more receptive to evacuation advisories.

But Erich seemed to have misgivings about perpetrating such a fraud.

"No, even for a scholar, the field is..."

"Go quickly. Before I spread rumors that you're obsessed with demonic beasts and used a duke of the country as bait, and personally mete out punishment."

"But!"

"If you run away, my knight will personally escort you back, so keep that in mind. Though, since the south is blockaded, it would be the same wherever you escape to."

Not revealing his identity wasn't his fault.

Who told Erich to eagerly accept strangers?

Erich eventually set off, riding the horse they had lent him, like swallowing bitter medicine.

After watching his receding figure, he turned to Arndt.

"Arndt."

"Yes, just entrust it to me."

Arndt was holding the reins of the black horse.

The horse seemed to dislike Arndt, repeatedly pawing the ground with its hoof.

He stroked the bridge of the temperamental horse's nose while reminding Arndt of the precautions.

"You probably know this well already, but I'll say it again. It's important to inform the territorial administrator and then the lord about the severity of this matter."

"Yes."

"Whether it's Yurik or me, you can use whatever means available. You can persuade with money or stake something else. I can handle the aftermath later."

"Yes!"

"And with the lord's seal, make sure to safely evacuate the people. But the most important thing there is your safety. If it seems dangerous, flee immediately."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Arndt spoke reassuringly and hopped onto the horse.

The black horse only lifted slightly without throwing Arndt off.

It was a relief that both of them seemed to understand his words.

After sending Arndt as the second runner, he was about to enter the house when Leandros asked.

"Is there anything you wish me to do?"

"Not right now."

"Shall I strengthen the security?"

"Is it necessary? I don't think he'll send assassins."

There was a strangely floating feeling.

Leandros touched the hilt of his sword and then nodded.

Leandros had served the Duchess, Arenheit's mother, with intense devotion.

How must he have felt when members of Hartmann were arrested one after another?

Considering that the day to meet Yurik wasn't far off, his excitement was understandable.

"You're welcome to stand guard if necessary, but how about cooling your head first?"

"......"

"Things don't go well when you're excited. Go for a walk or something. I'll take a nap."

"Yes."

Of course, he wouldn't really go for a walk.

He passed by Leandros, who had begun standing guard in front of the door.

After thinking about all sorts of things, he felt tired and sleepy.

What he immediately needed now was a long rest.

* * *

A person was walking down a corridor with a red carpet.

The weather was clear, but the bright energy had not yet penetrated indoors.

Only a dim light spread across the walker's face.

A face as white as porcelain.

Features delicately crafted as if by a meticulous god.

The pale, muted blonde hair was neatly tied to one side and draped over the shoulder.

While the appearance seemed frail at first glance, there was no such indication in his gait.

The black uniform with complexly intertwined cords, and the golden tassels hanging from the epaulettes, were quite different from the clothes worn during regular administrative duties.

It seemed like clothes one would wear when going to a formal place.

The man stopped in front of the king's bedroom.

The soldiers guarding the bedroom door paid their respects when they saw him.

The man prevented the soldiers' greetings by raising one hand and immediately entered the bedroom.

Although it was called a bedroom, the interior was excessively dark.

A strong fragrance was steeped in the musty air.

The man passed the empty bed and approached the window, the only one that wasn't covered.

There was a chair placed as if to enjoy the good weather.

An aged person sat in the chair.

His hair had been white for a long time, and even that was sparse.

The abundant liver spots on his face attested to the old man's age.

The younger man looked at the elder, then peered into the golden cup in his hand.

"Oh my. You didn't tell me you had finished everything."

The man picked up a glass jug ringed with gold that was beside him.

It was filled with clear golden liquid.

A sweet and tingling fragrance wafted from the beverage being poured into the golden cup.

"I would be unfilial otherwise. Please drink."

The old man gave no response.

His eyes had been dim for a long time, and it was even questionable whether a shred of consciousness remained in this world.

But the younger man wasn't deterred.

He placed the cup in the old man's hand and helped him drink.

The drink moistened the parched lips.

Half went down and half trickled down the chin, but the man seemed satisfied with just that.

"Where else would you find such a filial son who personally feeds you? It tastes good, doesn't it?"

After wiping away the dripped liquid with his black-gloved hand, the man clasped his hands behind his back and looked out the window.

His adoptive father, the king of the country, seemed like he would pass away soon.

If that happened, he would have to set up another stand-in.

The man spoke to the old man with candor.

"Do you have a successor in mind? Of course, you probably can't see this place from where you are now."

Or perhaps he didn't have time to worry about this.

After all, when observing various things from another dimension, such trivial matters naturally took a back seat.

The man stroked the old man's head.

It was truly disrespectful behavior.

"I'll handle it, but you need to live at least 10 more years. I'm a bit busy trying to breed offspring now."

Wait, humans carried offspring for a few months.

Was it 3 years? Or shorter?

If he had them conceive now, would it still take 3 more years?

The man sighed at the sudden practical concern.

"Your adopted son is busy running around, while you, the adoptive father, are comfortably departing elsewhere, which makes me sad. Though it might be more comfortable for you."

Terrible sounds flowed from the old man's throat.

Though it was coincidental, the sound seemed to answer the man's words.

The man smiled.

"You have no complaints, do you? How exciting it must be, for you to enjoy it so much. Ah, I'm fine, thank you. I'll decline. These are all things I've seen long ago."

It was certainly exciting.

Though it exceeded the allowable limits of human mental capacity, once one went mad, it would be exciting from then on.

The man continued to stroke the old man's head.

Memories from long ago came back as his fingers brushed through the hair.

Until 50 years ago, he had been a robust young man, but when had he aged so drastically?

Back then, he recalled being amazed that he could create a human who resembled himself.

Of course, now he didn't think there was any resemblance.

After all, he himself couldn't possibly age like this.

If counted by age, it was unclear how many generations had passed, and this old man was merely a substitute created for convenience.

That's who this old man was.

The man withdrew his hand.

It was because his sentimentality suddenly felt childish.

The reason he could indulge in such sentimentality was probably because of the letter that had arrived this morning.

A letter from Duke Hartmann in the south.

It stated that he had contacted merpeople and had helped them achieve what they wanted.

Additionally, it invited him to come and verify it personally.

He must be quite confident.

What on earth had he done there?

Had he cut off his own arm and thrown it to them?

He wouldn't know until he went to see for himself.

The man became somewhat joyful.

He had been curious about what Hartmann was scheming behind the scenes.

And then, during his visit to the Hartmann ducal residence on a pretext, he had also gathered unexpected harvests.

Furthermore...

The man recalled the old book in the drawer of his office.

How many secrets had Hartmann been hiding?

He was lightly excited, like a child who had just gotten a new toy.

But separately, he also knew that he shouldn't do as he pleased right now.

Humans he played with freely tended to die quickly.

He should exercise some restraint.

The man was smiling brightly until he left the bedroom.

Of course, all the soldiers could see was the expression of a sad old man, inconsolable in his grief.

The poor Crown Prince who prayed for the king to wake up, visiting him morning and evening.

The tragic successor who, while handling state affairs, could never touch the throne.

Everyone in the palace thought of Yurik den Menadia this way.

Yurik hastened his steps and returned to his own palace.

After dismissing all the servants, he began changing into more comfortable clothes.

As the garments fell one by one, a necklace with a long black stone dangled over his bare chest.

A fragment emanating an alien energy, like ink dropped on white paper.

Yurik fiddled with the stone piece, then brought it to his mouth.

There was a swooshing sound of wind.

That was all.

But by the time Yurik picked up and put on his shirt, there was already a massive black steed standing in the room.

The horse's pupils glowed a hell-fire red.

Like a well-trained hunting dog that wouldn't move without its master's command, the horse remained motionless until Yurik finished his preparations.

Finally, Yurik, with a slender sword fastened at his waist, habitually stroked the bridge of the horse's nose.

"Come to think of it, the Duke had the same thing. How does it feel, Biaki? Happy to meet your kind?"

The horse closed its eyes and slowly opened them again.

Normally, such an otherworldly being would need to be properly summoned and trained.

Yet he could handle one that was barely born.

This Duke Hartmann certainly had skill.

Yurik, uncharacteristically, giggled and then hopped onto the horse without a saddle.

He exclaimed cheerfully.

"Shall we go fast enough not to be noticed? I don't particularly want to catch the eyes of my 'relatives'."

The horse with demon eyes raised its front legs and roared long.

The ominous rider and steed charged vigorously towards the wall,

And in the next moment, nothing remained in the room.