Art Syren was smiling.
It was an eerie smile.
He was definitely smiling, but one could feel a deep darkness. Maybe it was because of that bizarre red prosthetic eye.
When Art Syren stood in front of , the heirs of the noble families around all fell silent. All of them were watching Art's mood.
That was how remarkable Art Syren's presence was. Even though he was hiding his magic power, you could feel he had a colossal amount, and he also radiated that dignified air unique to the strong.
Art alternated his gaze between
and Ross. The change in us brothers seed quite surprising to him.
"I heard you had disappeared, but it's good to see you. Seems your skills have improved a lot since I last saw you."
Ross answered.
"You as well. Did your four years with the military amount to anything?"
"Not much to speak of. My so-called real combat was just hunting monsters around the western mountains."
Art Syren's gaze shifted to . He shouldn't be able to sense my magic power, but it seed he sensed sothing.
"Roger... There's sothing about you."
"What do you an?"
Art Syren grinned slyly.
He must have guessed that Ross and I were lucky enough to have acquired magic power.
It couldn't even occur to him that it was the demon's essence.
He spoke.
"Will you be coming to the dinner party tonight?"
"What kind of dinner party?"
"Ah, this must be the first imperial banquet for you two. After the banquet hosted by His Imperial Majesty, there's a separate gathering just for the heirs."
Ross looked at .
Ross knew, of course. He was just pretending not to know. He knew exactly what would happen after that gathering.
I nodded in agreent.
"In that case, we'll attend as well."
At Ross's words, Art Syren grinned slyly again.
Was he pretending not to know our intentions, or was he mocking us because he knew? It was ambiguous.
"The official banquet will begin soon. Distinguished guests of each house, please proceed to the grand banquet hall."
A palace official was walking among us, announcing that the banquet was starting.
Because of that, the strange standoff between us and Art ca to an end.
Thanks to Art's arrival, the tense confrontation between Ross and that Rafarik guy also fizzled out.
The noble heirs headed for the imperial palace one by one. All the nobles gathered around Art Syren and walked with him.
I asked Ross,
"Art's prosthetic eye—is that because of ?"
"You don't rember that, either?"
"No."
After I, Roger, died and ca back at thirteen, I lost all my mories.
I only clearly rembered the languages and culture I'd learned from very early childhood.
"When you were six, I think. You often played war gas with him and those others you just saw. Back then, your toy sword poked his eye once."
"I see."
"It wasn't you who stabbed him. He was attacking you, and you both fell over and it happened by accident. But they all lied and said you stabbed Art on purpose."
"So that's the lie you ntioned earlier."
"Yeah."
"Art must've hated
a lot."
"He did. Elder sister Rozie and I thought that the reason the Syren family tried to wipe out our house was because of Art losing his sight."
It's as if all the reasons and causes that bound us in enmity to the Syren family are strung together.
But the impression I'd just received from seeing Art Syren lingered strongly in my mind.
I didn't know how exactly to describe it. It felt like so unknown sensation in
had reacted.
[Innate darkness.]
That's the phrase that flashed through my mind the mont I saw Art Syren.
His magic power certainly wasn't of the darkness attribute. But there was so strange sense of darkness about his power.
If this impression was because he'd taken the demon's essence, then he should feel sothing similar from .
But Art Syren looked at
with an utterly emotionless face. He didn't look down on ; he didn't seem wary, either.
Was it because our demon's essence was different?
The one I'd acquired was untouched by humans for ages, but the one he'd taken had passed through many hands over thousands of years.
Just what was the reason for this strange sensation?
Was it because, unlike eting a destined woman, I was eting a fated enemy this ti?
Ti would tell.
We entered the grand banquet hall.
It made
wonder if there really were this many nobles in the empire.
There must have been easily a thousand people dressed in all manner of splendid clothing.
Well, you had to be at least a baron to beco a state official, so there must be more than two or three hundred barons.
The wealthy rchants and their heirs must have been invited too.
It looked like everyone was mingling and chatting, but if you looked closely, the factions were fairly obvious.
There were three main groups.
The military. The Syren group. The neutrals.
The Syren family's faction was in the center of the hall, as if they were the very core of the empire, while the neutral faction gathered by the left windows.
The curious thing was the military faction.
They were sowhat split between the neutral and Syren factions, because both sub-factions were present among the military.
"That must be Count Watts."
"Right."
The one in the white uniform, lined with dals, was Count Watts.
As the commander of the Capital Defense Corps—the top unit among the five imperial legions—he was the heart of the current military leadership and the central figure among the neutrals.
I quietly studied Count Watts.
You could often tell what people were thinking by their reaction when your eyes t. But he didn't look at us at all.
However, a few people around him did sneak glances at us. On the other hand, people from the Syren family's side stared openly at Ross and .
Ross said,
"The Syren family is conscious of us. The neutral faction seems to be deliberately ignoring us. There are more Syren partisans in the military than I thought."
"Around a seventy-thirty split."
"About that. After the grand duke seized power, a lot of their people got high positions in the military."
No nobles spoke to us. It was obvious the Syren family would pick a fight with anyone who did.
Also, the Syren side was on edge since one of the Secret Council elders had died the night before.
"I don't see the head of the Secret Council."
"He's probably off eting with the other elders sowhere."
"A eting, you say?"
That question ca from soone walking by. It was a man in his mid-twenties with a wine bottle in hand.
"Why would the Secret Council elders be having a eting?"
Both Ross and I fell silent.
It was too much on point for sothing he'd just happen to overhear. Had he been watching us?
And his appearance was a sight to behold—a tangled mop of hair, wine stains on his shirt, even mud on his shoes.
"Ah, I'm Mart. I work as a guard in the north of the capital. This is my first banquet, so I have no idea what's going on. Ha ha."
He was a complete ss, much too sloppy to be the grand duke's subordinate or a Secret Council investigator. Even introducing himself as a guard was strange.
Ross asked,
"A guard from the north of the capital?"
"Ah, that's just the work I do. My father made
co, but this sort of thing isn't for . Tsk."
The man spoke, then proceeded to gulp wine straight from the bottle. He wiped the wine running down his mouth with his sleeve.
He was a peculiar fellow.
At first glance, he looked exactly the drunkard he appeared to be—both his clothes and his habit of wandering with a wine bottle in hand.
But the magic power he was hiding was no joke. Out of everyone I'd t here in the capital, he was second only to Art Syren.
Stronger than the guard captain.
He asked again,
"Sothing happen with the Secret Council?"
"One of the elders passed away last night."
"Ah, so that's why those folks over there are whispering. For a second I thought they were all badmouthing ."
By "those folks
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