TFM 56

Chapter 56

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He wasn’t exactly frowning or anything, so why did I feel so uneasy?

Asros, who had been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt to pretend he wasn’t paying attention, finally looked up after a long while.

Lord Shiokan had moved to the left wing and was talking with the High Priest.

Seeing the serious atmosphere, Asros narrowed his eyes.

Though he had his back turned and Asros couldn’t see his expression, he could see the veins bulging on the old priest’s gaunt neck.

As the priest shrugged his shoulders and denounced something, a cold chill also flashed across Lord Shiokan’s face.

Even at a glance, they didn’t seem to be on friendly terms. Asros’s eyes sparkled with interest.

'What are they talking about?'

The priests were staunch supporters of the Crown Prince, and the same was true of the next Grand Duke of Shiokan.

He wondered why these two men, who belonged to the same faction, were at odds with each other.

Driven by curiosity, Asros slipped quietly out of the congregation. Hiding behind a pillar at the intersection, he tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but someone suddenly grabbed him by the back of the neck.

Asros jerked his head up and, upon seeing Behrens’ stern face, let his eyebrows droop.

Behrens looked down at him with a gloomy expression and scolded him in a low voice.

“Those are His Royal Highness the Crown Prince’s rivals. Do not go near them.”

“Rivals? What rivals? I don’t know anything.”

He pouted and tried to argue back, but the man didn’t budge an inch.

Asros, wearing a look of dissatisfaction, rolled his eyes and looked back.

Before he knew it, Lord Shiokan had finished his conversation with the High Priest and was walking toward the crossroads.

Asros hurriedly hid behind Behrens’ legs.

Lord Shiokan cast a casual, indifferent glance at him before striding elegantly down the corridor.

Hiding behind Behrens and watching his retreating figure, Asros asked in a hushed voice.

“What do you think the High Priest said to Lord Shiokan?”

“It seems he reprimanded him for this situation.”

“Why? Lord Shiokan and the Great Cathedral are supposed to be allies. Even if Lord Shiokan did something wrong, shouldn’t they cover for him?”

A faint, bitter smile flitted across Behrens’ lips.

“The world isn’t that simple.”

Speaking as if scolding someone, Beren turned his head toward the altar where the funeral rites were taking place and continued slowly.

“Many of the priests harbor resentment toward the Kan people. In particular, the fundamentalist priests’ hatred for the Shiokan clan runs deep.”

Asros was about to ask why, but he held his tongue. Memories of what he had learned in history class came flooding back.

In the past, it was the Kan people who fought to the very end against the movement to unify the nations led by Darian Roem Guirta.

They even went so far as to inflict a fatal wound on the hero, the knight said to have been chosen by the gods, during the “Final Battle” that took place in the north.

After the war ended, the people of the East were also incorporated into the Roem Empire, but to this day, the Kan people had not fully assimilated into the Western world, and the hostility of the empire’s citizens toward them had not completely faded.

As Asros reflected on these facts, he suddenly snorted derisively.

“That’s ridiculous. Other tribes fought just as fiercely. Isn’t it petty to ostracize them simply because they refused to submit until the very end?”

Behrens, who had been looking down at Asros with a momentary look of surprise, raised the corners of his mouth slightly.

“It’s not just for that reason. It’s more that we’re wary of the Shiokan clan because they possess such powerful strength.”

“Powerful strength?”

Tilting his head in confusion, Asros asked again. After a brief silence, Behrens slowly spoke.

“According to records, a certain percentage of the Shiokan clan are born with strange abilities—such as seeing into the future, reading people’s minds, or commanding all manner of beasts at will. Thanks to those strange powers, they once reigned as objects of terror.”

Asros’s eyes sparkled at the intriguing story.

“Does Lord Shiokan have any special abilities himself?”

“That’s highly unlikely. The priests examined him thoroughly, but they said they found nothing out of the ordinary.”

Behrens stroked his chin thoughtfully as he spoke.

“It’s likely that the abilities have faded because the bloodline has been weakened over many generations. Since the birth of a powerful mind reader eighty years ago, no ‘primitive magicians’ have appeared in the Shiokan family.”

Having made that assertion, he stroked his chin as if something had suddenly occurred to him and added,

“Come to think of it, I have heard rumors that the former Empress possessed the gift of prophecy, but…”

“My brother’s mother?”

Asros asked in surprise.

Behrens paused for a moment as if deep in thought, then shook his head.

“It’s likely just a rumor spread by those who wanted to deify her. The Crown Prince and the First Princess are ordinary, aren’t they?”

He then added with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps the Kan people’s abilities have completely vanished.”

Asros felt slightly annoyed by the tone, which seemed intended to reassure him.

Why on earth should he feel reassured that the Kan clan has lost the abilities they’ve possessed for generations?

He had no intention of standing up to his older brother. Therefore, the Shiokan clan was not his enemy either.

But he knew that voicing such thoughts would only be dismissed as a child’s tantrum, so he kept his mouth shut.

“It seems the ceremony is nearly over. We should head back now.”

Seeing those seated at the head of the table file out of the aisle one by one, Behrens placed a light hand on his back.

Asros immediately followed him out of the chapel. He, too, had no desire to run into his half-siblings, who viewed him as a thorn in their side.

They avoided the main entrance, which was crowded with mourners, and headed for the rear garden. However, a group of nobles had gathered in the backyard, chatting away.

Spotting Gareth’s overzealous followers among them, Asros frowned sharply.

Though they would hardly dare to harm him, a prince, there was still no reason to face those unpleasant faces.

He took Behrens’hand and turned toward a narrow, shaded path.

Just then, a familiar name reached his ears.

“What do you think the chances are that Talia Roem Guirta will recover?”

“Well, she was found practically half-dead. Even for the elves, it’ll be tough to fully heal her.”

Asros’ eyes widened as he looked up at Behrens.

“Is that true?”

Behrens paused for a moment, as if pondering something, then slowly nodded.

Asros’ expression immediately turned grave.

He had heard that his sister was in poor health, but he hadn’t realized she was so badly injured that such rumors were circulating.

He asked accusingly.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me that my sister was injured?”

“It was not something Your Highness needed to know.”

“She’s my sister! Of course you should have told me.”

As he raised his voice in anger, the once bustling garden fell silent as if someone had poured cold water over it.

Asros turned his head and frowned at the nobles who had belatedly noticed him and were now scrambling to pay their respects.

Not wanting to deal with them, he strode out of the garden with as wide a stride as possible, and Behrens, who had been silently following behind, let out a sigh.

“Your Highness, she hates you. No matter how much attention you give her, you will never be rewarded.”

Asros stopped dead in his tracks and glared at him.

Intellectually, he knew the man was right. Talia Roem Guirta disliked him. Hadn’t she said so herself?

But he didn’t want to readily admit that fact.

“Maybe, just maybe, she regrets saying that to me. Maybe that day she was just… in a bad mood and spoke harshly. People have moments like that sometimes, don’t they?”

“…”

“If I go visit her in the infirmary, maybe she’ll apologize to me?”

It was a thoughtless remark, but it sounded quite plausible.

Without waiting for Behrens’s reply, Asros immediately turned and headed for the palace.

On the way, he picked an armful of the prettiest flowers from the garden to bring as a get-well gift.

She’ll be surprised when I show up, won’t she?

Maybe, just maybe, she would feel a little bit of affection for such a kind younger brother.

Filled with anticipation, Asros walked tirelessly across the vast grounds.

Soon, beyond the garden thick with flowers and foliage, a rough-hewn, ash-gray building came into view.