Chapter 67 - 5
As the door closed and Gerald's figure vanished from sight, a heavy sigh filled the room. Only the three of them remained once more.
"…Is this really okay, Ed?"
Ritz placed his monocle on the round table, sighed while still seated, and gently massaged his stiff shoulders.
Edward, who had been standing and staring out the window ever since Gerald left, didn't move.
Shasta, who had been sitting at the round table gathering his written notes, also looked up and fixed his gaze on the unresponsive Edward.
On the round table, along with two reports, lay a pure gold hair ornament.
—This shall be the key that brings you wealth—
He knew there was no mistake in those words. Indeed, those who obtained this hair ornament and joined the drug syndicate received a great reward. In this country, those who received that reward were called criminals.
"Hey, Ed. Are you listening?"
Whether he heard Ritz's second call or not, Edward didn't move a muscle. Eventually, as if unable to bear the silence any longer, Shasta spoke up.
"Your Majesty, it would be best to reconsider. If anything were to happen to His Highness the Crown Prince, this country would fall into chaos. …Surely, Your Majesty understands that much."
The end of his sentence trailed off into something closer to a grumble. He knew it was impossible to change Edward's mind now.
Shasta and Edward were foster brothers, and their association spanned over fifty years. Nevertheless, it was in Shasta's nature to speak his mind.
But Edward didn't even turn around, as if lost in thought. Ritz and Shasta knew from their long association that when he was like this, they had no choice but to wait.
When Edward finally spoke, snow had begun to flutter outside.
"…It has been thirty-five years since I took the throne, thirty-three since Gerald was born… there has been no civil strife in this country, nor have we been invaded by other nations."
Edward murmured as if gazing into the distance. His voice echoed clearly in the silent room. A subtle hint of age was faintly present in that voice, and Ritz averted his gaze from Edward.
Time was a cruel thing. It left him behind and moved steadily forward. In forty years at the most, Edward would be gone from this world. The same was true for Shasta.
He would be the one left behind. The thought was unbearably painful. There was no way he could live for what felt like an eternity, all alone.
If he had to embrace eternal solitude… he would rather live and die alongside his most trusted friend, sharing the fleeting span of a human life.
The weight of his own weakness, which had led him to stay away from Edward for thirty years, bore down on him. But Ritz was not one to show it. He was no longer the child he used to be.
He had become accustomed to putting up a front. Frighteningly so, as a mercenary.
As if nothing was wrong, he leaned his weight back against the chair he was sitting in and straightened his posture.
"What's wrong with peace?"
He stole a glance at Shasta and saw that he was looking outside, past Edward. The scenery they were seeing beyond that window was surely not the one visible to their eyes.
It was an unforgettable scene… from the past.
About forty years ago, a civil war had broken out. It was started by a revolutionary army led by Edward, and it was Ritz who stood by Edward's side, fighting on the battlefield as his friend.
And the three now-deceased generals, the officers who led the troops, Shasta who was always with them, and Patricia. It was no exaggeration to say that the bond between the four who still lived was forged in the crucible of that war.
It was Edward's words that broke the reverie of the past.
"Can one who has never commanded the lives of men, who has never led the living, possess the qualifications to be a king? That has always been a question for me."
"Ed…"
The murmur hung heavily over the three of them. In their youth, they would have answered that question easily.
The answer was no.
That was why they had risen up. But their current situations and positions rendered the three of them speechless.
"…My conclusion is set. Ritz, what about you?"
Ritz remained silent, lightly rolling his neck to loosen the stiffness.
"I told you, didn't I? I'll stick with you to the end."
From the beginning of Edward's reign to the very end. Of course, he couldn't say those words out loud.
"Shasta, do you still not approve?"
Shasta, who had been staring down at the papers in his hand, looked up.
"I… I cannot risk my life like Ritz-san. I do not have the skill. So perhaps I have not yet come to terms with it…"
To place oneself in the same danger. That was the path of battle the three of them had walked during the civil war. But Shasta's position interfered with his feelings.
"But if I were the me of back then, who simply believed in Lord Edward, not His Majesty, and followed my convictions straight ahead, I would probably say this: 'I believe in Sir Gerald. I am sure he will be fine.'"
Shasta murmured with a nostalgic expression, as if gazing at his straightforward self from long ago.
"My mother once taught me that to worry too much is to not trust. I happened to remember that during the meeting."
After a beat, Shasta, who had been looking down, raised his face. Shasta's mother was Edward's adoptive mother. From beneath thirty years of accumulated anguish, Shasta's original smile peeked through.
"I will trust in His Highness Gerald. He is the son of the Lord Edward I have believed in with my life, so he will surely return safely."
That was the conclusion Shasta had finally reached amidst his own conflict and anguish.
"You two, I'm sorry. This is my selfishness."
With that, Edward gazed intently at the two of them. Ritz remembered hearing those same words before.
It was on the evening the civil war began.
It was strange. He didn't feel as if he himself had changed much since then, yet here and now, an era was coming to an end.
That alone pressed upon Ritz's chest with the weight of truth.
Ritz, the first to leave the heavy atmosphere of the room, closed the door behind him and let out a deep sigh once he was out of their sight. He wondered just how much hardship Edward and Shasta had endured in the thirty-five years he was away, rebuilding this tilted nation.
Seeing the faces of the two, who had aged and etched that hardship into their features, became painful. There was also a sense of guilt, as if he had only run away.
But when he considered whether he would have been of any help if he had stayed, he came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could have done. It was complicated.
After confirming that no one was in the corridor, he muttered to himself.
"I'm tired… I'm going home and sleeping, that's what I'm doing."
Today had been mentally taxing. The thought of finally being able to go home brought a sense of relief. But as is often the case in life, the days you want to go home are the days you can't. That was no exception for Ritz.
Deciding to at least look through the documents that were probably in his office, Ritz, with an uncharacteristically diligent thought, started walking through the sparsely populated castle. Although it was the first day of work, the actual work consisted only of meeting people, and most had gone home after the military review.
His own footsteps echoed clearly on the stone floor of the quiet castle interior. Ritz was replaying the contents of today's meeting over and over in his head.
If Gerald were to command the two platoons, how much could Ritz do for him? Or if the enemy were a large force and attacked Gerald all at once, could Ritz protect him with just his own life? Just how skilled was he anyway? Did he have enough skill to protect himself?
The drug syndicate and the king's assassination plot… they didn't have to be connected. If they weren't, he could have had an easier time of it.
"Ah, this is tough… I want to go for a drink…"
The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt.
It was at that moment.
"…Sorry to bother you when you're tired."
"Whoa!"
Startled by the voice that suddenly came from a place he thought was deserted, Ritz jumped. He turned to see a person standing in the shadow of a pillar. A calm, quiet man with a noble face yet a faint presence…
The man who had been troubling his thoughts until just now was there.
"Gerald?"
"Yes."
Ritz gave a wry smile. It was amusing how he had just been discussing the dangers in the royal castle at the meeting, yet he had been completely unguarded himself.
"Don't scare me like that, you'll shorten my lifespan."
"My apologies."
At the apologetically smiling Gerald, Ritz scratched his head.
Crown Prince Gerald. The only child of Edward and Patricia, and the heir to the throne.
He was named after the great general who had been the commander of Edward's army during the civil war. To put it simply, he was given the name of Queen Patricia's father, Gerald Morgan.
But from an outside perspective, he gave a strong impression of not living up to his name. Few had ever seen him holding a weapon, and the only images that came to mind when thinking of him were of him reading a book on a terrace or assisting Edward in his office.
Ritz stared at him intently, and the anxiety from before resurfaced.
He just didn't seem to have any drive. If he showed even half the drive and fighting spirit of that Greig who had challenged him the other day, it would be much better.
"Is something wrong?"
Gerald timidly called out to the silent Ritz. There was no need for him to be so reserved with Ritz. After all, in terms of appearance, Gerald, in his early thirties, was older. But it was no use thinking about that in front of the man himself.
"What are you doing here, yourself?"
Smiling as usual, he lightly patted Gerald's shoulder, and Gerald looked around worriedly.
"I had something to discuss… Do you have a moment?"
Being asked like that, he couldn't very well say he was going home because he wanted a drink.
"I don't mind."
"Then this way…"
Shrugging his shoulders and sighing inwardly, Ritz followed after Gerald. As expected, when you want to go home, you can't.
Unaware of Ritz's lament, Gerald walked through a gate from the royal castle and down a corridor leading to the innermost part of the palace.
In the generations of kings who had many concubines and attendant nobles, like the previous king and the one before him, the royal palace would have been bustling with people, but now, other than Edward's family, the court ladies, and the guards, no one lived there.
Ritz and his companions had also moved out, so at this hour, it was quiet.
When Edward first entered the royal palace in his youth, his companions had been scattered among several buildings for his safety, including Ritz who served as his guard, but they were no longer there. Even Shasta had left the royal palace and lived outside the castle.
Gazing at the dimly lit royal palace over Gerald's shoulder, Ritz pondered the length of time that had passed. The liveliness of those days appeared before his eyes like an illusion and then vanished.
How long had he run away from this place? Even being here now wasn't something he had decided on his own; he had been brought here by Edward.
That's right. Ritz still hadn't become strong. He had left the capital determined to become strong enough to smile and stay by his companions' sides even as he watched them grow old, but in the end, he had only run away and hadn't become strong at all.
That's why being here now, seeing his companions age before his eyes, was terrifying.
After walking in silence for about twenty minutes, they descended into the basement of the royal palace, and Gerald finally stopped. Then he silently placed his hand on a strangely plain door for one in the royal palace.
"No one will come here at this hour."
The door he opened revealed a room with a ceiling so high that sounds echoed. When Gerald lit a lamp, what emerged from the dim light were dozens of swords. Swords of various sizes were hung all along the walls.
"Huh… so there's a place like this…"
It was a small but well-kept sword training ground.
"It's said to be the royal family's secret training ground. I don't know who made it, but I heard that Father discovered and maintained it."
That was news to him. It must have been after Ritz fled the royal castle. If it had been before, there was no way Ritz wouldn't have known. After all, Ritz had been Edward's main sparring partner.
"Now it's mainly used by Father, myself, and Greig."
I see, so the reason Greig's swordsmanship became so similar to Edward's without anyone knowing was because Edward had been training him here. The mystery of Greig's sword skills was finally solved.
If that was the case, then Gerald must also be receiving instruction from Edward here, right?
"So you train too, Gerald?"
When he asked for confirmation, Gerald gave a small nod.
"In a way, yes…"
"I see. Well, I'm glad you're getting some training, even if it's just 'in a way'."
If Edward had trained him, he should be able to protect himself. If he could at least do that, it was a relief.
But he didn't understand why he had been brought to this place. It didn't seem like Gerald was going to tell him. Glancing at Gerald, he saw him vaguely gazing at the swords hanging on the wall. He was probably looking for a way to start the conversation.
In that case, it would be faster if Ritz initiated.
"You have something to talk to me about, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have brought me all the way here. And it's a conversation you don't want any of the royal family, your subordinates, or the Royal Guard to hear."
Biting his lip, Gerald looked up and turned around.
"Yes. You're right, Ritz-san."
He called Ritz with a title of respect. It was probably out of respect for Ritz as his father's friend. But from Ritz's perspective, it was like a shackle that Gerald used to confine himself.
Let's start by breaking this down.
"Ritz is fine."
"But… you are my father's friend."
He said this hesitantly and lowered his gaze. Ritz could see that he was slightly timid towards him. It wasn't that he was afraid, but that he was showing respect to Ritz, who looked younger.
But a humble and polite attitude, if overdone, was unnecessary between people who were about to work together to destroy a drug syndicate. In the first place, this overly humble attitude was an obstacle to making Gerald aware that he would become the head of state of this country.
"True, I'm Ed's friend. But Gerald, depending on you, I can be your friend too."
"But…"
"You're humble. And you're polite. I'm sure that's a valuable part of your character. I don't have that, after all. But that's not all there is to building relationships."
"But you are one of the heroes of national salvation, alongside my father. I am not even worthy to stand at your feet."
"Ed is a hero, sure. But I'm not."
"You are. You, who my father placed his absolute trust in and who supported him on the front lines, are also a hero who saved this country."
A great father. So great that the son feels so small in comparison and shrinks away. As a result, he doesn't even see Ritz as an individual, but simply respects and fears him as his father's friend.
Ritz thought of himself as a man who couldn't do anything on his own. He had run and run, and in the end, he was just a being who trembled in fear of the difference in lifespan in front of his companions.
But the image of Ritz, veiled by Edward, probably looked faintly dazzling.
He took off his monocle and scratched his head. How could he break through this reservation of Gerald's? If only Edward had lived as carefreely as Ritz's father, Karl, then Gerald might have been able to live more at ease. But that was asking for the impossible.
Watching the silent Gerald's face, a mischievous idea came to him. There was a genius at shortening distances right near him, wasn't there? That straightforward, unwavering girl.
Ritz firmly grasped both of Gerald's hands with his own. Gerald looked up with a start, and Ritz peered down into his face from above, a broad smile on his own.
"R-Ritz-san?"
"If we have a nice chat, then we're all friends. So we're friends now!"
"!!"
At Ritz's sudden high-pitched, fake voice and the grip on his hands, Gerald was so taken aback he was speechless, stumbling back half a step. But letting go now would be meaningless.
"We became friends today, so let's get along!"
"Wh-What are you!"
Letting go of the flustered, wide-eyed Gerald who was trying to back away, Ritz forcefully clapped both of Gerald's shoulders with strength.
"Ouch… Ritz-san?"
"I'm imitating our Anna."
"Ah…"
Gerald, of course, knew Anna. Anna had introduced herself to Patricia and Gerald in the same way she had to Edward, by grabbing both their hands and shaking them vigorously.
'You're the Queen and the Prince! It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Anna Myers!'
He had hesitantly shaken her hand back, and Gerald had been embarrassed, quietly saying, 'Prince is a little… at my age.'
"Anna is always like this. No matter who I am, who you are, or what Ed is, she tries to become friends based on her own feelings. True, it causes a lot of trouble, but still, she's expanding her world this way."
"…That's true."
"In fact, right now, she's living with a friend she made just like that."
Of course, that was Joe. Now officially known as Josephine Clayton, she was currently Anna's best friend and Ritz's one and only self-proclaimed apprentice.
As if slightly relaxed, Gerald smiled.
"I see, that's just like Anna-chan."
"Right? That's Anna for you."
At Ritz's knowing nod, Gerald showed a smile without reservation for the first time. Well, well, it seemed they could now face the investigation as equals.
"Gerald, I'm Ed and Shasta's friend, but I'm also Anna and Franz's irresponsible guardian. When I go to a pub, I'm a cheerful mercenary brother, and when I go home, I'm a prodigal, unfilial son."
Gerald, who didn't seem to understand the meaning of Ritz's sudden string of words, simply stared at him in silence. Ritz continued, unfazed.
"You have your own eyes, your own ears, and your own feelings."
"…Yes."
"How do I look to you, not through Ed's eyes?"
"…Like a friendly… person… I think."
"Right? You weren't looking at me until now. You were looking at Ritz Alster, the hero king's right-hand man, not me. Don't decide your own measure from the start with the rulers your father or Shasta set. Open your eyes properly and look with your own eyes."
A faint light seemed to dawn in Gerald's expression.
"Is that really okay?"
"Of course it is. Those eyeballs of yours aren't just for decoration, are they?"
As if savoring his own feelings for the first time, Gerald nodded, small but firm.
"Yes."
"Then use them effectively. You're the next king, after all. The most important thing is to see with your own eyes and think. You need to have knowledge, too, but even if you have it, it's no good if you don't look, right?"
"…That's true."
Gerald's tense cheeks relaxed. He might have been able to let go a little. What Ritz gave him was just a nudge. But if this became a step toward making him realize his position as a leader of men, then that was good enough.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
When Ritz finally asked, Gerald smiled.
"…I wanted to ask if I was suitable for the mission my father ordered me on, but…"
"Huh? I didn't quite hear you."
When he deliberately ignored the honorifics, Gerald gave a small laugh and rephrased.
"I just have to do my best as the commander, right?"
"Yes. That's right."
When he nodded, Gerald took a sword that seemed to be his from the wall with a look of understanding. At the sight, Ritz almost burst out laughing.
The posture was ridiculously similar to his father, Edward's. Even though he had received sword instruction, this was his posture. Honestly, no matter what he said about his father being great, in the end, this father and son were alike.
…And probably a little on the inside, too.
"Thank you, Ritz."
"I didn't do anything."
He had just pointed out a small fraction of the potential he already possessed.
"You can thank Anna for that later."
"True. She's amazing."
Turning his back on Gerald, Ritz took a sword from the wall that seemed to suit him and took a stance.
"Since we're at it, how about it? A match?"
Gerald, still holding his sword, smiled at the sight of Ritz. The apprehension and tension he felt towards Ritz had become a faint thing, replaced by a greater sense of trust.
"Sounds good, I'll be your opponent."
As the two faced each other, Gerald suddenly seemed to have an idea and asked Ritz.
"By the way, who is my observer? You know, don't you, Ritz?"
Indeed, for Gerald, who knew nothing, there was no way he could have figured out who had been appointed as the observer from that exchange alone.
Ritz smiled and pointed at himself.
"Apparently, it's a relative of the Minister, a guy also named Ritz. At least, that's Ed's idea."
"That's good. If it's a relative of the Minister and my friend, there's no need for us to hold back with each other."
"Exactly. Make sure you keep up the act, Gerald."
The two of them laughed together for the first time.
Ritz had a fleeting thought that the unbearable sense of loneliness he had felt earlier might gradually be filled over time through interactions with the next generation, like Edward and Shasta's…
—But that alone is not enough for a person to live. Loneliness kills people. Especially the weak-hearted like Ritz, who are despised by their own kind and continue to search for a place to belong.
Ritz let out a self-deprecating smile for a moment, and so that Gerald wouldn't notice, he immediately changed his expression to a cheerful one.
"Alright, come at me from anywhere!"
"Alright!"
No one yet knew that someone was secretly watching the two as they crossed swords with a childish shout.