Chapter 121 — In which attempts at sharing but not sharing information are made (5)

  Scarlen was crossing the archmage's manor with a somewhat grim face.

  He was dismissed from his lord's side again, this time under the excuse of seeing their new guest — his uncle.

  Or perhaps a new prisoner?

  Was an attempt at the Saint’s life a crime?

  Scarlen thought that from Rubrun's perspective it would be a good thing if something happened to the Saint.

  While Rubrun and Flavun were in internal turmoil, Purplus remained stable.

  That didn't lay well with him.

  Perhaps the rumors about the Saint controlling people's minds was true after all.

  But if he said that they should consider making their own attempt, Crimo and Vern would have his head instead.

  Especially Vern, he saw how he looked at his uncle when he mentioned what he did.

  So maybe his uncle was a prisoner?

  A special kind.

  It didn't seem like Purplus wanted to make a big fuss about it.

  Perhaps they didn't even expect him to be punished?

  It was quite strange actually how they sneaked him in...

  'No, perhaps that's exactly their goal...'

  Scarlen suddenly stopped in his tracks.

  Didn't it make sense if he thought about it in this way?

  His uncle said that he couldn't remember what happened to him for the last 100 years.

  Wasn't it possible that the priests brainwashed him to put him under their control?

  And that assassination attempt was all a farce?

  Like, what a damn luck one must have to find their light just at that moment?

  But if it was a set-up, then it was a different story.

  Scarlen started to nod to himself, deeply convinced.

  “Boss?”

  He looked up, only to find Cuprit, his old employee and Sangria’s new adoptive younger-older brother, standing in front of him with a tray of food.

  Scarlen was pleased to see that the boy looked healthy and clean.

  It seemed that the adoption forced upon Sangria was doing Cuprit and his two sisters good.

  Speaking of Sangria and Cuprit’s two sisters, he saw them a moment ago.

  Initially, Sangria was going to visit Iben, his uncle, with him, but he was suddenly dragged off by the twin sisters, who insisted that their ‘older brother’ has to help them with the report Crimo ordered.

  “Boss?”

  When Cuprit worriedly called out to him again, Scarlen finally came back to his senses.

  “I’m not your boss anymore, Grandmaster Scarlen is fine.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.”

  “Mm, what are you doing?”

  “I was ordered to bring food to the… ‘guest’.”

  Cuprit said the word guest with a particular intonation.

  It sounded a bit awkward as if he tried to repeat someone else.

  That someone was probably Vern, as Crimo was still a bit out of his mind and seemed to have forgotten about Iben, once they moved on from his topic.

  Still, no matter how much Scarlen commended Iben for his assassination attempt, he wasn’t a ‘guest’ that should be casually met.

  Especially not with what he just figured out.

  ‘Young Master Vern should know it… Why did he send Cuprit then?’

  Scarlen found it suspicious.

  In fact, it wasn’t the first time he found Vern’s actions strange and eerie, but he always held back on his doubts in consideration for Crimo.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  This time he also pushed down his doubts and asked:

  “How were you to deliver it?”

  “I was to put it on the shifting circle outside the room.”

  Shift magic was a type of a very simplified and small scale teleportation magic.

  Scarlen sighed in relief.

  It appeared his suspicions were unfounded this time.

  ‘But Young Master knows some spiritual arts…’

  Scarlen remembered how Vern watched his conversation with Grandmaster Pomegra through a honeyguide.

  It was a simple trick that anyone with basic knowledge of spiritual arts could do, but where did Vern obtain those basics?

  Scarlen shook his head again.

  “I’ll take care of it, so just leave it to me.”

  Scarlen tried to take the tray, but Cuprit hesitated and looked at him suspiciously.

  “Boss— I mean, Grandmaster. You aren’t going to spill it all out when no one is looking, right?”

  Scarlen blinked.

  It seemed that his experiments with how to break Crimo’s anti-spilling spell were greatly misunderstood.

  “Noo….”

  “Why are you saying ‘no’ like this?”

  “I’m just dumbstruck by the image of me you have.”

  Cuprit finally, very slowly, let go of the tray.

  He stared at Scarlen for a few seconds, apparently making sure the man was really holding the tray properly, and then sluggishly retreated.

  “…”

  Scarlen promised to himself to keep his coffee experiments private from now on.

  *-*-*

  “Ah… it’s you.”

  Iben tried to greet him, but realizing that he never asked for Scarlen’s name, he ended up awkwardly fumbling with his words.

  Scarlen first quickly checked Iben from head to toe.

  The man appeared to have had a rough night if he slept at all.

  His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was unkempt and his beard had traces of powder left from his yesterday's disguise.

  He looked at Scarlen with open embarrassment over how he should ask for his name.

  It was so obvious, Scarlen wondered if people 100 years ago were always so open about their social slip-ups.

  "It's Scarlen."

  "Ah, yes. Thank you." Iben nodded quickly, and then slowly added. "That's an unusual name."

  "I prefer this one."

  "... I see."

  Iben didn't question it any further, and Scarlen changed the topic.

  "I brought you breakfast."

  He placed down the tray.

  "Thank youu…"

  Iben's voice trailed off, as he looked down at the soup.

  He appeared to regard the piece of carrot with excessive attention.

  "Something wrong?"

  "No. Nothing like that. I just remembered something."

  He blushed slightly, and picked up a spoon.

  But he didn't seem particularly hungry as he put it down after a few sips.

  "If I may ask... What is our connection?"

  Iben explained his genealogy tree as proof of his identity, but he had no idea how Scarlen, who was much younger, was fitting into it.

  "I'm a son of Kerose. I don't know anything about the other parent."

  "...ah. Kerose, huh? I remember her as a little girl.”

  Iben carefully examined Scarlen's face, as if searching for traces of the mother in her son.

  Scarlen shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Thankfully, his uncle didn't touch on this subject any longer, instead falling into deep thoughts.

  A few minutes of murky silence passed between them.

  Finally, Scarlen could no longer restrain himself and asked:

  "Why are protecting that person?"

  "Huh?"

  "The person who you teleported. Why hide their identity?"

  Iben was silent for a second.

  Suddenly his face didn't feel as easy to read as before.

  "Why do you want to know that person's identity?"

  "My Lord was almost murdered."

  Iben's eyebrow twitched, perhaps he was hearing about it for the first time.

  "You're awfully loyal."

  "..."

  "Is it the clan’s chosen politic?"

  "No. It's my own conviction."

  "Like your name?"

  Iben's lip curled up in a cruel grin.

  Scarlen just raised an eyebrow.

  "Why? Should I not be dedicated to the ruler of 'our' home?"

  He stressed the word 'our'.

  But Iben didn't even bat an eyelid when he said:

  "I can't say. I'm afraid that my home and its ruler has been gone for 100 years already."

  Only then did Scarlen realize that Iben's mockery was not directed at him.

  "... My apologies. I was insensitive."

  "... She wasn't this polite... Don't apologize. It’s me who should be sorry. I realize that I'm being brash."

  "It's okay. I'm used to similar comments."

  "—Anyway. As I said before, if that person didn't reveal his identity, it's probably best for me to remain quiet."

  "Why is that?"

  Iben paused for a second, gathering his thoughts.

  "From what I gathered, Rubrun and Purplus' relationship isn't that good, right?"

  “Why would they be? Quite hard to be on friendly terms, when they killed His Reverence Vermillian.”

  “That’s… a theory.”

  Scarlen raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Do you disagree with it?”

  “Frankly speaking I never thought about it much until recently. My people… I mean, hundred years ago, we didn’t see it this way. Our relationship with Purplus was by no means good, but the tensions had nothing to do with His Reverence’s death. The records only said he died in the battle with his siblings. Hard to extrapolate on that.”

  “Isn’t ‘died in the battle with’ speaking for itself?”

  “That’s….”

  Iben muddled over it, as he stroked his beard.

  Make-up powder fell to the floor.

  “The... owners of the place I was staying at actually mentioned something about it before. Language is full of traps. In their records it also said that Amaranth died fighting with his siblings, but 'with' doesn't specify if he fought against or for his siblings. They lamented that this language obtuseness can be exploited by malicious forces to seek discord.”

  “… What about the… your tragedy?”

  “You think it was some sort of religious show? Is that how it’s seen now? Purplus fanatics carrying out revenge for their beloved ruler on the people of Rubrun?”

  “…”

  “Let me be clear. My family didn’t die for such a flimsy reason. They were trying to do something. Something that also concerned Purplus. I don’t know the details, I was too young at the time to take part in the family secret gathering, but I saw Purplus big players visit my grandparents.”

  Iben spoke with fire in his eyes.

  Anger and hatred mixed together, but their target was unknown.

  Scattered.

  “That’s why they all gathered that night. There was a gathering. And then, someone betrayed them. Or maybe information leaked. I don’t know. But an ‘attack out of fanaticism’? That’s just cover up, probably by someone trying to hide the truth.”

  “… I see.”

  Scarlen’s thoughts and feelings became complicated.

  Could he really trust Iben’s judgment?

  But if Iben couldn’t see the truth of those events, then who else could decide?

  “If you can give me the names of the people who visited your grandparents, I can check on them. Doesn’t matter if they’re alive or dead.”

  “Even if I give you their names it will be difficult to check on them from Rubrun. You would have to go to Purplus—.”

  “That’s where I’m going. Apparently.”

  Iben, who was about to pick up the spoon again, paused.

  “You’re going to Purplus?”

  His eyes shined ominously.

  Scarlen instinctively tensed up, feeling that something very awkward was about to take place.

  “Take me with you. I need to go. I have to see my light and tell him something.”

  The barely returned citizen of Rubrun, and de facto prisoner of their state, wanted to go on a trip.

  *-*-*

  Few days later.

  Scarlen, Sangria and Iben departed to Purplus.

  The envoy of Flavun, Citrie, arrived in Rubrun.

  And the envoy of Purplus, Phlox, arrived in Flavun.

  All those news delighted the three siblings, who were scheming to arrange those meetings.

  For the sake of the country of course.

  *~*~*