SYMDF 37

Chapter 37

 

* * *  

The heavy gates of the Imperial Palace creaked open, and the Emperor’s splendid carriage rolled forth. Behind it followed a long procession of the Noah Knight Order, sworn protectors of the royal house.  

 

Rumors had circulated for a year and a half since the notoriously steadfast Emperor O’Brien was bedridden by illness. Whispers openly spread that his life was near its end. Yet, in an unexpected decision, the Emperor resolved to visit Iodin in the North, where his eldest illegitimate son, long known as a bastard, resided.  

 

Today marked the first day of that journey. Crowds gathered like clouds to witness the Emperor’s rare departure beyond the palace gates, filling the air with an atmosphere more of buzzing excitement than solemnity.  

 

“Why would the Emperor go to Iodin all of a sudden?”  

“Perhaps seeing his death near, he longs for his son.”  

“They say the Marcher Lord there is formidable.”  

“Indeed, since he moved to Iodin, not a single monster has attacked the nearby towns.”  

 

As chatter of Camillus Clodel, the Marcher Lord guarding Iodin, reached Ion’s ears, he paused.  

 

“…”  

 

Eight years had passed since Camillus left the capital. His renown had grown enough to reach even passing conversation.  

 

“Young master.”  

 

Sir Ernst, Ion’s escort knight, beckoned. Ion gasped softly and pressed forward through the crowd, his green eyes fixed on the Emperor’s carriage.  

 

Soon, the carriage door opened before the people. The frail Emperor appeared, waving weakly, prompting a roar of cheers.  

 

“Waaaa!”  

“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”  

 

It was a voice of reverence for a ruler who had governed well for over two decades. Ion, ears ringing with the uproar, fixed his gaze ahead and turned to Ernst with a question.  

 

“Is it really true the Emperor is going to Iodin?”  

 

Ion found it hard to fathom that the man who had once banished his son North would now seek him out—especially at the brink of death. He suspected another motive but held his doubts.  

 

“Yes, young master. I too found it hard to believe. I verified through several sources. It’s definite—the Emperor is bound for Iodin.”  

 

Ion followed the carriage slowly, watching the Emperor seated inside. The once graying Monarch was now almost unrecognizable, his hair nearly all white before, now more black remained. Yet his feeble form had wasted into near ruin: gaunt arms, lined face, and undeniably lifeless eyes.  

 

Judging coldly, Ion thought,  

 

“…The Emperor’s days are numbered. Yet he journeys to find the son he once banished? Vernian’s face must be something to see.”  

 

“Lately he’s become even more violent. Just recently, Count Gaisien’s daughter, a servant of the Empress palace, was expelled from the Crown Prince’s favor.”  

 

“Whatever happened?”  

 

Ernst’s voice lowered near Ion. Cautious to avoid Palace gossip, he whispered.  

 

“She wore a dress with blue cloth and black lace. It was said to invoke the Marcher Lord and was accused of worshipping him. The rest you can guess.”  

 

“Madness.”  

 

Ion scoffed quietly and turned away, signaling not to linger. Ernst cleared the way ahead.  

 

Just as nearly out of the crowd, Ernst called out,  

 

“Young master!”  

 

Startled, Ion’s arm was suddenly grasped. Without even a moment to react, he was pulled and bumped into a solid body.  

 

“Ugh!”  

 

“That’s better, Ion.”  

 

The familiar voice made Ion frown fiercely. His gaze shot upward to the figure who now wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  

 

“Your Highness.”  

 

Vernian stood tall, smiling down at Ion while holding him close.  

 

The moment Ion recognized him, he swatted away the hand on his shoulder and took a step back. Crowds pressed in closely, brushing bodies, and Vernian seized the moment to pull Ion back again.  

 

Ernst rushed to shield Ion, but could not brandish his sword against the Crown Prince. Vernian’s triumphant grin widened.  

 

“You’re still so easy to see from afar, Ion. Must be because you’re pretty.”  

 

“Release your hand. It’s unpleasant.”  

 

Ion furrowed brows sharply at Vernian’s brazen teasing. He spoke his demands directly, but Vernian ignored all manners.  

 

“Let’s go. This place is too difficult for you.”  

 

Vernian dragged Ion away from the crowd. Ernst hurried after to keep up but could do little else.  

 

At a quieter spot, Ion shook off Vernian’s grip again. Surprised, Vernian smiled slyly while watching Ernst lead Ion onward.  

 

“Pretending not to care about His Majesty’s procession, but you were curious, weren’t you?”  

 

Ion glanced at the system window appearing in his vision and shook his head in disbelief.  

 

[Status Effect: Favor]  

[Vernian Ferrendo Clodel feels favor toward the player.]  

 

*The system must be broken.*  

 

He denied the message and answered calmly,  

 

“…I was just passing by and watching for a moment.”  

 

Ion regretted ever stopping to watch and dwell on Vernian.  

 

“Didn’t you want to see me?”  

 

“Have I gone mad?”  

 

“Mad because of you.”  

 

“…”  

 

As Vernian stepped closer, Ion backed away in kind. Ernst wedged himself tighter between them. He spoke next.  

 

“Your Highness, the young master has an appointment shortly behind us, and we must move quickly. Please understand.”  

 

“Why state the obvious? Of course I won’t understand.”  

 

“Come, Alex.”  

 

Without words working, ignoring was best. Years of enduring him had taught Ion this as he turned away from the Prince. The path home was the same either way.  

 

But behind Ion: Vernian’s annoyed voice again.  

 

“When will I get an answer to my marriage proposal?”  

 

Ion froze, then fixed his gaze sourly on Vernian.  

 

“Is that some childish joke I am supposed to play along with?”  

 

“It’s not a joke.”  

 

Vernian’s trademark light tone and cocky attitude returned.  

 

A few days ago a letter arrived from Vernian himself, bearing a proposal of marriage to Ion Jemel Craiger of the Craiger family.  

 

Ion had immediately shredded the royal seal as a foolish prank, not letting such nonsense waste his thoughts or disturb his housekeeper.  

 

Though among the nobles, illegitimate concubines were common, no one of such rank had ever been formally married. And Vernian as Crown Prince was utterly unfit for such notions.  

 

Yet Vernian persisted with nonsense:  

 

“Marry me, Ion, and I’ll treat you well. I want you to bear my child.”  

 

Ion laughed quietly and hardened his expression.  

 

“Perhaps the court physician should examine whether Your Highness’s mind is clouded.”  

 

He turned away without another word. Ernst followed, sharing his disbelief.  

 

“Why does he behave like that?”  

 

“That bastard’s motives are none of my concern.”  

 

Coldly rebuking himself, Ion headed toward the market. After a few steps the breath escaped him; he inhaled deeply and Ernst hastened to catch his hand and steady him.  

 

“Are you all right, young master?”  

 

[Current death probability: 24%.]  

 

Ion nodded at the slightly raised number compared to his departure from his room.  

 

“For now.”