Chapter 269 : Chapter 269
Chapter 269 : O King, May You Enjoy an Era of Peace and Prosperity (2)
The officials who had acted as Zisair's limbs were all busy trying to evade responsibility for the situation.
The foolish king had proven to the whole world with his own hands that he was of a usurper's bloodline, and the royal family's holy relic had personally declared who its true master was. With even their mental pillar, Zisair, having fainted in vain, they had neither the justification nor the strength to hold out any longer.
Without caring who was first, the guards, too, threw down their spear shafts. The heads of the Imperial Capital military turned their backs.
"T-This is invalid! That bitch used a trick! Right now, drag that bitch down right noooow!"
The scream he let out with bloodshot eyes was beyond pathetic; it was downright foul. It was to the point that even the citizens frowned and looked away.
Soon, Gunt stepped forward. His gaze, looking down at his cousin and king, straddled the ambiguous border between contempt and pity.
"Step down before you suffer a greater humiliation."
"John! You traitor! How dare you be so ungrateful and do this to—"
"Now is a time that requires a truce."
Philinus II's eyebrows twitched. The truce Gunt spoke of was, in fact, an ultimatum telling him to step back for now and quietly beg for his life at the very least, but he distortedly accepted it as some sort of secret negotiation proposal.
Philinus II stole a glance at Adeline past Gunt, then let out a needless fake cough and straightened his attire.
"......Now that I hear it, you're right. Anyway, Adel is a sibling who shares blood with me, is she not? Since this commotion stemmed from a misunderstanding, I shall consider it as a member of the family saving my face."
He nervously ripped off the epaulet of his bloodstained cloak and headed toward his chambers with his head held high, as if he were a generous victor.
***
"W-What did you just say......?"
Philinus II's black pupils, the size of pinky fingernails, trembled finely.
It was right after hearing Gunt's recommendation to obediently abdicate the throne to Adeline and preserve his life.
"......Am I dreaming right now?"
He sat on the throne and blankly looked around the interior of the audience chamber.
The spots for the retainers who used to line up beneath his feet and bow their heads were completely empty. Even the guards were nowhere to be seen.
Above all, the empty seats of Zisair and Ternien, who had always reliably guarded his sides, felt piercingly vacant.
CRUNCH, CRUNCH.
Philinus II obsessively bit his fingernails. For some reason, his body felt chilly. Only the cold air settling down from the lofty ceiling filled the vast hall.
The once-splendid audience chamber felt like a massive stone tomb. Gunt, standing alone in front of him, looked like a grim reaper who had come to take him away.
"S-Something...... must definitely be wrong. John, why are you standing on Adel's side? Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge over your uncle's matter?"
"......"
"Why on earth! Both you and Adel, why are you digging up things that ended in the previous generation now! My father said so. There is no one as foolish as a guy who drags yesterday's karma into tomorrow!"
Philinus II looked up at Gunt. His already bulging eyelids were swollen tight like lumps from crying so much.
"Why would a smart guy like you do this! You can just live comfortably for the rest of your life enjoying the luxuries of royalty like before! Please...... please let's pretend this never happened, okay? John, I'm doing this because I'm genuinely terrified."
Gunt merely stood silently and stared at Philinus II. His emotionless pupils fully captured the ugly downfall of a man.
"W-What about Zisair? They say he's still unconscious? Ah......! Right, of course. Since it's come to this, I'll kick Zisair out and appoint you as Chancellor. Now that I see it, that man was nothing but a toothless old lion! Dammit! How about it, John? You like it too, right? Breaking the royal family's long-standing unwritten rule, you can—"
"......Lucian."
Philinus II wanted to cover his ears. He didn't want to hear anything.
A sorrowful voice gently pressed down on his chest.
"It's all over."
Gunt furrowed his brow. His throat stung. In the end, he too had donned the yoke of politics he had hated so much and was driving a human being to the edge of a cliff.
He calmly raised his eyes.
'John Langdros Aleos', whom he thought had died a long time ago, was right before his eyes.
"......It's our fate. Accept it."
"John......!"
"It might be hard to believe, but I...... have never once resented you until now."
Gunt stopped speaking for a moment. He asked himself why he brought this up.
Whether it was a victor's mockery, a final act of pity for a fellow kin, or the self-consolation of a cowardly and weak man......
Everything was fine. It didn't matter. He had looked forward to this for a long time. If someone had to become the executioner to smash this cursed yoke, he prayed it would be him.
"Tonight, I will send someone to your chambers. Stay in hiding until the new King establishes the foundation of state affairs and completely purges the forces of your maternal family, the Falcon Family. Once everything is settled, I will let you return to the family to spend the rest of your life quietly."
Gunt turned around immediately.
Still, he desperately wanted to convey these words at least.
"I hope you survive and live on."
It was sincere.
***
Gunt headed straight to Adeline.
The entire royal palace was in the midst of clutter and commotion. As the crowd gathered in the Pantheon poured out all at once, all sorts of loud shouts flew about in every passage.
The awe of those who witnessed a miracle and the agitation of the nobles who watched the subversion of power right before their eyes mixed together, creating a scene truly reminiscent of chaos. Amidst it all, soldiers screamed at the top of their lungs from all directions to herd the wave of chaos outside the royal palace.
When Gunt crossed through that busy gap and arrived at Adeline's temporary office, the place had already become the heart of the new power and was operating breathlessly.
An emergency response council, centered around the strategist Henry, was engaged in a heated debate to resolve the situation.
"We have conveyed to the invited guests to prioritize regret and stability regarding the situation. Since we assigned receptionists tailored to their previously identified preferences, we've essentially succeeded in tying their feet and keeping their mouths shut for now. We can consider the urgent fire put out."
"If the gap in the coronation ceremony lengthens, public sentiment will be uncontrollably agitated. We must hold the ceremony again, even if it's tomorrow, to nail down internally and externally who the true master of this country is."
Amidst the pouring reports, Adeline stood upright as if bearing the weight of the throne with her entire body.
Only when she sensed Gunt's approaching presence did she raise her head.
"......"
"......"
They merely exchanged a glance without a word. As if that alone was enough, the two left the commotion behind and moved their steps to a quiet corridor.
"Will you really be alright with this?"
Gunt spoke first. It was a question that omitted the subject, but Adeline immediately understood its meaning.
"Having his life intact is beneficial to me in many ways. No, it would be more accurate to say that it would actually be bothersome if he died."
Gunt inwardly clicked his tongue. He strongly felt once again what the qualities of a true monarch were.
It was the decisive trait that Philinus II—and even he, who was born with royal blood—lacked.
'The ruthless political sense required of the master of the throne.'
A shudder ran down his spine. He parted his lips as if he had more to say, but soon folded them.
His following voice was much crisper.
"I didn't know you had grasped the tastes of the guests invited to the coronation ceremony in such meticulous detail. It was surprising. When did you finish such preparations in that short amount of time?"
There was a reason why the nobles were relatively quiet despite a commotion bordering on high treason having occurred.
The fact that the master of the subverted power was the Duke of Conwell, the strongest feudal lord in the Kingdom, played a large part, but the 'customized reception' arranged to suit each noble's preferences played a significant role.
To those who enjoyed hunting, they assigned veteran hunters and sneaked them away to fertile hunting grounds near the Imperial Capital, and to those who coveted poetry and song, they attached the era's foremost bards as their exclusive attendants. For the minority thirsting for knowledge, Gunt pulled strings to pair them with eminent scholars of the Academy and the Magic Corps.
Of course, since most were blind to entertainment, turning their gazes away was not too difficult.
"Because the preparations are too perfect, wouldn't there be rumors that you've been planning a rebellion for a long time instead?"
It was truly a flawlessly designed board.
Adeline shook her head. The answer that returned was firm.
"Hoping to keep one's hands clean while reclaiming the throne from a usurper would be a huge greed in itself."
"......Your words are absolutely correct."
Adeline immediately changed the topic. Her tone suggested she didn't care about such trivial reputations.
"Is it still not done? It should be about time to find his whereabouts by now."
Gunt put strength into his closed lips. The sole existence that disturbed the Queen's mood.
'Bihen Benkou.'
Gunt weighed where to begin before slowly opening his mouth.
"Yes. His whereabouts are unknown after the final report that he was engrossed in ancient texts regarding Tristan at the Academy."
"......"
Tristan. The largest Demonic Realm in the West.
In Bihen's past life, it was a hunting ground for the Imperial Army, and now, it was the place facing off against the Shadow Legion at the underground border of Grimbalt Prison.
"Didn't you expect it? The fact that he wouldn't appear at the coronation ceremony."
Adeline's brow furrowed slightly. It was exactly as Gunt said. Even if the royal palace was opened to commoners, letting a foreigner deep inside the royal palace had a different meaning.
There was no way Bihen would do something that could invite public gossip.
"......How on earth did Bihen know? That the crown used for the coronation was real."
At that question, the words Bihen had spoken in the underground sewer brushed past Gunt's mind.
—It seems there's only one method left now.
Gunt had felt it intuitively at that time.
Since his own plan to swap the fake crown to be used at the coronation with the real 'Crown of Suffering' had failed, he thought this man would ultimately choose the radical path of assassinating the King with his status as an Imperial citizen, taking the title of a traitor upon himself.
He believed Bihen was designing a reckless and desperate sacrifice to pave the way for Adeline while bearing all the infamy.
However, as if he were a person who had come back from the future, Bihen predicted today's events, and consequently, he was chillingly accurate.
'The crown for the coronation will be real from the beginning.'
It was a realm entirely impossible to know unless one was in cahoots with the enemies.
Even so, Adeline firmly believed and followed his words without an inch of doubt.
To Gunt, it was a nonsensical trust he could not understand at all, but the result was, for all to see, Bihen's victory.
'But why on earth...... did he vanish at this point in time?'
Gunt exhaled the sigh he had been holding back. The massive ripple Bihen left behind weighed down a corner of his heart. He would feel more at ease if Bihen showed himself around now and mocked him with that distinctively arrogant and brazen tone, but the fact that it kept bothering him felt very uncomfortable.
"There's definitely a reason why Bihen is doing this."
Gunt raised his eyes. Adeline calmly continued speaking.
"In the meantime, we just have to do what we can do."
Turning around without lingering attachment, Adeline moved her steps back to the temporary office.
Gunt stood blankly and watched her receding back. No matter how much he thought about it, the Queen's detached attitude was beyond common sense.
'......'
He was several steps below in everything. In wisdom, in politics, and perhaps even in love.
That was why, let alone understand, he couldn't even catch a glimpse of a single hair of theirs—Gunt bitterly mocked himself.
"Commander, so you were here."
Suddenly, a voice was heard from behind.
"Ah, Sir Ludsilla."
Turning around, Knight Commander Ludsilla was standing there. She was right in the middle of moving hurriedly somewhere with her subordinates in tow.
At her faint smile briefly reflecting past her helmet, Gunt also lightly returned the gesture.
'......'
Anyway—
The lonely revolution that the human named Gunt had borne all by himself was also over with this.
***
CLOP, CLOP—
The sound of horse hooves echoed bleakly over the desolate field where the deep blue dusk had settled.
It was the carriage ridden by the fallen King, Philinus II.
"......"
Philinus II, the man who had now become Lucian, slightly pulled back the curtain with trembling hands and looked out the window.
What on earth was this situation? He still couldn't feel the reality of the current state of affairs where he plummeted into the abyss overnight. He just felt like he was trapped in a terrible nightmare.
'Where am I going......?'
Just as Gunt had said, two people visited his bedroom. Even when he asked, they gave no answer.
'Where on earth is the Palace Official, and what is she doing that she hasn't even shown her face yet......?'
Those who used to judge what he should do and where he should go on his behalf were no longer by his side. His mind was entirely pitch-black like a night sky where not an inch ahead could be seen.
'Not a single star can be seen. They used to be so visible as if they would pour down from the royal palace's terrace.'
It was the moment he clicked his tongue and closed the curtain.
CLUNK.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. It was a peaceful stop without any warning or recoil.
Cold sweat flowed down his spine at the silence that was even cozy, as if he were sinking into some swamp.
CREAAK.
The carriage door opened. Lucian's eyes widened as if they would pop out.
"B-Batz......!?"
Batz, resting his arm aslant on the carriage doorframe, merely tilted his head. He had his mouth curled all the way up as if he had discovered an amusing toy.
"How does it feel to be kicked out of your home, Your Majesty?"
Saying so, he casually extended his hand as if telling him to step down.
Lucian barely suppressed the tears that threatened to burst out at any moment. Honestly, he wanted to throw away his pride and everything else and sob out loud.
"What on earth are you doing! It's not funny at allll—!"
"Hahaha, please step down first."
Lucian grabbed his hand and stepped out of the carriage.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, he was frightened out of his wits upon seeing the coachman's severed head rolling near his feet, but that was not the problem right now.
It was the moment tears of unfairness and sorrow welled up and he was about to ask and argue something.
"Your Majesty."
At the low voice, Lucian turned his head.
Sitting on a large tree stump was Zisair. He wore a tranquil smile.