Chapter 446: Sibling Rivalry

Prince Tristan Contzen rarely visited Reitzlake Castle these days.It was a far cry from how he spent his youth. He’d taken the road between his family’s official residence and the kingdom’s seat of power so often that he could remember his favourite pebbles along the way.

But that was then. And this was now.

As the commander of the Loerstadt Gate, he was the shield of the kingdom against its most prominent threat. And while he believed he was ill-suited for the task, it was not his place to choose his duties. 

Only to do them as best as he was able.

To his knights, he was The Prince Of A Thousand Gazes, and Tristan needed all of them to keep watch of the shadows encroaching upon the kingdom’s eastern border.

Even so, it was more than vigilance that kept him from visiting his favourite archives beneath the castle, filled with everything from study notes on geology to personal accounts of battles, plots and treason so monumental that history would shift if they were ever released.

As the second prince, his duty was to go where the heir to the crown did not. 

It was a cold reality of royal life. 

Pragmatism demanded that his siblings floated like pollen to the wind, ensuring that the approval and authority of the royal family was present throughout the kingdom. 

This was truer still when it came to Roland and himself. 

It was no coincidence that the Loerstadt Gate was as far away from Reitzlake as the map would allow. They were both princely lanterns, drawing all the moths towards them. And little would be gained by allowing the same one to nibble on both.

As such, the only times the two princes were now regularly seen together were for the most formal occasions. Or barring that, to plan for them.

Summer was the season of intrigue. 

More events would be held in the coming weeks and months than all the rest of the year together. There was much for the two princes to discuss. And yet as they deliberated within the Crown Prince’s private study, it wasn’t loyalty which kept the servants from stealing a word as they passed by the door.

It was the weight of the darkness exuding from within.

Not even the knights tasked with guarding the door dared to stray too close. They kept their distance while gulping, fearful of what secrets were being exchanged. 

Because right now–

“Unnnghhhhhhhhh …”

“Ghhhnnnn …”

“Unnnngghhhh …”

“Ghhnnnnnn …”

Two princes were doing something they could only do when together.

They were being complete and utter sloths.

Hidden from the world, Tristan and Roland were no longer royalty. They were simply brothers. And that meant an opportunity to do away with all thoughts of public image, expectation or cleanliness.

Tristan was lounging on a bean bag, staring up at the ceiling like a drunkard evaluating life. 

Meanwhile, Roland was hunched over his desk, all sense of posture forgotten as he embraced the comforting coolness of the varnished surface.

And that’s how they stayed.

No words. No movement. Just two princes safe in the knowledge that there were no court ladies to impress, no merchants to sway and no spies to deceive. 

It was a moment of calm amidst a storm that never ended.

Eventually, when both had let out their accumulated groans, they restored some sense of posture. And then they sighed instead.

“... Granholtz is keen to expand trade with us,” said Tristan, his voice almost foreign to his own ears, given his successful tactic of saying as little as possible to avoid calamity.

“Oh?” Roland idly dipped a quill into an inkpot over and over again. “In what way?”

“They keep sending merchants to assess the Loerstadt Gate. I recently found them admiring the roof tiles of one of the annex buildings.”

“That seems rather bold by General Visser’s standards.”

“It was not ordered by him, but by his adjutant. There’s widespread belief that we were responsible for catapulting the wyvern into the Rensdraldt Fortress. They’re attempting to learn if our rooftops are engineered to launch large objects.”

“... Are they?”

“No, but it sounds like an excellent idea. I’ll speak with Clarise at the next opportunity.”

Roland gave no hint of rebuttal. 

It was, after all, the sort of thing Clarise could easily achieve.  

“In that case, please let her know that a testing site is available should it interest her. I believe the Citadel of Woe can offer both discretion and a wonderful horizon.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Citadel of Woe. That’s the name the goblins have decided. Or so Florella tells me.”

“The goblins.” Tristan paused. “Oh, you refer to the architects who have taken up residence on the pirate haven.”

“Yes. They’ve decided to name the fortification and then to build with that in mind. Doing so should promote a clear theme.”

Tristan slowly nodded.

“I like it,” he said simply.

“So do I. It has a very straightforward meaning to it. While some visitors will be alarmed, its purpose is to deter the presence of pirates. I believe the name is quite effective.”

“... How much will it cost?”

“There’s no monetary cost involved.”

“Truly?”

“The details are somewhat scarce. But I’m told there’s an arrangement where the goblins will have permanent residence in the fortress. I’ve received communication from the goblin matriarchs informing me of their approval.”

Tristan was surprised.

This was excellent news. And that rarely came from the mountains. 

The goblin matriarchs typically didn’t exchange correspondence with any kingdom. That their approval was given for such a partnership was unprecedented.

It was also deeply confusing.

Marinsgarde was hardly a town where trouble was expected to rise. Yet the reports of the events surrounding it were nothing short of astonishing. And that was even with the very high bar of what constituted astonishing these days.

All Tristan knew was that the Adventurer’s Guild was heavily involved, for ill and for good ... and also that Florella had managed to hire a group of goblin architects to construct a large-scale defensive bastion on an island she herself had briefly been kidnapped to.

He hummed in thought.

“Roland.”

“Yes?”

“... How much do you think Florella is not telling us?”

“Given her personality, as much as she wants.”

Tristan could only smile at that.

It was true. She was extremely kind and benevolent. But Florella also had a wilful streak to her that existed also in their grandmother.

This alone made her the most frightening out of any of them.

There was no doubt she was omitting several letters’ worth of detail in her current island project. But as for what it was, none of them would know until the next family gathering. If they were lucky.

In the end, he simply continued admiring the ceiling.

“I would like a Citadel of Woe as well,” he said with a nod.

Roland chuckled, now much more like a prince than a brother.

It was his way of declining.

“You already have a fortress. There are other places which need one more. Such as everywhere.” 

“Everywhere has done well, then. Given the circumstances, I’d say you’ve truly earned your position as our next king. My congratulations. You will never be allowed to abdicate.”  

Roland raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that nobody would be happier than his younger brother.

He released his quill from the inkpot and brought out a sheet of parchment. As befitting the crown prince, even when he was finally allowed to groan, he would do it while seeing to his tasks.

“Truth be told, I feel I’ve done very little,” he said, his voice musing. “It took all my resources to suspend the violence in Reitzlake. Even then, it required the Adventurer’s Guild to truly end it. They have been exceptional. Timon Quinsley declined a royal commission of acknowledgement, but he accepted a personal token of gratitude. For him and his leading adventurer.”

As he began to neatly scribble away, a curious smile played at his lips.

Tristan understood why.

He’d worn much the same when he’d heard the name of the adventurer who’d done so much for this kingdom. She was, by the sounds of it, everything the Adventurer’s Guild represented.

A heroine who stopped not even for the acclaim of those she aided.

And therefore someone who likely left their bedroom.

“Have you been able to find her? This … ‘Juliette’?” 

“I haven’t. Although I haven’t expended much effort, either. There are far more important things than the gratitude of one or two princes for someone so busy.”

Tristan nodded.

If possible, he wished to offer a reward of his own. More if she was willing to answer his questions. While he didn’t have any catapults capable of launching a wyvern, he did have the testimonies of his guards confirming the presence of an adventurer matching the description he’d heard about.

A beautiful swordswoman with dark hair.

It was a strange coincidence. Enough that he’d had to stop himself from writing a letter to his youngest sister asking if she was currently napping or not.

Even so, as the thought of Juliette being an adventurer entered his mind, he couldn’t help but quietly laugh … although not because he thought it wouldn’t suit her. 

On the contrary, he was convinced she’d do quite well. 

He had seen on multiple occasions her ability to escape from her tutors. And compared to them, there was no monster in the wilderness that could challenge her. Especially once they saw her sweet smile.

The thought brightened his spirits at once.

Such a balm was a rarity in these times, and even less so in Reitzlake Castle, where the draft, the damp and the rumours of bored dignitaries held sway. 

Thus, he took a deep breath, then sent his gaze towards the window.

In truth, he missed it.

Reitzlake wasn’t a city famed for its beauty. It was built in the image of those who had first laid the foundations of the kingdom. Rugged, modest and slightly lopsided, it was starkly different from the sweeping vistas found in the capitals of its neighbours.

What it had, however, was a quaint cafe overseeing a busy promenade.

One remaining hidden even when all the errant princes and princesses of a kingdom gathered together on a balcony to cause minor mischief. 

Roland folding the napkins on every table into swans. Florella elbowing a waitress for the recipe to a simple milk shortbread. Clarise melting beneath the sun. Juliette stuffing her face until her cheeks bulged. And Tristan himself reading a history grimoire so thick it served Clarise better as a sun shade.

That was the last summer afternoon they had spent together.

… But it didn’t have to be the very last.

“Roland … I’ve an idea.”

The Crown Prince looked up from his quill without actually looking up at all. A skill only he knew how to wield.

“Hm? What is it?”

Tristan smiled.

He had quite a few questions he wanted to ask his sisters. And as far as he was aware, there was no better time to do it than when they were distracted by tea, cake and the sun.

“Shall we reserve a table?”