◆ A Discord Among Royal Siblings
“His Majesty the King’s campaign when he was Crown Prince… More than twenty years have already passed.”
“A timeless chapter of history. Even now, I am certain His Majesty recalls the scenes of that time with vivid clarity.”
“He has always upheld the principle of being ever-prepared for war, yet more than any noble, he despises battle. That is because the ‘honor’ and ‘pride’ he has witnessed on the battlefield were seared into his memory.”
“Indeed. And yet, should the need arise, His Majesty would wield his power without hesitation. He does not resort to force lightly, for he understands all too well that its exercise means the loss of countless lives.”
“He cannot help but remember those who collapsed upon the battlefield, coughing up blood. His Majesty is a ruler of profound compassion. He values the talented and the capable, those who contribute to the welfare of the people. And above all, he bears the burden of those common-born soldiers—those without noble titles—who perished as mere foot soldiers in war. To shoulder such a weight… No ordinary man could endure it. He is truly fit to be king. ‘A ruler who does not grieve for those who fall in service of the kingdom is unworthy of the throne’… Was that not the phrase?”
“That was the decree of the previous Archbishop. However, for the heir apparent of the Minister of Military Affairs to utter such words… Is it not somewhat disrespectful?”
“Oh? You mean to say you were unaware? The appointed successor now serves under the Second Prince. I, on the other hand, must carve my own path within the military. Whatever role awaits me, I must claim it with my own strength.”
“That is how you see it. Yet, do you not think the situation may change when the time comes?”
“The weight of such a position is far too great. Regardless of whom one serves, the Minister of Military Affairs is the kingdom’s symbol of power. They must navigate the ambitions of the military aristocracy, strategize victories in battle, and minimize casualties. They must work in concert with the Ministers of Foreign Affairs and Internal Affairs to ensure His Majesty’s peace of mind. To accept that honor means devoting one’s entire life to it. The next king must embody the ideal of peace. A person with power must restrain that power… My father has taken on an unenviable task indeed.”
“You see the burden well. That is why I believed you would one day take up the mantle of Minister of Military Affairs.”
“You give me too much credit. But… that attire suits you well. You could easily be mistaken for a real strategist.”
“I appreciate the generosity. When I return home to the frontier, I shall be sure to boast of it to my family.”
“Hah! Good. You amuse me, truly. We shall meet again later at the banquet.”
“As you will.”
His fiancée—his noble betrothed—furrowed her brows slightly at our casual exchange.
I care little. We shall never meet again.
Once I return to my homeland, I will never again cross paths with her, let alone her future self as the lady of his house.
Like a storm, he came and went, a nobleman who moved as he pleased.
Because of his carefree nature, many looked down upon him.
Yet in truth, he was observant, perceptive, and meticulous in his gathering of information.
He could assemble fragments of knowledge and infer unseen realities—an ability that set him apart from other men of our generation.
His future successes would surely benefit the kingdom.
I could only hope he would become a steadfast guardian of the realm.
At last, the appointed hour arrived, and the grand Coming-of-Age Ceremony commenced.
Presiding in place of His Majesty the King was the First Prince.
Born to a secondary consort, he was widely acknowledged as an exceptional man.
The rumors surrounding him were almost always favorable.
The only disappointment was that he had yet to take a princess consort.
Apparently, a betrothal arranged before his enrollment at the Magic Academy had been annulled for unknown reasons.
Whether the issue lay with the First Prince or his former fiancée remained shrouded in the mysteries of the royal family.
However, the fact remained—he had not been disinherited or exiled, and his ex-fiancée had married into foreign nobility.
That alone was telling.
So even a prince is not free from the burdens of dealing with women…
One day, he would have to take a princess consort.
It was clear this would be a matter of great political importance.
And if genuine affection were to arise from such a match, it would be ideal for the kingdom.
In contrast, the Second Prince stood below the ceremonial dais, receiving the white cravat of adulthood from his elder brother.
His fiancée was the daughter of the Grand Duke.
Moreover, he was the son of the Queen Consort—his royal lineage made it inevitable that he would be declared Crown Prince.
By bloodline alone, it was all but certain.
It was a natural conclusion, a decision that had already been prepared and gradually communicated throughout the kingdom’s upper echelons.
Yet… was it truly so certain?
The Grand Duke’s daughter had once warned me, in veiled words, that the Second Prince was undergoing a trial.
And it was not war, but my former betrothed and her ilk—the ones deemed undesirable—who were serving as the proving ground.
This included the Second Prince’s own retinue, whose loyalties were being tested within the Magic Academy itself.
Thus, I had been instructed to stay away, to avoid interfering.
More than that—I had been ordered to sever all ties with my former fiancée.
I could only hope that a favorable outcome would be reached.
From where I stood, I observed the First Prince upon the ceremonial dais and the Second Prince below.
There was an unmistakable tension in the air.
The gaze of the First Prince, and the way the Second Prince received it—the meaning behind their eyes was unsettling.
The more I thought about it, the more foreboding the situation seemed.
The expressions of the high-ranking nobles watching them were divided—some bore pity, while others veiled their mockery.
Soon, the formal announcement of the Crown Prince’s investiture would be made.
But by then, I would have returned to the frontier.
I, a mere low-ranking noble, would hear of it only long after the decision had been made.
I could only pray that the kingdom’s rulers would make a wise choice for the future.
The ceremony proceeded smoothly.
Each young noble coming of age was presented with a pure white cravat, marking their official entry into the aristocracy.
My elder brothers had undergone this ritual in the sanctuary of our domain, overseen by the knightly order of our house.
To be the only one among them granted the honor of attending a royal ceremony felt somewhat humbling.
Yet I told myself it was merely because of my inner magic reserves—nothing more.