Chapter 7
#7
“One, we pledge our utmost loyalty and dedication to safeguarding the Parnassus royal family!”
A resounding shout echoed from beyond the window.
Walter halted, observing the troops reciting their oath of service before training.
As the officer recited the first clause, the troops, lined up in rows, repeated his words verbatim. At the reprimand to raise their voices, the troops screamed, complying with the officer's command.
The unusually loud voices were likely due to the long-awaited return of the Grand General from the Western Command to the capital after nearly half a year. Or perhaps it was the pride of the lords, the foundation of the royal palace, in choosing the Central Command as the venue for their meeting.
The Central Command was merely chosen as an alternative due to the palace lockdown, but it was understandable that the soldiers might see it differently.
Walter, with an ambiguous expression that betrayed neither approval nor disapproval of the troops' heightened discipline, averted his gaze.
“Lord Heiberg.”
A gentle voice with a Western accent brushed past his ear, and Walter composed himself, slowly turning around.
A gracious noblewoman approached with a fan in hand, her steps measured. Her short hair was pulled back tightly, not a single strand out of place, reflecting her meticulous nature.
“It has been a while, Duke Rutherford. I should have greeted you before the meeting, my apologies.”
With a slight bow, Duke Rutherford, Vanessa Rutherford, waved her plump arms dismissively.
“Oh, please. It was such a hastily convened meeting that there wouldn't have been time for greetings anyway. Are you returning to the Command?”
“Yes. Has the meeting already concluded?”
“Oh, my. Today's meeting was merely an arranged encounter to impress you, after all. The person whose approval was sought has left, so what's the point of continuing the meeting?”
Rutherford covered her mouth with her fan, laughing. Unlike her smiling face, her eyes, as she looked up at Walter, held a sharp, predatory glint, like a reptile eyeing its prey.
“It was quite a commotion after you left. It was so amusing.”
“I hardly imagine anything amusing transpired.”
“Shall I tell you what was discussed?”
She folded her fan, a curious smile playing on her lips. Not expecting an answer, Rutherford continued, her eyes sparkling, speaking as she pleased.
“You may think differently, but no one in the council considers the late King to have been a great ruler. After all, his response to the great famine three years ago was a mess, and the same goes for the Talkisin rebellion. Every time a crisis struck, His Majesty did nothing. At least he produced many heirs, which might have stabilized the monarchy, but even that has become useless in the current situation.”
“Duke Rutherford, defaming the royal family is…”
“I'm not bringing this up to slander. Don't you understand my point?”
Walter closed his mouth with an impassive expression and slowly shook his head. She dropped her smile and cautiously checked to see if anyone was listening.
“You believe the royal family is most important, but the council wants change. They are tired of Parnassus. If you had said you would become king, they might have readily followed your lead.”
At the blatant remark, Walter shot her a cold glare.
“I am a protector of the royal family, not someone to sit on the throne.”
“That's the problem.”
Rutherford crossed her arms, tapping her side with the fan in her hand.
“There have always been many who disliked you. They've been keeping a low profile because you hold military power, but now that things have come to this, someone will try to bring you down.”
“Is that so.”
“It's just my opinion, but the person who will win your loyalty and start a new dynasty…”
“Duke Kill cannot become king.”
At the resolute reply, Rutherford stopped speaking, her mouth agape. Walter pushed back his disheveled hair, returning a weary gaze.
“As someone who genuinely cares for Parnassus, it is not unreasonable for Duke Kill to harbor such ambitions. However, I cannot support him as my liege.”
“Then who can be your liege?”
“I do not know. But other than him, none of those in that position are fit to be king.”
Rutherford burst into laughter, which she had been holding back.
Unsure what was so funny, Walter tilted his head, looking at her with a puzzled expression. Rutherford continued her cheerful laughter for a long time before rubbing the powder off her fingers.
“Everyone was waiting for pine cones to fall, not realizing that the tree that should be in the pine forest is somewhere else. I've always prided myself on being a loyal subject, but it's a shame. Why can't we be king?”
Walter lowered his chin, examining her with a cautious gaze.
Unlike her light, joking tone, Rutherford's eyes were filled with a serious light. Realizing it was a sincere question, Walter carefully chose his words.
“You are all politicians, my lords.”
A breeze from beyond the window ruffled his hair, tickling his forehead. Walter swept his hair back again with a clearly annoyed gesture and continued.
“If you had to choose between accepting 50 dying refugees and 50 head of cattle to distribute to your people, which would you choose?”
“Personally, I would like to choose the former, but considering the position and interests of my people… the latter, I suppose.”
“That is correct. Politicians are pursuers of self-interest and always live to gain something. They never try to lose.”
She pursed her lips, nodding as if to say, "Continue." Walter cautiously took a step back, looking down at her with a more respectful posture.
“I do not intend to criticize. That is your nature and your duty. And the same goes for me. I dress it up with fancy words like 'guardianship' and 'resolve,' but most of what I do is eliminate and exclude enemies according to my interests. But… a king.”
Walter moistened his lips, lowering his voice.
“A king embraces and protects everything. He looks to the future from a more objective standpoint than anyone else and endures losses for the sake of a righteous future. We are merely those who calculate our gains and follow him to realize his ideals under him.”
“That's a very vague statement. Endure losses? So we can't be king?”
After a moment of contemplation, Walter added heavily.
“Yes. Not just you, but everyone in that position would choose the cattle over the refugees. That is why you cannot be king.”
“Then what about the king? Does he choose the refugees?”
“He would choose the refugees and order his subjects to secure the cattle. And he would distribute the cattle to the refugees, allowing them to become farmers.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Oh, a third answer.”
Walter nodded, a faint smile barely visible on his lips.
“Choosing a path that no one has yet pioneered. Guiding everyone on the right path, even if it takes time. That is the true path a king must walk.”
Rutherford smiled, pulling at the corners of her mouth, and looked up at him with narrowed eyes.
“The king you desire is very demanding. Then, in your opinion, who is closest to being king right now?”
Walter turned his gaze away, his lips downturned, without answering. Her eyes widened in surprise at his hesitant demeanor.
“Could it be, that concubine's daughter we were just talking about?”
“Princess Arsinoe.”
“Arsinoe… So you really mentioned that princess because you think she has the makings of a liege?”
A heavy silence followed the period. Walter fixed his clear eyes on her, nodding.
“Yes. That is correct.”
Rutherford raised her arms, which were crossed, and stroked her plump chin.
Complex emotions that could not be defined flitted across her face, and the last thing that consumed her face was an ambiguous smile.
“It's intriguing that you think so. Do you really consider her a candidate for the next throne?”
“It is merely a conclusion drawn by combining legitimacy and justification. It wouldn't happen just because I think so.”
Rutherford responded with a sullen expression to the polite reply.
In the current state of turmoil, a Grand General who is praised by officers is in itself a symbol of a king.
Rutherford, who was wondering if this was a test, as humility was always ingrained in him, realized that he was sincere after seeing his calm expression and let out a hollow laugh.
“I understand your philosophy, but the future is uncertain. I wonder if you will still hold that thought in a month.”
“What will happen in a month?”
“Duke Kill said he would hold another council in a month. It was called off today due to your opposition, but it will be impossible to leave the throne vacant any longer.”
Rutherford, who was fiddling with the end of her fan, took a step closer and lowered her voice.
“It seems Duke Kill is gathering soldiers in his territory these days… Perhaps if you continue to oppose him like this, he will make a decision.”
“……”
“I'll tell you in advance, I won't take sides. I don't think either of your values is wrong. Well, I hope a peaceful conclusion is reached.”
With a flourish, she opened her fan and fluttered it with an elegant gesture, sending a smile with her eyes. The seal of the Rutherford family, engraved in the center of the plain fan, reflected the sunlight and shimmered faintly.
