“You should step aside, Marquis Barbosse. Beneath the mask of a noble and minister, you are nothing but a beast that gnaws at our country from within!”
“...Pardon?”
“I know you’ve deceived, embezzled, and now betrayed our country by selling state secrets!”
Count Ruseria produced a piece of paper and approached the king. A knight who had been standing beside Solye took a step forward to intercept, but Solye held him back with a raised hand. Ruseria knelt before the king and presented the paper with a bow.
“Your Majesty, this is one piece of evidence I’ve collected that proves his corruption. Please accept it.”
Solye timidly took the paper and read it. Herscherik could practically hear his father’s astonishment.
“This...”
While he didn’t describe the contents of the letter, it was evidently shocking. The hint of a quiver in the king’s voice was proof of it. Complete silence enveloped the ballroom. It was Marquis Barbosse, the defendant himself, who finally broke through it.
“Your Majesty, that paper is a fake.”
His tone was eerily calm, almost confident. Herscherik turned to find Barbosse sharply glaring at Ruseria.
“I was aware of the groundless rumors that suggested a connection between myself and these foreign nations. But I had no idea where they originated.” Barbosse gave a dramatic pause before continuing. “So, I conducted my own investigation to find that someone had been using my name while aiding enemy nations. ...I’m talking about you, Count Ruseria.”
Herscherik didn’t spot Barbosse’s serious expression shift for a moment as both corners of his lips twisted up in perverted victory. On the contrary, Ruseria’s expression remained contemplative for a few moments before the color, and hope, drained from his face.
At Marquis Barbosse’s call, a man appeared out of nowhere and presented a letter to the king. The letter was wax sealed, definitely unopened.
“One of my men captured a spy leaving Count Ruseria’s manor. The spy was carrying this.”
“...Count Ruseria, is this your seal?”
The count answered the king’s question with silence. A wax seal was made by imprinting a unique mark on melted wax. Opening the letter would break the seal. Hence, the seal’s presence was evidence that the letter was unopened. Ruseria didn’t utter a word as the king broke the seal, read the letter, and let out a heavy sigh.
“A letter seeking refuge in a foreign nation... Asking for status and monetary reward in exchange for our national secrets... With Count Ruseria’s signature and seal.”
His father’s words, or rather his tone, struck Herscherik as odd. He sensed a note of dejection. Someone else shared that same tone, too.
“...He was one step ahead.”
That voice belonged to Ruseria, uttered so softly that only Herscherik and the king, who directly stood beside him, could hear.
“Detain that traitor!”
Barbosse’s order echoed like a victory call. Knights stormed the ballroom, pinning Ruseria’s head to the ground. As the ballroom erupted in cacophony, a flicker of light shot across the marble floor and bumped into Herscherik’s shoe, coming to a halt. An antique, silver pocket watch. Herscherik picked up the watch from where it lay next to his foot. It barely fit in his three-year-old palm. When he looked back up from the watch to the rest of the ballroom, Ruseria was already bound and well on his way to being marched out of the room.
“...I’m sorry to ruin your party, Hersch.”
As he heard that voice from above, Herscherik was hoisted up by his father. Now that their eyes met, he could see that his father looked exhausted, on the verge of tears.
“Let’s call it for the night, shall we?”
That was the call to conclude the party, and the king exited with his son in his arms. Only the king’s butler followed them, and no one stood in their way.
Something’s not right...
Still being carried by his father, Herscherik stared at the watch, which he’d ended up taking with him. For the first time since his rebirth, he felt a sense of discontent and uneasiness in his royal life. In contrast from his previous life as a middle-class worker, the royal life at the top of society had been filled with surprises. All of the surprises so far had simply been changes in his lifestyle that he had eventually understood and gotten used to. None of those changes had been more taxing than simply eating bread instead of rice. This uneasiness, though, was of a completely different nature. The sound of the second hand ticking from within the pocket watch only made Herscherik more nervous.