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That night...
“So, that’s how it went. I got engaged to Carla.”
Inside the Jewel Voice Chamber of the castle, Cian stood before the broadcast jewel that had been there since long ago, reporting to the figure projected on a simple receiver.
“I’ll be accepting her as my second primary queen. I trust you have no objections, Dad?”
“Nah. You’re king now, Cian. I trust you to make your own decisions.”
The man in the projection—Souma E. Friedonia, former king of the Kingdom of Friedonia—smiled and nodded. Now that he was in his late thirties, though Souma’s physique hadn’t changed much, his appearance had grown more relaxed. His hair was longer, a shadow of stubble lined his chin, and there was a comfortable ease about him that had only come after he’d set down the burdens of rule.
Seeing him like that, Cian sighed. “Hold on, Dad. You’re wearing that over there too?”
“Hmm? This? Well, I’ve gotten used to it.”
Souma raised his arms, showing off the sleeves of his white lab coat. Ever since retiring, he’d adopted a uniform of a shirt, pants, and that long white coat. He claimed it symbolized his new life as an ordinary researcher rather than a king...but in truth, that wasn’t the real reason.
Souma’s idea of a “cool guy” came from a certain romantic comedy featuring an archaeologist who wore a white coat and practiced Jeet Kune Do. So, in short, he was cosplaying. He kept that part to himself, of course.
Incidentally, the fictional archaeologist’s cigarette had been iconic, but since Souma despised smoking, he’d gone so far as to work with Roroa to develop chocolate cigarettes, just so he’d have something to hold in his mouth. (Liscia, naturally, had only sighed in exasperation.) The coat was no longer pristine. It was dusty and faintly yellowed.
“Isn’t that getting a bit dirty?” Cian asked.
“Well, I do wear it for fieldwork.”
“Exploring the new world in a white coat seems reckless.”
“I’ve got Liscia and Aisha guarding me, so it’s fine.”
“If Momma Liscia and Momma Aisha are there... Yeah, I guess it would be.”
Indeed, Souma was now in the world of the northern hemisphere. That explained why, earlier that afternoon, Liscia had been dressed like an explorer when Carla contacted her.
Those with adventurous spirits had all taken off for that new world, where vast unexplored dungeons spewed out monsters. Together with the Seadians, who sought to return to their homeland, they had built forward bases, expanded their operations, and established supply lines between them. In the process, they often unearthed relics of old mankind from the depths of these dungeons. And whenever that happened, Souma, the scholar of the old world, would join the investigations himself.
Liscia and Aisha accompanied Souma as his bodyguards during his expeditions.
“What’s it like in the world of the north now?” Cian asked.
“It’s a wild world,” Souma replied. “Ever since I disabled Mao’s ability to create new dungeons, there’s no longer an endless supply of them, but...over the long years, an ecosystem has taken root that’s hostile to mankind.”
“During a recent meeting of the Union of the Southern Continent, there’s been talk about forming a joint army and stationing it in the north.”
“Hrmm... I’m not fond of that idea. It’s difficult enough maintaining contact between this side and that one. If you create too powerful a force there, it might eventually claim authority in the name of the old world and become uncontrollable. We don’t need an organization like the Ti*ans showing up.”
“Hmm? The what?”
“Let’s just say...a hard-line military faction. Basically, I think the affairs of this world should be handled by its own people. The south should focus on trade and cooperation, not governance.”
“So you’re saying we should proceed carefully. I’ll take that into account.”
At some point, their talk had drifted from family matters to politics. Cian didn’t mind; it felt natural now. As he’d grown older, he’d found discussing statecraft with his father easier than casual small talk.
After a while, Cian exhaled quietly. “Do you think I can be a proper king?”
Souma raised an eyebrow. “Why bring that up all of a sudden?”
“Now that Carla’s agreed to marry me, and Sharan has always been by my side as my future queen...when I think about the people I have to protect, it makes me uneasy.”
Souma listened silently.
“It’s not like the country is facing a mountain of problems like when you inherited it,” Cian continued. “The world’s stable now. The nations are on good terms, and we’re all developing together. I understand I won’t face the same kind of chaos you did, but still...the title of ‘king’ feels heavy.”
There might not be sudden crises anymore, but the king would still bear responsibility for every misstep. And if he faltered, Carla and Sharan would be dragged into that burden as well. The thought weighed on Cian’s heart.
Souma waited for him to finish before speaking softly. “I get it. Feeling uncertain is part of being a good king. The moment you stop worrying is the moment you stop caring about the people whose lives depend on your choices.”
“...”
“I can’t tell you not to worry...but don’t let that worry consume you either. The people you feel responsible for aren’t just a weight on your shoulders—they have wills of their own, and they’ll do their best to support you. Carla, Sharan, your siblings, your parents...they’ll all help you. You’re not alone.”
“You’ll be there too, Dad?” Cian asked.
Souma smiled and nodded. “Of course. That’s why, out of all the books I could have chosen from Earth, I left you a copy of The Prince. Have you read it?”
“I have, but...I’m not sure I understood everything.”
“That’s fine. I meant it as something for you to turn to when you face hardship.”
Souma’s expression softened with paternal warmth. “Cian, do you know which part of The Prince helped me most when I was king?”
“Huh? I’d really like to know!”
“It’s from ‘Chapter 22: Concerning the Secretaries of Princes.’ Machiavelli wrote, ‘There are three classes of intellect: one which comprehends by itself; another which appreciates what others have comprehended; and a third which neither comprehends by itself nor by the showing of others. The first is most excellent, the second is good, and the third is useless.’”
“I see...”
Cian had long worried that he’d taken the throne too soon. To prepare himself, he’d carefully read The Prince (with Annotations by Souma), the copy his father had left behind. So he understood immediately the passage Souma was quoting.
“‘When a king considers matters, a great ruler is one who can resolve everything alone, but if he cannot, it is also the mark of a great ruler to heed the counsel of excellent retainers and reach a solution that way. In turn, if a ruler cannot solve things himself and refuses to listen to his wise retainers, then he can only be called useless...’ Was that it?”
“Exactly,” Souma said. “Listen to your wise retainers, and turn away those who flatter you with sweet lies. If a king can manage that much, then even a mediocre man can start to look like a brilliant ruler. Take me for example. I didn’t have Fuuga’s presence or Maria’s charisma, but because I had excellent retainers like Hakuya the Black-Robed Prime Minister, Julius the White Strategist, Hal the Red Oni, and Tomoe the Wise Wolf Princess by my side, people think I was a great ruler.”
“No, you... Nah, you’re right.”
For a moment, he had been about to say that people didn’t think it—his father truly was a great ruler—but he stopped himself. He knew Souma would only deny it.
Souma had never rated himself highly as king. Having lived alongside extraordinary figures like Maria and Fuuga, he had convinced himself he was only ever average, just good enough to pass. Yet the truth was clear to everyone but him—his family, his retainers, and even the people of other nations all regarded him as one of the finest rulers of his age. If a king had excellent retainers, the people would see him as a great ruler... Easy words to say, but only Souma knew how difficult they were to live by.
“You make it sound simple,” Cian sighed. “but it’s actually pretty hard. Our retainers are so capable that they’ll tell me what I need to hear, even when it’s painful. I keep being reminded of how powerless I am.”
Souma chuckled lightly. “Most kings take pride in their royal blood. I never had that.”
“Well...neither do I. I wasn’t exactly eager to become king in the first place.”
“Then you already have what it takes to be a good king, Cian. I can say that with confidence, because we’re family.”
Cian smiled faintly. “I feel like there’s some bias there, but...thanks, Dad.”
The tension in his face eased, and Souma could see that his son would be all right.