At the home of Royal Knight Carome Aestolle, located on a plot of land in the capital Oldrock, Meddié Socom was once again storming about.
“This whole thing stinks worse than a pile of monster dung! Just when I thought we’d laid the smack down on the big bad boss, an even worse baddie shows up and flies off with Anna! Ugh, if I’d just had Gazelle with me back there, I swear I woulda—”
The owner of the home, Carome, brought her tea-filled cup to her mouth, washing the heavy sigh threatening to escape her lips deep down into her stomach. “All I can say is that the sole redeeming factor in that whole debacle was that you didn’t act on that shortsightedness.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?!” Meddié demanded. “Last time I checked, you just watched it happen yourself, old lady!”
“O-Old lady?!” Carome gasped. “Watch that mouth of yours, little miss!”
Paying no heed to the noisy exchange playing out nearby, Watt himself was doing nothing at all, propping up his cheek with the palm of his hand. In the wake of what had happened, Watt had been removed from the wanted list before he even knew it. His quiet life, free from any pursuing soldiers, had returned.
“The problem is that with Duke Turk’s death, the only candidate left to run in Legalisbelm is Lezamer Ogdenn himself,” Carome said. “He will be the next king at this rate.”
“Bleh!” Meddié spat. “You’re telling me he can do something that terrible and still be the next king?! It’s so dumb!”
“Dumb...might just be what it is,” Carome replied. “But that’s just how such rules work. At the end of the day, wreaking havoc because things haven’t gone how we’d have liked makes us no different than Duke Turk and Lezamer.”
“So what are we supposed to do then, huh?! Don’t tell me you just expect me to sit here twiddling my thumbs!”
“I...” Carome found herself at a loss for words. Having taken charge of the Royal Knights in Watt’s stead, she couldn’t simply do whatever she pleased—that would mean breaking her promise as well.
Without even listening to the conversation around him, Watt sank deep into thought. There’s a way I could wreck Lezamer’s plans. But the question is...do I have the resolve to go through with it?
There was a way—but it was something that Watt could never make come together on his own. He instinctively clasped his head in frustration. He’d never been good at problems he couldn’t solve on his own.
I can’t give that bastard free rein to do what he wants either. When it comes right down to it, Duke Turk just wanted the throne—but that won’t be enough for Lezamer. Now that I think about it, he spouted off something weird back there too: “With power like this, the Kingdom of Ogdenn will enjoy a century of security.” Which means...he’s probably hoping to invade other countries.
Thanks to the current king’s policies, the Kingdom of Ogdenn had steadily grown in power. Lezamer, however, was likely to haphazardly burn through that same progress. At some point, he was bound to launch an invasion as if to flaunt his own bloated ego...and shape the world into a living hell with it.
Watt cast his gaze downward before asking a question in the chamber of his thoughts. Which version of me do you think is cooler?
Before he knew it, the figure standing in his imagination had transformed into Anna, clasping her hands tight and nodding.
No point even askin’, huh? Any dad worth his salt can’t go lookin’ uncool in front of his daughter, after all.
Watt surged to his feet, kicking the sofa back.
“What in the world are you doing, Watt?”
“I just figured that if it’ll be a gamble either way,” he said with a sinister grin, “then I might as well go all in betting on what I believe in.”