“I don’t have to carry the weight of the kingdom on my shoulders, so I can’t say for sure, but I think it would be nice if the two of you married when the time was right,” I said, choosing a vague and diplomatic answer.
Siegfried smiled and nodded. “If only I had more brothers, there would be less pressure about heirs and such.”
“So Prince Claude is still the same?”
Siegfried’s smile turned wry at my question. “I think he’s still struggling in his own way.”
Claude was Siegfried’s younger brother, and in my story I’d written him to be Gilles’s hero. He was the one who had killed Kreis.
Even in that version of the tale, Prince Claude had clashed with Siegfried.
There was even a scene in the novel where he barged in on Siegfried and insisted the kingdom should stop collecting taxes, that luxury was evil, and other nonsense. But now that I was actually living in this world, it was obvious how misplaced those demands really were.
He was a fool who clung to ideals and refused to face reality. And since I’d created that character, every word of his felt like a boomerang whacking me in the chest, over and over.
I understood that some people were suffering under taxes in some domains. But if the nobles stopped collecting taxes entirely, they wouldn’t be able to maintain the military needed to protect their lands. Taxes weren’t just for noble indulgence.
And as for luxury, yes, nobles did spend a lot of money on pleasure. But their spending also kept merchants in business, and some even made a point of spending money within their own domains to stimulate the economy.
Everything was a matter of balance. And that balance between the people and the nobles was the king’s responsibility to maintain. I hated that I’d written such a foolish and ignorant man and called him a hero.
“You’re too kind.”
Siegfried was an exceptional ruler, but he did have one flaw. He was too kind to be the king. Sometimes those in power had to make harsh decisions. But when it came to being disrespected or challenged, Siegfried could be too lenient.
Claude was the perfect example. He defied the king again and again, but Siegfried let it slide every time. That was why Claude never learned from his own mistakes.
The king of Claan was fair and merciful. He was known as the Devoted King, and that title alone was enough to show the deep trust the people had in him. I hadn’t come up with that nickname myself, by the way. I’d only learned of it after being reincarnated into this world.
“If only the boy were more reliable, I’d have no problem handing him the throne.”
“You really are terrible at jokes.”
If Claude became king, this country would fall apart in no time. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind: The story had ended with Siegfried, the supposed villain, being killed, and everyone living happily ever after. I don’t know what happened after that.
But Siegfried’s death meant Claude would inherit the throne. And thinking about what a kingdom ruled by an immature idealist like Claude would look like was terrifying.
Well, I suppose it didn’t matter.
That world wasn’t going to happen.
No—I couldn’t let it happen.
“Still,” Siegfried said with a soft smile after taking a sip of the tea I’d made. “It’s rare for you to ask after Claude. Did something happen between you two?”
Yeah, he stabbed me through the heart and killed me.
Of course, I couldn’t say that. And I couldn’t tell Siegfried his own brother was planning on killing him either.
“Why not just tell him everything? Wouldn’t it be easier that way?” Professor was now settled close to me, resting his chin against my knee.
Don’t be ridiculous. If I told him the whole story, Siegfried would think I’ve lost my mind. And that’s the best-case scenario. If I opened with “Hey, I’m plotting revenge against your brother,” I doubt he would just say, “Oh, okay!” At worst, I’d be accused of treason. I’m trying to avoid getting killed here, not actively trying to get executed!
But most importantly, Kreis was the one who’d wished for revenge, and I couldn’t imagine he’d want to drag Siegfried into such a sordid situation. After all, Siegfried was Kreis’s light.
“So you can’t trust him. I bet that stings.”
Shut up, I thought, flicking Professor’s nose in response.
“Kreis, are you hiding something from me?” Siegfried asked suddenly.
“Hmm?”
Oh, right. He asked if something happened with Claude.
I quickly shook my head. “Sorry, I just got distracted. Professor did something really cute.” I looked down at Professor, who was still resting his chin on my knee, making contented noises. Siegfried smiled and reached out to pet him.
“He is pretty adorable,” he said. “Well? Why are you so concerned about Claude?”
Siegfried clearly wasn’t going to let it go, so I had to come up with an excuse. I couldn’t tell him the truth, so what could I say?
“There’s a rumor he’ll be visiting the Louboutin marquisate soon,” I said. And it was true; Claude would be arriving soon. Actually, that was when the real story would begin, when Claude and Gilles would meet for the first time.
In the original story, they’d done little more than exchange pleasantries at this initial meeting. But Claude had become fond of Gilles at first sight, and when Gilles had arrived in the capital, Claude had offered to become his patron.
So basically, if the two of them didn’t meet now, maybe Claude wouldn’t take Gilles under his wing when he arrived at the capital.
“Really? This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Siegfried said.
That didn’t surprise me, because Kreis hadn’t known either. The only reason I knew it was because I was the one who’d written the story.
Claude would be coming here in secret because he found Siegfried’s frequent visits to the marquisate suspicious. By now, he was already plotting a way to bring Siegfried down.
“I just hope he doesn’t stir up any more trouble,” Siegfried muttered.
He was referring to an incident Claude had caused during a visit to a distant town. He’d clashed with the residents and insisted that putting orphans to work was unacceptable. Again, that kind of naive idealism could only come from a spoiled rich boy with his head in the clouds.
The town had an orphanage, and those orphans had chosen to work for the sake of their own futures. And when Claude had just shown up one day and forbidden them from working, it had ruined everything for them.
There had already been a dire labor shortage in the town, and the orphans needed money to survive—the arrangement had been working just fine. But then Claude had stormed in, outraged that children were being “forced” to work. He presented a lump sum to the orphanage and forbade them from allowing the children to work again.
His grand gesture only resulted in the town losing a vital labor force, which in turn damaged the local businesses. Meanwhile, once the orphans were unable to earn money for themselves, they lost all hope for a brighter future. To top it all off, the orphanage director turned out to be corrupt and embezzled Claude’s generous donation, so the whole thing was a complete disaster.
The truth only came out a year later when one citizen was so desperate they traveled all the way to the capital to file a complaint.
I’d happened to be in the capital at the time on an errand for my father, and I’d stopped in for a visit to Siegfried’s private chambers. That was where I’d heard the whole story. Claude had barged in without even knocking, ranting about the citizens of that town.
“He’s got a very strong sense of justice,” Siegfried said.
He’s too kind. Way too kind. That kindness allowed Claude to grow arrogant, and it would prove to be a fatal blow to Siegfried in the end.
Kindness could be a poison. That was the ultimate reason Siegfried, the kingdom’s most vital leader, was framed and ousted from power the first time around. Claude was oblivious to his own incompetence and ascended the throne, most likely leading the kingdom to ruin.
“I know he’ll understand someday,” Siegfried said.
No, that will never happen. Not even if pigs fly.