Marquis Eiger's rebellion.
Though Marquis Eiger, the mastermind, was slain on the battlefield, Rodele Aiwood—the Third Prince who had served as the rebellion's figurehead supreme commander—was taken alive.
Rodele's mother was a concubine hailing from the Gaiselle Empire, a allied nation.
In order to determine the terms of punishment, a formal consultative session was to be established with the Empire.
During the negotiations between the diplomats, it was also pointed out that military officers and mercenaries believed to be Imperial nationals had participated in the rebellion.
The Empire, naturally, denied any involvement in the uprising.
They argued that the Imperial nationals who had taken part in the rebellion had merely been hired of their own accord as mercenaries—it was not something they had ordered.
Among the rebel army's war dead, there were individuals who appeared to be Imperial soldiers... but no conclusive evidence could be found.
The Empire demanded the surrender of Rodele, the rebellion's ringleader, and his mother.
Of course, the Kingdom refused.
The discussions between the two nations grew heated and contentious, but... after prolonged deliberation, it was decided that Rodele would be given the poisoned chalice, and the concubine would be handed over to the Empire.
From the Kingdom's perspective... they did not wish to quarrel with the Empire any more than necessary, but Rodele—who could once again be used as a bannerhead—absolutely could not be surrendered.
From the Empire's perspective... having their own concubine executed would be an unacceptable loss of face, but faced with the power of a kingdom that had crushed an entire rebellion in a single day, they judged that open hostility was not viable at this time. Even the war hawks who had been clamoring for foreign conquest apparently concluded that a war against the Kingdom was premature.
In the end, both sides accepted the outcome as a compromise, having avoided a direct head-to-head confrontation.
With Rodele—who carried the blood of the Empire—put to death, a rift was inevitably driven into the alliance between the two nations.
However... since the Empire had been complicit in the rebellion, it could not be helped that lingering resentment would remain.
The Kingdom, for its part, also deepened its vigilance toward the Empire, designating it as a new rival power to follow the barbarian tribes of the north.
○ ○ ○ "...That concludes the results of the negotiations with the Empire. We shall bring the poisoned chalice in three days' time—until then, please rest easy."
"............"
Even after receiving the death sentence delivered by the civil official, Rodele Aiwood, confined as he was, uttered not a single word.
He did not pathetically beg for his life, nor did he hurl abuse at the official... Silent, he steeled himself to accept the poisoned chalice.
His mother had already departed the kingdom.
She, who had been a secondary consort, had been divorced by the king and had tearfully bid farewell to Rodele.
Rodele, raised by the queen dowager, had hardly ever interacted with his mother, but it seemed she had been spared punishment for having played no part in the rebellion.
He had believed his mother had no interest in him either... yet now, too late, he came to learn that she had, at least to some degree, loved him.
"So this is the end for me as well..."
Alone in his room after the civil official withdrew, he murmured quietly to himself.
The place where Rodele was confined was a cell meant for the nobility.
The entrance was sealed off by iron bars... but inside, there was a full set of furniture, the meals were lavish, and he was even provided with hot water for washing, so there was no hardship in daily living.
If he so desired, he could probably even have a prostitute brought to him before his death... but the current Rodele felt no lust.
He who had once desperately craved the touch of women's skin, who had wanted to ravish them without restraint... it was astonishing how little such desire stirred in him now.
He had laid hands on a maid, lured a noblewoman into his chamber... even attempted to pursue a classmate who was already engaged, setting any interfering man ablaze — yet he had become so composed that he was virtually unrecognizable as that same man.
(...After all, if I were to make a pathetic spectacle of myself, that man would surely be disappointed.)
What filled Rodele's heart was this thought.
It was what he felt toward his final enemy on the battlefield... Rest Clover.
Rodele and Rest fought. Fiercely, they clashed their magic against each other in a duel.
That battle... strangely, had filled Rodele's heart.
His soul danced with an elation and a sense of fulfillment he had never felt even when embracing the most beautiful of women.
And yet—even in this half-dead state after his defeat, he found even the wounds carved into his body endearing.
(Rest Clover...)
Just the thought of that man's face made death itself feel like nothing to fear.
It wasn't friendship. It wasn't fondness. And it certainly wasn't love between men.
Rodele turned this nameless emotion over and over in his mind, yet found it wasn't unpleasant.
(That's right... I was... joyful...)
Simply... joyful.
Fighting Rest. Having someone by his side who wouldn't fall even when they clashed with everything they had... it was unbearably wonderful. It was joyful.
He had crushed the weak more times than he could count, but... this was an entirely different sensation.
Someone who stands where I stand, who fills me with such— Rapture— delight.
It was something Rodele had never once experienced in his entire life.
(If only you had killed me... no, that isn't right either.)
Had he died on that battlefield, he would never have reflected on his own foolishness. That felt unforgivable.
He needed to reflect. He needed to feel remorse.
Perhaps this was the punishment given to him—for letting his empty pride swell, for wounding so many people.
Or perhaps... Rest had refrained from delivering the killing blow so that Rodele would have this time for atonement.
(Thank you... Rest Clover. Because of you, I can look at myself honestly and depart in peace.)
Was there some way he could repay him?
In the time that remained, Rodele turned his thoughts inward... and one idea, at last, came to him.
(That's right... Grandmother's inheritance...)
His grandmother, the queen dowager, had left behind a hidden fortune.
Concealed in a secret location, and Rodele was the only soul alive who knew of its existence.
What if he left a will bequeathing that inheritance to Rest?
(There's a risk the state could confiscate it all... but knowing Father and my elder brother, they might at least grant a portion to Rest Clover.)
The queen dowager's hidden fortune amounted to a sum rivaling the entire national budget.
Even if it was only a tenth, as long as it reached Rest's coffers, it would serve him well.
"...Farewell, my worthy rival of the soul. I pray from the bottom of my heart for your success."
Three days later.
Rodele Aiwood, the Third Prince, was granted a cup of poison and lost his life.
Though never officially announced, Rodele—who had aided in the rebellion—was not permitted burial in the royal tombs.
And yet... a temple was built on the frontier by Rest Clover, who had been granted a portion of his inheritance, and there Rodele was laid to rest in peaceful slumber.