Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 15 - Chapter 3.3

Freya couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “Make sure you don’t show any of that,” she pointed out.

“Of course I won’t. We need a positive relationship with the Twin Kingdoms, the Sharou family, and Prince Francesco himself. I understand that. Frankly, I wouldn’t be so honest with anyone but you,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender from his seat on the sofa.

The twins had known each other for a long time, and they knew each other well, so they excelled at spotting dissembling from each other’s expressions, words, and actions. Yngvi had never thought he’d be able to trick her, so he admitted his true thoughts.

“Well, I can see how you would be unable to like him, considering your values,” she sympathized.

As if prompted by that, the prince vented his complaints. “Seriously, what is he playing at? Born in a position to become king and with the ability to do so, but he’s rejecting it—and yet he’s still recognized as royalty. He’s just enjoying life. What is he playing at?”

Yngvi was one of the members of the Uppasalan royal family with the strongest ambition. Despite that, he had been born as the second prince, and to the second queen. Ordinarily, there would have been no chance of him becoming king.

Fortunately—and calling it “fortunate” would make him unpopular with many people, although it was certainly a stroke of luck for him personally—the first prince, Eric, had been pulled away to become the king of Ofus. Therefore, the title of crown prince had quite naturally fallen to him. Things had been much more complicated until then, though.

Another stroke of fortune in that respect was that Yngvi saw the country as his, in a good way. He wanted to become its king but couldn’t countenance plunging it into chaos. In all likelihood, if Eric had become king, Yngvi would have spent the rest of his life scheming to get the position for himself without causing turmoil.

“Everyone has their own perspective,” Freya said soothingly.

He pursed his lips, showing his unhappiness in the whole of his face. “I know that. I’m not your twin for nothing, so I’m well aware there are people with rather warped values in the world. Still, my values mean I hate him. I absolutely loathe him.”

“What is being my twin supposed to mean?” she retorted.

Despite her complaint, she knew she couldn’t argue any more than that. After all, her values were indeed rather divorced from the norm for someone of her position.

Either way, as far as Yngvi was concerned, Francesco had been born with the most valuable thing imaginable, and yet had thrown it away in an apparent fit of pique. It was hardly a surprise he disliked the man.

“Will you actually be able to deal with him? Your two nations will have to clash to some degree for each of your benefits, and Capua can mediate there, but if you two have a difference of personal opinion, there’s nothing I can do.”

“I know,” he replied with another sour look.

It was hard to call Freya’s position in Capua stable. Intervening in a conflict between her motherland and an allied nation would quite possibly weaken her position further. Covering for Yngvi could end up with her being accused of trying to act on behalf of Uppasala despite joining Capua.

“I know that disliking him won’t benefit me at all, and that liking him would have many benefits,” he continued. “I won’t show my feelings. I swear it.”

Yngvi was skilled at hiding his emotions, even for a member of royalty, so as long as he kept that in mind, it shouldn’t cause any major issues. However, a royal’s partners in negotiation were often either other royals or at least high-ranking nobility. It was far from impossible that someone could spot the animosity Yngvi felt for Francesco.

“Please do, please,” Freya replied, her words mixed with a sigh. She was all too aware that a person could not force their own emotions, so she would leave it there. Everyone had people they struggled to get along with. At that point, she had a realization. “Oh, but you like Sir Zenjirou, do you not? In terms of royals with differing values from your own, surely he is in the same group as Prince Francesco.”

She was right. Given that he was almost at the top of the royal family and yet purposefully limited his own influence, Zenjirou could certainly be considered similar to Francesco.

“Ah, you could put it that way,” Yngvi agreed easily. “He is entirely different, though. To put it bluntly, albeit rather rudely, his abilities as a royal are unusual. I would hardly categorize someone who has the skill yet refuses to use it the same as someone who understands they do not and refrains.” He shrugged as he spoke.

“He lacks ability?” Freya asked. Although she wasn’t happy to hear her husband viewed badly now that she had an emotional connection with him, she also couldn’t entirely agree with that assessment. They had only married recently, but they had known each other for over a year, and she had quite a high opinion of him. She at least didn’t see an extreme difference in that respect between him and Francesco.

However, Yngvi bluntly disagreed with that perspective. “He does, without a doubt. However, not in all respects required of royalty. He lacks in things like ruthless decision-making, prioritizing profit over principles, and calculating when to break his word to avoid harm to his nation. He probably is capable of it, but it would weigh on him mentally, potentially severely. That alone makes him someone I appreciate in an allied nation’s royalty. He could be an issue if he was part of our family, though. He would also be a very useful individual in an enemy nation’s royalty.”

Freya fell silent, unable to refute what he’d said. She had certainly had similar thoughts in the past. While she was personally fond of Zenjirou’s views, if she was asked if they were suitable for royalty, she would have to answer no.

Still, although logically she couldn’t argue, she also wouldn’t accept the statement emotionally. Understanding her silence, Yngvi quickly moved the conversation along.

“Conversely, when good faith and credibility are requirements, he is a reliable person to have on hand, so it’s all a matter of being the right man for the job. Personally, I am rather fond of him.”

“For the love of... If you aren’t careful, I will be the least of your problems.”

“I know. I won’t act in bad faith with him. In the long run, sincerity is best with people who act in kind.”

“As long as you understand that, I shan’t say any more,” Freya said, easing off. “So, was there anyone else of interest?”

The implication was that if there was not, they would be done with the conversation. Yngvi cast his blue eyes up to the ceiling in thought, then eventually shook his head.

“No, that’s about it. There were, of course, other remarkable people, but outside of Count Márquez, Lady Octavia, Marshal Pujol, and Prince Francesco, no one was on the same level. Princess Bona was significant as an enchanter but would be a rank or two less interesting on the whole.”

His words were honest, which meant this was the first time his powers of observation, which he had bragged about for so long, had missed the mark. Marshal Pujol’s wife, Lucinda, had been at the man’s side the entire time, and despite exchanging greetings with her, Yngvi had no real impression of her at all.

Intermission 2 — Mercenary in Hiding

The Noble’s Commonwealth of Złota Wolność was currently the largest state in the west of the Northern Continent. That was true both in terms of national strength and physical size.

In such a large, powerful nation, there would obviously be many prosperous cities. Pomorskie, where Zenjirou had stopped on his journey aboard the Glasir’s Leaf, was the greatest of them when considering only the port cities, but there were several that rivaled it in scope.

Breslaw, in the northwest of the country, was one of those cities. Unlike Pomorskie, it was located inland. It was close to the country’s border, though, so it was historically a major center for overland trade. In that city’s pleasure district, in a corner that was considered particularly seedy and often even called a slum, was Yan’s hideout.

“Augh! I... I couldn’t... I couldn’t save him!”

Despite the sun being high in the sky, all of the shutters of the squalid room were shut tight, and the one-eyed mercenary was weeping on the floor. He was on all fours on the boards—which were there due to the assumption that people would wear dirty shoes into the room—as tears streamed from his single remaining eye.