While Rest had already returned to the comfort of the Marquis Rosemary estate, the Kingdom Army was also making its triumphal entry into the Royal Capital after successfully suppressing the rebellion.
The campaign had lasted only a few days. Returning with unexpected speed, the soldiers were welcomed as heroes and greeted by the cheering smiles of the people.
Crown Prince Richard and his personal guard entered the Royal Castle first. His adjutant, Marquis Catreia, had remained in the Marquis Eiger Territory to oversee the post-war cleanup and administration.
Richard had returned ahead of the main force to deliver his report to the King—and to bring "it" back with him.
"You have done well, Richard."
"I have returned, Father."
Reunited in the castle, the Crown Prince stood before his father. Seeing his son standing there unharmed, the King’s weary face filled with heartfelt relief.
"The matter was settled far swifter than I imagined. To be honest, I did not expect you to achieve such a total victory so quickly."
"The credit is not mine, Father. It belongs to Marquis Catreia, the soldiers, and above all... to 'him'."
"...I have received the initial dispatches. It seems he, too, was far beyond our expectations."
The "him" in question was Viscount Rest Clover.
Without a doubt, Rest had been the most pivotal figure on the battlefield. He had led the charge as the First Spear, devastating an army of seven thousand troops single-handedly. Furthermore, when Rodel had pushed near their own lines, Rest had engaged the prince in a duel and brilliantly repelled the threat.
The Royal Family had intended to manufacture a hero out of Rest for political purposes, but his actual performance had outstripped any propaganda they could have devised. He was a genuine hero, and his deeds required no exaggeration.
"I was aware that Viscount Clover had slain the magical beast Subnock. However, it seems there wasn't a shred of falsehood or hyperbole in the reports of his prowess."
The King had read the prior reports, but hearing his son’s firsthand account made him truly appreciate the magnitude of Rest's power. In a world where mana exists as a tangible force, it was not unheard of for a single warrior or mage to change the tide of war. The Sages of the Council, led by men like Verloid Hahn, the Director of the Royal Academy, were the living embodiments of such transcendent power.
It appeared Rest Clover had joined the ranks of those superhuman few.
"...In that case, we must find a way to firmly bind Viscount Clover to the crown," the King murmured, a deep furrow appearing between his brows as he fell into thought.
Simply granting him a title and land might not be enough to secure his absolute loyalty. To weld him to the Royal Family, they needed to drive in a more permanent "wedge."
"If it were possible, I would have preferred to marry a daughter of the Royal Family to him, but..."
"...I have neither an older nor a younger sister, Father," Richard pointed out.
Most unfortunately, the current Royal Family lacked any princesses who could be used for a political marriage. All three of the King's children were sons—and one of them was now a disgraced traitor. The King did have sisters, but they were either already married or the age gap was far too wide.
"My aunt remains unmarried, but..."
"I can hardly order the boy to marry a 'princess' in her fifties. Instead of binding Viscount Clover to the crown, it would likely provoke him into open revolt."
Unless Rest happened to have very specific tastes, few men would be pleased to be wed to a woman nearly three times their age. Marquis Rosemary, Rest's guardian, would certainly intervene if such an absurdity were proposed. Marrying him to the King's sister was out of the question.
"Then we must look to a house closely related to the throne..."
"Which leaves us with..."
"......"
The King and Richard’s gazes converged on a single point in the room.
Standing there silently, having waited for the royals to finish their private exchange, was Duke Verios Crocus.
The Duke's house was a lineage that had descended from the royal bloodline. While other ducal houses existed, they were largely figureheads with no real power. And, as if perfectly arranged by fate, the Duke had a daughter exactly Rest’s age who was currently without a fiancé.
The former fiancé of the traitor Rodel Aiwood—Celestine Crocus.
"...I understand the direction of your thoughts, Your Majesty," the Duke spoke solemnly, his expression as unyielding as a slab of granite.
"Due to a magic contract established by the former head of my house—who was a devotee of Her Majesty the Queen Dowager—my daughter was bound to Prince Rodel. While there were ways to break the curse had I been willing to use any means necessary, I chose to maintain the engagement as a way to monitor the Queen Dowager Faction’s internal movements."
"Prime Minister..."
"I have spent years forcing my daughter into an unwanted engagement for the sake of the crown. Even if it is the most logical decision for the stability of the kingdom, I cannot bring myself to demand she enter another political marriage for the sake of the Royal Family."
Duke Crocus was a man of total devotion, a servant of the state who had sacrificed his personal feelings for the country. This was perhaps the first time he had ever voiced his true ego as a father.
"......"
"......"
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving both the King and the Crown Prince in a somber silence.
"...I will speak to my daughter about the matter," the Duke continued. "However, I ask that you do not make this a mandatory order by royal decree."
The Duke understood the reality of the situation. Celestine Crocus possessed a sense of responsibility greater than anyone else’s. If she were told the circumstances, she would likely volunteer for the marriage herself for the good of the realm.
Therefore, this was the Duke's final piece of selfishness—his desperate attempt to be a father who prioritized his child’s heart over the state.
"I suppose I can't laugh at Rosemary or Catreia anymore. You’re a doting father as well, it seems."
"......"
At the King’s weary, almost fond remark, the Duke’s grimace only deepened.
"Ahem... Regardless, while Viscount Clover's future is a priority, we have other matters that require immediate deliberation."
Richard cleared his throat to change the subject. The next topic was one that the Crown Prince found particularly distasteful—a problem he had delayed as long as humanly possible, however futile that effort had been.
Richard clapped his hands, signaling the knights waiting outside the chamber. They entered, dragging "it" across the floor.
"Let us discuss the disposal of Rodel Aiwood... my foolish younger brother."
"......"
Dragged in by his arms, his body battered and wrapped entirely in bandages, was the Third Prince of the realm, Rodel Aiwood.