He was not particularly frowning or anything, so why did he feel so uncomfortable?
Asros fidgeted with a button on his clothes and pretended to be distracted, only raising his eyes again after quite some time.
Sir Siarkan had at some point moved to the left transept and was conversing with the high priest.
At the serious-looking atmosphere, Asros narrowed his eyes.
Because Sir Siarkan had his back turned, Asros could not check his expression, but he could see the veins standing out on the old priest’s bony nape.
As the old priest moved his shoulders and denounced something, a cold air also crossed Sir Siarkan’s face.
Even at a glance, they did not seem to be on friendly terms. Asros’s eyes sparkled with interest.
What are they talking about?
The priests were steadfast supporters of the Crown Prince, and the same was true of the future Grand Duke of Siarkan.
He wondered for what reason two people in the same sphere of influence were in conflict.
Feeling curious, Asros slipped out of the pews. He was about to hide behind a pillar at the crossing and eavesdrop on their conversation when someone suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck.
Asros snapped his head up, found Berens’s stern face, and let his eyebrows droop.
Looking down at him with a gloomy face, Berens scolded him in a low voice.
“They are Your Highness the Prince’s political enemies. Do not go near them.”
“What political enemies? I don’t have anything like that.”
He tried to protest with a pout, but the man did not move an inch.
With a dissatisfied expression, Asros rolled his eyes and looked toward the transept again.
Sir Siarkan had already finished his conversation with the high priest and was walking toward the crossing.
Asros hurriedly hid behind Berens’s legs.
Sir Siarkan cast a brief, indifferent glance at him, then soon crossed the nave with graceful steps.
Hiding behind Berens and watching his back, Asros asked in a hushed voice.
“What do you think the high priest said to Sir Siarkan?”
“Perhaps he blamed him for this situation.”
“Why? Sir Siarkan and the Great Temple are in a cooperative relationship. Even if Sir Siarkan did something wrong, shouldn’t they cover for him?”
A faint bitter smile passed around Berens’s eyes.
“The world is not that simple.”
Berens, who spoke as if reproving him, turned his head toward the altar where the funeral ceremony was taking place and continued slowly.
“Among the priests, there are many who hold hostility toward the Khan people. In particular, the fundamentalist priests’ hatred of the Siarkan clan has rather deep roots.”
Asros was about to ask why, but closed his mouth. The things he had learned during history lessons came to mind.
In the past, it was the Khan people who fought until the very end against the unification movement of the kingdoms led by Darian Roem Ghirta.
They even inflicted a fatal wound on Wigru, the knight said to have been chosen by God, in the “Final Battle” that took place in the North.
After the war ended, the easterners were also incorporated into the Empire, but even now, the Khan people had not fully assimilated into the Western world, and the hostility of the imperial citizens toward them had also not completely disappeared.
Asros, who was reviewing those facts, suddenly snorted.
“That’s stupid. Other peoples also fought until they bled. Isn’t it too petty to reject them just because they were the last to submit?”
Berens, who had been looking down at Asros with slightly surprised eyes, pulled up the corner of his mouth a little.
“It is not only for that reason. It is closer to the fact that they are wary of the Siarkan clan because they possess powerful abilities.”
“Powerful abilities?”
When Asros tilted his head and asked, Berens remained silent for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth.
“According to records, among the Siarkan clan, a certain proportion were born with strange abilities, such as seeing the future, seeing through people’s innermost thoughts, or freely controlling all kinds of beasts. Thanks to those uncanny powers, they were once able to reign as objects of fear.”
At the interesting story, Asros’s eyes sparkled.
“Do you think Sir Siarkan has some special ability too?”
“That is almost impossible. The priests examined him thoroughly, but they said they could not find anything particularly unusual.”
Berens stroked his chin as if lost in thought and said,
“Perhaps the abilities faded because the blood was diluted over several generations. Since the birth of a powerful mind reader eighty years ago, no ‘primitive sorcerer’ has appeared in House Siarkan.”
After stating that firmly, he added while stroking his chin, as if something had suddenly flashed through his mind.
“Come to think of it, I have heard a rumor that the former Empress possessed foresight, but…”
“My elder brother’s mother did?”
Asros asked back with a surprised face.
Berens paused for a moment as if thinking about something, then soon shook his head.
“It is probably nothing more than a rumor created by those who wish to deify that woman. The Crown Prince and the First Princess are ordinary, are they not?”
Then he added with a gentle smile.
“Perhaps the abilities of the Khan people have completely disappeared.”
At the tone that seemed meant to reassure him, Asros felt slightly displeased.
Why should I feel relieved that the abilities passed down through the Khan people for generations have been lost?
He had no intention of opposing his elder brother. Therefore, the Siar clan was not his enemy either.
But even if he said such things, it was obvious they would be dismissed as a child’s whining, so he shut his mouth.
“It seems the ceremony is almost over now. It would be best to return.”
Seeing the people in the seats of honor leave the nave one by one, Berens lightly placed a hand on Asros’s back.
Asros immediately followed him out of the chapel. He, too, did not want to run into the half-siblings who regarded him as an eyesore.
They avoided the front gate crowded with mourners and went out to the rear garden. However, even in the backyard, a group of nobles had gathered and were sitting around chatting.
When Asros spotted Gareth’s zealous followers among them, he furrowed his brows sharply.
They would not dare harm him, an imperial prince, but there was no reason for him to deliberately face those unpleasant faces.
He grabbed Berens’s hand and turned toward a narrow path shaded deeply by shadows.
At that moment, a familiar name reached his ears.
“How likely do you think it is that Thalia Roem Ghirta will recover?”
“Well. They say she was found practically half-dead, so even if they are elves, it will be difficult to heal her completely.”
Asros widened his eyes and looked up at Berens.
“Is that true?”
Berens paused for a moment as if considering something, then slowly nodded.
Asros’s face immediately turned serious.
He had heard that his older sister’s physical condition was not good, but he had not known she was so badly injured that rumors like this were spreading.
He asked accusingly,
“Why did no one tell me that my older sister was hurt?”
“Because it was not something Your Highness needed to know.”
“She is my older sister! Of course you should have told me too.”
When he raised his voice sharply, the noisy garden fell quiet as if cold water had been poured over it.
Asros turned his head and frowned when he saw the nobles belatedly discover him and hurriedly show respect.
Not wanting to deal with them, he left the garden with the widest strides he could manage, and Berens, who had been silently following him, let out a sigh.
“Your Highness, she hates you. Even if you give her your attention, it will not be returned.”
Asros abruptly stopped walking and glared at him with a sharp look.
In his head, he knew Berens’s words were not wrong. Thalia Roem Ghirta disliked him. Had she not said so with her own mouth?
But he did not want to readily acknowledge that fact.
“Maybe, maybe she regrets saying that to me. That day, she was just… being spiteful and spoke harshly. People are sometimes like that, aren’t they?”
“……”
“If I go visit her while she is sick, won’t she apologize to me?”
They were words he had blurted out impulsively, but they sounded quite plausible.
Without even listening to Berens’s answer, Asros immediately turned his steps toward the detached palace.
On the way, he picked an armful of the prettiest flowers in the garden and prepared a gift for his sick visit.
She will be surprised if I visit, right?
Perhaps she might even feel like cherishing such a kind younger brother, at least a little.
Filled with anticipation, Asros walked across the vast grounds without stopping.
Before long, beyond the garden thick with flowers and blades of grass, a rough-looking ash-gray building came into view.
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