Erman was sitting in the Great Hall. To be exact, in the seat of honor on the dais, at the High Table.
No banquet was being held. There was nothing in particular to celebrate either.
And yet the reason he was sitting there alone was.
"I heard His Majesty punished you, Prince."
Queen Cadwin slowly paced back and forth before the High Table.
With each step the white veil on her bourrelet swayed, but the ladies-in-waiting all kept their heads bowed.
"It is because, before being a prince, I failed to keep a subject's duty to His Majesty."
"Then you must have had no regrets at all about being punished."
"Yes."
Cadwin's steps stopped.
"His Majesty's teachings are strict, but what I truly worry about is something else."
"Nothing that Mother need worry about."
"How could that be, Prince? You collapsed on the spot, didn't you? And could only barely pick yourself up with the support of a commoner attendant, no less."
"-That."
Erman's face flushed before he knew it.
It wasn't that borrowing Albion's hand was shameful, but he hadn't known that such a trifling thing would reach the Queen's ears.
When Erman, who'd been composed the whole time he sat there, lowered his gaze, the Queen raised the corners of her mouth in satisfaction.
"I was worried. Isn't there something I've always urged you to remember, Prince?"
"You said that as the Prince of Loegria, I must govern my body and mind."
"Yes. You remember. And yet, Prince, why,"
The Queen looked down at him.
Without even lowering her head, rolling only her eyes, as if looking at an underling.
"......did you end up making such a disgraceful display in front of all those servants and soldiers? The Prince of Loegria, sprawled on the floor, unable even to rise by himself."
"......"
"So frail, you can never take up a sword, Prince. Even if you can't catch up to His Majesty King Calhog, you mustn't sully the name of the royal house, must you?"
"Forgive me, Mother."
"Don't give me that, Prince. Tell me how you will settle this. Others have already seen with their own two eyes that you are weak, so how will you deal with them?"
"That's."
"Even if that attendant is driven from the castle, the Prince of Loegria's sorry display will only spread further. Shall we shut everyone's mouths?"
"Mother, I."
"But how does one stop a rumor from spreading? Then shall we rather kill everyone who was in the inner court at that hour? How pitiful for the servants and soldiers. Losing their lives just for being there that day."
"No, Mother. No."
"Then what will you do? Prince. Persuade me."
Erman couldn't offer a solution. In a child's way, he simply couldn't give an answer that would satisfy Cadwin.
Cadwin, watching Erman fall silent in the end, lifted her chin slightly.
"You are still very young, Prince. It can't be helped. I knew this would happen, so I prepared a fine method."
"A fine method."
Cadwin nodded to a lady-in-waiting, who quickly bent her knees a little and threw the doors of the hall wide open.
A delicious smell flowed thickly in from the dark corridor. Servants in a line came in and carried food to the High Table.
Sausages stuffed with blood and meat, veal, chicken legs, a whole roasted swan, mustard-colored sauce, fishy cold-set fish pudding, a bean stew boiled in meat juices and a pie heaped with vegetables.
Erman's face went white as he faced a feast that people living outside the castle wouldn't touch with the tip of their tongues in all their lives.
Before the table whose legs looked ready to break, Cadwin gently commanded.
"Eat, Prince."
"M, Mother."
"A sturdy body is the foundation of martial arts. They say a person as weak as you, Prince, must correct what he eats first."
The lady-in-waiting pressing silver cutlery into Erman's hand was expressionless.
"It is all yours, Prince. Eat all of it, leaving nothing."
The inside of Erman's mouth went dry before food that twenty soldiers together couldn't finish.
"......Th, thank you for the meal......"
He cut the pie and put a small piece in his mouth.
The flaky layers crumbled and left marks on the plate. It was a good pie. Food the cook had put effort into baking.
But Erman, simply couldn't taste it.
The whole time he ate the pie, he was afraid.
What if there's poison in this? What if they used harmful herbs as ingredients? What if they say I'm holding the knife wrong? Will I get struck on the back of the hand with the maple rod again? What if there's some rotten ingredient that tastes horrible somewhere? What if that fish has gone bad? What if they tell me not to drink water? What if I accidentally eat a dish that symbolizes a saint? What if they petition His Majesty that I'm too poorly taught and insolent to be a prince? What if His Majesty calls for me and says he'll flog and replace my tutor again?
Little by little, Erman's hand slowed.
Noticing that, Cadwin asked sweetly.
"Is it not to your taste, Prince?"
"No, Mother...... I'm full."
"You mean you can't eat any more?"
"That's."
"And here I went to the trouble of telling the kitchen to build you up, pained by your frail body, Prince."
Cadwin came around the table. Kneeling by Erman's side herself, the Queen whispered to the pale Erman.
"Are the things I prepared not to your liking? Shall I have the cook dragged out and punished?"
"No, no. Mother. It isn't that."
"Then do you wish to have the heads cut off of all who saw your disgrace, Prince?"
"No......"
"Don't ignore my heart, Prince. Didn't His Majesty say so?"
The woman with a serpent's tongue smiled.
"'Though he is not a child born of your womb, cherish him as your own son,' he said."
"......"
"This is a mother's devotion. Prince."
Cadwin properly pressed the knife back into Erman's hand.
Erman, terrified, began eating again. It was closer to stuffing it in.
But there was no way it would all fit in his tense body, and in the end Erman threw up what hadn't even digested onto the floor.
Hurk, hueeegh. At the loud noise the ladies-in-waiting came over, wiped the floor and cleared away the vomit. Without any sign of disgust, Cadwin looked down at Erman clutching his stomach.
"Eat it all, Prince."
A small trembling hand took up the fork again. The meal went on even as he gasped for breath.
Eat, vomit, wipe.
Eat, vomit again, wipe.
Eat again, cry, vomit, wipe, beg, refuse, eat, vomit, clear away, plead, mock, eat, vomit, command, drop the fork, have it pressed back into the hand, get browbeaten.
By the time Erman's chin was filthy with stomach acid and half-chewed food.
-CRASH!
"Erman!"
A child kicked open the doors of the hall and ran in.
His long ivory hair was a complete mess, yet his huffing pale green eyes passed over the cooling food on the High Table, and fixed on Erman, smeared with cold sweat, tears and vomit, and on Cadwin before him.
There seemed to be a faint sound of grinding teeth.
"Greetings, Your Highness the Queen."
"Aren't you the attendant His Majesty brought? I'm quite sure I ordered that no one be let into the hall."
Ignoring the sharp warning, Albion walked straight over and pulled up Erman, worn out from the unwanted meal.
"Excuse me. His Majesty wishes the deciphering of the tablet's script to proceed quickly."
"You would take the Prince away in front of me? You dare?"
"Because His Majesty King Calhog's command came first."
Erman was dragged out of the hall after Albion in a daze.
He too had thought of using His Majesty King Calhog's order to decipher the tablet as an excuse.
But he'd feared how crossing Cadwin would come back on him later, and if worst came to worst Albion, tied to the deciphering, could get dragged in too, so he hadn't.
All along the deserted corridor, Erman only stared blankly at Albion's back.
Someone about his own age, a commoner, only just arrived at the castle, not knowing how frightening Cadwin was.
And for such a person to storm into the hall so grandly.
Erman laughed before he knew it. At that ahaha of a laugh, Albion turned around.
His face, openly showing how absurd he found it, crumpled with a crunch.
***
You're laughing?
You're laughing right now?
You were just about to suffocate on your own vomit, you know?
I couldn't bring myself to get angry at Erman, giggling in that filthy state, so I stood stock-still, at a loss for words. Erman wiped his chin with his sleeve and snickered.
"What's so funny?"
"Your expression when you came into the Great Hall."
"What about my expression?"
"You looked like a knight who'd just gotten off his horse."
......What does that mean?
Kids' imaginations are hard to follow. Instead of answering that, I took Erman to the laundry I'd found while tailing attendants.
Only after I'd drawn water from the big well behind the laundry, scrubbed Erman's dirty clothes hard and washed his chin did I start questioning him in earnest.
"Why were you just sitting there doing that? She's not even your real mother. If you didn't want to eat, you should've kicked your way out. Can't you even do that?"
"But."
Crouched by the well, soaking wet, Erman looked up at me.
"She's the Queen."
"And you're the prince. Is that a problem? Is it because of rank? You'll be King of Loegria later on, so what's the problem?"
"But I'm only half a prince."
Half a prince.
Ah, right. According to the setting, Erman was an illegitimate son Calhog had fathered outside, and Cadwin was displeased with that Erman.
I'd thought Calhog at least cherished Erman a little, but seeing him raise a hand, that didn't seem to be it either.
"And if I defy the Queen, His Majesty won't like it either. He'll be angry."
"That's kind of a big problem."
"His Majesty hates me carelessly going against his orders even more than me acting unlike a prince. That's why I endured it. If word reaches His Majesty's ears that I can't get along with the Queen."
"Ah, I get it. I get it, so stop there."
If Calhog found out, he'd go wild about Erman disobeying again, and hit him in front of everyone or something. Without hesitating, whether others were watching or not, just like I'd seen before.
What the hell are these NPC settings? Somehow it didn't feel like someone else's business, so I couldn't just leave it. I know very well how awkward a family not joined by blood can be.
"So you're going to keep on like that? Whether it's the Queen or anyone else who hits you, you're just going to keep getting pounded with great hit feedback?"
"I know it's stupid. But...... I don't know. What I should do. The prince the Queen wants is already decided, and I don't fit that. Weak, no strength, not tall. I'm always dropping my sword. I'm not good with a bow, and I'm scared of riding horses."
"Is this a roundabout way of saying you want to quit being a prince?"
"I want to. But I can't just do that, can I?"
Erman turned glum. Hugging his knees, crouched down, his self-esteem seemed to have already drilled through the ground.
This wasn't where I'd meant to bring it up, but does it really matter? Casually checking that no one was around, I went down on one knee in front of Erman.
"Hey. What would you do if you could become a perfect prince?"
"A perfect prince?"
"Yeah. Like you said, you know, someone good at throwing punches and smart too."
Erman's mouth slowly fell open. A faint liveliness came to his blue eyes.
"How? I really want to be a prince like that."
"Really?"
"I wish the Queen would praise me, even just once. His Majesty, His Majesty would think he did well bringing me to the royal castle too. Albion, what do I do? What do I have to do to become a perfect prince?"
Whoa. Look at this.
The gloom of a moment ago was gone without a trace, and Erman, having thrown off even the face of a dignified prince, pestered me.
Right. He has to respond at least this much for me to feel like doing it.
I took out the small tablet fragment I'd hidden in my clothes. Erman's eyes went round at the sight.
"That's the relic that came from Tintagel."
"That's right."
A piece of stone small enough to fit in the hand. Part of the relic that Calhog had threatened us into deciphering.
How did I get it? I just swiped it. I'm a player and everyone else is an NPC anyway, so what's the harm? It's not like I'm going to sell it somewhere, I only want to study its effects.
"I'm only borrowing it for a bit. More importantly, isn't there something you always carry on you?"
"Something I carry on me? Well, I always wear things like shoes."
"......Never mind. Just get me a necklace. Not something expensive and eye-catching, something as plain as possible."
Hearing my order, Erman wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.
That night, in Erman's bedchamber, I put heads together with him and carved letters into a small piece of wood again and again. Only after the sharp stone had left deep marks that wouldn't rub off did I finally lay my palm on the piece and chant the spell.
"<The beginning of life, a return that must come to pass, deep patience and hope. Onn.>"
「Spirit: 348/350」
The piece of wood glowed faintly, then soon died down. When I hung it on Erman myself, who'd been watching with round eyes, he fiddled with the crude necklace and asked.
"Is this it? Will it be all right from now on?"
"Probably. But the most important thing is your attitude. Don't give up. Got it? When any chance comes, you have to try to make it yours."
"I don't know what's going to happen, but...... thank you, Albion."
Above the head of Erman as he answered that, a system window only I could see had been floating since some point.
「Albion Story Quest:
The Power of Ogham (Complete)
Reward → 50 Pennies」
「Albion Story Quest:
Student of the Power (In Progress)
Grants the Mark of Ogham.
Time remaining until Luck increase— 19:59:59...」