RECORD OF THE DAYS BEFORE THE ROYAL SELECTION – DIPLOMACY BY BLOODSHED
1
“There is one reason, and one reason only, as to why I’ve called you here.” Gruff and grave, the speaker had a face like a craggy cliff. He was a large man with close-cropped green hair. His abundant muscles were sheathed in armor. The man’s neck and shoulders were impossibly thick compared with those of an average person; this was someone who exuded martial spirit in a way only a trained and disciplined warrior could.
He had squeezed his great bulk into a cramped chair, a vantage point he used to gaze across a black, lacquered desk with a look that would have been enough to bring most people to their knees.
The man’s name was Marcus Gildark. He was a knight of the Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica and captain of the Knights of the Royal Guard. He was called the strongest in the land, a battle-tested, old war dog. The man’s history and his skill with the sword left everyone in agreement that he was the second most powerful fighter in the kingdom. In other words, in terms of sheer strength, Marcus Gildark was one of the last people in the nation whose ire one would wish to arouse, but at that moment…
“Captain, please, you don’t have to act so tough. Ferri may look relaxed, but he’s meowy busy!”
It was shocking that anyone would dare to address Marcus with such levity. The captain’s conversation partner smiled easily at him, undaunted by the stony glare that came back.
“Felix.”
“Hmph! I wish you would finally start calling me Ferris, captain. ‘Felix’ just sounds so…mannish.”
“It ought to,” Marcus said with a grimace. “Because you are a man, and it’s your name.”
The frustrated target of this rebuke was a creature with flaxen hair, as well as cat ears of the same color, and appeared to be a beautiful girl—emphasis on appeared.
Felix Argyle, who styled himself as Ferris, was a male knight of the royal guard who behaved like a demure young lady. Such was his true character. At the moment, he busied himself by pursing his lips at Marcus in displeasure. “I’m not a little child anymore—don’t act like you can say whatever you want to me, even if it is true. Ferri won’t like the captain if he refuses to listen.”
“You always did run your mouth. Take a lesson from the two beside you and keep it shut for once.”
“Okaaay,” Ferris said, not sounding the least bit penitent. He straightened up and glanced to either side. Two others stood flanking him, both enduring Marcus’s withering stare. One of them looked downcast, while the other was resolutely maintaining a serious expression. “Way to back me up, guys,” Ferris muttered to himself, clicking his tongue.
Marcus picked up the softly spoken words with his excellent ears, but he chose not to respond. Instead, he said, “It makes me a happy captain to have such excellent subordinates.” It was as good a way as any of skirting the subject. Marcus had straightened up and returned to the original topic of discussion. “Let’s get down to business. I’m dispatching you three as bodyguards for a very important person. Your destination is the Empire of Volakia.”
One voice raised a skeptical question. “We’re escorting a VIP? To the empire?” The speaker was purple-haired and handsome. Currently, he had one eyebrow raised doubtfully. This man had a fine face, but it wore a dubious expression. “Sir, I was under the impression that we weren’t to make any waves by making contact with the empire right now.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but that’s really above our pay grade, isn’t it, Julius? Let the brass sweat the small stuff. Any other questions?”
The handsome young man, Julius Juukulius, glanced at the knight to his right and muttered, “…I think there’s still good reason to question the choice of personnel.”
The red-haired young man standing beside him nodded and said, “I agree. Bodyguard work is one thing, but I’m perplexed that my name would come up in connection with anything resembling diplomacy. Normally, I’m forbidden from even getting near the border.”
“Nothing in the treaty specifically states that Reinhard van Astrea is barred from doing anything. More to the point, in this case, they asked for you.”
“Did they, sir?” The young man with the red hair—Reinhard van Astrea—gave a dubious look. Julius and Ferris both seemed as perplexed as he did.
Marcus nodded at the three of them, and then with a deep, serious sigh, he added, “The emperor of the Holy Empire of Volakia wishes to see you personally.”
And that was that.
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