Chapter 37

Upon entering the neighboring country, there is an initial reception.

A stone-walled city. The flag of the great power was raised high. Above the castle gate, archers carrying quivers on their backs were lined up, the metal of their arrowheads reflecting the light.

I reached the front of the castle gate on horseback.

At that moment, I suddenly pulled the reins. The high-piled stone walls. Their thickness. The joints. The flow of the waterway running inside the walls. The volume of water falling into the moat, and its sound.

I kept my eyes fixed on it for a while.

Having concluded an agricultural cooperation agreement, the handling of water is not someone else’s problem. The strength of a country can be seen by looking at the height of its castle walls. But what truly supports the country is not its stones.

It is the “flow” that transports stones, piles them up, and keeps them constantly moving. The flow is people, and it is also water.

It becomes rivers, becomes waterways, and circulates through the city. A country that controls water controls wealth and moves armies. That is why, first, I looked at the waterways rather than the castle.

I gave a light nod to the Margrave serving as the overseer of the castle walls. I turned around and asked the accompanying technical official,

“How is this water distributed to the inside of the castle and the farmland?”

The technical official answered concisely.

“There are three water gates. The boards are changed each season, dropping the water in stages to the fields downstream.”

I asked nothing more and nodded just once.

“A magnificent setup.”

I stated only that and advanced my horse again.

—As expected of a great power.

I passed through the castle gate on horseback. Drums sounded. Infantrymen with synchronized steps created a path on both sides of the street.

I straightened my posture in the saddle. Gazes from above the castle gate, from the sides, and from behind.

There is no escape.

I steadied my breathing for a moment.

(At least it’s better than a corporate board meeting, I suppose.)

Beyond the castle gate, in a small plaza in the inner bailey, five colors were lined up.

In the center, purple velvet. To its left and right, steel and fur.

Slightly behind, black clothes. Further at the edge, the light of jewels.

Only the sound of the wind shaking the flags filled the plaza.

I advanced my horse and stopped in the center of the stone paving. No words had been uttered yet. I measured that arrangement at a glance.

The center is the King’s proxy. Steel is the head of the regional military.

Fur is the city governor. Black clothes is a scholar preparing for the academy’s establishment. The light of jewels is the merchant guild.

—For a mere transit point, this is too complete an assembly.

The next moment, I handed my reins to an attendant. I set my feet on the stone paving. A stir moved through the air. The purple eyebrows rose slightly.

—I dismounted first.

Being on horseback represents height, martial might, and a symbol of superiority. Discarding that of my own volition is a demonstration of intention that I bear no hostility.

But at the same time, stepping forward without kneeling is also a declaration that I will not lose my standing as an equal.

I took one step forward and bowed quietly. I did not bend my knee. But the bow was not shallow.

Humility as a prince of a small country, and pride as a member of the Royal Family.

I drew that boundary on the stone paving.

There, the purple in the center finally took a step forward.

Sleeves edged with gold thread caught the sun, gleaming dully.

“His Highness, the Third Prince of a small country. In the name of my King, I acknowledge your entry. May you rest from the labors of your journey and find a fleeting moment of peace in this city.”

The voice carried well. But its temperature was low.

Words of welcome—. However, their ring was closer to a sentence than a blessing.

“Our country values agreements. Therefore, we expect moderation and sincerity from you as well.”

A brief pause. The air in the plaza solidified.

The man of steel—the head of the regional military—remained motionless.

The fur-clad governor allowed no expression to be read.

The black-clothed scholar narrowed his eyes with deep interest.

The light of jewels let his gaze slide as if appraising my value.

—Every single movement from here on will determine my future treatment.

If I act subserviently, I will be made light of; if I act strongly, I will be deemed arrogant. I am being watched to see whether I can tread that paper-thin line.

I took one more step forward, in front of the purple.

“I am deeply grateful for the King’s goodwill. To be able to touch the order and wisdom of your mighty nation is an unexpected honor for me.”

I raised my face. My gaze looked straight ahead.

“My country is a small one. Precisely because of that, we know the weight of agreements better than anyone. It is my intention to learn with sincerity, and respond with sincerity.”

The stir changed slightly.

I continued.

“Though it is but a fleeting stay, I hope that the words exchanged in this land will become the foundation that quietly supports the future of both our countries.”

Silence. There was no applause. But the quality of the gazes changed.

The eyes of the man of steel narrowed slightly. The fur-clad shoulders relaxed just a fraction. The black clothes hid a nod. The light of jewels began calculating.

And the purple in the center. The corners of his mouth rose ever so slightly.

—He is not a prince who merely speaks of sweet ideals.

The gazes that had intended to brush me off lightly changed to cautious ones.

The “contempt” that had enveloped the plaza quietly changed its shape.

The testing is not over. But I answered the first question. I felt that.

In all things, the beginning is crucial.

That single step can sometimes determine the subsequent flow.

No matter what kind of setting it may be.

From Marc’s Perspective

The beginning is always quiet.

But that quietness exactly is what determines the flow.

—That must be what His Highness is thinking.

Marc was watching his back from one step behind.

He, too, felt the air in the plaza change the moment his feet touched that stone paving.

However.

(This is bad for my heart…)

Dismounting from the horse was slightly fast. A bow without bending the knee. A reply without averting his gaze.

One wrong step, and it is disrespect. One wrong step, and it is an insult.

He was stepping through all of that without hesitation.

The man of steel narrowed his eyes slightly. The fur-clad governor relaxed his breathing. The black clothes hid a nod.

His Highness is probably reading all of those.

But Marc could not read them yet.

(Please, let no one reach for their sword.)

If someone raised their voice saying “It’s an insult,” the air would change in an instant.

Even so, His Highness shows no fear. No.

It’s not that he doesn’t show it. He is swallowing it, organizing it, and compartmentalizing it.

Marc knows.

His Highness is not a person who bites into his desk until late at night. Even faced with a mountain of letters, which had increased recently, he determines priorities, draws lines, and finishes only the portion that needs to be done.

And then, he flatly leaves his seat right on time.

“That is all for today.”

Marc had seen that back many times.

He doesn’t push himself unreasonably. But he doesn’t run away either.

(That is exactly why that back does not waver.)

The figure standing in the center of the plaza is quiet.

Not rushing, not getting worked up, not overly bracing himself. Even in front of the stone walls of a great power, His Highness is simply doing “what needs to be done today.”

That is all it is.

Even so.

Today, with this single step, the flow changed.

Marc was convinced. His Highness will not be made light of.

But at the same time, he thought:

…The real battle starts from here.

Today’s exchange will become a letter.

The King’s proxy will absolutely report it. The tone of voice, the angle of the bow, even the length of the silence. When that catches the King’s eye, in what color will it be narrated?

Will it be recorded as “He did not lack courtesy”?

Or will it be appended with, “We must watch closely so he does not overstep his bounds”? With just the tip of that brush, the temperature of the gazes directed at him next will change.

His Highness surely understands this.

Marc thought.

A battle on paper is quieter than swords, and far longer.