Episode 116: King Radophilias

Siegfried von Kreving and his party were warmly received at Serodias Castle, passing their days in comfort.

At times, they held meetings with nobles; at others, they were guided through the streets of San Serodia… and then came the third day.

On this day, leaving the other attendants to wait in an antechamber, Siegfried alone stepped into the heart of authority in the Serodonia Kingdom.

Namely, the throne room of Serodias Castle.

The ceiling of the throne room was so high it could accommodate giants, and the space so vast it could house dragons.

The walls on all sides were adorned with vibrant murals, intricately carved with countless sculptures.

While the throne room of Kirchhen-Almas Castle was solemn, dominated by white and gold, this one overflowed with flamboyant splendor.

A crimson carpet boldly stretched down the center, flanked by guards standing in solemn formation.

At its end—where the carpet led to the top of a staircase—stood a single throne.

Siegfried advanced along the carpet, his eyes slightly lowered.

Then, before the throne—at the foot of the stairs—he respectfully knelt.

“Raise your face.”

A hoarse voice rained down from the throne.

Yet Siegfried did not lift his gaze.

“Raise your face.”

The elderly voice spoke again. This time, it was followed by another’s words.

“His Majesty the King wishes to see your face. Raise it and receive the honor of this audience.”

The one who spoke was Garfilia, standing beside the staircase.

At these words, Siegfried finally lifted his head. This was the protocol for meeting the king.

And then—his eyes met those of the figure seated on the throne.

“…So, you are Siegfried von Kreving.”

A low, raspy voice echoed. Its source was none other than the ruler of the Serodonia Kingdom.

Radophilias III, or rather, Radophilias Leglie Rios de Serodonia.

He was a small, frail old king.

His face was etched with deep wrinkles, his complexion pale, lacking any trace of vigor.

He wore a scarlet mantle and crown, symbols of royalty, but their opulence only highlighted his fragility.

“Your efforts this time were truly remarkable. Thanks to you, peace will likely come between Serodonia and Kirchhen. As king of this nation, I offer my gratitude.”

“Your words are too generous, Your Majesty.”

Siegfried bowed his head respectfully.

“I have entrusted the matter of postwar negotiations to Garfilia. I ask that you proceed with him henceforth. …I am old now. Rather than an old man like me meddling, the future of both nations should be decided by those with futures ahead, like you.”

“Haha! Father, what are you saying?!”

Garfilia let out a hearty laugh.

“Father, we still need you to lead this country as king for a long time! Of course, I’ll do my utmost to support you!”

“…Is that so?”

Radophilias narrowed his eyes slightly.

“In any case—this matter is in your hands.”

“Hah! Leave it to me!”

Garfilia nodded vigorously.

Up to this point, everything had gone almost exactly as he had planned.

But then.

Radophilias spoke unexpected words.

“However, before that—Count Kreving. I would like to speak with you alone. Will you come to my private chamber?”

“Father, surely you jest…!?”

The one who raised his voice in surprise was Garfilia.

“Indeed, Count Kreving is a great benefactor to our nation. But for you, the king, to meet one-on-one with a foreigner…!”

His shock was understandable.

It was exceedingly rare for a king to meet privately with someone from another nation.

This was both to preserve the king’s dignity and, naturally, for security reasons.

“It is no jest. I… wish to speak with this man without others present.”

“B-but… we have other plans afterward…”

“Garfilia.”

In that moment, a spark flared in Radophilias’s eyes.

Within the aged gaze burned the dignity of a king.

“The king of this nation… is me.”

With those words, Garfilia swallowed his objections.

If the king willed it, any subsequent plans could be postponed.

“…Very well, Your Majesty.”

“Then, shall we go, Count Kreving?”

“Understood.”

Siegfried smiled faintly and rose quietly.

 

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Brushing aside those who urged at least a guard to accompany him, Radophilias headed toward a curtain hanging behind the throne, concealing a hidden door.

Beyond the door stretched a corridor, leading to another door.

Opening it revealed a room roughly the size of a noble’s study.

This room was called the King’s Inner Chamber.

It was a private space used when the king wished to reflect alone or meet someone for personal matters.

One wall featured a large window, offering a view of the beautiful garden behind the castle.

Another wall was adorned with several swords and paintings.

They were not necessarily expensive items—likely chosen to suit the king’s personal tastes.

“…This is my favorite room. When I was still a prince… I came here countless times. My father—the previous king—enjoyed playing the violin. He would perform for me here.”

Radophilias spoke with a nostalgic tone.

“…His skill was hardly praiseworthy. But even so, I loved those melodies. There was a warmth in my father’s clumsy notes, I suppose. And after I became king… Volfirio often came to this room. In his own way, he may have looked up to me.”

A faint shadow crossed Radophilias’s face as he spoke.

“…That boy was a foolish son. Drowning in ambitions beyond his means, seeking power without the ability to wield it. But even so—he was my son, without a doubt.”

Then, the old king’s gaze fixed on Siegfried.

In it dwelled a father’s sorrow—and an unrelenting flame of hatred.

“…I’ve received the report. The one who killed Volfirio… was you. How dare you take my son… my Volfirio…!”

Radophilias reached for a sword hanging on the wall.

The weight of the blade burdened his aged hand, but driven by rage, he drew it from its scabbard.

“Siegfried von Kreving. Kneel before me! Bow your head and beg for forgiveness!”

Siegfried, without so much as a twitch of his brow, met the old king’s gaze.

“—I cannot do that.”

“What!?”

“I have no qualms about bowing my head to others. It costs me nothing to do so. But to beg for forgiveness at your command—that I cannot do.”

Siegfried’s voice remained steady, unshaken by the king’s wrath.

“I understand. To you, I am the vile ‘evil’ who killed your beloved son. But I have no intention of regretting my actions or begging for forgiveness—not in the slightest. That would be a denial of my way of life. And… a denial of the villains I’ve killed thus far.”

“You…!”

Radophilias thrust the sword forward in his anger.

The movement was slow, lacking sharpness due to his aged body.

Yet Siegfried did not dodge. Instead, he stepped forward.

“Urgh…!”

It was Radophilias who let out a startled cry.

But by then, the tip of his sword had already pierced Siegfried’s left chest ever so slightly.

Blood seeped from Siegfried’s noble attire.

If Radophilias applied more force, the blade would surely pierce his heart.

“As I see it, you are neither justice… nor evil. But as a father whose son was killed, you have the right to seek vengeance against me. And to die at the hands of an avenger—that, too, is one fate for an ‘evil.’ So, what will you do, Your Majesty Radophilias? Will you kill me here?”