Giovanni Mari threw his jacket across his broad shoulder as he left his office grounds, a mountain of paperwork defeated.
He needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to sift through the implications of Emperor Yasu's and Princess Kiara's imminent visit to Capril.
Perhaps it was time.
The streets of Capril were bustling, the afternoon air filled with the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and the chatter of citizens going about their daily lives.
He moved through the crowd, a familiar figure amidst the throngs.
A ripple of recognition spread through the market, faces lighting up as people caught sight of him.
"It's the uncrowned king."
"Prime Minister Mari!" a voice called out, and soon, he was surrounded by well-wishers.
"Good morning, sir!" a young woman exclaimed, her eyes bright with admiration. "Your work has made such a difference to our district!"
Giovanni smiled, his expression warm. "It is the people of Atteria who make the difference," his voice carried a hint of sincerity. "I am merely a servant of the Kingdom."
He paused, noticing an elderly man struggling to carry a heavy basket of vegetables. Without hesitation, Giovanni stepped forward, offering a hand. "Let me assist you, sir," he implored, and together, they carried the basket to the man's stall.
The crowd murmured their approval, a sense of warmth and respect radiating towards him. A man whose meteoric rise in politics was fueled by heroism—and by his status as a legendary wanderer.
Giovanni fancied himself a man of the people, a leader who walked among them, not above them. He understood the pulse of the city, the hopes and fears that drove its inhabitants.
But even as he performed these acts of kindness, a part of him felt detached, like an actor playing a familiar scene. His movements were precise, his words carefully chosen. His heart was not in it.
As he continued his walk, the adoring crowd slowly thinned, and his thoughts turned to Ramone.
The pressure on him was immense, Giovanni thought. The aristocrats waited, like vultures, for any sign of weakness.
Ramone's reluctance to embrace what was all but a given now was a vulnerability they would exploit, a chink in the kingdom's armor.
The Aurelius family especially. Their resentment burned like a slow, inextinguishable fire.
They had been instrumental in Atteria's victory during the bloody Irie Civil War, their forces turning the tide when the Kingdom's fate hung in the balance. Yet, the head of their family had never ascended to the throne.
Adding fuel to the fire, Julius Aurelius was a constant, looming presence in Ramone's life.
An Earl in Atteria,Julius was a young man slightly older than Ramone but possessed a physical presence that seemed far more imposing, his mage prowess renowned within the kingdom.
Julius carried himself with an air of effortless superiority, his gaze often lingering on Ramone with a mix of disdain and thinly veiled envy. When Julius spoke of Ramone even to Giovanni himself, it was with a dismissive tone, a subtle implication that Ramone was unworthy of the attention he received.
Julius' easy charm and influence within the Congress of Aristocrats was growing, and his unwavering belief in his own destiny was palpable. Ramone's position, caught between duty and desire, made him a vulnerable target, a pawn in a game far larger than he could imagine.
Giovanni reached the palace gates, the imposing structure a stark contrast to the lively streets he had just traversed. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. He made his way down the end of the grand hall, where King Masamune awaited.
"Your Majesty," Giovanni said, bowing slightly. "A most… interesting morning."
"Indeed, Giovanni," Masamune replied, his voice a low rumble. "And as always, you need not be so formal when it's just the two of us."
"More importantly, the arrival of the Emperor and his daughter will certainly stir the pot. And Ramone…, " He paused, a hint of concern in his eyes. "He seems troubled."
"As always, Your Maje... Masamune," Giovanni said, a nervous grin tugging at his cheeks. "But perhaps this will serve to focus his attention."
"Masamune! Giovanni!" a rambunctious voice yelled from down the hall, cutting their conversation. "I apologize for being late. I had to wait up for a certain someone." He continued with vivacious laughter, the sound echoing through the grand hall.
Emperor Yasu Amakusaye De Eiria entered, his presence a stark contrast to the cautious composure of King Masamune and Prime Minister Giovanni. Where Masamune carried the weight of years and responsibility in his every step, and Giovanni exuded a charismatic, measured authority, Yasu radiated an almost childlike enthusiasm.
He was a man of robust build, his face flushed with good humor, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He wore his royal robes with a casual air, as if they were everyday attire, the rich fabrics rumpled slightly as if he'd just thrown them on. He was about the same age as Masamune, but time had been far kinder to Yasu, who not only seemed to retain the same youthful exuberance but was also in the same remarkable physical shape as he had been in his younger years.
He moved with athletic grace, a stark contrast to Masamune's measured gait.
"Yasu," King Masamune said, a hint of a smile softening the lines around his eyes. "You are as punctual as ever."
"Ah, but I have a good excuse!" Yasu declared, throwing an arm around Masamune's shoulder, a gesture that would have been considered highly inappropriate by most rulers.
"My dear daughter insisted on a pre-meeting soak. Said it would soothe her nerves. And you know how young women are," he noted, his gaze sweeping over the room, "impossible to argue with."
He paused, his eyes landing on Giovanni. "Giovanni, my friend! You look more serious than ever. Lighten up! We're here to talk peace, not plan a siege." He gave Giovanni a hearty clap on the shoulder, the force of which made Giovanni subtly adjust his posture.
"Yasu," Giovanni said, half-bowing, his eyes scanning the grand hall. "A pleasure to see you. I was expecting Princess Kiara to accompany you."
Emperor Yasu's gaze met his, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "She has gone ahead," he said, his voice smooth and controlled. "To the academy. A certain someone has caught her interest, I believe."
A subtle unease settled over Giovanni. A certain someone? He knew that could only mean Ramone. "I see," he replied, his expression measurably impartial.
Masamune, observing the easy camaraderie between Yasu and Giovanni, raised a subtle eyebrow.
"You two seem quite… familiar," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of polite curiosity.
"I know you've met at World Council meetings, but one doesn't often see such… warmth between representatives of different nations. Or perhaps you've known each other longer than I realized?"
"He used to explore the ruins around Eiria–always chasing legends, always finding trouble. Then, he was assigned to the Eiria-Metzia border by the World Council's Continental Border Assault Regiment. Though truth be told, he never stayed put." Yasu responded softly, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
"That was at the start of my reign as Emperor."
He turned to face Giovanni, mischief flickering in his eyes.
"Look at you—Giovanni the Great, Wanderer of Creation, Hero of Curia. Never thought the road would end in parliament."
Giovanni's gaze drifted to the corridor lamps, as if the titles had belonged to some other man who'd died years ago.
Masamune gave a quiet chuckle. "They whisper another title now—the Uncrowned King." He lifted an invisible glass, smile razor‑bright. "A lofty crown for a man who can't claim the throne."
His grin faded, voice turning reflective.
"Funny– he never speaks of his wandering days anymore. Itt must be because of what happened ten years ago."
Giovanni inclined his head in a solemn nod. A dignified gesture. A silence that carried all the weight of grief.
And it worked.
In the quiet he slipped out an antique pocket‑watch, thumb circling the fracture in its crystal.
No one pressed him further.
A heartbeat slipped by—
Jingle.
A tiny bell chimed somewhere ahead—then silence.
Before they realized it, a strange figure was darting down the hall.