"I still don't understand why I'm going."
Even as he muttered this, the servants nearby were busy dressing him in ceremonial robes.
Upon hearing the news that he had received the Queen's letter, Cellinne and Valter immediately rushed out and began trying to dissuade him.
Saying it would be better not to go, asking what he thought would happen there.
But Dardin and Eva, though with some hesitation, carefully offered the opinion that it would be better to go.
Unlike themselves, who were known as lower nobles or mercenaries,
Yurik and he were already quite famous within the royal castle, so not attending would appear strange.
Yurik was also negative about him attending the funeral,
He reluctantly mentioned that Dardin and Eva's opinions were somewhat valid,
So in the end, he ended up attending the funeral of the King, a complete stranger he had never even seen.
Actually, if it were just going to the funeral, he would have thought it was possible.
But since he would be accompanying Yurik alone as a pair, he had to wear attire befitting etiquette and maintain appropriate dignity.
Royal etiquette wasn't too big a problem since Eva had taught him the basics quickly.
The problem occurred on the day of the funeral.
-Mage, did you cough?
Even though the room was still dim, a servant came looking for him, so at first he was surprised, thinking it was already morning.
He only thought about when nights had become this short, wondering if his sense of time had finally gone wrong.
But when he opened the door, about ten servants were lined up in front of the bedroom door.
Why had so many gathered?
-Is it already this time? I'm not late, am I?
-No, Mage. The sun hasn't risen yet, but we apologize—His Highness the 3rd Prince asked us to hurry the preparations.
-Preparations?
-We regret having to disturb your peaceful sleep. Since there's no time, could you please come this way first?
So it was still dawn. What were they doing from such an early hour? What preparations?
From the moment he thoughtlessly followed the servants' guidance into the bathroom, about five hours had passed.
He had to become the servants' human mannequin.
He soaked his body in the tub three times in the bathroom. Washed his hair twice. Had his fingernails and toenails trimmed, had strange things applied to his face, then washed and applied again and washed again.
After coming out exhausted from all that, the servants transported him to Yurik's large wardrobe room he had seen before.
After placing him on a platform, three or four of them clung to him and began manipulating his face and hair,
Meanwhile, others began busily carrying clothes and other items.
Mage, please look this way. Mage, please raise your eyes. Mage, please put in your arm. Mage, please lift your foot. Mage, just your shoulder a bit. Mage, please raise your head. Mage, isn't the waist too tight? Mage, mage, mage.
That damn "Mage!"
He wanted to collapse from exhaustion on that damned platform,
But the servants, apparently never tiring, helped him change clothes politely and swiftly.
And so he was now here,
Having reached the point of imagining tearing off all the clothes he was wearing and running away after his patience had worn thin.
Just before he was about to lose his temper and tell them to please stop,
The dressing room door opened and Yurik entered, wearing the guise of a magnificent and perfect prince.
"Are the preparations not ready yet?"
"Almost finished."
Yurik, who asked the servant about his condition, was neatly dressed in black ceremonial attire.
Though it felt awkward since he usually saw him dressed casually, it suited him well so there wasn't much discomfort.
Unadorned uniform to express grief. Epaulettes, tassels, and buttons were reduced to a minimum,
Instead of sparkling jewels or gold, platinum and less lustrous materials were used to maintain dignity that was elegant but not gaudy.
The shoes with complex decorations and laces that reached up to the ankles suited him very well.
In such splendid attire, Yurik looked at him, who was nearly dying, and added.
"Put a veil on him as well. He's not someone who should be carelessly exposed to others' shallow curiosity."
He wondered if it was appropriate for him to wear a veil when going to a funeral, but he didn't bother asking.
He was too exhausted and tired to consider it.
Only after wearing a veil and holding the heavy staff of Eibon in one hand could he finally come down from the platform.
His clothes were also all black like Yurik's.
It seemed like they had tried to make him look dignified in their own way, but he wasn't sure. Anyway, as long as it wasn't sackcloth, wouldn't it be fine?
As he walked dragging the heavy hem of his robes, Yurik politely guided him personally.
As soon as he escaped from the terrible torture chamber—the wardrobe room—he felt relieved.
Yurik, walking beside him, quietly asked.
"How was the royal experience? Such experiences aren't common."
"If this is what being royal is like, I won't live in the royal castle."
Yurik couldn't help but laugh, letting out a small sound.
In the early morning, they walked leisurely as if enjoying a stroll.
Walking carefully only on clean paths so their painstakingly worn clothes wouldn't get dirty while viewing the tranquil royal castle felt strange.
It didn't feel like they were going to attend a funeral.
That was understandable, since thanks to the flower gardens built here and there, the scent of light morning mist mixed with fresh grass tickled his nose,
And occasionally he could see young maids chattering while carrying brooms or laundry.
Well, there was no law saying everyone had to be sad just because the King died.
But,
As they neared the place where the funeral would be held, people dressed in black began to appear one by one.
Everyone was climbing the white stairs with solemn and dignified attitudes.
The funeral hall—what would certainly be close to a temple in modern times—had a dome-shaped ceiling in a ㄷ-shaped structure, with one side completely open.
People could enter and exit through the open side, but the three closed sides were densely carved with inconsistent patterns, jewels, or paintings.
Looking at that, Yurik whispered quietly.
"Those are the coffins of past kings."
"Coffins?"
"The lower part of the coffins. On the side where the feet are, they engrave paintings or verses commemorating the dead king's achievements."
So... if Yurik was right, that wall meant it was a space for storing successive Aquilonia kings in coffins like drawers.
If Yurik became king and pretended to die, would he also go into one of those?
Could he break out by himself? Since he might need to help, it might be good to look carefully now.
After carefully examining the beautiful wall filled with coffins and climbing all the stairs,
People who appeared to be major nobles of Aquilonia were sitting on white chairs carved entirely from hard stone.
Though quite a few seats were already filled, places for members of the royal family had been prepared in advance.
Following Yurik to the front seats, the back of his head tingled. He could feel everyone's gazes focused here.
As he tried to ignore it and sit steadfastly, someone shouted from behind.
"Her Majesty the Queen enters!"
Everyone stood up. He and Yurik were no exception.
The Queen was climbing the stairs accompanied by knights in black cloaks. Even from a distance, it was obvious she had become quite gaunt.
She, who appeared dejected or expressionless from exhaustion, stopped briefly beside him and Yurik and smiled.
"You cannot know how much strength it gives me that the mage has come."
She was speaking to him, not Yurik.
The Queen was still showing consistent friendliness toward him,
But he remembered Cellinne and Eva foaming at the mouth and threatening him not to even speak with the Queen.
How should he respond?
Since he couldn't get a feel for it, he just nodded, and she sent him a faint smile as if she understood everything.
Then she bowed her head slightly and sat down with the knight in the empty chair prepared in the front row.
Perhaps the smile she had just given... she too understood what position he was in.
The funeral wasn't as complicated as he had expected. Most of the time, he just had to do what the official leading the funeral from the front told him to do.
Stand up, we request a floral tribute, sit down, things like that.
When that ended, the royal secretary spoke about the achievements and fairness the deceased had accomplished in life,
After that, the royal orchestra in the corner played sad music, giving the attendees time to fall into their own thoughts.
Throughout all those processes, he wasn't sad. Only a dry impression that it had simply come to pass existed.
That was understandable. He couldn't force himself to be sad about a stranger's death. He could only hope his end hadn't been painful.
And what concerned him more was Yurik.
Yurik appeared outwardly to not be greatly affected by the King's death.
Unlike him, perhaps he had become numb from experiencing many other people's deaths already.
Still, he wasn't sure whether he had no feelings at all about the King, his former adoptive father who was now the late king.
Anyway, that person would have been the one who brought Yurik in.
So he naturally would have seen his face. Wouldn't they have had conversations sometimes?
Even if they weren't close enough to face each other at every meal, as adoptive son and adoptive father, they probably would have talked.
Ah, he didn't know. Wouldn't it be strange to ask Yurik about his relationship with the dead person?
Still, if possible, he hoped Yurik wouldn't be upset or sad.
Even if he did become depressed, Cellinne, Eva, Dardin... now there were many people nearby he could consult with, so he hoped he would talk comfortably.
And he hoped he could properly share feelings of sadness with the Queen too.
The Queen seemed to be having a very hard time,
If both of them properly recognized their feelings of sadness and had someone to be sad with, they could recover a little faster.
Ah,
He hoped Yurik would become happy enough that he wouldn't have to worry about such things anymore.
* * *
The funeral ended with the King's coffin being placed in the wall.
For a while, mourning flowers would continue to pile up where the new coffin had been placed.
When the Queen left her seat first, others also stood up to go to the mourning banquet.
The mourning banquet was scheduled to be held in the royal castle's Great Hall, as all the nobles would attend.
Since riding horses within the royal castle was strictly forbidden except in emergencies,
Everyone had to use small palanquins called lecticas carried by servants or walk on their own feet.
Of course, there was naturally no crazy person who would use a lectica on the way to the late king's mourning banquet.
Thanks to this, they could see the spectacle of a crowd of people dressed in black all heading to one place at once.
They followed at the tail of that crowd toward the main castle.
And when they faced another set of high stairs there, he sighed automatically.
These damn stairs.
"Yurik."
"What is it, Mage?"
Look at that. Acting polite again because others were around.
He untied the black sash that would probably kill him from respiratory distress in the middle of the stairs.
Then he approached Yurik and tied it around his hair as if doing him a favor.
Yurik asked with a face that tried to smile but failed.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Wouldn't hair get in your mouth while eating?"
"That would be so."
"There, that's done. Let's go."
"Mage, couldn't you tie the hair ribbon differently?"
"That's the only way I can tie it?"
"?"
Ah, this made moving much more comfortable.
Having simultaneously disposed of his sash and the nobles' object of curiosity to Yurik, he climbed the stairs diligently,
While Yurik followed behind, receiving all the nobles' attention while having messily tied hair.
The mourning banquet in the main castle's Great Hall was arranged with assigned seats for attendees.
Since there were now fewer members of the royal family, he, Yurik, and the Queen all ended up seated together at what appeared to be the head table.
Feeling somehow like he was intruding on a harmonious family, he sat beside the Queen.
Yurik's seat was on the opposite side of the Queen.
Just as at the funeral earlier, the Queen entered only after everyone was seated.
She, who had changed clothes in the meantime, sat elegantly.
A modest mourning banquet began.
There were rules for mourning banquets. The dishes served at the banquet must not be from animals that died today,
Rather than land beasts, they used crustaceans and fish considered to have no red blood,
And since it was a place to honor the dead, one must not request additional food beyond the set amount.
Of course, there were other trivial things Eva had taught him.
For him, who hardly ate, there was no reason to follow them.
Thanks to this, he maintained his seat by only slightly wetting his lips with water and alcohol.
At the end of the mourning banquet, where only the quiet sounds of clinking and lowered voices could be heard,
When a white dessert resembling blancmange appeared, the Queen rang a silver bell once and stood up.
"I express my gratitude to Aquilonia's loyal subjects gathered here today."
The Queen continuing the memorial speech was virtuous and dignified.
"The late king was truly a wise person. He devoted himself painstakingly to the peace of the kingdom's people and the nation's welfare, and dreamed of Aquilonia's unique glory even amid the chaotic continental situation. I, as the late king's only companion and also his one and only partner, deeply respected him. As Queen Dowager, I will continue to assist the Aquilonia royal family."
The Queen, still not erasing her sad expression, raised her silver cup high.
"May eternal rest and peace now be with him."
Be with him.
Everyone who raised their cups following the Queen murmured in unison.
As soon as she sat down, she emptied her cup in one go. Was it okay to drink that quickly? No, first of all, that wasn't alcohol, was it?
While he watched anxiously, the Queen glanced into her cup and said "Oh my" to herself.
She apparently didn't know she could drink it all at once either.
Without much thought, he gestured to a servant standing nearby to fill the Queen's cup.
When the servant approached and filled the Queen's cup with purple liquid that had a sweet fragrance, she smiled at him slightly.
"Thank you, Mage. I've caused you concern."
No, what was that about?
After the servant who had also filled his cup with the same drink as the Queen's retreated, she again raised her cup and extended it toward him.
He glanced at Yurik, but he blinked as if it didn't matter.
Was this much okay? He too raised the cup with the new drink and lightly clinked it with hers.
"For the late king."
"For Aquilonia."
A small clink was heard. They almost simultaneously put the cups to their lips.
The liquid, whether alcohol or beverage, was sweet. Quite sweet, so his stomach felt somewhat nauseous.
No.
It wasn't from the sweetness. His stomach was really starting to feel bad.
It wasn't at a level he could somehow endure. He staggered and stood up from his seat, and the Queen sitting next to him was also covering her mouth.
People looked this way. The chair caught by his foot fell over and plates and utensils fell to the floor.
The small amount of liquid he had just drunk came up his esophagus. This heat burning his throat wasn't entirely unfamiliar.
Why? How?
His stomach hurt. His intestines felt like they were burning. A mixture of gastric acid and purple drink spilled messily onto the floor.
He looked at the Queen while leaning against the wall. She was clutching her chest and kneeling before what she had vomited.
Her gasping for breath was pitiful and heartbreaking. She looked at him with tears in her large eyes and a shocked gaze.
The Queen asked him between her gasping breaths.
"Mage... why on earth..."
Why?
But he could no longer ask the Queen, who collapsed unconscious just like that.
People screamed, and he was pushed away from them. Yurik tried to catch him, but he was dragged away from the Queen first.
Someone—whether noble, servant, or human—shouted.
"Poison, poison!"
Poisoning. Poison. What was in the drink. Poison. It was poison. So that's why his stomach felt bad now.
He couldn't breathe well. Through his now dully ringing ears came a piercing cry.
"-That cunning mage over there tried to assassinate Her Majesty the Queen!"
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