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Chapter 12: The City of Festivals, Caron (2)
The capital of the Countship of Lambord, nestled in eastern Lichtenstein, bordered the vast, untamed forests of Elenore. Caron was a place where various races mingled, a crossroads of cultures and allegiances.
Every year, at the beginning of spring, the city held the Masked Revel—a festival celebrating harmony between humans and other races.
“Do you know if Count Lambord is here?”
“Ah, yes! He arrived in a hurry today and is currently speaking with His Majesty. The mask you see was given to him at that time.”
“I see.”
“Would you like to meet him?”
Emily asked cautiously, noticing the spark of interest in Wesley’s eyes.
“I’d like that. Very much so.”
In truth, the appeal of a festival where one wore a mask and simply wandered the estate seemed minimal. But Wesley knew the significance—this particular Masked Revel would be the last.
In a game styled like a bishōnen romance simulation, every festival held secret events, small or large, that could drastically affect a character’s affections. Yet the Masked Revel never appeared as an event in the game. It existed only in text, a subtle nod to its presence. The reason was simple.
“Who’s attending this festival?”
“Her Highness Charlotte, accompanied by Queen Francis, will be going.”
“…I see.”
“Is something wrong?”
Wesley remained silent.
Because the Apostles will ruin this festival.
Apostles. In a world brimming with gods, there were many sects devoted to divine worship. Among them, the most dangerous were the cultists of the Five Evils—malevolent deities whose schemes could disrupt any narrative. If the story unfolded as expected…
The Dread Phantom will appear at this festival.
The Dread Phantom were devotees of Astaros, the so-called God of Despair and Fear.
If my instincts are right, they will come.
Though the scenario had yet to begin, their arrival was inevitable. Wesley knew this because…
They took my sister from our homeland.
The one from Caron had said so plainly.
The obsidian elf, Lena.
A prodigious swordmaster and future confidante of Marilyn.
Those Dread Phantom bastards…
Wesley resolved to save her sister at this festival. He had to.
Only then can I neutralize the threat.
Lena had been one of the characters who killed Wesley most often in the game. If he could find her, protect her, and divert her from the narrative’s deadly flow, he could prevent at least ten ruin endings.
“Um… brother?”
“Hmm?”
“Did I ask something uncomfortable?”
Charlotte and Emily’s expressions were uneasy.
“Oh, sorry. I was just lost in thought.”
He realized he had momentarily forgotten to answer.
“Could I… come along?”
“You wish to accompany us?”
“Yes? You too, brother?”
“Why? Do you not want me there?”
“No, it’s not that…”
It wasn’t that he disliked it. On the contrary, he was pleased.
“You usually dislike these kinds of gatherings, don’t you?”
Wesley had avoided crowds in the past. At small events, he might attend, but festivals were different—crowds, noise, and distractions. Time together was rare.
“Then may I join?”
“Of course!”
He ruffled Charlotte’s hair, smiling faintly.
Good. At least we’ll go together… but will I have any private time there?
“Mother will need to be informed!”
“Princess Charlotte! Do not run!”
Seeing her so delighted, Wesley realized she would likely stick close by all day.
We’ll figure it out once we’re there.
The first step was taken; the next moves would be clearer in Caron.
A family dinner, long overdue, provided an unexpected conversation with Douglas.
“…Did you just say I’m to go there alone?”
“I’m not sending you alone because I don’t trust you. Charlotte simply needs more recovery.”
“I want to go too…”
“Patience. She hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
The distance to Caron was considerable, and sending Charlotte in her current state carried risk.
“You are not obliged to go. If you prefer, stay nearby and have a picnic with Charlotte instead.”
“I’ll manage.”
This was perfect. A solo trip meant no interruptions—everything could proceed smoothly.
“Then I shall depart.”
Even considering Charlotte’s needs, Wesley knew this task required caution.
Three days later, the journey to Caron began.
Wesley raised an eyebrow upon seeing Rauff.
“…What are you doing here?”
“Needle and thread, are we not meant to go together?”
“Who’s the needle?”
Rauff smiled knowingly.
“The Crown Prince cannot be sent alone, so I am accompanying you as both guard and aide.”
Sighing, Wesley realized he wouldn’t be allowed to travel entirely alone.
“Even so, I’m the only one. Don’t take it personally, Your Highness.”
“Couldn’t you be excluded from this ‘minimum’?”
“Unfortunately, no exception can be made, Your Highness.”
Fine. One competent bodyguard is better than none.
“Shall we depart?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
The path to Caron cut through the border of the great Elenore Forest, the scent of pine and fresh earth strong even from a distance. Arriving in Caron, the royal banner of Lichtenstein allowed free passage.
“Shall we proceed to Count Lambord?” the coachman asked.
“No. Drop me here.”
“In the middle of the city?”
“Precisely.”
Formal greetings could wait; the count was unlikely to be pleased regardless.
“Leave a note for the count. You all can rest at the manor. I’ll return after the festival.”
With that, Wesley and Rauff stepped down from the carriage.
“…Why are you getting out?”
“As I said, I’m your guard and aide.”
Wesley groaned internally. This companion would not relent.
“Fine. Do as you will. Let’s eat first.”
“I know a fine place to guide you, Your Highness.”
“Drop the ‘Your Highness.’ Unnecessary attention is unwelcome.”
Rauff’s expression twisted slightly at this.
“What should I call you then?”
“Call me brother.”
“Brother? How could I ever…”
Wesley ignored his protests.
“Then let’s head to Count Lambord’s estate. I want to enjoy some freedom while I can.”
He assumed Rauff would finally give him some space. He was wrong.
“Then we have no choice,” Rauff said, brightening.
“Brother, shall we eat? I know the best spots nearby!”
This isn’t the Rauff I know…
“Follow me!”
“Wait a moment—hey!”
Things were clearly going astray.
As they strolled through Caron, many festival-goers already wore masks. Though the main festival was tomorrow, the city celebrated the eve in grand style.
“Brother, shall we buy masks and join them?”
Rauff asked, sensing Wesley’s gaze.
“Perhaps.”
“Thought so.”
Rauff revealed two masks from his coat.
“One for me, one for you.”
Wesley frowned.
“Why is yours stylish, but mine… ridiculous?”
Rauff’s mask was sleek, white, with only the contours of the face outlined. Wesley’s, by contrast, was brown with crimson dots and a painted smile.
“What am I, some kind of kabuki doll?”
“It suits you; you rarely smile. I thought this would make you look cheerful.”
Cheerful, my foot.
Wesley reluctantly accepted it. Changing it seemed more trouble than it was worth.
Fine. I’ll wear it.
Ten minutes in, they arrived at Rauff’s recommended tavern, The Fairy’s House.
“Impressive,” Wesley noted. A three-story building, possibly with lodging, exuded grandeur.
“This place also offers accommodations, if you wish to stay.”
“Hmm… fine.”
Rauff had anticipated Wesley’s preferences perfectly.
Good. No regrets bringing him along this time.
“Hungry. Let’s go inside.”
As Wesley opened the swing door, a clear bell rang. Simultaneously—
Crash!
A bottle flew at him, barely missing his head.
“Brother! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine…”
Following the direction of the attack, his eyes landed on a thug holding a young obsidian elf child by the collar.
