Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 243

Chapter 243

A few years before, many people had wondered at Turan’s decision to groom his young son as his successor.

At an age still young even for a mage, let alone young for a leader — barely in his mid-to-late twenties — why on earth would he need a successor?

On top of that, since he himself was a powerful mage, the possibility of assassination was nil, and his lifespan was infinite besides.

And yet, fifteen years after the empire’s founding, no one any longer questioned this decision of Turan’s.

Because Ruska had grown into everything an heir to the empire should be, and more — the ideal son every parent could wish for, a perfect candidate to lead the empire next.

Fairly handsome looks, born between two of the most beautiful people in the world.

A thoughtful and disciplined nature belying his age.

Intelligence enough to grasp the empire’s operational systems to a reasonable degree, even if not to the level of an expert.

And even at his young age, he had already reached rank two in magical ability.

A boy so perfectly formed he seemed sculpted, upon whom many had placed their hopes.

They said he was more than enough talent to assist his father from beside him and further advance the empire to new heights, even if he couldn’t succeed him outright.

Unfortunately, however, none of them had ever once asked the boy whether he wanted to become Emperor.

* * *

Second class seat of a steam locomotive.

Ruska Parsha pulled his hood down and stared blankly out the window at the gray earth rushing past.

He had seen trains many times but had ridden one himself for the first time today.

Whenever he had needed to go somewhere far, he had always used spatial movement with the help of his parents, or made use of the transit mirrors installed throughout the empire.

But right now he could use neither of those.

Because he had run away from home in secret.

Passing through a transit mirror in secret would be a serious crime incomparable to simply running away, so taking the train was the option he had chosen.

“Ha……”

All manner of thoughts swirled inside the sighing boy.

Should he go back, even now?

Father and Mother will be disappointed.

No, if I go back now, would they be any less disappointed?

Astonishingly enough, Ruska was aware that he was doing something tremendously foolish.

A precocity unlike that of a sixteen-year-old moved by nothing but instinct and impulse.

And yet he had run away because he truly couldn’t bear it any longer.

‘I feel like I’m going to die.’

From childhood, Ruska had received much love and expectation.

A blessed life, with the greatest Emperor and Empress in the world as his parents and the next most powerful lord as his godfather.

Everyone praised him as the perfect Crown Prince, worthy of being the sole heir to the great Emperor Turan.

Even the Emperor’s faith, which worshipped the Emperor as a god, granted him enormous divine authority as the son of a god.

Ruska simply could not endure the pressure that such praise brought with it.

‘I’m not as special a person as they think.’

He was not the perfect superhuman like his father, as people believed.

He found studying mostly tedious, and he wanted to chat frivolously with friends and spend meaningless time like any other person.

He wanted to see the theater plays he had glimpsed a few times when he was young, and the films newly coming out these days. Reading novels that gained him nothing was also enjoyable.

But people yearned for him to become the same kind of being as the great Turan.

Everyone’s expectation that he become a divine-like mage and great administrator, further advancing this world, always followed him like a shadow.

To replace, at roughly the same age as he was now, a superhuman who had burst out into the world and built a world empire in just a few years.

Could that even be called reasonable?

But this kind of anguish was something he could not consult with anyone he knew, not even his parents.

Both his father Turan and his mother Meisa, and even his godfather Solif, were always endlessly busy people.

He had been able to see them more often when he was younger, but ever since they had become particularly busy about eight years ago, even as the Crown Prince, it was not easy to see their faces unless it was an official occasion.

Naturally, Ruska’s own daily schedule was packed just as densely.

Day after day marked by studying, training, and formal events that were deadly dull.

Without carrying out all of this thoroughly, there was simply no way to keep up with what people expected of him.

Ruska understood well the reason all of them, including himself, had to strive so desperately.

He had been told the secret — that powerful enemies that were from beyond this world would come, and so power had to be built.

If only he hadn’t known this, he might at least have thrown a tantrum.

That he was too lonely, too worn down, that he just needed some time for himself.

But knowing that his world could be destroyed by his own laziness, he couldn’t do that.

He didn’t want to be a useless son whining to parents who always worked hard to save the world, with nothing more than a brief conversation with their son for leisure.

One day when he felt like he would lose his mind from all of it, on a particularly sunny afternoon, he impulsively packed his things and fled the palace.

“Mm?”

“Oh.”

Lost in thought, Ruska noticed the compartment door had opened and glanced over.

The one who entered was a young woman who appeared to be just around twenty years old.

Her face was unfamiliar, so she didn’t seem to be a pursuer from the imperial palace.

Well, if they were coming for him, his father or mother would have come to find him long since.

If either of them wanted to, there was no one on this earth who could dare hide or run.

The moment they even thought of bringing him back, they would appear right beside him a second later.

Recalling that fact made him feel freshly suffocated.

That even this current indulgence was only possible because his parents had permitted it……

“Hey — are you okay? Breathe, slowly!”

“Gasp, huh.”

Only then did Ruska realize he had been holding his breath, and that the woman had pulled off his hood and slapped his cheeks a few times.

Probably thinking he was a commoner and not a mage, the force was so light it was barely even perceptible.

“Th-thank you.”

“For that little. More importantly, are you alright? Don’t you need to see a doctor?”

“Yes. It’s just an old condition.”

“I see. I thought you were about to faint from seeing my face and thinking it was too terrifying.”

Ruska steadied his breathing and soon sank back into a corner of the compartment with a gloomy face.

He was even disgusted at his own weakness like this.

A son of the great Turan should be able to shake off trifling emotions without batting an eye……

Just as he was about to sink back into that self-destructive mindset, the woman across from him spoke to him.

“Did something bad happen?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry if talking bothers you, but — your expression just looks so sad. If listening would help, I’ll listen.”

Saying that, the woman added with an ‘ah, right.’

“My name is Mila. Mila Ades. And you?”

Ruska was about to answer that he wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk, but then bit his lip.

Because he realized that thought was a lie.

Right now, he wanted to talk with someone, to pour out the frustration inside him to just anyone at all.

“……Call me Rus.”

Fortunately, right now he was not Crown Prince Ruska.

Just a suspicious boy named Rus, riding second class on a train heading east through the empire.

“I see. Rus. Where are you from? I was born and raised in Kalamaf.”

“Me too.”

“Oh, never thought you’d be from the same city! I’m from District 7. And you?”

Not having expected the question, Ruska desperately worked his brain and answered District 13.

Districts one through five of Kalamaf were the core area where the highest strata of the empire lived, and districts six through ten were home to the middle class such as mages, merchants, and scholars.

Finally, districts eleven through fifteen were primarily home to the relatively lower-income working class.

In other words, this woman named Mila was probably of the old knight class or a similar middle-class background.

“I see. What are you heading east for?”

“That’s…… just because. No particular reason.”

Ruska had boarded the eastbound train simply because it was the fastest train he could board right away.

He didn’t know anyone in the west, but in the east he could at least go find his godfather Uncle Solif.

However, after a moment, he realized that what he had said sounded extremely suspicious.

A boy assumed to be of the working class boarding a train heading east for no reason — could that even make sense?

No matter how inexpensive the trains were compared to their operating costs as part of welfare policy, they weren’t something workers would ride on a whim.

At this rate, he probably looked like a fugitive running from some crime.

The woman, however, did not point this out and simply nodded.

“I’m heading to Helio.”

“That’s incredibly far.”

Following the railway built along the roads of the ancient empire from Kalamaf, you would eventually reach Helio, but the distance between the two cities was by no means short.

He’d always gone by spatial movement so he couldn’t be sure, but it would probably take a week or two even switching steam locomotives day and night.

Compared to the days of traveling on foot or riding demonic beasts, in an era like this it was quite a grueling schedule.

“Do you have someone you know in Helio?”

“Not really. I’d wanted to go there for a while. It’s where my father died.”

At the heavy topic that hit him without warning, Ruska didn’t know what to say and fell silent.

Fortunately, the woman continued speaking.

“If you studied history at school you’d know the Baraha War, right?”

“I do. It was a retaliatory war that broke out when Baraha head Reshion at the time ambushed the head of Ravitas. That battle was the turning point that led the current Lord of Baraha, Lord Solif, to the position of family head.”

Ruska even knew the inside story others did not.

The fact that the masterminds behind the Baraha War, including Reshion and the then-upper leadership of the Baraha family, were hybrids whose souls had been mixed with a fallen ancient god’s and those of white fairies.

“Studied hard. That’s right. My father was a knight who participated in the Baraha War at the time. He died in battle there.”

“May those who gave their lives protecting the nation find rest.”

When Ruska offered a moment of silence as his tutor had taught him, Mila watching him let out a small laugh.

“Do they teach something like that at school these days?”

“Yes, more or less.”

He had attended school briefly when he was young but had stopped before long.

Most students kept their distance, not even daring to approach him due to his status, and only a handful of flatterers clung to him.

At his unremarkable answer she made an expression as if finding him interesting.

“You’re very mature for your age. My younger sibling is the same age as you, but they’re completely childlike.”

After that, Mila continued on in a gentle tone, sharing her own story.

Childhood growing up as the daughter of a knight.

The family that crumbled from her father’s death, and the meritorious service pension that helped them through that time.

And after growing up and becoming a mage, how she was working hard as a mage in order to repay the grace received from the Emperor.

‘This person too……’

At the shadow of his father falling yet again, Ruska sighed inwardly.

Well, how could anyone alive in this world not be connected to Emperor Turan.

Every single person in the empire moved as he led.

Continuing to talk, Ruska learned that Mila, despite her youthful appearance, was twenty-five years old and a rank two mage.

Not quite as impressive as Ruska, who had already become a rank two mage at sixteen, but she was talent worth counting among the finest across the empire.

Perhaps the closeness that had grown through conversation was the reason.

Ruska finally began to pour out his worries one by one.

Whether it was because he was wearing a different face through the Mimic Holy Relic received from his father, it felt like a masquerade ball, and things he could never ordinarily say came easily tumbling out.

“Everyone wants me to become the same kind of person as my father, but I have no confidence I can live up to their expectations.”

“Is it really, truly impossible?”

“Absolutely.”

“Have you talked to your parents about how hard it is?”

“I can’t.”

“Because you’ll be scolded?”

“I probably won’t be scolded. But…… they’ll be disappointed. I hate that more than being scolded.”

Perhaps because it had been drilled into him since childhood how great his father and mother were.

To Ruska, his parents — and among them, Turan — were something close to an absolute that defined his very existence.

His father noticing his weakness and being disappointed was something that was horrifying even just to imagine.

To the point where he thought he would rather end his own life than endure such a look.

Mila, who had been quietly watching Ruska open up honestly, abruptly pinched both his cheeks.

“Ow.”

She pulled his cheeks out elastically, then let go with a snap, and Ruska looked back at her with a dumbfounded expression.

Because there was no one who would dare commit such disrespect toward the Crown Prince of the empire.

In earlier childhood his father and mother had sometimes played such pranks, but that was too early in his childhood to clearly remember.

“Don’t think about it so seriously.”

“Don’t think about it seriously?”

“Right. You’re still a child. You’re at an age where it’s fine to still be spoiled by your parents.”

Mila soothed Ruska in a calm tone.

That all the expectations he carried had been placed on him not by his parents, but by the people around them.

That if he explained the circumstances step by step, they wouldn’t be disappointed, and that even if they were, it would be his parents’ fault and not Ruska’s.

‘Father and Mother…… at fault……’

It was a thought Ruska had never once dared to imagine.

Turan, Emperor of the empire, was a being who absolutely could not, and must not, be at fault.

Not a single person in the imperial palace had ever dared to tell him that his parents could be wrong.

Mila spent quite a long time comforting Ruska while stubbornly persuading him after that.

Don’t run away, talk it through properly with your parents and try to convince them. You can do it.

Just the fact that you’ve been struggling all this time to live up to expectations means you’ve already done more than enough.

Her considerate way of speaking seeped delicately into the interior of a pubescent boy who was thoroughly exhausted.

Like parched earth soaking up rainwater.

How many hours had they been talking?

From far away, a voice called out that the next station was not far, to prepare to disembark.

“It’s Bighen Station already. We’ll be able to see the Enril Desert before long.”

“I’ll get off here.”

“Going home?”

At the penetrating words, Ruska turned to look at her with a startled expression.

Mila smiled and answered.

“It’s fairly obvious. I don’t know what fine household you’re from, but don’t put your parents through too much. You might not be able to see them when you want to, later. Yes?”

It seemed she hadn’t gone so far as to guess that he was the Crown Prince.

Well, who except someone with delusions would make such an imagination.

Getting up from his seat to board the train back, Ruska glanced over at Mila.

“Um, Miss Mila.”

“Yes?”

“Might we be able to meet again sometime?”

Noticing the fresh and youthful feeling contained within those words, Mila looked briefly embarrassed, then smiled and poked Ruska’s forehead with her finger.

“Come back when you’re about ten years older.”

“Yes.”

Ruska’s face as he nodded was utterly serious.

* * *

Early in the morning, Ruska returned to the imperial palace of Kalamaf and was able to enter without a hitch.

As if the Emperor had given word in advance, the guards keeping watch at the entrance let him through without a word.

Naturally, what awaited him upon return was an audience with the Emperor and Empress.

At the time he had impulsively run away, it was something so frightening even to imagine that he had wanted to end his life — but the current Ruska could face it with his head held high.

The unidentifiable confidence born from the conversation with Mila on the train sustained him within.

“Ruska.”

The imperial couple welcoming him in the reception room looked young despite their mid-thirties age.

Someone who didn’t know them would probably see the three people seated there and take them for siblings.

That thought was brief — Ruska realized that what was in the expressions of the two people looking at him was not disappointment or reproach, but worry.

He could freshly feel how foolish all his past thoughts had been.

“I’m sorry. Father. Mother.”

“We were so worried when you disappeared without a word.”

Meisa spoke reprovingly, but gently stroked Ruska’s head.

Turan, sitting in the chair across from them, watched that quietly for a moment and then spoke.

“If you don’t want to talk about what happened, you don’t have to.”

“Turan.”

“But I would like you to know that I want to help you. We have been neglecting you too much these past years while making ourselves busy.”

In truth, Turan had to some degree thought of not being able to spend more time with Ruska as part of his own sacrifice too.

Because spending time even seeing his beloved son being traded away for running and governing and building new systems for the empire was a painful thing.

He had been telling himself that once the invasion was repelled, the time to compensate for this would come — that was how several years had passed.

But he freshly realized that a son’s childhood, once it passed, would never come back.

At his father’s gentle words, Ruska steadied his breath for a moment and then poured everything out honestly.

That the pressure of expectations from his father and mother, and from the people around him, was too heavy to bear.

That even when he had wanted to talk about this, since growing into adolescence the distance from his parents had grown, and it had been frightening to confess something so personal.

After hearing everything, Turan was silent for a long while and then sighed.

“Everything I do is solely because I wish for Meisa and you to be able to live happily. Meisa is likely the same. If you’re not happy, all of this is meaningless.”

At Turan’s words that if it was too hard to bear, he could give it all up and live comfortably, Ruska felt his vision blur with tears.

He quietly swept them away with fluid manipulation magic, then spoke in a composed tone.

“I can bear it now. Because I’ve come to understand that even if I’m a little lazy or make mistakes, Father and Mother won’t be disappointed.”

For Ruska, truly sharing his innermost thoughts with his parents for the first time since becoming mature brought him enormous emotional stability.

To the point where he felt that right now, he could overcome hardships even greater than any studying or training he had done before.

As Turan and Meisa, feeling their son’s growth, exchanged warm smiles with one another, Ruska pondered a thought that had suddenly occurred to him for a moment, then finally said it aloud.

He felt that this atmosphere was just right for bringing up such a thing.

“There’s something I’d like to say.”

“What is it?”

“Would you be angry if I said I wanted to marry someone who wasn’t from one of the old great families?”

Blinking at an entirely unexpected question for just a moment, Meisa let out a small laugh.

“If that’s what you want. Do you think I was anything of great standing when your father took me from my family? I was practically a wanderer with no proper family to my name. Having done that myself, I can hardly tell you you shouldn’t.”

“Meisa……”

Turan called her name with a tone of “give me a break” and then shook his head.

The shadows cast by the firelight danced as if delighted at the warm conversation of the imperial family.