The Wind Calms the Fire - Chapter 31

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 31
“Right now, all I have is the Royal Traditional Garment. If I wear it and walk around District 3, I’ll draw attention. I’d need at least one other outfit, which means calling in a tailor—but bringing people into the Residence would require your permission. I’m worried it might cause talk.”
“What sort of talk?”
“That Your Highness bought women’s clothing the moment he arrived in the capital—gossip like that.”
Carrion’s laughter caught Lea off guard, her eyes widening.
He cleared his throat before speaking.
“I wasn’t laughing with any ill intent. It’s simply a detail I hadn’t thought through.”
Lea didn’t mistake his laughter for mockery.
There was something pleasant about the way he smiled.
Not a snicker or a hollow laugh, but genuine amusement—and that made it all the better.
His smile was unexpectedly gentle, sitting on his face with disarming ease.
“Orbin will handle those details. He’s thorough about such things.”
Lea nodded in agreement.
“But if you need clothes, that suggests you’re planning an outing?”
His sharp observation struck a nerve, and Lea hesitated.
“Is that not allowed?”
“There’s no objection—so long as you don’t cause trouble.”
“You make me sound like I’m always causing problems.”
As Lea protested, Carrion tilted his head slightly.
“Haven’t your past incidents already been quite numerous?”
Lea found herself at a loss for words.
“And today, it would be better if you didn’t venture out. There are likely eyes watching the Residence.”
“I see. I should rest today anyway.”
“Once you enter the Imperial Palace, there’s a high chance you won’t be leaving today.”
“Yes…….”
“Precaution is necessary.”
Lea studied him for a moment, then spoke.
“You’ve grown bolder than before.”
Carrion’s brow furrowed.
“I don’t mean it as a complaint. If you’re embarrassed during Healing, I’ll be embarrassed too. Not that it’s charming or anything.”
“Cha…….”
Carrion found himself doubting his own hearing at such an unexpected word.
It was a term he’d never imagined hearing applied to himself.
Lea paid no mind to his reaction, closing her eyes and tilting her chin slightly upward.
Carrion watched her with a conflicted feeling.
She was the undefended one, yet somehow it felt as though he’d taken the blow—what was this sensation?
Looking at her lips, why did this strange feeling seem so right?
As he brought his lips to hers, an odd premonition came over him.
A sense that he’d fallen into a trap from which he’d never escape.
* * *
The Black Carriage departed District 3, passed through District 2 and District 1, and entered the Imperial Palace Aeterna.
How far into the palace one could travel by carriage depended on one’s station.
The Black Carriage carrying the Fourth Prince Carrion could proceed all the way to the boundary of the Inner Palace.
Once the carriage came to a halt, he drew a long, deep breath.
It had been six years since he’d left after receiving his appointment as Northeast Commander.
Far from welcome, a sense of suffocation began to settle in his chest.
As he descended from the carriage, the Chamberlain waiting to receive him approached and bowed his head.
“Your Highness, I offer my respectful greetings.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed, Your Highness. I trust you have been well. Your reputation has reached even to Aeterna, and His Majesty has not spared praise. He has been eagerly awaiting news of your arrival.”
Carrion let the flattery pass through one ear and out the other, asking instead:
“Is it possible to see His Majesty now? I’d like to pay my respects first.”
“Of course, Your Highness. I shall escort you inside.”
The Imperial Palace Aeterna was divided broadly into the Inner Palace and the Outer Palace, which surrounded it.
An eternal canal, never running dry, marked the boundary between the Inner and Outer Palace.
This canal was called the work of divine architecture, the mysterious power that symbolized the Imperial Palace Aeterna and the very heart of the Empire.
The moment Carrion crossed the bridge spanning the canal and entered the Inner Palace, he held his breath.
Suddenly, a heavy presence bore down upon his entire body.
It was too vivid, too concrete to be mere nervousness—the sensation was unmistakable.
He clenched his jaw to maintain his composure.
Within dozens of paces, the pressure that had weighed on him gradually lifted, then vanished entirely.
‘What was that?’
It wasn’t imagination.
Something inside his body had reacted.
Then it could only be the Spirit.
He felt a flicker of unease—what trouble was this Curse brewing now?
He followed the Chamberlain down the corridor, then asked a question.
“Are we heading to the Central Hall?”
“Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty is currently in session with the Empire’s ministers, deliberating matters of state and current affairs.”
Carrion considered this.
‘State affairs in the Central Hall? At this hour? He’s already at leisure.’
The Central Hall was the central courtyard, its expanse enclosed by a roof to create an interior space.
The center was set one level lower than the surrounding galleries, drawing all eyes to a single focal point.
A stage was typically installed here for performances.
The Emperor reclined diagonally across a sofa on the highest dais, watching a theatrical production.
The golden hair that had once blazed like the sun had turned nearly white by his sixtieth year.
The robust frame that had once earned him the epithet “God of War” as he crossed ancient battlefields now bore layers of excess flesh.
Yet his gaze remained sharp, and the affairs of state remained firmly in his grasp.
He was an undisputed sovereign of the Empire.
Actors in ridiculous makeup were performing a comedy, but the Emperor’s expression was utterly indifferent.
The same tedious performances, the same monotonous faces, the same repetitive days—the Emperor was profoundly bored.
So when a dark-haired young man entered the hall, his interest suddenly kindled.
The Emperor straightened from his reclined posture, extending one hand.
“A star performer has graced our dreary gathering.”
The noise of the actors’ voices mingled with the audience’s laughter abruptly fell silent.
Every eye turned at once toward the direction the Emperor was looking.
Those who had their backs turned twisted their bodies and craned their necks.
Carrion advanced steadily, meeting the weight of countless stares without flinching.
The startled gazes of the onlookers traced his every movement.
Six years ago, when he had left the capital, Carrion had still been an unfinished young man.
He had retained a youthful softness, a certain rawness about him.
Now, at twenty-four, he had returned as a fully formed male in his prime.
Hair as black as obsidian, with a faint blue sheen, complemented his refined features perfectly, capturing every gaze in an instant.
Standing beside his father, there was something subtly familiar yet indefinably different about them, though his towering height and broad shoulders evoked the Emperor’s own youthful vigor.
Six years of experience as Commander had instilled in him a natural authority that emanated from him effortlessly.
He wore light armor.
A Black Iron Breastplate covered his chest, with a pauldron protecting only one shoulder.
A Black Cloak fixed to that shoulder swayed with substantial weight as he moved.
Carrion descended to the base of the dais where the Emperor sat, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.
“Commander of the Northeast, Carrion. I report my return to the capital and humbly seek Your Majesty’s greeting.”
“Rise.”
“I am honored, Your Majesty.”
“You are a pillar of the Empire and my faithful servant. As Commander, you lack nothing, and so the Northeast enjoys peace.”
“Your words are too generous. I merely fulfill my duty.”
The Emperor surveyed Carrion’s form with the expression of a sated tiger.
Though he seemed to delight in meeting his son after so long, his gaze remained sharp as a predator’s before prey.
The Emperor had dispatched imperial envoys to the Northeast several times in recent years.
It was not out of paternal affection.
It was a form of entertainment.
How fascinating that his son alone refused to bow and scrape before him when all others pressed their noses to the ground in obeisance.
Now that he had finally summoned his son before him, the Emperor was satisfied.
At the same time, his interest began to wane.
All performances, after all, were most thrilling in the moment before the curtain rose.
On the other hand, a flicker of wariness stirred within him.
His son had matured beyond what he had anticipated.
But the Emperor brushed aside his own unease.
The fourth prince’s steadfast nature had never wavered.
He possessed no faction of his own and showed no interest in power.
“You have traveled far and endured hardship. Rest is what you need. Go and take your ease.”
“Your Majesty. I have delayed my duties to enter the capital, and I ask you to consider the effort that such delay entails.”
The Emperor’s eyes widened.
It was an audacious remark he had not anticipated.
The nobles around him exchanged glances with one another.
“Ha ha ha!”
The Emperor burst into delighted laughter and spoke.
“Reasonable. What do you desire?”
“I request a private audience, Sire.”
“Granted. I shall summon you presently. Withdraw for now.”
Carrion bowed deeply, then turned to leave.
The Emperor chuckled, his eyes alight with interest.
Just as ennui threatened to reclaim him, fresh amusement had arrived.
For once, he was in good spirits.
As Carrion emerged from the Central Hall, he spoke to the Chamberlain following him.
“I know the way to my quarters.”
“It has been empty for some time, so there will be dampness. I shall dispatch attendants to ready it.”
“Thank you. And my people are waiting outside the Inner Palace—have them brought in.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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