Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 107

Even though Anagin often seemed to do everything roughly and carelessly, he had an unexpectedly meticulous side.One example was how he remembered something Thyreos had said in passing.

Thanks to that remark, Anagin instinctively realized that the middle-aged man with a sour expression and the young brats sitting across from Meleager were likely his maternal uncle and cousins.

Given the timing, the chances were high, and more than anything, there was a subtle resemblance in their faces.

‘Still, Tramachus looks more like him… But what were they talking about to end up like that?’

A table had been knocked over, and food and shattered plates were scattered across the floor.

Naturally, attention was drawn to them. The surrounding area grew quiet, and all eyes turned in their direction.

Because of that, the middle-aged man and the brat frowned but rolled their eyes around, checking their surroundings.

In contrast, Meleager remained composed.

“I will say this again. Uncle.”

He seemed slightly angry, but only slightly.

“I will not interfere with your participation in the Groom Tournament, but I will pretend I never heard that proposal. If you intend to proceed… then do it with your own abilities.”

The exact details were unclear, but it seemed the middle-aged man had made some kind of proposal, and Meleager was barely restraining his anger as he refused.

One could tell just from the suppressed tone of his voice that he was holding back an explosive fury.

An angry Meleager. It would have been natural to feel fear, yet the middle-aged man did not stop.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid—rather, he seemed to have something to rely on.

“You’re the one who should reconsider! It’s not a bad proposal for us, but it’s not bad for you either! Both publicly and privately…!”

“Stop it alre—”

—Crack!

Tramachus, who had been standing stiffly beside him, tried to shout and stop them, but the sound of something shattering rang out first.

The armrest of the chair Meleager had been gripping had broken. It hadn’t been able to withstand the strength of his grasp.

At the chilling sight, the middle-aged man took a step back. But he did not give up.

“There’s still time, so think it over seriously. Family should help each other, shouldn’t they?”

Tramachus barely swallowed the words, ‘Does that even make sense?’, and Meleager no longer even bothered to respond.

With that, the conversation ended.

The middle-aged man and the brat left, while Meleager and Tramachus remained where they were.

The surrounding people averted their gazes as if they hadn’t seen anything. But though they withdrew their eyes, they did not withdraw their interest, whispering quietly among themselves.

It was a rather humiliating and unpleasant situation.

At that very moment, Tramachus met eyes with them.

Covering his eyes with a hand as if embarrassed, Tramachus muttered a small curse.

“Haah… Just pretend you didn’t see that.”

Tramachus requested with a deep sigh.

For reference, they were currently in one of the reception rooms inside the royal palace—a place that was relatively quiet compared to the bustling activity both inside and outside the palace.

Because of that, his sigh sounded even deeper and louder…

But that wasn’t Anagin’s concern.

What Anagin needed to concern himself with was the food laid out before him.

Perhaps because the kingdom was famous for hunting, most of the dishes were roasted meat, but surprisingly, the flavors were quite varied.

Anagin sampled each dish one by one, and in the meantime, the New Argonaut Expedition Team comforted their comrade.

“Don’t worry. We just arrived, so we didn’t really see anything properly… More importantly, is Lord Meleager alright?”

Only Tramachus had joined them in the reception room. Meleager had gone somewhere else alone.

“He’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time they’ve acted like that.”

Despite saying it was fine, Tramachus’s expression grew even more twisted.

Perhaps a sense of self-loathing came over him after he said it.

If it wasn’t the first or second time, that meant he had been troubled by that middle-aged man for a long time.

Anagin was already certain, but just in case, he confirmed.

“Were those people your maternal uncle and cousins?”

The gazes of those comforting Tramachus turned to Anagin all at once.

As if to say, ‘You’re really going to ask that so bluntly in front of someone who’s already upset?’

Fortunately, instead of venting his frustration and anger on Anagin, Tramachus explained in detail.

His own father was the brother of Meleager’s father—in other words, from the paternal side.

But the middle-aged man from earlier was a brother of Meleager’s mother—in other words, from the maternal side.

Anagin felt he understood a little better why Tramachus disliked them so much.

From Tramachus’s perspective, they were practically strangers with no shared blood.

“Did they come to participate in the Groom Tournament too?”

Ponytail cautiously added the question.

The people around narrowed their eyes and glared at Ponytail.

Why are you asking something so tactless, too?

“Why are you only picking on me? That hurts.”

It was unfair enough, but as they say, the same words sound different depending on who says them.

Unfortunately, compared to Anagin, Ponytail lacked that certain something that made rude behavior draw less criticism.

Still, Ponytail had his own weapon.

“Then how about making a deal?”

“…A deal?”

At the word deal, Tramachus, who had been slumped back in his chair from mental fatigue, straightened up.

There had been a small incident, but he hadn’t forgotten.

The fact that the fully open palace of the Kingdom of Arcadia was exposed to danger.

The existence of the assassin sent by Erysichthon.

“You found him?”

“No, not that. If he were that easy to find, Erysichthon wouldn’t have sent him in the first place.”

From the way he spoke, it didn’t seem to be Erysichthon’s assassin.

“Then what kind of deal are you talking about?”

“On the way here, I spotted a few thieves. They’re disguised, but it shows.”

Ponytail confidently ran a hand over his own face.

“Well, it’s not unusual for beggars and flies to gather at a feast, right?”

“Do you know where they are?”

Ponytail raised a finger, gesturing for a moment, then took out a feather pen and paper and began sketching faces on the spot.

His hand moved as if enchanted.

He used a total of eight sheets of paper, and for the thieves affiliated with a thieves’ guild, he even wrote down the name of their guild.

“Here.”

Ponytail handed the papers to Tramachus.

After checking them, Tramachus passed them to Irida, who then summoned a servant and handed them over.

Now it was Tramachus’ turn to pay the price.

“Yes. They came to participate in the Groom Tournament. My elder brother’s maternal cousins.”

‘Those brats?’

Anagin recalled the brats he had seen earlier.

They say you shouldn’t judge people by appearances, but surprisingly, there was quite a bit one could tell from looks.

Not just aesthetics, but one could see the spirit through the eyes and daily lifestyle habits through the physique.

Of course, it wasn’t accurate 100 out of 100 times—but perhaps 70 or 80 times out of 100.

By that measure, those brats from earlier were unimpressive.

Compared to Meleager, and even compared to Tramachus.

Which made it all the more puzzling.

Why had Meleager stopped at merely warning them?

“Oh? Interesting! Meleager’s maternal cousins participating in the Groom Tournament!”

Ponytail showed great interest, his journalist’s instincts seemingly kicking in.

After all, there were rumors that Meleager and Atalanta had feelings for each other.

If things played out well, this could turn into quite the dramatic spectacle.

And scandals greatly boosted newspaper sales.

“What gift did they bring?”

Ponytail asked.

All participants in the Groom Tournament had to bring a “gift” to prove their ability.

“Hey, that’s enough—”

“It’s fine. Anyone could find out with a bit of investigation.”

Tramachus stopped Irida, who had tried to restrain Ponytail.

Seeing his willingness to cooperate, Ponytail beamed—only for Tramachus to immediately lay down a condition.

“In exchange, you’ll have to help us well during the Groom Tournament. From what I can tell, you see through most disguises.”

“I’m a journalist. A great journalist must see the truth beyond lies. Otherwise, how could he write new lies?”

(T/N): LOL XD

With a strange self-congratulatory remark, Ponytail agreed.

Even if he refused, he would have pestered them anyway, so for now, he said yes.

It was then.

“If you’re worried about security, shouldn’t you close the gates first?”

Anagin, who had been quietly eating, raised his hand and voiced his doubt.

He had wanted to ask earlier, but the timing hadn’t been right.

He understood that the Groom Tournament was important and that there were many guests, but wouldn’t it be better to close those permanently open gates first?

“If you close them, people can’t come and go freely, and you could filter out dangerous ones, right?”

It was a reasonable argument.

But the world did not always move according to reason.

“That’s not possible. Father wouldn’t allow it.”

Irida answered first.

Anagin frowned slightly. Wasn’t that a foolish answer?

“Why?”

“For events like the Groom Tournament, it’s customary to open the gates. Even more so when there are many guests. The participants prove themselves, so the host must also act with dignity.”

He roughly understood what she meant, but his frown remained.

Seeing that, Tramachus added further explanation.

“Customs are powerful. If we hastily restrict the gates, others may think the Kingdom of Arcadia has grown weak.”

Wouldn’t they think that just by looking at the walking corpse of a king? Anagin did not say.

He wanted to, but he kept silent out of minimal courtesy. Insulting someone’s parent wasn’t quite proper.

He wasn’t ignorant of the importance of bluster either. His master had beaten him countless times, but Anagin had still carried himself boldly for similar reasons.

“Besides, if it’s someone skilled enough for Erysichthon to send, controlling the gates won’t stop him. There are already too many people both inside and outside the gates.”

That was true.

The palace was already packed with participants in the Groom Tournament. Outside the palace and even beyond the city, tents had been set up.

“Still, isn’t it good enough just to filter out the riffraff?”

“The royal guards can handle the riffraff. You’ve seen them.”

Irida spoke confidently.

At her assured demeanor, Anagin nodded instead of making a sarcastic remark.

The royal guards patrolling the palace were indeed reliable.

Like hawks searching for prey, they watched their surroundings sharply, each carrying bows and arrows.

He had seen them shooting at the training grounds—their curved shots that arced and pierced targets accurately were quite impressive.

Something about attaching feathers from wind eagles?

In addition, there were even some Gigants and blessed individuals among the royal guards.

In any case, Anagin roughly accepted it.

Erysichthon’s assassin couldn’t be stopped by the gates anyway, and the riffraff could be dealt with by the royal guards. In contrast, closing the gates would cause various problems, so they would keep them open.

‘Still, I think it’d be better to close them.’

Though the topic had taken a brief detour because of Anagin’s interruption, it returned to the original subject.

What gift had Meleager’s maternal cousins brought?

“The armor, weapons, and mane of a Centaur tribal chief.”

“Ah… that’s weak.”

Ponytail did not hide his disappointment.

It wasn’t Anagin’s area of expertise, so he couldn’t judge, but judging by the reactions around him, it certainly seemed lacking.

“Then what was the request? The one Meleager refused…?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“Weren’t we making a deal?”

“I think this is enough. You know there are limits to interviews.”

Tramachus defended himself by invoking journalistic convention.

Though journalists claimed to interview for the public good, they still had to observe certain boundaries with those who cooperated, out of respect.

At that, Ponytail could no longer insist.

Instead, he adjusted his approach.

“By your logic, there’s no problem if I find out on my own, right?”

“…That’s true.”

Tramachus couldn’t deny it, since he had just said so.

Investigating information independently was a journalist’s right.

It was a rule set by the gods.

Of course, Tramachus had something he relied on as well.

When Meleager’s maternal uncles had made their “request,” they had spoken in very low voices.

Even Tramachus, who had been right beside them, had barely heard it.

Unless someone had deliberately eavesdropped, there was no way they could have heard.

“Hey, Anagin. What did they ask?”

All eyes turned back to Anagin.

It was a completely unexpected development.

How could Anagin possibly know?

Under everyone’s gaze, Anagin opened his mouth.

“…Is it okay if I say it?”

“Since when did you care about that?”

“Why? I’m very considerate of people. That’s why you’re still alive.”

Anagin said something frightening so casually.

Of course, half of it was a joke, but Tramachus couldn’t take it purely as one.

“You heard it?”

“No. But I can guess.”

“…Guess?”

Anagin shrugged.

Why was this so complicated? If you fit together just a few pieces of the puzzle, the overall picture becomes clear.

This was the same.

Meleager, who had feelings for Atalanta.

A request made to such a Meleager.

Meleager’s displeased refusal.

The claim that it wouldn’t be bad for him either.

And the relatively unimpressive gift.

With just that much, it was easy to figure out roughly what the request had been.

“Say it.”

Tramachus told Anagin.

What was the request he had guessed? It wasn’t difficult…

“Are you sure I can say it?”

Tramachus nodded seriously.

Since he insisted, Anagin complied.

“Didn’t they ask Meleager to persuade Atalanta or her father? To choose them?”

Anagin voiced his guess.

And he was right.