Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume3 Chapter1 (section)

===Part 1===


One afternoon, towards the end of winter, Sovereign-Prince Magrid Attiel of Atall had gone out for a stroll accompanied by Kirsten, the princess-consort, and ten or so attendants.

Magrid had originally intended to go hunting after finishing the morning’s work, but Kirsten, his wife, had all of a sudden announced that she wished to join him, so the plan had been changed to a walk along the riverbank northwest of the capital, Tiwana. The sovereign-prince now sat on a hill that sloped gently upwards from within the wood that ran along the riverside.

Next to him was Stark Barsley. As a member of a long-serving family of hereditary retainers, he had established himself at the castle in his territory, but since he had already retired, he occasionally visited Tiwana to express his gratitude to the sovereign-prince – who was younger than him – or perhaps to come and tease him.

“His Highness Leo, is it…” Stark spoke the name in a relaxed tone of voice. “I couldn’t help feeling surprised. Hmm, while I would have said that both were mild-tempered, he was a boy who did not give me quite as good an impression as his older brother – … but from there to thinking that he would move troops behind Your Majesty’s back… Truly, the blood of our ruling House is not to be taken lightly.”

“This is no time for you to be so nonchalant. Stark, won’t you take charge of him?”

“Recently, I’ve been spending all my time fishing from an open boat in the lake. Your suggestion is not appealing enough to give up that pleasure for.”

“How can you be so heartless? Father relied on you more than anyone,” the sovereign-price pleaded with a man who was older than his own father.

The one Stark was being asked to take charge of was Leo Attiel.

– A month after the affair at Conscon Temple had come to an end, Florrie turned sixteen, and Leo eighteen three months after that. There had been rumours that the wedding between them might take place on one of their two birthdays, but both dates had passed without anything happening.

Leo himself had said that, “The church is only halfway built, so it isn’t the right time yet.” And also, “My birthday? The priests of the Cross Faith say that it’s an unlucky day.” Because of it repeatedly being put off, an official date had yet to be decided.

Leo Attiel.

Until a few months earlier, it wasn’t at all clear that the people living in the capital, Tiwana, had even heard his name. Nowadays, there was no one in all of the Principality of Atall who did not know of the second-born prince.

After the events surrounding Conscon and Allion, as well as Dytiann, there were two major schools of thought concerning Lord Leo.

The first was to see him as a hero. The voices speaking in his favour were mainly those of the people, and Leo’s popularity had soared in the outskirts of the capital. The story of how he led his troops to save Conscon, and there killed Hayden Swift, the commander of the Allian forces, became a topic for popular illustrated storybooks and for the improvised songs of minstrels, and before long, even plays were being performed about it.

As the plays became ever more popular, their performances tended to be staged even at shrines, which caused some problems. The main shrine in Tiwana worshipped ‘Iron Saint’ Lévy-Rahan, but Leo, the hero of the story, had, through a series of events, converted to the Cross Faith. As such, the priests frowned at having a ‘pagan’ tale performed on their premises.

Yet Leo was also, of course, a member of the sovereign-prince’s family. If the shrine refused to stage the play, it would probably give a bad impression to those in power. Accordingly, the play was allowed to be performed as long as the script glossed over Leo’s religious conversion. It was said that the initial performances were so popular that people couldn’t even get through the shrine’s gates anymore.

Amongst the commoners, most people thus cheered for Leo and praised his name.

There was, however, a second school of thought when it came to Leo – one which regarded this ‘rash and thoughtless prince’ as nothing short of dangerous. That opinion was mostly whispered among the vassal-lords and noble retainer families.

Sovereign-Prince Magrid struggled to offer a convincing explanation about what had happened. If he explained that Leo had acted completely on his own – not only when personally leading soldiers to Conscon, but also when meeting the king of Allion shortly thereafter – he would be showing weakness by revealing that the princely house was not internally united.

On the other hand, if he claimed that everything had been done according to his own intentions, he would probably bear the brunt of criticism again. “While it is all very nice that Allion ended up giving in, the sovereign-prince once again arbitrarily brought the entire country to the brink of disaster” – something along those lines.

Just like the troupe staging the play, the sovereign-prince had to rack his brains to find a good way of keeping the details hazy. But not only was Magrid not a skilful orator, he also had no one that he could consult with on this matter. As a result, he ended up sounding evasive. Which was what he actually was being, but, more importantly, that evasiveness also shed light on the very facts that he was trying to hide.

Although nobody could possibly imagine that Lord Leo had acted entirely on his own from start to finish, theories and complaints still flew around.

''Could it be that the young lord was so convinced that the temple needed to be saved that he actually disregarded His Majesty's orders?''

''But any way you look at it, it was the prince's first campaign. He didn't have any experience with military command.
Then maybe it was only luck that allowed him to defeat the enemy general. He was playing an incredibly risky game. You can’t move soldiers based on nothing but a chivalrous spirit, without the light of wisdom. One wrong step, and all of Atall would have been in flames right about now.''

The vassal-lords got onboard with that speculation, but rather than saying that they deeply believed that Leo Attiel was dangerous, it would be closer to the truth to say that they bitterly resented him.

After the events at Conscon Temple, Leo once addressed the vassal-lords about the need for a permanent army. When Leo had previously raised the issue, stories were widely repeated even among the populace about how the vassal-lords had practically laughed in his face; now however, the ones being laughed at and criticised were those same lords.

“They’re all completely blind.”

“It’s clear that the prince has far more foresight than any of them. If they had listened to His Highness’ petition, the prince wouldn’t of had to suffer all alone.”

There was no end to those voices.

The sovereign-prince could ignore neither the displeasure and sense of impending crisis felt by the nobles, nor the vocal disagreement of the people. Which was why Magrid had summoned Stark Barsley, who had once won fame as a loyal retainer to Magrid’s father, to Tiwana. The original intention had been to invite him hunting, but as that had been changed to taking a stroll, it was while they were leisurely standing shoulder to shoulder on top of the hill that he sought Stark’s wisdom.

“What should I do?”

There is not time enough to talk here about all of Stark Barsley’s career. As the illegitimate son of a noble house that he had no mind to inherit, he had already left the country by the time he was a young man. He had wandered, of course, to Allion and Shazarn, and had then extended his steps further west, travelling beyond the Grand Duchy of Ende and the territories of the Imperial Dynasty of Mephius, all the way to the western countries of Tauran.

According to one theory, he had worked as a mercenary in Tauran and had been made a slave in Mephius.

It was coming up to thirty years since he had inherited the family keep from his younger brother, who had died of illness. Although he seemed like someone who really should write his own autobiography, now that he was nearing his seventies, his countenance had grown so gentle that his once harsh way of life seemed almost impossible to believe.

Now as well, he spoke with a smile on his long face.

“Entrust soldiers to the young lord.” The sovereign-prince looked understandably sour. “To all outward appearances, the young lord obeyed Your Majesty’s orders to repel Allion and rescue Conscon. In recent years, Atall has not pulled off any other military feat equal to it. It would look unnatural for you to cast him away. Therefore, as a reward for the young lord’s great deeds, it would be fine to grant him soldiers fulfilling a position close to that of royal guards… right, you could have them be ‘personal guards’. With the voice of popular discontent currently on the rise, even the lords won’t be able to wriggle out sending out money or men either... It should be possible to organise a fairly grand unit without emptying the Treasury.”

“But,” the crease had not vanished from Magrid’s brow, “Although it’s vexing to admit it, that damned Leo outmanoeuvred me and turned his blade against Allion. If I grant him troops, he might grow more and more arrogant, and pose a greater threat to Atall than ever before.”

As he groaned, the sovereign-prince wore an expression that he rarely showed his other retainers. It was the expression of a young man clinging to an older person. “And so,” was all the sovereign-prince said, with an air of broaching the topic of negotiation, before asking Stark to take Leo in hand.

“If I grant him soldiers, Leo will one day also become the master of a castle keep. So Stark, would you be willing to hammer into my son the preparedness and mental attitude needed for the ruling family, while at the same time keeping an eye on Leo?”

He asked with his head bowed, but Stark did not look particularly inclined to respond favourably.

''Hmm'', thought Stark, while striking a nonchalant attitude, ''His Highness Lord Leo? You can’t even go fishing at some backwater pond without hearing nothing but rumours about him. …It might not be bad to meet him at least once.''

This wasn’t because he was intending to act as his mentor, but simply because he had been thinking for a while now that Leo was an interesting person.

He was a noble who had been in service since the era of the previous sovereign-prince. In this era, the ruler placed great trust in him, and he frequently served as a diplomat. In that position, one did not merely convey the ruler’s thoughts when in a foreign country, and there were plenty of times when one had to rely on one’s own judgement, so, naturally, those chosen for the task were all people whose political stance was aligned with the ruler’s.

Stark had been a friend of the previous sovereign-prince, and he was well-versed in gauging the mood in Allion to the west, Shazarn to the north, and the various countries to the east that were tied together by the Cross Faith.

In his time, Atall had experienced virtually no wars with the outside. There had been times when relations with the neighbouring countries had temporarily deteriorated and each side had taken up position in the border regions, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of actual battles that had been fought.

Stark himself had fought against marauders – which included bands of mercenaries and members of powerful clans chased out of their own countries – who had broken into his territory. There had even been an episode in which he had recaptured his own castle after it had been taken from him. Not even he, however, could conceive of crossing swords with a foreign country, and on top of that, with Allion of all places.

Yet Leo Attiel had accomplished that inconceivable feat.

''Very interesting'', thought Stark. But also, ''very dangerous''.

Stark had gradually reached his fill of leaving his old friend’s son in suspense. “Taking charge of him is a different matter,” he said by way of preface, “but I might as well meet Lord Leo. Although I’m not at all sure that this up-and-coming hero will want to listen to what an old sack of bones has to say.”

For now at least, he offered words to please the sovereign-prince.

Since the conversation had reached its conclusion, they walked to where Kirsten, the princess-consort, was sitting beneath a parasol held up by ladies’ maids. Since the sovereign-prince fell into conversation with her, Stark took a discreet step backwards.

It had been quite a while since he had last seen the princess-consort. Since she only had a three-year age difference with Magrid, she must have been nearing the end of her thirties, yet she was still as lovely as ever. She was so slender that it was hard to believe she had born three children, and both her expression and her bearing indicated her deeply modest and reserved personality.

Stark, however, had been observing the princess-consort since her youth, and he felt that ''the corners of her eyes twitch convulsively''. As her emotions piled up within her without ever showing on her face, there was a danger of them exploding. Stark had known any number of women who were like that, and, in a way, the princess-consort fit into that mould.

Actually, the Princess-Consort Kirsten had once had a bout of hysteria that was still talked about within the palace. It had been barely a few years after the birth of her eldest son, Branton. To ensure his son’s education, Magrid had decided not to have him raised in the palace at Tiwana, but to instead have the child fostered by one of the long-serving, hereditary retainers. This noble’s territory was not particularly far from Tiwana, but Kirsten had nonetheless vehemently opposed the decision.

Kirsten was by birth the daughter of a family of vassals in service to a different house of high-ranked hereditary retainers. Her father had died young, however, and the fight to succeed him as family head had not been gentle. Their liege had just barely managed to put an end to it by personally acting as arbitrator, but by that time, her mother had also passed away.

Magrid had fallen in love with her at first sight when he was still a prince but, perhaps in part because of her early history, she had remained extremely shy and reticent and ever since her marriage, she had always found one reason or another to avoid showing herself in public whenever possible.

The princely house had a long history, and its customs influenced every aspect of daily life, so it was easy to imagine that she had found it suffocating at the ceremonious court where she knew virtually nobody.

Thereupon, the long-awaited eldest son had been born.

For Kirsten, the existence of this baby who shared her own blood gave her place to belong, and must have seemed almost like her one and only ally, given that there were so few people in her life that she could trust. When the child was separated from her, she showed passion and fury such as she never had before. She hounded the sovereign, her voice shrill, and wrecked one room after another within the palace.

Most of the retainers were unfortunately unsympathetic towards her. “The princess-consort lacks awareness as a member of the family of the sovereign-prince,” said her those around her, showering her in their harsh criticism.

Although Kirsten’s rampage lasted no more than three days, the affair cast an even deeper shadow than before over the princess-consort. Several years after coming to Tiwana, she had finally and with difficulty managed to make friends, but now she utterly cut off all relations with them and stayed cloistered within the palace all day long.

The birth of the second prince, Leo, brought Kirsten no comfort. On the contrary, that time, the mother gave the impression of being hesitant to get close to her son. ''She was probably feeling cautious'', thought Stark. Because she was afraid that he would immediately be taken away from her, she would not allow herself to love her son.

Because of what had happened with their eldest son, Magrid had relented with Leo and had left him in her care, yet Kirsten failed, so to speak, to love her second son. He was almost entirely looked after by nursemaids, and although they occasionally met each other, the relationship between mother and child was strangely formal and distant.

“Mother!”

The fact that Kirsten was now more or less able to show herself and to be at ease in the full sunlight was without a doubt thanks to the birth of the third prince, Roy, who was currently running up the hill as he called out to her.

Right after Roy Attiel had been born, Kirsten had held her child close.

“He has exactly the same eyes as my father. And his mouth and nose are the living image of my mother,” she had said through her sobs.

As though in compensation of her eldest son, Branton, who had been stolen away from her love, and of her second son, Leo, whom she has failed to love, Kirsten doted on her youngest child, Roy. She had even claimed that the souls of her parents, whom she had lost young, lived in Roy, and she would not be parted from him even for a moment.

Roy had been raised receiving not only his mother’s love, but that of the entire palace. He was friendly and intelligent, and there was no one who would not feel affectionate towards him.

“Oh dear, what have you been up to, Roy? You’re covered in mud.”

Even now, when she was admonishing him, Kirsten’s eyes watched him fondly.

Roy Attiel had been picking flowers at the foot of the hill with the ladies’ maids, and had made them into a garland. When his mother bent forward a little, he placed it around her neck.

“Oh my, how lovely.”

Kirsten and the ladies’ maids all smiled, and even Magrid turned a gazed filled with love towards his third son.
[[Image: Leo_Attiel_Den_v03_029.png|thumb]]
''How calculated''. Stark was the only one who was critical of the third-born prince, Lord Roy. ''He isn’t a child of five or six. If I’m not mistaken, His Highness Roy is around fourteen or fifteen. A boy who’s old enough to have been on his third campaign, making a flower garland for his mother. And to get himself all muddy on top of it… he really is'' slick.

Appearance-wise, he closely resembled Kirsten and was as lovely as her. His boyish face still gave a childlike impression, but, in a year or two, it would surely start troubling the women around him.

Stark had also heard that he was good at his studies. Although his mother indulged him and frequently took him away from his training in martial arts, so that he often took breaks from it, it was said that he was not incompetent with a sword.

Yet all for all that Roy’s eyes were sparkling with joy, Stark could tell that his aim had been to please the adults. Rather than intelligence, he gave off a whiff of cunning.

''Since he’s always being fawned on at his mother’s side, his tendency to earn favour with the adults is just going to get stronger and stronger. His abilities aren’t bad; it would probably have been best if he had been fostered out, like His Highness Branton was.''

Despite having those thoughts, Stark had no intention of suggesting any such thing to Magrid. He did not want to be told, “Well then, since you’re retired, you have plenty of time to take him in,” nor did he want to hassle of having the princess-consort bear a grudge against him.

Stark was aware that he had already given plenty to his country, and he was not inclined to work himself to the bone any further for it. For the same reason, he did not wish to get dragged into every kind of trouble that appeared. And since he was as he was, in truth, he really didn’t want to have to take charge of Leo, either.