Editing KSGU:Volume 5 Chapter 2 (section)

===Part 2===

The quality of servants would determine what the family was made of. In this case, the fact that a servant would arrive at the carpark to invite them in proved that the Marcenas’ stature was for real.

“Welcome back.” Riddhe saw the old butler who greeted him, and answered, “It’s been a while, Dwiyon.”, and he, whose face had been tense ever since he reached Earth, finally relaxed somewhat at this moment. The butler called Dwiyon here merely lowered his head for a short while, and though it was hard to see his expression, even Mineva could sense a surge of emotions swelling from his trembling shoulders. It was common to see many servants who act tough with power backing them up, but there were not many servants who would weep earnestly for the family members they were serving. He was definitely feeling emotional, but he would not try to inquire about his master’s private life on his own, could maintain some form of distance with the family he was serving while doing so obediently, and the magnetism working between them was one only a high-class family would have with a top-notch butler.

After passing through the arched entrance, there was a large empty hall that could be seen, and the sunlight that shone in diagonally from the second level window was reflected off the clean and polished floor. Like its outer appearance, the inside arrangement of the house and the width was not too different from the Vist’s mansion. Mineva’s official residence was basically no different from a palace despite being raised in a fortress full of defeated warriors, and this current situation did not intimidate her, but the aged pillared, walls, furniture and all sorts of things still produced an aura that would discourage anyone.

Unlike the old yet grimy looking Vist Foundation, everything in this place reeked of its own history, giving a suffocating feeling that was resisting change. Riddhe, who grew up in this family, most probably experienced this feeling. Mineva shook off this air that filled the space, and did not land her sights on anything as she merely followed the back profiles of those heading in. She turned to the hall located on the left side, past a table that could seat 10 people in the dining room, and arrived at the corridor leading to the inside of the house. It was an art gallery with paintings decorating the corridor, and with the varying light intensity lighting the paintings, the fine artworks could be mistaken for photos as they were lined up, awaiting visitors.

Mineva stared at the first portrait, and stopped. The person in this portrait seemed to be of mixed blood, and he had brown eyes that were half-passionate, half-rational. It was a man who looked like he was in his sixties. Mineva did see this face several times in history class, but after looking at it closely again, she found that he resembled Riddhe somewhat, “This person is Ricardo Marcenas, the first Prime Minister of the Federation government.” Ronan explained, and Mineva continued to look up at that painting silently.

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“The one over there would be the 3rd Prime Minister, Georges Marcenas, my great-grandfather. He would be called Ricardo Junior in movies or books based on historic themes.”

Ronan smiled slightly as he pointed at the paintings lined down the corridor with his eyes, introducing them one by one, “The first Prime Minister, Ricardo Marcenas, was unfortunately assassinated, but the Marcenas family continued to maintain important positions inside the government. The history within the Earth Federation government is also our family history. Our family’s fate is to become the pillars supporting the country…I suppose you can say that.”

There was no sense of conceit or deliberation in these words as his voice merely described the cold hard facts calmly. There was a chill that arose suddenly in this dim corridor, and Mineva trembled as she saw these paintings that could not talk, understanding where the pressure in this house came from.

The ancestors of the Marcenas’ family were lined up on this empty hall, depicting the history of the Federation. These were the people, the group of guardians for the Federation, becoming tense because of her intrusion as a foreigner. They were glaring at the forgotten remnant of the enemy, pressurizing her with a hatred-like surge—

“They managed to survive till now doing that kind of job.”

Riddhe spoke. Mineva recovered and looked at him.

“The culprit that blew up the first Prime Minister’s residence was said to be a separatist against the Federation’s rule, but nobody knew the truth. Some people said that the mastermind behind this were the conservatives in the government, thinking that the liberal and idealistic Prime Minister will get in the way. This is the same reason why a certain American president in the Middle Ages was assassinated.”

Riddhe looked up at the paintings, showing a look of disgust on the side of his face. As a descendant of this family and a son who deserted his family, he seemed to be exerting his presence in this corridor of time. He ignored Ronan, who went silent, and continued with a stiff voice,

“The terrorist attack that caused the explosion of the official residence…that “Laplace Incident” was a good excuse for the Federation to sweep the separatists. At that time, the call was basically, “remember the tragedy of Laplace. Never ever forgive those despicable terrorists”. The pitiful separatists were immediately eliminated, and the Federation government quelled the conflicts on Earth. During that time, what did our Marcenas family do? We relied on the conservatives who killed the first Prime Minister, preventing our entire family from being wiped out. After the deputy Prime Minister became the second Prime Minister temporarily, Ricardo Junior won an overwhelming support from the people and was elected as the third Prime Minister, and thoroughly eliminated the terrorists, the ones who killed his father. These were all beautiful things that were made up, heroes that were made up. After that, the Marcenas family—…”

“JUST SHUT UP!”

The sharp roar echoed through this corridor of time, stopping Riddhe from continuing what he wanted to say. The paintings held their breaths, staring silently at their descendants. Ronan lowered his cold stare on the silent Riddhe.

“So what you’re saying is that the world is run on conspiracies? You read too many nonsensical books. Politics is not that simple, and there are a lot of things you, who abandoned your family, don’t know about.”

Riddhe did not say anything as he turned his back on the other person, and his face was definitely looking like a stubborn child. ''He’s trying to be like a spoilt child to his father, and got told off as a result; the current situation might seem to be like this. '' “Miss Mineva” As she continued to ponder aimlessly, Ronan looked at her,  and she seemed to panic somewhat as she looked back.

“We will be talking about the details later, but I still have to admire you for the courage you showed. I am willing to bet my personal honor and do all I can to make sure that you are not mistreated.”

The sincere yet sharp stare appeared in Ronan’s eyes, and this stare caused Mineva to feel a fluttering in her chest. “I am very glad to hear you say that.” She responded with a voice appropriate for the occasion and gave a polite smile.

“Let the unfortunate past pass by. I hope for a positive development through our talks, and for this, I will go all out in that.”

Mineva wanted to answer back with a smile at that moment, but Ronan suddenly lowered his face and looked away, “However, there is something I hope that you can understand first.” Mineva felt a chill.

“The Federation government is definitely not a sturdy rock that will not be destroyed. We, the people of the Marcenas family, have been protecting the Federation for generations and dedicating ourselves to it. It’s the same as you, the symbol of Zeon.”

''But we couldn’t do it.'' Ronan’s words had such bitterness, and the emptiness that came as he drew the line caused his heart to turn cold. “Dad…” Riddhe let out a doubtful voice, but Ronan did not look at his face as he merely looked far away at the portraits lined up in the shadows.

“The Federation is still young, less than 150 years old, an immature nation. Someone…someone has to protect it.”