The King of the Kingdom of Setoran.

Ragniel Renia Setoran.

Seated in the highest chair, Ragniel listened quietly to the ministers speak.

The old foxes had long since made a meal of politics, and if he misspoke even once, they would snap at him all day. Ragniel could not step forward here. He simply sat in the highest golden chair and listened to what the ministers had to say.

They had just finished discussing the suppression of the slave-trading companies that had recently been sweeping across the continent, and were now moving on to the main agenda regarding the unrest along the border.

“What if we send troops to the Niato Empire first?”

“You mean launch a campaign at a time like this?”

“A surprise attack is always the most effective.”

“With the treasury in its current state, that would be difficult.”

“Aren’t there people sitting idle?”

At one court minister’s remark, the room fell silent.

For the first time, their eyes turned to the king.

Dressed in costly silk embroidered with golden patterns, a crown so large it looked as though it might snap his neck resting on his head, Ragniel gave an awkward smile.

“...Surely you mean the Heroes?”

“If not them, then who in this kingdom is idle?”

“Now that Duke Gannion is dead, they’re the only ones fit to be used as military strength.”

“Send them to the border and have them clean things up again.”

“To be honest, there may not even be any need for that. With the abilities of such exceptional Heroes, wouldn’t it be enough to send them to the frontier and have them fling that enormous golden spear and swing that blue sword around just to frighten people?”

At the court minister’s words, green tie wrapped around his neck, laughter broke out through the chamber.

Ragniel gave a small clearing of his throat and drew the ministers’ attention.

“But the war only ended not long ago. The borderlands are still groaning, and those wounds have not yet healed. It is not appropriate to stir up something like this at such a time.”

At that textbook answer, the court ministers smiled indulgently.

“Your Majesty, are the Heroes’ well-being more important to you than the peace of the people?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What does it matter whether the war ended one year ago or ten?”

“I will give it careful thought.”

“Your Majesty. May I speak?”

“Go ahead.”

“However exceptional the Seven Stars may be, and however faithfully they may follow only Your Majesty, you are still the king of an entire nation. What is there to trust in people who simply dropped from nowhere, with no one even knowing their origins? Build up the army. That is how you strengthen the kingdom’s power, and that is how you protect it.”

“They are the seven Heroes chosen by prophecy, Count.”

“Isn’t it enough that prophecy is talked over in Sors?”

Sors was the royal institution that received and interpreted prophecy.

Girls who had not yet begun menstruating listened to the voice of the gods and interpreted it. Sors had been founded by the first king, and during royal ceremonies it was brought along as a symbolic presence. It had survived until now on that one fact alone: it had been trusted by the founding king who built the kingdom and ushered in its golden age, and so it remained as a way of honoring and commemorating him. In name, they listened to and interpreted prophecy, but in practice they mostly deciphered old texts, organized historical records, and conducted rites praying for the kingdom’s peace.

Because it had been a very long time since prophecy had descended.

And then, on the day the previous king died and young Ragniel’s coronation was held, one of the girls of Sors—a girl from the institution so often mocked for wasting the treasury—delivered the first prophecy in two hundred years.

'The kingdom will be swept into the chaos of war, and seven Heroes will appear to protect it.'

Yet even now, more than a decade after that prophecy was given, it still had not been fully interpreted.

No—more than that, they still had not found all seven Heroes named in it.

The Heroes called Stars were not seven in number.

Geloman, the righteous Second Star.

Luman, the brightest Third Star.

Giselle, the neutral Fourth Star who kept the balance of the Stars.

Verdi, the impartial Sixth Star.

Temar, the loyal Seventh Star.

They still had not identified the other two Heroes indicated by the prophecy. One of the missing Stars was said to be the dead man whose death had triggered the outbreak of the Seven-Year War, but as time passed, more and more people began to challenge even that.

At first, the kingdom had burned with excitement at the thought of finding the prophecy spoken for the first time in two hundred years.

But that excitement had not lasted.

The fact that they still had not uncovered it even after so many years had become a stain on Sors’s name. And the Heroes too, who at first had seemed invincible, no longer inspired the same awe. As the years passed, even the kingdoms that had once been helpless before them began devising ways to respond.

The Kingdom of Setoran was too small, too fragile, to wage war relying on Heroes alone.

And above all, King Ragniel was weak-hearted.

That was what the Count thought.

“Do not rely too heavily on Sors. A nation that prospers through prophecy will inevitably... fall through prophecy as well.”

The Count’s eyes were grim.

“How dare you say such a thing!”

“Countless history books prove it. Was it not because the Kingdom of Niato became obsessed with divination that it set foot on the road to ruin five hundred years ago? Any omen or prophecy will always invite someone who comes to break it. And if not, then the nation that follows prophecy will, in the end, be destroyed because of prophecy itself.”

“How can you speak curses in a time that is already so unstable—”

“That’s enough! All of you, stop.”

Was it because he had inherited the crown at such a young age? Or simply because Ragniel was weak?

Even past the age of majority, Ragniel still could not present himself as a king. He was only swept along by the words of the court ministers.

“All of you, leave. My head aches.”

The court ministers clicked their tongues. They might have tried to keep the sound quiet, but in the huge, empty audience hall there was no way it would not echo. Ragniel did not bother trying to identify which minister had clicked his tongue. He dismissed them all.

He let out a sigh and pressed a hand to his forehead, only to see that one minister had not left and was still standing there.

Ragniel pressed at his throbbing head and called to him.

“Marquis Kinea. Did you not hear me tell you to leave?”

“Your Majesty.”

Ragniel looked down at Kinea.

“I have something I dare to report.”

“Speak.”

Holding back a sigh, Ragniel gave him permission.

“I am well aware that the matters overseen by Sors are carried out in secret.”

“What is it you wish to say?”

Ragniel’s gaze sharpened.

“However, I believe that the prophecy now being spoken of among the public ought to be discussed in the court council.”

At those words, Ragniel fell silent.

In the court council he led with the ministers, Ragniel’s role was almost nonexistent. He merely sat in the highest chair, listened evenly to what the ministers said, and ended the meeting whenever they seemed about to break into an actual fight. Matters of national defense had ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) somehow been managed with the aid of the Heroes’ power, but aside from that, Ragniel was incompetent and powerless. There was not a single official who did not know that if not for the Heroes of prophecy, Ragniel would either have been forced from the throne long ago or reduced to a puppet king.

So there was no possibility that a truly loyal servant would exist for a man like him. It was fortunate enough if there were no flatterers and schemers. Fortunately, because Ragniel was an incapable king, there were no such schemers either.

He had the outstanding Seven Heroes at his side, and Giselle, who styled himself a strategist, stood beside him as well. But a king who could not win over the countless officials of the kingdom had nothing he could do beyond defending the borders. And the Heroes themselves had no desire for rank or advancement. Ragniel was simply grateful that this kingdom had not yet been swallowed by the fires of war.

Yet because of that very sense of helplessness about himself, he had never even considered the need for proper exchange between Sors and the court council, something that should naturally have been divided between them.

The prophecy being whispered about among the public had crossed over from the Kingdom of Niato. But the first to receive that prophecy had been the youngest girl in Sors. Everything inside Sors was top secret, and the only ones allowed to hear it were Giselle and Ragniel. Information was first filtered through the two of them, then passed on to close aides along with their assignments.

Which meant there was a spy inside.

Since the information had already reached a kingdom that was showing signs of entering into conflict with Setoran, Ragniel had decided it would be better to increase the number of people searching for the “treasure” indicated by the prophecy and encourage them to sell it to the royal castle. They could dispatch the royal knights to the places most people were likely to search, and there was always the option of simply taking it by force. And Ragniel had the Seven Heroes. If they could only find the treasure the prophecy pointed to, then having the Heroes seize it would not be especially difficult—that was what Ragniel believed.

It was also what Giselle had explained to him. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

“Still, Marquis, I was taught that ritual and government should remain strictly separate. Were you not taught the same?”

“Your Majesty. One matter interfering with another and the blocking of information that ought to be shared are clearly different things. Even the common people have pieced together what is going on, and yet only the court ministers remain ignorant. How ridiculous is that? Even mercenaries know of it by now, yet the court ministers do not?”

“...Very well. You may withdraw now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ragniel lifted his face from his palm. It was flushed red with shame.

The Marquis of Kinea was right.

The fact that he had never once thought of that until now made him feel so stupid, so ashamed, that he wanted to die on the spot.

Was it because he had kept people too talented by his side?

From childhood, he had listened only to the words of the aged court ministers, so there had never been any reason for him to make decisions or choices himself. Young Ragniel had merely stamped the royal seal where they told him to.

And by the time he was old enough to start thinking for himself, Giselle and Verdi had already taken their places at his side, so again there had been no need for Ragniel to step in.

“What a pathetic king I am.”