Chapter 50: Keithwood Also Hits Peak Mental Performance!

Sion Sol Sunkland was practicing by himself in the training ground. Every swing of his sword was fast and smooth, bespeaking a true mastery of the weapon. His skill had reached such heights that he easily outclassed the adults. Even most soldiers were no match for him.

With a swift step forward, he unleashed a sideways swipe of his sword that was met with applause.

"Sun's barely up and already hard at work, milord?"

"Ah, Keithwood. You walk like a phantom as always. I didn't notice you at all."

Figuring it was a good time for a break, Sion put down his practice sword and pressed a towel to his brow. As he wiped off his face, he gave his head a quick shake. His smooth, silky hair threw up a few drops of sweat that glistened in the morning sun.

Keithwood watched for a while, idly observing that this was probably the kind of thing that made girls swoon, before asking, "So, have you decided whose lunchbox you're going to accept?"

"I don't plan to accept anyone's," said Sion, answering Keithwood's abrupt question with an equally abrupt response. He'd already been asked by a couple dozen girls, and he'd politely declined each and every one of their offers.

"Oh? Should I take that to mean you're secretly hoping I'll be the one to make you lunch?"

Sion grinned at Keithwood's jest.

"Hah. An interesting thought. In fact, I don't think I'd mind a taste of one of your culinary creations. When was the last time you cooked for me anyway? Must have been when we were still in Sunkland."

The elite education Sion had been receiving since childhood extended to every aspect of his life. Even the food he ate was strictly managed. Young Sion had been an obedient child, and he'd always possessed wisdom beyond his years. Not once did he openly complain about the blandness of his meals. However, his close friend Keithwood often played therapist to his private grumblings. Keithwood would make nightly clandestine excursions to the kitchen, where he would prepare late night snacks and bring them back to his master. Sion fondly remembered how he'd subsequently ended up with a cavity that, after being discovered, led to both of them getting a good scolding.

"Funny you'd say that, because I seem to recall receiving a great deal of criticism about my cooking despite the many acts of selfless philanthropy I'd undertaken."

"But of course. I am the crown prince of a vast kingdom, after all. Your philanthropy does not exempt me from my duty to fuss excessively over how my food tastes," quipped Sion with a smirk.

"All right, all joking aside, I assume you've made arrangements for lunch to be delivered?"

Sion had no intention of accepting anyone's lunchbox. He couldn't — not as the Crown Prince of Sunkland. His title was a weighty one. Much too weighty. Any act of overt friendliness toward any particular individual...

…could end up harming the interests of our kingdom down the road. Yeah, I can totally see him thinking that. Keithwood let out a sigh and shrugged. Not that he's wrong, but honestly, it wouldn't kill him to ease up a little.

Crown prince or not, Sion was still a boy in his teens. There'd been a time when bland food had led him to whine. Now, he was missing out on the chance to personally receive a nice lunchbox. Who could say if he wasn't feeling a little sad on the inside?

"So, is there a reason why you're gazing so pensively at my face?" asked Sion.

Keithwood shrugged.

"Can't say, milord. I guess you just have a very thought-provoking face," he answered before sauntering away, leaving a perplexed Sion standing alone in the training ground.

"...Thing is, there are only so many people he can reasonably say 'yes' to," mused Keithwood as he considered Sion's potential lunchbox candidates. The first one to come to mind — and easily the most promising — was the Princess of Tearmoon, who was a match for Sion in both title and prestige.

"I get the feeling that if Princess Mia asked, Sion wouldn't say no..."

Unfortunately, the princess, in all her wisdom, had apparently promised to take her lunchbox to Prince Abel. To this day, Keithwood couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was about Abel that fascinated Mia so.

"Ah, Keithwood, good timing."

Hearing someone call his name, Keithwood stopped and turned in the direction of the voice.

"Ah, if it isn't Lady Rudolvon," he said, politely greeting the daughter of Tearmoon's Outland Count, Tiona Rudolvon. "How may I be of service on this fine day?"

"Well, you see..."

Tiona proceeded to explain their group effort to prepare lunchboxes. After she finished, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of awe as the implications of the plan dawned on him.

So, it's the combined effort of three girls, among which one is a low-ranking noble and another is a merchant's daughter-turned-noble. And also, there's a second recipient, Sion wouldn't be the sole focus of attention.

An arrangement like this was indeed rumor-proof. Nobody would go around gossiping about how they saw Sion getting close with any particular girl. Nevertheless, Mia would have successfully conveyed her desire to be friends.

Princess Mia, huh...

Keithwood nodded in admiration, feeling like he was witnessing a master plan being laid out before his very eyes. The layers upon layers of its intricate design came into view, and he could see its delicate thread of logic weaving deftly through the hazardous labyrinth that was the social landscape of Saint-Noel.

The Great Sage of the Empire indeed. I see you live up to your—

Then, all of a sudden, his thoughts were interrupted by a chill running up his spine. It might have been a hunch. Or perhaps a premonition. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something didn't feel right, as if a terrible misfortune was about to befall his master... Somehow, he suspected — no, he knew, with a certainty that surprised even himself — that if he allowed things to proceed as planned, something terrible would happen at the swordsmanship tournament.

He glanced at Tiona. There seemed to be no malice in her innocent smile. Nevertheless...

Might as well go take a look. Prudence is the better part of valor, after all. Can't hurt to make sure.

And so, sensing that the health of his dear master was in dire straits, Keithwood volunteered to join Mia's cooking squad. Though none of those involved would ever come to know, it was nevertheless true that Keithwood's decision on this day would prove critical in safeguarding the gastrointestinal soundness of both Sion and Abel.