An eerie silence hung in the airship station.
There were fewer people than usual because the neighboring kingdom's princess was visiting, but even so, it was a busy place.
It was so quiet that even the mechanics who were working on the car stopped and looked over to see what was going on.
The yeller was a man in his 40s with long sideburns and a mustache.
He was dressed nicely and looked somewhat dignified, but he was scowling the whole time.
He snorted harshly, as if he didn't know what he was looking at.
‘How dare you lowly commoners.’
The Marquis de Debussy had not been pleased with his arrival in Tirna.
'To come to this filthy, polluted place on an envoy.’
Arrogant to the core, he disliked everything about Tirna.His patience was already frayed, but his patience exploded when he saw that the fixer didn't even bow to him.
‘Yes, I've got it.’
The Marquis de Debussy was inwardly pleased.
Not only did he have the opportunity to vent his frustration, but he also did what he always did when he came to a place like this.
It's what he calls "getting his bearings.”
It was one of his hobbies to deliberately scratch his opponent's nerves and make things difficult for them, no matter where he was visiting because he is of noble blood, a noble who could treat commoners like bugs.
In his eyes, Osian was just unlucky to be caught.
Normally, the frightened commoner would have shaken his head in anger.
But the dark-haired young man's reaction exceeded the Marquis de Debussy's expectations.
"......."
He leans back against the cargo, crosses his arms, and stares off into the distance as if to ask what to do.
The sight of him puzzled the Marquis.
‘What is he?’
He had heard that Tirna was a place where class did not exist. Naturally, he didn't react the way commoners would in his own country.
But that was something the Marquis de Debussy had considered.
'Still, since he works here, I thought he'd be a little more deferential, but no reaction at all?’
He thought, ‘Wait a minute. Is he a nobleman?'
He yelled at him because he didn't like his behavior, but when he took a closer look, there were many things that stood out.
First of all, his appearance was different.
Other fixers had faces that clearly showed they were involved in rough business but the black-haired young man had none of that.
His skin was white and his lines were fine. His lips were pursed tightly, and as he stared into space, he had an air of nobility that even the Marquis de Debussy would have admired.
At this point, he wondered if he was another nobleman, but then he realized that he was alone in a room of fixers.
There was a moment of confusion, but the Marquis de Debussy, a nobleman by birth, knew instinctively.
That Osian was a commoner, not a noble, and that he was one of the same people as the fixers gathered there.
‘That's right. Even if you're from a noble family, if you come to Tirna, you're practically a down-and-out, backstabbing bastard.’
The Marquis de Debussy's voice grew stronger at that.
"How dare you still hold your head up high?"
The Marquis de Debussy strode toward Osian.
No one stopped the Marquis from his impetuous behavior.
He was the head of the Princess Orlea's bodyguards, even if he looked like this.
The only person higher than him was the princess herself, but even she didn't seem to have any intention of stopping him now.
It was no wonder that the Marquis de Debussy had gotten the upper hand.
"Excuse me, sir."
Just then, a fixer stood in front of the Marquis.
He was the oldest of the fixers in the room, hobbling along with a wry smile on his face.
His gaunt face was full of wrinkles and scars to prove it.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Valen."
"So."
"That young man over there is a fixer, but he's new and doesn't know what he's doing. I hope the Marquis will be as generous and understanding as he is......."
Valen didn't finish his sentence properly.
Mate─!
Marquis de Debussy slapped Valen's cheek with all his might.
Valen rubbed his red, swollen cheeks in confusion.
The Marquis de Debussy made a face.
"Who are you to tell a nobleman how to behave, eh?"
"That's not what......."
"You incompetent fixer bastard, you called me here just to fill your head, and you think you got anything out of it? Do you still have no grasp of reality, or do you want me to make you?"
Marquis de Debussy pressed his white-gloved fingers into Valen's shoulder.
Despite being slapped and insulted in front of everyone, Valen couldn't fight back.
In Tirna, everyone is equal.
Nobles and commoners are irrelevant but that doesn't mean that the Marquis de Debussy and Valen are equal.
Rank aside, the Marquis de Debussy, the head of the procession, was a much higher ranking man than Valen.
Tirna was supposed to be a city of equals, but this was the reality.
"What the hell......!"
"That, that......."
Valen was about to bow his head again.
A voice from behind interrupted them.
"Enough."
The voice was lightly spoken, but somehow it sounded low and weighty.
The people who heard the voice, who hadn't heard it because they'd kept their mouths shut until now, forgot what was going on and exclaimed, "That's the voice.”
"What?"
The Marquis de Debussy was equally puzzled.
"Did you mean to say that to me?"
"Who else is here besides you?"
Marquis de Debussy chuckled at Osian's brazen answer and laughed in disbelief at Osian’s shameless answer.
This guy doesn't get angry with a slap on the cheek.
I'll have to punch him in the face to wake him up.
He was about to do just that when Osian called out to me.
"Stop."
This time, it was an unexpected person who stopped Marquis de Debussy in his tracks.
Marquis de Debussy stopped in his tracks and turned around.
"......My lady?"
"Stop there. You'll be late for the celebration."
"My lady. This commoner just ignored me, and you expect me to let this go?"
Hearing the Marquis de Debussy's retort, Osian arched an eyebrow.
"You talk back to the royalty you serve?
Moreover, Marquis de Debussy's behavior was not something that Princess Orlea would point out.
It meant that their relationship was not a simple master-servant one.
‘Then the real power is held by this man in front of me.’
A royal without power was less than a noble.
In a more private setting, Marquis de Debussy would have scoffed and dismissed her remark but this was a public occasion, with many people watching.
The Marquis realized this, so he glanced around and clicked his tongue slightly.
He glared at Osian with hostility in his eyes.
"Consider yourself lucky. If it weren't for the mercy of the princess, you wouldn't even be in the procession today."
Still, it was an official occasion, so he addressed the princess, but there was no loyalty in his voice.
Osian responded to Marquis de Debussy's words with a blank stare.
Marquis de Debussy tried to speak up again to see if it bothered her, but she held her ground and returned to her seat.
Osian spoke to the Marquis's back as he walked away.
"Frenfitz."
"What?"
"The name of the man who hired me."
With that, Osian glanced to one side.
There, he could see Frenfitz, the man who had half-blackmailed Ronan into hiring him, looking flustered.
"Just so you know."
Osian said, and added a faint smile.
Marquis de Debussy's lips quivered, and he strode back to the princess' side with rough steps.
His razor-sharp eyes fixed on Frenfitz, who bowed his head deeply in contemplation.
Perhaps the two would have a private meeting separately.
Given Marquis de Debussy's fiery temper, he would not be satisfied with giving Frenfitz a single blow.
As the princess and her entourage retreated, Valen came to Osian to thank him.
"Thank you for your help."
"Why did you come out? We've only just met today."
"Yes, but you helped my brother at the power plant."
Ah, so one of the fixers was family.
I never thought I'd have such a strange connection.
Even if his brother owed him his life, there was no reason for Valen to step forward.
Even if there was some calculation behind it, it was ultimately pure goodwill that drove him to act.
"It is fate that has brought us together, so I’ll introduce myself again, Valen."
"Osian. I work for Violet Fox."
"I've heard of you. Your office is pretty famous."
"I see."
"Actually, I almost got a big headache. Dealing with that dirty noble's personality can be exhausting, even if you're from Tirna"
Is that so?
Osian didn't really care about that, so it didn't really hit home.
"I was planning to return the favor even more if they messed with me anyway."
"Hahaha, you're a good joke teller."
"......."
"......is a joke, right?"
Valen didn't get it.
In the distance, he heard the announcement that the march would soon begin.
"Let's go."
"Uh, uh, sure."
Valen replied hesitantly, following Osian as he walked ahead.
*
As they stepped outside the airship station, they were greeted by blue skies and the blazing sun.
Princess Orlea stepped into a luxury vehicle.
It was roofless, with a wide-open design.
As Osian watched, he spotted Marquis de Debussy.
Unlike his expectation of riding in the same vehicle as the princess, the Marquis de Debussy was talking to someone else.
‘Who is it?’
He was wrapped in a poncho-like robe and wore a brass mask over his face.
Judging by the firearms they were carrying, they were an official escort.
"Soldiers."
Sensing what Ossian was looking at, Valen answered his curiosity.
"They said the military took charge of the escort, and it turned out to be true. No wonder we're practically puppets. Come to think of it, they also said the military was behind this peace envoy initiative."
Ossian nodded in agreement with Valen's words.
He'd read about it in the newspaper, so he knew the story but something was bothering him.
‘What is Marquis de Debussy talking to that soldier about?’
The carriage carrying the princess was about to depart, but he wasn't paying attention.
On the contrary, Frenfitz, whose cheeks were red and swollen, was getting impatient.
The march began.
First came the vehicles to clear the way, followed by those carrying the Princess while steam motorcycles and military vehicles followed as an escort.
The citizens stopped what they were doing and came out into the streets to watch the procession.
Despite all the people gathered, only a few were cheering or rejoicing.
Most were simply watching the current event with interest.
‘We're in the back.’
Osian and the other fixers were given seats far away from the princess' vehicle.
It was safe to say they were at the back of the procession, the end of the line.
They were, in effect, pariahs but despite the distance, Osian could see the events unfolding in the distance.
With eyesight that transcended common sense, he could even see the distant princess's pensive expression clearly.
‘I don't have a good feeling about this.’
Osian looked at the surrounding buildings.
Soldiers were stationed on the rooftops of the tallest buildings.
No big man would attempt an assassination in broad daylight, especially in front of so many people.
But no matter how much reason screamed at me, my instincts kept telling me otherwise.
My uneasy thoughts quickly became reality as a slight disturbance up ahead slowed the march.
"What's going on?"
Judging by the reactions of those around me, this was not preordained.
Then the march began in a different direction than before.
‘The route has changed?’
The uneasiness in my head intensified.