SOTBW - 195

The relationship between Astien and Bastronia was extremely hostile. If an Astien citizen were to fall into a river and cry for help, people from Bastronia would gather from somewhere to throw stones and celebrate as if it were a festival.

Previous chancellors before Villeton had tried to mend relations with Bastronia, but their efforts always came to nothing because of Mackanon. Due to Mackanon mocking and ridiculing the Holy Church, diplomatic ties had been severed. Yet, whenever he grew bored, Mackanon would invade Noctis Fortress and steal sacred relics hidden by Aron.

What made it even more absurd was that someone of Mackanon’s caliber—someone who could easily steal relics without leaving a trace—deliberately made sure everyone knew he had visited Noctis Fortress.

Dressed in his extravagant imperial robes, he would infiltrate Noctis, casually buy street food, dance in the town square with the fortress’s most famous dancers, or charm innocent children into following him with promises of life in the empire, much like the Pied Piper.

He had even led troops to wage battles against Noctis Fortress on occasion.

Though he was clearly mad, he seemed to have some semblance of conscience, as the skirmishes never resulted in casualties on either side (it was speculated that Mackanon used magic to ensure no one died). At the time, the Rochelles, who guarded Noctis Fortress, despised Mackanon so much that they reportedly refused to associate with anyone who slept with their beds facing the direction of the Astien Empire.

As Villeton read through the records left by previous chancellors, he found Mackanon’s antics utterly incomprehensible. Once, he couldn’t help but ask:

“Why do you keep doing these things? No matter how great the Astien Empire is, Your Majesty’s actions will only make neighboring nations doubt our cause.”

“Because it’s fun.”

“...Pardon?”

“It’s fun, Velufes. Didn’t you ever stage mock battles with your friends when you were little? It’s a great way to pass the time when you’re bored. You should’ve seen how the people of Noctis welcomed me. Oh, maybe you should come along next time we go to war?”

“...I’m not Velufes! Velufes was the name of the first chancellor of the empire!”

Recalling this old memory, Villeton furrowed his brow.

“You speak so boldly of provoking trouble in such turbulent times.”

“Provoking trouble? I’m just going to have some fun.”

“To you, Your Majesty, it’s all the same.”

Villeton, now packing the swept-up salt into a container, shook his head like a grandfather dealing with a stubborn grandson.

“But why do you say you won’t return forever?”

“Because once all preparations are complete in Noctis Fortress, I’ll need to focus on my own tasks.”

“Again with the cryptic remarks…”

Villeton understood only about half of what Mackanon said. But Mackanon didn’t care whether his listener understood him or not—he simply kept talking. Villeton’s role was simply to listen.

Surprisingly, that was the role of the chancellor working alongside the emperor in the imperial office. The immortal emperor was profoundly lonely, and to keep from losing his mind completely, he needed someone to look after him.

“So, you plan to go to Bastronia and not return? Both our nations are in chaos because of the Serith, and yet you intend to spend your winter vacation there?”

Villeton subtly criticized Mackanon.

Mackanon, tossing worthless documents over his shoulder, smirked slightly.

“Listen carefully, Vilrugets. No matter what happens, this world will eventually disappear—whether by the hands of the Serith or someone else. Therefore, we must ensure it ends with hope. The Dragon Lord and I have always intended to clean up this world. Think of it like this: if the kitchen is dirty, it’s hard to cook anything good, right? That’s what I mean.”

Mackanon’s words were deeply shocking, but Villeton had lived long enough and heard enough astonishing stories to remain calm.

“Vilrugets was the seventy-seventh chancellor of the empire, and my name is Villeton, Your Majesty. Moreover, who exactly is this Dragon Lord? And what does cleaning up the world have to do with Your Majesty visiting the Kingdom of Bastronia?”

“Vilrugets was the seventy-seventh chancellor?”

Mackanon, startled, turned to look at Villeton while signing a document.

Villeton sighed, exasperated, and replied wearily:

“I believe I told you this when I took office as chancellor, but you’ve forgotten again.”

“If Vilrugets was the seventy-seventh chancellor… has he already passed away?”

“He passed away hundreds of years ago.”

Villeton had been about to retort that this was the seventeenth time they’d had this conversation, but upon seeing the sorrow in Mackanon’s eyes, he fell silent. Mackanon recounted events from thousands of years ago as if they had happened yesterday, yet he oddly couldn’t remember who was born or died.

Perhaps he intentionally chose not to remember. If he carried every such memory with him, he might have gone even madder than he already was.

Villeton, being an ordinary person, could never understand Mackanon. Attempting to do so felt utterly futile.

Mackanon seemed deeply saddened by the news of Vilrugets’ death, lowering his legs from the desk.

“Time truly flies. The passage of human lives is so swift and merciless. Just when you start to understand someone, they die; just when you grow close, they depart to the cycle of reincarnation…”

“Will you not tell me why you’re leaving for Bastronia?”

Villeton skillfully changed the subject.

Fortunately, Mackanon, unwilling to linger in melancholy, readily answered Villeton’s question.

“There’s someone in Bastronia capable of beautifully finishing the task of cleansing this world.”

“And what does it mean to ‘beautifully cleanse’ the world…?”

“To return everything to nothingness.”

Mackanon explained kindly.

Villeton blinked a few times, broom still in hand. Returning the world to nothingness essentially meant erasing this world entirely.

“Is such a thing possible?”

Villeton asked earnestly.

Mackanon nodded as if it were obvious.

“It’s not impossible.”

“And what will become of Your Majesty, the immortal one?”

Villeton genuinely worried for Mackanon. But the immortal emperor did not answer. He merely gazed up at the ever-gentle Villeton and smiled faintly.

That smile carried the unspoken implication that he could not disclose certain secrets. Villeton, not expecting an answer anyway, resumed sweeping the salt.

Mackanon pulled a chair up to the desk and began working again. At some point, the Astien Empire had become a well-functioning nation that could operate smoothly even without its emperor, but preparing for unforeseen circumstances wasn’t a bad idea.

The empire relied on Mackanon’s magic to protect the capital and its surroundings. The fact that no deaths occurred within the Astien Empire was entirely thanks to Mackanon. However, once Mackanon left, there was no telling what abnormalities might arise in the magic, so they were taking every precaution.

As Mackanon drafted documents granting permission to use the imperial treasury freely in his absence—with Villeton’s approval—he smiled faintly.

“Velufes. Even if I don’t return, don’t panic. Stay at your post. If everything unfolds as I expect, no one will suffer in death. They’ll simply vanish from this world without realizing it. Though, come to think of it, ‘vanishing’ is a strange way to put it. After all, everyone will simply return to the ‘original force.’”

That was Mackanon’s parting advice: Do not panic, no matter what happens.

Finally done sweeping, Villeton glanced at Mackanon’s back and grumbled irritably.

“Velufes was the name of the first chancellor of the Astien Empire, and my name is Villeton, Your Majesty. So, when exactly do you plan to leave for Bastronia?”

But instead of giving a proper answer, Mackanon rambled on nonsensically.

“Yes, that’s right. That’s why I chose you as chancellor. It seems fitting that you handle both the beginning and the end.”

Mackanon turned to Villeton with a sly grin and proceeded to turn more documents into salt. Watching the granules cascade down, Villeton sighed deeply, as though the earth itself might cave in.

“You’re speaking cryptically again. Will I ever be able to understand Your Majesty if I’m reborn in my next life?”

“No. That will forever be impossible.”

“I expected as much, Your Majesty.”

Villeton replied dryly, as if he had anticipated Mackanon’s response.

Mackanon, glasses perched on his nose, glanced over his shoulder at Villeton sweeping behind him and swallowed a meaningful smile.

“But in another world, who knows?”

“Your Majesty has been speaking cryptically all day today.”

“When have I not spoken strangely?”

“It’s fortunate you’re aware of it, but could you please stop turning everything into salt?”

The aging Villeton felt a headache coming on as he watched the endless cascade of salt pouring from under the desk. But before he could even finish his sentence, Mackanon swept away a pile of documents stacked on one side of the desk and turned them all into salt.

Rainbow-colored salt poured down like an avalanche beneath the desk. Villeton glared at him as if scolding a mischievous grandson.

With an impish expression, Mackanon began drafting a document leaving part of his property to Villeton’s family.

“Sweeping is your job, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

An exasperated Villeton shot Mackanon an irritated look.

Mackanon tilted his head as he continued writing.

“Not your job? Hmm, then why are you here?”

“Your Majesty appointed me as chancellor seventy years ago.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Ah, I see. Then go fetch some tea, Villeus. My throat is getting dry.”

Exasperated by the emperor’s absurd command, Villeton surrendered like a grandfather who had given up on his stubborn grandchild.

“I’m not Villeus; I’m Villeton, Your Majesty. What kind of tea would you like?”

“Anything will do.”

“Very well, rosemary tea it is.”

Villeton knew Mackanon’s preferences, though discovering them had been no easy feat. When first told to bring “anything,” he had literally brought whatever tea was at hand, only for Mackanon to refuse even a sip.

Looking back, it had been a very long journey. Plucked out of nowhere at sixteen to become chancellor, he had served the emperor and the empire faithfully until he was eighty.

Villeton, born a commoner with no influential connections in the imperial palace, lived an isolated life. But he wasn’t unhappy. Mackanon held him in high regard. The reason Villeton, who entered the palace without any backing, managed to endure as chancellor for so long was due to Mackanon’s unwavering trust.

No one knew why Mackanon chose Villeton, a farmer from a remote village who was illiterate and lacked even a basic concept of numbers, as his chancellor. Despite opposition from the nobility, Mackanon personally mentored Villeton and eventually molded him into an excellent chancellor. Perhaps, living forever, Mackanon simply grew bored and decided to try raising a commoner as his chancellor.

Carrying a silver tray with a teapot and cup filled with rosemary tea, Villeton approached the emperor. Kicking aside the scattered salt on the floor with his foot, Mackanon muttered bitterly:

“When you were young, you used to be amazed and delighted just by making salt. How easily people’s likes and dislikes change…”

“I am over eighty years old this year, Your Majesty.”

“At eighty, you’re still a baby. You’d be happy just blowing soap bubbles at that age.”

Mackanon blew gently on the hot tea and smiled faintly.

“You’ve never raised a child, yet you seem to know so much.”

“In return, I’ve spent thousands of years raising you, Alberto.”

“Alberto? Who’s that now?”

“Who else? It’s your name.”

Mackanon teased, smirking as he lifted the corners of his mouth.

Villeton sat across from him, looking grumpily at the eternally youthful and beautiful emperor.

“Does the name ‘Villeton’ really displease you so much?”

“Not at all. It’s a very good name. That’s why you became chancellor, didn’t you?”

“You say you’re leaving for Bastronia forever soon—so when will you finally call this old man by his proper name?”

“Now.”

Villeton brushed off Mackanon’s words. Mackanon had always promised to call him by his name if he brought good tea, but he had never actually done so.

Just then, as Mackanon savored the rosemary-scented tea, he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh.

“The rosemary tea you make is always excellent, Villeton.”

Villeton, who had been about to drink his tea, froze. After decades of working in the emperor’s office, this was the first time Mackanon had ever called him by his proper name.

Overcome with a sudden premonition, Villeton looked up at Mackanon with emotion welling in his eyes. Setting down his teacup, Mackanon gazed back at Villeton with beautifully shimmering violet eyes.

“When the world ends, after Astien, I’ll miss your tea the most.”

With those final words, the emperor vanished from before Villeton. The aging chancellor slowly rose from his seat and gently touched the chair where the emperor had always sat.

There was nothing there anymore.

With trembling hands, Villeton caressed the chair, still warm from the emperor’s presence. Slowly… as slowly as the sun setting behind the mountain ridges, he knelt beside it.

The salt scattered across the floor sparkled like jewels in the sunlight streaming through the windows.