Mushoku Tensei: the Apostle of God

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The words fell like a hammer, decisive and final.

The future of the Asuran succession struggle seemed laid out on the chessboard beneath Philip's control. Silence settled over the bedroom.

After a long pause, Philip looked up at Ghislaine.

The latter, ever the inscrutable secretary of Roa's mayor, merely rested her hand on her sword and stared blankly at the board. When she noticed Philip's gaze, she propped her chin on her hand and pondered for a moment.

Then she spoke—a single, crisp word.

"Hn."

Followed by:

"The young master is correct."

Philip's grip on his chess piece tightened imperceptibly. He studied Ghislaine for a moment before shaking his head.

"Ghislaine, fetch the capital's situation analysis from the desk. Oh, and your literacy has improved greatly this past year—read it over first."

Ghislaine nodded, walked to the desk, picked up the document, and scanned it as she returned to Philip's side. Her expression cleared, and she nodded again.

Philip glanced at the piece in his hand, then narrowed his eyes like a cunning fox.

Just then, Ghislaine straightened and began her analysis with deadpan seriousness:

"I see. Using the elimination method Rudeus taught me, we can first rule out the Second Princess—"

"That's enough, Ghislaine. Hand it back."

A breeze from the window ruffled Philip's hair. He set the piece down, swept his hair back, and took the document Ghislaine mechanically offered.

Ghislaine realized her mistake but found herself distracted by his familiar posture. Rudeus' words echoed in her mind: People unconsciously mimic the mannerisms of those they admire. Don't believe me? Look at Allen and Eris—aren't they starting to resemble each other more and more?

Still, she responded to Philip without missing a beat.

"The Second Princess? But her chances are the slimmest, no?"

"Her disadvantage lies in her reliance on populism. Public favor is the least valuable asset in Asura—at best, it's a decorative flourish for the succession battle. The problem is, she doesn't even have the 'finery' to begin with."

Philip's eyes lingered on Ariel's name in the report. His thoughts, momentarily derailed by Ghislaine's bluntness, now sharpened again. His fingers traced the edge of the piece he had chosen as his 'King.'

"I saw her once from a distance."

He looked up at Ghislaine, pointing at his own eyes with a smile.

"Like Allen, she has striking looks. But unlike Allen, who spends his days in Water God dojos subduing others with his blade, she excels at wielding her innate charm to sway people in social settings. Yet beneath it all, she's no different from the other nobles in the capital."

"Her current popularity isn't just due to her acting skills—she likely has an advisor guiding her moves. Unfortunately, that advisor's tactics are still amateurish compared to Darius'."

"To reach the pinnacle of Asuran power, charisma alone isn't enough."

Philip lowered his gaze, smirking as he placed a piece with a click.

"A master strategist."

Another piece. The Bishop.

"A skilled advisor."

Another. The Rook.

"A powerful retainer."

Finally, The Knight.

"Influential noble backing."

Ghislaine watched as Philip surrounded the white 'King' with four pieces.

"She lacks every one of these," Philip said, placing a final 'Pawn' on the board. "Public favor alone won't bridge the gap. That's why her odds are the worst. But—"

Ghislaine's brow arched as Philip suddenly swept the 'Bishop,' 'Rook,' 'Knight,' and 'Pawn' off the board, letting them clatter to the floor.

As the noise faded, he placed a new piece beside the white 'King'—this time with deliberate softness. Yet the motion carried the weight of a swordsman's strike.

A black 'King' now stood on the board.

"'Master strategist'? 'Skilled advisor'? 'Powerful retainer'? 'Noble backing'?" Philip's voice was quick, but his gaze was serene as he admired the black 'King,' his smile widening.

"We have all of those. And we need only one move to provide them."

"To take, one must first give."

"If I intend to ride her momentum to the top of Asura's power structure, I must first send her a counterweight capable of tipping the scales."

"The question is whether her advisor dares to pick up this 'King.'"

Philip's usual restraint gave way to exhilaration. The gloom that had clung to him since his family's defeat seemed to dissolve with this move.

"The finest 'King' the Boreas family has to offer."

Ghislaine studied his expression before speaking.

"Young Master, you clearly adore Allen and take pride in him. Why not express that? If you approached him differently, he might understand you."

Philip shook his head.

"Allen doesn't need to understand me. I gave him no love or guidance growing up—his achievements are his own. If he did understand me, I'd only feel ashamed."

"If I'd earned his acknowledgment like Hilda did, what then? Allen despises authority but inherited Father's domineering temperament. He'd inevitably clash with Father over the next family head, then walk away in disgust—leaving Father no choice but to appoint me, the 'beloved father,' as heir."

"And then?"

"Father never saw me as worthy. Even with James gone, he'd never relinquish the title to me. Hilda would grieve anew, missing her child. No one wins."

"That's not how it should be."

"He belongs where I first saw him—at the apex of Asuran power, bathed in adoration, embracing the glory meant for him. Not slinking back to Roa like his failure of a father, playing mayor to a backwater town, unable to even acknowledge his own child or bring his wife joy."

The candlelight flickered as Philip traced the black 'King,' his eyes shadowed.

"This is better."

"Everything proceeds as planned."

"When the time comes, the 134th head of House Boreas…"

"Will be my child."

"That's enough."

Silver Palace · Second Princess's Residence

"That's enough."

The lavish reception hall blazed with light from countless chandeliers.

Ariel sat with perfect poise on a sofa, dressed in an exquisite layered ensemble—a crimson short cape over a matching corseted gown, a frilled white blouse, and a moon-white underskirt with geometric embroidery. The intricate styling suited her effortlessly, as though she were born to wear such finery.

"Your visit alone speaks volumes," she said, voice mellifluous. "Asking for public support now would only burden you. I understand your reservations, and I'm grateful you came despite them."

Across from her lounged Pilemon Notos Greyrat, current head of the Notos family. With his brown hair and features reminiscent of Paul's—though far more severe—he tapped his knee absently, studying Ariel with guarded interest. Her composure impressed him, but her faction's weakness gave him pause.

Still, aligning with her had long been a consideration. He stopped tapping and eyed the hem of her skirt.

"My position is precarious. Declaring for you now would invite retaliation from the First Prince's faction. I've only recently secured my family's leadership and must consolidate further—especially in the capital. But don't mistake my caution for reluctance."

Ariel listened attentively, while her attendant, Deleequek, stood behind her, eyes downcast, his displeasure barely concealed.

Pilemon continued:

"My second son recently reached Intermediate-rank in Sword God style at twelve. I'd like to assign him as your personal knight. Nothing could better demonstrate my sincerity. The Notos have trained him to serve royalty—consider this our endorsement of your future."

Ariel's mask slipped for a fraction of a second before she smoothed her expression. Deleequek gave a slight nod, then stiffened in surprise at her reply:

"Intermediate-rank? How impressive. You have my deepest thanks."

"But please, believe me when I say I trust you implicitly. There's no need for such gestures."

Both men stared at her. Deleequek's confusion was palpable; Pilemon arched a brow, taken aback that the 'underdog' princess would refuse this overture.

Ariel giggled, casting a playful glance at Deleequek.

"To be frank, these past months of managing maids smitten with my current personal mage have been exhausting. Your son must be quite handsome too—I'd have even more trouble keeping my staff in line!"

She emphasized the word personal, her tone light but deliberate.

Pilemon's gaze flicked to Deleequek, noting his flustered reaction. Ah. Two attractive male attendants already? No wonder she's wary of rumors. His own doubts resurfaced—if Ariel fell from grace too soon, Luke's affiliation could tarnish his prospects. Perhaps it was better to wait.

"I understand. My offer stands should you reconsider."

Ariel tilted her head, sighing theatrically.

"My apologies for the inconvenience."

Later

Footsteps thudded down the carpeted hallway, betraying their owner's agitation.

"Your Highness, was that wise? Lord Pilemon is a crucial ally. No major nobles back you yet—public support alone won't suffice! And you know full well I've never dallied with the maids! If you were worried about propriety—"

Ariel halted and sighed.

"Deleequek."

He froze, instantly regretting his bluntness. His urgency stemmed from his hopes for her—carelessness born of concern.

Ariel relaxed her shoulders and met his gaze.

"I'm only the Second Princess."

Deleequek stiffened.

"You are a high-ranking successor to the throne—a candidate for the next king."

She shrugged, shedding her regal demeanor. With Deleequek, who knew her too well, she allowed herself informality.

"I have two older brothers and a sister ahead of me. My sister's marriage is settled, but my brothers are gathering forces for the crown. As long as they live, I'll never be queen."

"But you're the queen consort's daughter, the only one with pure Asuran royal blood—"

"Enough, Deleequek."

Ariel cut him off.

"If such talk reaches my brothers, what then? If the conflict escalates, they might send assassins. I'm content with my life as it is—why invite danger?"

Deelequek gaped.

"Then all the more reason to need a knight—"

Ariel laughed softly, tilting her head.

"An Intermediate-rank Sword God knight?"

Deleequek faltered. As an Advanced-rank mage, could he stop an assassin? Could an Intermediate swordsman? The weaker their defenses, the greater the risk—her logic was airtight.

He swallowed hard as Ariel turned to the window.

The Silver Palace's lights cast a grayish glow over the gardens.

She blinked, smiling.

"I'm tired. I'd like to rest."

As she stepped away, she paused and glanced back, her blue eyes gleaming.

"It might get loud tonight—don't mind it. If you can't sleep, ask Alze to join you. She's quite taken with you."

Her laughter trailed behind her as she left.

Deleequek stared after her, speechless.

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