Chapter 12: Men In the Cafe

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Early Summer, 1779 Years of Freedom (Y.F), Palanthein Capital, Palaion

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Summer had only just begun, but thanks to the unpredictable and worsening climate of recent years, it came far too early, scorching the already suffering people of the Kingdom of Palanthein. As if things couldn’t get worse, the farmers had to watch their harvests fail time and again due to the extreme weather changes over the past few years. On top of that, they were still expected to regularly hand over taxes to their feudal lords.

A stretch of barren land dotted with small village settlements surrounded a sprawling city, where horse-drawn carriages still came and went. This was the settlement that held the heart of the kingdom’s administration—Palaion.

At a glance, public order in the city still seemed well-maintained, since this was a time just few weeks before that shocking news would reach the lands of Del Korynth, or at least while Alexion’s entourage was still on the road.

Behind the busy crowds of that packed city stood a café with a signboard that read "Le Dhería." At first glance, there was nothing unusual about it. Everyone inside was seated at their tables, sipping tea from their cups, engaged in their own business.

But hidden beneath all of that, it was actually no secret that this café served as a gathering place for political dissidents—those who came to meet, support each other, and express political ideas they believed could replace the rotten system that ruling the kingdom. Some came with more radical ideas, while others were simply there to speak about equality and rights, without pushing anything extreme.

"Why don’t you run for Deputy?"

"I'm not that desperate for a job."

"Are you calling me unemployed? You bastard, haha!"

At one of the many tables scattered around the café, two men sat together, joking with one another over a few small dishes laid out before them.

In terms of posture, the two men were complete opposites. The one laughing had a very thin frame and wore a powder wig whose white color had already faded to yellow in spots, clearly showing how poorly it had been maintained. Beside him rested a black cane, likely used to help him walk. His name was Phytus.

"Isn’t that what you are? Haha, you damn leech."

The man he was speaking to had a chunkier build, with signs of balding already creeping through his hair, even though he was still in his late thirties. His name was Darnay Dermallis. He was also the owner of a fairly well-known law firm called the Dermallis Law Firm.

"Speaking of which, Darnay, listen to my advice," said Phytus as he dipped his rye bread into the onion soup and took a bite. After swallowing, he continued, "put yourself forward now before it’s too late."

"It’s pointless. What can this Assembly possibly do after being revived for the first time in over a century?"

What they had actually been talking about all this time was the news that the king was preparing to convene an assembly to address the worsening state of the Kingdom. This assembly would be divided into three representative bodies. The First Pillar would be composed of nobles, the Second Pillar of the clergy, and the Third Pillar of deputies from the common people.

"Pointless? Everything has changed, or at least is on the way to change." Phytus pointed to the stack of papers beside his plate. They looked like drafts of proposals for a new constitution.

Even so, there was no sign of interest on Darnay’s face. "Those papers are just paper if your kind and the clergy end up outvote us commoners."

Phytus paused for a moment, then raised his index finger and said, "My kind?"

"What? Have you forgotten that you’re the son of a Viscount?" There was a note of sarcasm in Darnay’s voice. "Besides, one against two is already unfair from the start. In the end, nothing will change, my friend."

Pyhtus frowned, not because of Darnay’s words, but because of the truth buried beneath that cynicism. Darnay always spoke with venom on his tongue, and the deadliest poisons often tasted like old wine, bitter but honest. He was the son of a Viscount, though the title felt foreign in his mouth, like an old coat he once owned but never truly wore. His father had never wanted him. Ever since his leg was crushed and he could no longer stand tall like other boys, the Viscount had seen him not as flesh and blood, but as a wound that refused to heal.

Maybe he never truly fell from the world of nobles. Maybe he simply fell, and no one ever reached out a hand.

Still, behind it all, Pyhtus knew he was lucky, or at least not completely thrown into the streets like an old dog no longer needed. He had not been tossed into the world without direction or purpose. He had not been left to rot behind the manor walls. Instead, he was sent to Universitién Del Palaion. That name might have sounded noble to common ears, even honorable, since the school opened its doors to anyone who could read, write, and pay part of the price of knowledge. But to the blood of nobles, that university was merely a place for second sons, failed heirs, and those not clean enough to sit at the inheritance table.

True lords would never set foot there. They had private tutors, scholars from abroad, or sent their children to Elittes Del Colleuge, a place where a family name weighed more than final scores. Universitién Del Palaion was not a place to study. It was a place for the forgotten. It was true that his father still wanted him gone from the family, but what did it matter? His education was paid for. He was given an allowance each month. And even when that stopped after graduation, Pyhtus was already earning money as a political orator, supported by donations from his followers.

“Oh? So that’s what’s on your mind now?” Phytus didn’t bother answering the sneer. He simply said, “I’m putting my name forward for the Third Pillar.”

“How generous of you,” Darnay said with one brow rising in mock admiration. He reached for the teapot, refilled both their cups as if they were merely chatting about the weather. “Truly, what do you expect me to say?” he continued, setting the pot down. “First Pillar, Third Pillar—what does it matter? You spoke of abolishing privilege in your last speech, didn’t you?” He took a sip, then smiled drily. “Privilege doesn’t vanish, My Friend. It only changes its mask.”

Seeing his attitude and words like that, Pyhtus could only let out a long sigh. He wondered what had made him so pessimistic toward the changes that were becoming more and more visible, at least in Pyhtus's eyes. Darnay himself used to be his roommate back in their university days, when they were still seeking knowledge together. Back then, Darnay was no different from Pyhtus, full of passion for change while also being a devoted admirer of the constitutional monarchy system practiced by the Kingdom of Windhaven in western Gravania, as well as the revolutionary spirit shown by the nation that used to be Windhaven’s colony across the western ocean.

Even after they graduated, Darnay continued with Pyhtus in their public speaking work, becoming a famous duo known among the people, especially in the middle and lower classes. But because their movement eventually became stagnant, Darnay began to feel it was all pointless and went on to open his own law firm, which also became quite successful. Still, Pyhtus was at least glad that Darnay routinely gave him donations to support his living expenses, so Pyhtus felt there was still hope to reopen whatever had once existed inside Darnay in the past.

So he figured this may the right time to deliver the kind of news that might change Darnay’s mind. While cutting into the egg on his plate, Pyhtus finally spoke. “Actually, my brother-in-law from the northwest is also running for the Third Pillar.”

A confused look clearly appeared on Darnay’s face after hearing that. He tried to guess which brother-in-law Pyhtus was referring to. But since he said it was the one from the northwest, Darnay was a little skeptical. Pyhtus had six siblings, several of whom were already married. Still, considering that Pyhtus showed a proud expression when saying it, Darnay could already tell who he meant.

“I see you’ve already figured it out,” Pyhtus said, now sipping his tea with a proud yet calm posture.

“You mean the son of the Black Lion?”

“Correct.”

The nickname “The Black Lion” referred to the founder of the Del Korynth noble family, Caerion the Black Lion from Tillien. Darnay always thought that Pyhtus rarely, if ever, took pride in his noble family status. But whenever someone mentioned Caerion Del Korynth by name, he couldn’t help but show pride because he had a connection to that family through his sister, who married Caerion’s son, Alexion.

Del Korynth itself was actually highly respected by the general public, which felt quite strange because in this time, most people viewed the nobility very negatively. That was of course due to Caerion’s famous force march event which was even turned into stories performed in many theaters, plus the fact that he came from commoner roots and cared for his people in his territory, making him even more popular.

Pyhtus also once said that his father, known for his strictness and pride, still respected Caerion. That alone shows how great the Black Lion was. He also said that his father's respect for him began when he was saved by Caerion during one of the battles that part of the War of the Eight Monarchs. Therefore, when the situation in Pyhtus' father's Viscounty worsened due to banditry and poor harvests, he respectfully allowed his territory to fall under Del Korynth's rule.

“So, what do you think? Changed your mind?”

“Néa, that is a bit surprising, but that family has always been the type of nobles who stand with the people,” Darnay still gestured in refusal. “If you think this alone is enough to change my mind, then you’re very wrong.”

“Haah, I figured as much,” Pyhtus replied with a sigh.

Truthfully, Darnay had already known what Pyhtus was trying to do from the start. Even after Darnay distanced himself from politics, he and Pyhtus still kept in touch, even if they were now on different paths. Pyhtus had tried several times to convince him to return to their old profession, which he always refused. After all, now that the law firm he built had become successful, he had no intention of diving back into politics and risking everything he had built falling apart just like that.

After that heavy conversation, they continued to finish what was left of their food on the table. Not wanting to keep the mood too serious, they occasionally chatted about lighter things, about topics that weren’t particularly important, or reminisced about the old university days. They were so immersed in their own little world that they didn’t even notice how time had flown by, with the sun now high at its peak in the sky.

Once the conversation had run dry, both of them began getting ready to leave the restaurant. Just then, a woman approached them with a deeply worried look on her face. Her appearance was tragic, with sunken eyes and a sense of constant anxiety that seemed to cling to her body. But if one looked closely, her face was actually quite beautiful and well-proportioned, and her red hair if cared for by an aristocratic hair stylist, it would’ve made her look like one of the nobles herself.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt your valuable time,” she spoke softly, with barely any energy in her voice. “I’d want to ask something, have either of you seen the girl in this painting?”

At first, the two men assumed she was a beggar coming to ask for money. But instead, the woman pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded many times. On it was a drawing of a young girl with red hair like hers. The problem was, the painting was very poorly proportioned, making it difficult for Pyhtus and Darnay to guess how old the girl was.

"I'm sorry, Madam. Unfortunately, I've never seen her," said Pyhtus.

"Me neither, sorry," Darnay added.

"I see..." The woman immediately lowered her head in despair. "In that case, sorry for disturbing you." She began to turn away, clearly not wanting to linger there for too long, and made an attempt to leave.

"Wait!" Pyhtus called out, trying to stop her. Thankfully, she turned back toward them. "I know this won't bring your daughter back, but..." Pyhtus started digging through his pocket, searching for any coins he might still have. After finding at least two Filipus D'er coins, he handed them to the woman. "I hope this can help you in your efforts to find your daughter. My suggestion is hire a better artist."

"This!?" The woman was completely stunned by what she received. Filipus D'er coins were quite valuable, especially in the current economic state, so it was no surprise she was shocked. "I'm sorry, sir, but this is too much!"

"It's nothing compared to the pain you're going through, having lost your daughter. Besides, you haven't done anything wrong, so don't say 'sorry', instead say 'thank you,' right?" Pyhtus spoke gently and sincerely to the woman, who was still overwhelmed.

"Thank you, kind sir. But..."

"Ssh, that's enough," Pyhtus tried to ease her hesitation. "Believe me, Madam. My sister is also a mother, and she's grieving too, because her daughter has been in a coma for a long time. It's something that breaks me inside, seeing a mother in sorrow because of something happening to her child," he said, his voice turning soft, like a scene from a melancholy play.

"...I see. If you're that touched by your sister’s pain, then she must be a truly good person."

"Yes, she is," Pyhtus replied, with a trace of sadness in his tone. He knew how much Eudoria was struggling, hoping her daughter would wake up from the coma. "As for you, all I can do is pray that the Holy Liberator, Maerillian, sends one of His rays to protect your child and guide her safely back into your arms."

"Thank you. What you've done and what you've given... it means a lot..." The woman’s eyes began to well up with tears.

The woman held the coins tightly as if they were a lifeline. She lowered her head one last time in gratitude, then turned away with slow, careful steps with her worn shoes barely making a sound against the stone floor. As she disappeared into the crowd outside, her frail figure was quickly swallowed by the noise of the city, leaving behind only a silence that lingered around their table.

Pyhtus remained quiet, his gaze still fixed on the doorway she had passed through, while the soft clink of tea cups in the café resumed, as if nothing had happened.

"The Holy Liberator, Maerillian?" After the woman was no longer in sight, Darnay scoffed. "Since when you become religious?"

"I don’t know, maybe since I saw her breasts," Pyhtus's face, which was previously full of concern, now turned into a lecherous grin.

“You hopeless rake....”

"Maybe later I’ll go find a prostitute in the brothel who looks just like her, hehe."

Darnay had already guessed Pyhtus’s true intention the moment he tried to stop the woman. After all, he had known Pyhtus for years, and he knew full well his friend’s weakness for women. Darnay even guessed that Pyhtus would probably stop by a brothel after this to satisfy that lust of his. It was true that what he said about his sister was true and his sympathy for her was real, but Darnay still wouldn't be fooled by that.

Watching his friend’s behavior, Darnay could only shake his head.

"Hey, don’t look at me like that. Besides, it’s all part of free expression in the future constitution."

"Yeah, yeah, do whatever you want."

After a few seconds of silence, Pyhtus finally held his head and looked toward the direction where the woman had left, as if chasing a distant thought.

"By the way..." he said softly. "These child disappearance cases... haven’t they been happening more often lately?"

Darnay just nodded slowly, his eyes following in the same direction. "Yeah. And not a single one of them has ever been found."