Bert gently lifted Ye Muo’s face a little bit. “You can be a bit more willful, Little Emperor.”
His unusually serious tone made Ye Muo a bit nervous, but he didn’t forget to correct, “I-it’s Xavier, not Little Emperor.”
Bert squished his cheeks as he deliberately twisted the child’s words, “Feeling pressured? Don’t worry, Xavier. Being an emperor is very simple. You don’t even need to work hard. You can just be a little useless thing that only knows how to eat cake. There will always be someone else to do the work.”
Perhaps Flynn was supposed to feel uneasy that an emperor ruling over a magnificent nation was so carelessly deciding its future. He knew full well he could do nothing to stop it. Only Bert held the authority here.
Yet for some reason, a sense of calm washed over him. Compared to the taciturn man Bert had become, the somewhat childish man before him brought him far more peace of mind. Of course, Prince Norton was as reassuring as ever.
And so he too turned to Ye Muo, murmuring softly, “That’s right, Your Little Highness.”
Ye Muo blinked at Bert before thinking hard. He felt like he had to respond when someone spoke to him, whether he understood them or not.
And right now, two grown-ups were talking to Xavier very seriously. Xavier had to answer in kind.
A chuckle escaped Bert before he collected himself. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
Ye Muo, who had been prying Bert’s hands off his face, forgot what he was doing and fell into deep thought again. After a beat, he rested his head on Bert’s hand and tentatively offered, “I’ll work hard…at e-eating cake?”
At that, Bert let go and started laughing so hard he fell onto the table. He slammed his fist onto the surface twice. “Exactly, exactly! Our Xavier works so hard!”
Ye Muo shrank back with a pout, nestling himself deep into Norton’s arms. He glanced at Bert before turning to rest his head on Norton’s other arm, grumbling softly, “Why…why laugh at Xavier?”
Meanwhile, Ano had already shuffled over. He immediately raised his hand and shouted, “Look, Big Brother! Xavier’s so upset he lost his appetite.”
Ye Muo looked up and latched onto Ano’s hand with both hands in an attempt to pull it back down.
“Want food, Xavier wants food!” he mumbled urgently.
Dylan got up from his seat that was further away and walked straight towards Ye Muo. Ye Muo’s voice fell, his little head turning slightly as he nervously watched Dylan approach. Dylan was so big, ah. The others were too, but Ye Muo felt like they were alright once they sat down. He was only a bit shorter than them then.
Now though, he was sitting while Dylan was standing up. The height difference between them was suddenly immense.
Dylan walked over to Ye Muo and just looked at him for a few seconds. Then he set the plate of pudding he was holding down right in front of him.
Ye Muo looked between the pudding and Dylan, which he had to tilt his head back to do. “Thanks, Dylan.”
Then his head was patted, his hair gently smoothed back to the nape of his neck like one would with a cat.
Ye Muo narrowed his eyes in visible enjoyment. Only after Dylan left did he speak up again, “Bert laughed at Xavier.”
Bert was already straightening up. “Alright, alright. I won’t laugh anymore. Norton, stop glaring at me.”
Norton withdrew his gaze. He stroked the child’s head soothingly. “No one is laughing at Xavier.”
Meanwhile, Ye Muo had already been fed a small spoonful of pudding by Ano. He was working hard on chewing it thoroughly.
“I won’t say Xavier doesn’t want food next time…” Ano quietly said.
Bert complained to Flynn as he watched, “See? I constantly worry about him being lured away by a piece of cake.”
Yet his face was undeniably filled with pride. “Xavier is an honest child.”
With that, Bert stood up, ruffling Ye Muo’s hair as he passed by. Flynn rose from his seat as well.
Bert gave Helene and Dylan a look as he approached the other end of the long table. The two Grantz with collars around their necks got up and followed.
“We’ll be right back, Xavier.” Bert chimed in.
At that, Ye Muo stopped trying to chew in a rush and slowed down: (⬤～⬤)
Bert complained with a hint of smugness as he opened the door, “See? Xavier is so clingy. When he first came back, he wouldn’t eat unless all of us were at the table. What a troublesome little micromanager.”
The door closed again. The barrier between the terrace and the interior was made of glass, so anyone inside only had to turn around to see the people out on the terrace.
Faint sounds drifted in from outside as the door hadn’t been firmly shut. Yet Flynn felt like a deathly silence descended as the door closed. Even the air seemed to carry a chill.
Dylan and Helene brought up the rear, one behind the other. Their strides were almost in unison, the sounds of their footsteps nearly overlapping.
Bert’s face was was devoid of expression. He swiftly brought up the forefront until he reached a small interior room, where he found a chair and sat straight down.
Helene and Dylan stopped by the door, as did Flynn. He turned towards Bert with a slight sense of trepidation.
Bert looked at him first. “Take a look for me, Flynn.”
Flynn didn’t know how to describe how he was feeling right now. It was as if he was being forced to confront a reality he had always been unwilling to acknowledge.
Finally, the Sword of Damocles would fall, he thought.
He tried to avoid it, “I don’t understand what you mean, Your Majesty.”
Bert’s tone was light, “You guys must have your speculations, right?
“Even if you haven’t, I’m sure you understand. The sensitivity of your psychic power perception is the best I’ve ever seen. There’s no way you’re completely oblivious to what I was able to sense in the past.”
Flynn stared at Bert in disbelief. What did he mean by ‘what he could sense in the past’? Did that mean he couldn’t sense it anymore? Has His Majesty’s condition already deteriorated to such an extent?
Bert paused so Flynn could digest his words before continuing in a soft voice, “I never hid it from you, right? You understand the changes in my psychic power.
“You’ve always served in the imperial guard as well. Do you remember when Dylan and Helene lost control of their psychic power? When it happened to me? You must have sensed the fluctuations in our psychic power back then.”
Bert sat there, calm, with the majesty befitting a sovereign as he commanded, “Lend me your perception. Report every minute detail.”
Helene and Dylan wasted no words. Almost the instant Bert spoke, they unleashed a fraction of their psychic power and lett it coil around their hands. Dylan was the first to extend his hand toward Flynn.
Flynn forced himself to focus as he took Dylan’s hand. Direct contact pushed his perception to its absolute limit. He could sense in far sharper definition than ever before as the oppressive, out-of-control psychic pressure slammed into him head-on.
Like a ceaseless gale howling across a boundless plain.
Flustered, Flynn quickly let go. He took a deep breath and took Dylan’s hand again before the man could withdraw. He used his other hand to steady his grasp.
Both of his hands tightly clasped Dylan’s, like he was afraid Dylan would pull away, like he was afraid he would let go again on instinct. “My apologies, Your Highness. I’m not done yet.”
Several minutes passed before he let go and turned to Helene, repeating the process.
Meanwhile, Bert leisurely leaned back. When Flynn let go once more, he spoke up, his tone casual like he was asking about the weather, “How is it?”
Flynn mulled over his words, trying to articulate all the nuances he had felt. “I can compare to previous measurements, sense shifts and estimate the speed of progression.”
Bert let out a small laugh. “When I was younger, before my psychic power reached its current level, I could sense it too. As for now, probably only Norton can, but even he’s gradually losing perception of these fine details.”
“You’re still quite young, Your Majesty! As are the princes and princesses. You just need time to regain control of your rapidly strengthening psychic power. Your perception will return in time. In my youth, my perception was a mess, especially during my psychic power development period.”
Bert waved his hand dismissively. “I understand, Flynn. Go on.”
Flynn thought for a moment longer. “The progression is somewhat dangerous, very close to the psychic power markers I felt when Their Highnesses lost control before, though I only had a rough grasp back then. As for the rate of progression, it’s indeed continuing, but at an ever-slowing pace. believe we should immediately seek out relevant treatment methods and ramp up investment in research–”
Bert’s expression shifted slightly. He raised his hand just a fraction, causing Flynn to reluctantly fall silent.
In truth, Flynn knew that the medical centre had never stopped their efforts, nor had research into psychic power ever stalled.
Bert spoke up, “The rate…is slowing down?”
As their psychic power strengthened, the strain increased as well as the rate of progression.
Bert had already verified this in his youth. Emotional instability would also cause fluctuations in the rate, usually speeding it up, whereas expending psychic power on the battlefield slowed it down.
Yet right now, as they stood there calmly wearing their collars, there shouldn’t be any noticeable change in the rate, and it certainly shouldn’t be slowing down.
Even Flynn began to second-guess himself. He re-examined the duo, lingering a bit longer on Dylan.
“Subtle, the effect seems to be wearing off already. However, it did slow down progression. It’s not as pronounced with Princess Helene compared to Prince Dylan.”
Bert turned towards Helene and Dylan. “Retrieve your recent itineraries. Analyze every single detail down to the smallest events.”
Helene and Dylan nodded in unison as they messaged their respective adjutants.
Flynn’s brows remained tightly knitted. “Your Majesty–”
Then came a knock at the door. Helene, who was closest, opened it to reveal Adlet standing outside with a look of mild helplessness. “Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty, but His Little Highness is already under the impression that all of you are about to vanish from the face of the earth. His exact words were, ‘No taking away what’s Xavier’s’.”
Helene crossed her arms by the door, clearly about to head back and just waiting for Bert’s permission. “I know. He must have said it while stammering through his tears. Xavier really can’t stand being away from people.”
Bert stood up with a mix of helplessness and fond resignation. “Then let’s go check on our Xavier first.”
