Even though he had not actually frowned, Asros could not understand why he felt so uncomfortable.
Fidgeting with the buttons on his clothes and pretending to be interested in something else, he finally raised his eyes after a long while.
Lord Siorcan had already moved to the left transept and was speaking with the High Priest.
The atmosphere looked serious enough for Asros to narrow his eyes.
Although he could not see their expressions because they were standing with their backs turned, he could see the veins bulging in the old priest's gaunt neck.
As the priest gestured sharply and seemed to launch into a heated condemnation, a cold edge briefly passed across Lord Siorcan's face.
At a glance, they did not seem to be on friendly terms.
Asros's eyes sparkled with interest.
'What are they talking about?'
The priests were firm supporters of the Crown Prince.
The future Grand Duke of Siorcan was the same.
He was curious why two people who belonged to the same faction appeared to be in conflict.
Intrigued, Asros quietly slipped out of the pews.
He hid behind a pillar standing at the crossing and attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Someone suddenly grabbed the back of his neck.
Startled, Asros looked up and found Berens staring down at him with a stern expression.
The man spoke in a low voice, reprimanding him.
“Those men are Your Highness's political enemies. Do not approach them.”
“What political enemies? I don't have any.”
Asros pouted and protested, but the man did not react at all.
With a dissatisfied expression, Asros glanced back toward the transept.
Lord Siorcan had already finished his conversation with the High Priest and was walking toward the crossing.
Asros hurriedly hid behind Berens's legs.
Lord Siorcan cast him a brief, indifferent glance before crossing the cloister with elegant steps.
Watching his retreating figure from behind Berens, Asros whispered,
“What do you think the High Priest said to Lord Siorcan?”
“It seems he was reprimanding him over the recent incident.”
“Why? Lord Siorcan and the Grand Temple are allies. Even if Lord Siorcan did something wrong, shouldn't they cover for him?”
A faint bitter smile passed across Berens's face.
“The world is not that simple.”
Berens spoke as though admonishing him, then slowly turned his gaze toward the altar where the funeral rites continued.
“There are many priests who harbor resentment toward the Khan people. In particular, the hostility that the fundamentalist priests feel toward the Siorcan clan runs very deep.”
Asros was about to ask why, but stopped himself.
Memories from his history lessons surfaced in his mind.
Long ago, during the campaign of unification led by Darian Roem Gwirta, it had been the Khan people who fought until the very end.
They had even managed to inflict a mortal wound upon Wigru, the knight said to have received the blessing of God, during the Final Battle in the north.
After the war ended, the people of the East were incorporated into the Roem Empire as well.
Yet even now, the Khan people had never fully assimilated into western society, and the Empire's hostility toward them had never completely disappeared.
Recalling those facts, Asros suddenly snorted.
“How stupid. Other nations fought just as fiercely. Isn't it petty to keep rejecting them simply because they were the last ones to surrender?”
Berens stared at him in surprise for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“That's not the only reason.”
He continued,
“It's more accurate to say that people fear them because the Siorcan clan possesses great power.”
“Great power?”
Asros tilted his head.
After a brief silence, Berens answered.
“According to the records, a certain number of members of the Siorcan clan were born with unusual abilities. Some could see the future, some could read people's innermost thoughts, and others could command all manner of beasts at will. Thanks to those strange gifts, they once ruled as objects of fear.”
The story immediately caught Asros's interest.
“Do you think Lord Siorcan has some special ability too?”