Even If You Tear Me Apart - Chapter 11
The chapters are split like this so that the TL can update more consistently over time (✿ ＞◡❛)
It was purely by coincidence that the young Imperial Princes came to stay in the impoverished and insignificant Quilluxia territory.
“Ezekiel!”
Five years ago, the season when wild roses bloomed across the entire capital. Among the capital’s nobles, it had become a trend to decorate the iron window grilles of their estates with the white wild roses that bloomed first, just before early summer. The Imperial Palace was no exception.
The day Étienne, sitting amidst the profusion of wild rose bushes, called out to him—
If he had known that call would change his fate, Ezekiel would never have answered Étienne’s request.
But at that time, Ezekiel was merely an eighteen-year-old prince, still bearing the traces of youth.
It’s rare for brothers born to the imperial family and only a year apart to get along well.
But the princes of Murenas were an exception. That was likely due in large part to the fact that, from birth, Ezekiel had been designated to be offered to the gods.
Ezekiel was a brilliant and beautiful young man, but held no position that threatened imperial authority. Étienne, the elder by just a year, was quite fond of his younger brother.
So, when Étienne beamed and called to him, Ezekiel went over and sat beside him. Étienne pouted.
“Why are you so late?”
Étienne had sent a page to Ezekiel that morning. He wanted them to spar together. Unfortunately, Ezekiel had already risen at dawn and finished his training session, and the time Étienne wanted coincided with prayer.
On any other day, he might have delayed prayer to join Étienne for breakfast at least.
But as fate would have it, the High Priest of Sitarux, god of light and creation, was visiting the capital around that time.
In Murenas, one comes of age at nineteen. While a noble inherits their house, a commoner might marry, inherit the family trade, or build a home.
The Emperor of Murenas had promised to dedicate his third son, Ezekiel lo Murenas, to the gods on his nineteenth birthday. That birthday was approaching this winter.
As no specific deity had been chosen, the High Priests of all seven gods were vying to claim the prince who had been promised to the divine.
Naturally, Ezekiel couldn’t casually cancel any meeting with those High Priests.
And so, Étienne’s request had been pushed aside. It seemed Étienne had taken offense to that.
“Sitarux, huh? I’m starting to fear my holy little brother might become too holy.”
“Is that so?”
Ezekiel laughed lightly. Étienne shrugged.
“Don’t go there. I hear Sitarux’s paladins are so uptight they won’t even go to the bathroom in front of others.”
Sitarux, god of light, justice, and creation, was a particularly strict and conservative deity. Perhaps because he was the first god, the one who created the world, and so the priests and paladins followed an extremely rigorous doctrine.
Étienne grumbled playfully.
“My little brother’s already so uptight, and I’m scared he’ll turn into a complete block of wood if he joins them.”
Unlike the cheerful and mischievous Étienne, Ezekiel had a quiet and solemn nature.
Of course, when he was with Étienne, the wit and playfulness common among boys his age would occasionally shine through—but only then.
He had always been diligent to a degree unthinkable for someone born to the imperial family, who were accustomed to wealth and superiority. He wasn’t one to speak much, either. Étienne often joked, ‘I honestly don’t know which one of us is supposed to be the Crown Prince.’
“This summer’s your last, right?”
“Calling it the last… feels a bit much. There’s still autumn, after all.”
“But don’t you have to decide before my Crown Prince appointment?”
Étienne’s birthday had passed last fall. He had originally been scheduled to be formally appointed Crown Prince on his nineteenth birthday, but, regrettably, the Empress had died shortly before then.
Her passing brought great sorrow, as she had long been revered by the people of Murenas. Étienne’s investiture ceremony was postponed to this fall.
“That timing works better for you anyway. But His Majesty said not to rush and to take your time,” Ezekiel said with a gentle smile.
The Emperor was especially fond of his third son, who had been promised to the gods. He was exceptionally intelligent, dependable, and lacked nothing.
There was even a joke that the phrase ‘treasured like a beloved child of another’ had been coined to describe how the Emperor doted on Ezekiel.
Or perhaps…
“To be honest, if Prince Ezekiel hadn’t been promised to the gods, Prince Étienne would have been in serious danger.”
Such talk circulated often. But Ezekiel paid it no mind. He had no reason to change a fate that had already been decided.
