Chapter 1 - Hey, How About Calling the Imperial Capital?
Grantsrale. The Imperial Capital of the Earthworld Empire.
Located right next to Veijyu Lake, the largest body of water on the continent, was the city that served as the capital, symbol of Earthworld, which was known for uniting the Eastern continent.
The Empire had conquered other countries, making it a melting pot of people and cultures. The capital was a perfect example of this: diverse in race and languages, mismatched in architecture. It was a busy city; nothing was polished about it.
Those from the West might wince at this graceless cityscape, seeing how deeply rooted they were in tradition. However, those with even a little bit of perspective wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from shivering in fear.
The Empire had been on a path to expanding its territory for only a few decades. And they were far from being done, though they’d already united the Eastern continent. In other words, the Empire could one day strike again.
Earthworld, the Eastern ruler, was an insatiable dragon, going through a growth spurt—
In a corner of the capital was a small restaurant called Quintet. Off the main road, the hole in the wall enjoyed decent business from the locals.
The capital was the heart of the Empire. It drew in citizens from all its lands. Running a business there was no small task. If the owner of Quintet was keeping the restaurant afloat in this dog-eat-dog world, it spoke volumes of his skills in the kitchen.
Quintet was busy as always—but not exactly in its usual way. The second floor had been closed off to the public, reserved for the day.
“Someone important here, owner?” asked one of the customers.
“Basically. So be on your best behavior,” he replied, not trying to be needlessly polite.
“C’mon. You couldn’t find politer patrons if you tried.”
“Maybe when you’re sober.”
The customers burst into laughter and moved on to the next topic. They couldn’t care less if someone had reserved the floor above them, and anyone who knew the owner’s skill wouldn’t be surprised to hear a person of status was dropping by Quintet.
Well, if they had a chance to actually see who was above them, they would instantly be rendered slack-jawed…for there was Lowellmina Earthworld, the Second Imperial Princess of the Earthworld Empire, with a listless look on her face.
“…Phew.”
Lowellmina was a beautiful girl, to say the least.
Glowing golden locks. Clear blue eyes. Everything down to her fingertips was polished. Even if you didn’t know who she was, a single glance would tell you she was born into status.
As her face clouded over and she slumped in her chair, it didn’t take away from her beauty. In fact, it gave her an ethereal, mysterious air. However—
“I’m stuffed…”
If anyone found out that overeating was the cause of her listlessness, that illusion would come tumbling down like wooden blocks.
“Urgh… What’s wrong with me…?”
“Your brain, I believe, Princess Lowellmina,” pointed out Lowellmina’s attendant, Fyshe Blundell. She looked at the princess with utter exasperation as Lowellmina cradled her face in her hands, a plate full of food in front of her. “You should have known you wouldn’t be able to finish all of this.”
“Oh, here it comes. Wisecrackers just love to say, ‘I told you so’—judging and criticizing everyone else in hindsight, getting up on their high horses. You should have stopped me if you’re going to chew me out now!”
“I tried. But I seem to remember someone insisting, ‘Excuse you?! My stomach has never been better! This is nothing!’”
“……” Lowellmina looked away.
“Your Highness.”
“Okay! This conversation is over! I don’t remember saying that, so we can drop the subject! Let’s focus on something more…constructive. How about a bite to eat, Fyshe?”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember offering to be your backup stomach when I vowed loyalty to you, Your Highness.”
“Ouch… So this is what it feels like to be betrayed by your vassal…! My heart feels like it’s torn into two…!”
“That would be your stomach.”
“Stomach, heart, they’re both in my chest! Same difference!”
“Sure.” Fyshe sighed, sitting down. “This will be the first and last time, Princess. I’m not a big eater, you know.”
“I knew you’d come around, Fyshe! A loyal retainer is a blessing! Oh, if you’re going to eat, I suppose I can order some cake for dessert. How many do you want?”
“………”
“Hm? Is something the matter? You look like you’re staring at a pig that refuses to learn from past mistakes. It’s like your eyes tell me everything: ‘Oh, she’s hopeless. I guess there’s no harm in being kind to her until she’s ready for slaughter.’”
“Don’t worry. You’re not imagining things.”
Lowellmina cocked her head. What’s that supposed to mean?
Ignoring her master, Fyshe tucked into her meal. Several minutes later, the two had polished off the plates.
“Ah…I can’t. I’ve eaten enough for three days. I can’t eat another bite. I’m going to become a cow.” Lowellmina slouched in her chair.
“But we managed. I imagine you don’t have room for cake?” Fyshe asked.
“Oh. I do.”
“…Didn’t you just say you ate enough for three days?”
“But it’s technically only one meal.”
It made no sense, but it seemed Lowellmina wanted cake.
The princess seemed prideful. “Soljest might be in the culinary hall of fame, but it doesn’t even compare to the Empire. You know, their cakes are so good. Fluffy sponge made from flour, egg yolks, and precious sugar, decorated with jam and seasonal fruits! It looks so sweet and divine.”
“Right, this isn’t your first time here, is it?”
“Yeah. I used to come here when I was at the military academy. They can only make so many cakes a day, so we always fought over who would get to eat one.”
Lowellmina got a distant, nostalgic look in her eye.
As the Imperial princess, she could call the chef to the palace instead of visiting the establishment herself. She could take a single bite and throw the rest out.
She would do no such thing, however.
…So this was a place she frequented with classmates, huh?
That explained why Lowellmina had insisted on visiting, ordering mountains of food, polishing off her plates, and reminiscing about old friends. It was easy to brush it off as mere sentimentality, but Fyshe did no such thing. She offered a gentle smile.
“Hee-hee, you seem interested in cake, too, Fyshe.”
“…You’re right, Your Highness.” Fyshe nodded as her master confused her smile for curiosity.
After that, they ate cake, savoring its sweet scent and texture, and sat through the ensuing pain. They couldn’t eat another bite.
“—Well,” Fyshe said after she took a breath, “what are your thoughts on the city so far?”
“Very typical of the capital. Busy and alive…at least on the surface.”
Lowellmina might have chosen this shop out of nostalgia, but she had other reasons for stepping out of the castle. By seeing the city for herself, she could feel out its vibe.
“I knew the Empire is becoming plagued with disease,” stated the princess.
As someone who had lived in the Imperial Capital for many years, Lowellmina could sense an ominous heat swirling with its usual energy.
“…It has already been three years since the passing of His Majesty the Emperor. Even the Empire is starting to tire.”
“I know this wouldn’t have happened if my father had been in good heath.”
Zeruch Earthworld. Lowellmina’s father and the Emperor of Earthworld.
He had been their respected leader, beloved by the people and possessed of the right skills to rule the country. That was exactly why his death had devastated the country in unpredictable ways.
The Emperor served the role of energizing the nation with enthusiasm, vitality, and spirit. Without this guidance, the Empire was burning away as if it were afflicted by a horrible fever.
“Things might have been different if he had named a successor,” Lowellmina bemoaned.
Zeruch had three sons.
Demetrio, the eldest, had the support of the oldest noble lines.
Then there was the second son, Bardloche, who was backed by the military.
Manfred, the youngest, was endorsed by new money.
All were of the proper age to ascend to the throne. None had met their father’s expectations, however. Zeruch knew what made a fine ruler, which was why he couldn’t hand the reins over to sons who’d failed to meet his expectations. And then he passed away without ever naming a successor, inciting a battle for the throne among the three princes. In the end, the Emperor had marred his own illustrious career.
Three years since his passing, the fight for succession was still not over. The Empire was squandering time, stirring with an energy that had no outlet.
“…The irony,” Lowellmina said. “To stabilize things, one of my brothers should ascend to the throne as soon as possible, but this instability works in my favor if I’m just thinking about myself.”
Lowellmina was currently the head of her own group known as the Patriot Faction, a collection of people worried about the future of the Empire. Its members sympathized with Lowellmina’s desire to remain neutral and resolve this ongoing fight without letting her brothers stoop to using military force.
Well, that was how it appeared on the surface.
Only those in her inner circle knew about her real intentions: to reign over her homeland as Empress. Forming the faction was part of her plan to whittle away the authority of the princes and create her own path to succession.
“…You have a seemingly far-fetched wish for a woman to ascend to the throne. To make it happen, we won’t just need your quick wit. It’ll be necessary to build momentum.”
In this era, there was no real precedent for women showing their acumen in the political sphere. Not to mention there had never been an Empress before. And Lowellmina was going to walk down this thorny path.
The princess would have to outrun the princes struggling to keep up the race to the throne and convince her faction that she wanted justice for all, even if she didn’t believe a thing that came out of her mouth. Fyshe knew these things had to happen.
“Our current instability wasn’t willed by you, Your Highness. I don’t think you should feel bad for using this opportunity to your advantage.”
“…I know. At the moment…”
Their conversation was cut short. They were hearing something new: a commotion breaking out among the customers downstairs. The men were engaged in a heated conversation on just about everything, but one particular topic piqued Lowellmina’s interest.
“Oh yeah. Did you hear Prince Demetrio is finally going to be in his new position?”
“Yeah. I heard there was going to be a coronation ceremony.”
“Finally. We can all take a break from this madness.”
“But I think the other princes will fight back.”
“…Do you think there will be a civil war?”
“I dunno… I honestly don’t care who the Emperor is by this point. I just want someone on the throne.”
That last comment was heartbreaking. Lowellmina drew her attention away from their conversation and sighed.
“I knew it. Rumors of a coronation are spreading.”
“It was announced high and low, after all.”
The coronation ceremony. The formal event to crown the new Emperor was carried out by someone with a claim to the throne. Once it was done, the new ruler would be recognized as Emperor both domestically and abroad.
Just the other day, Prince Demetrio had announced this ceremony was in the works.
“The citizens must feel like it’s been a long time coming,” Fyshe mused.
Two full years had passed since the Emperor’s death. They were in the middle of their third year without a leader. Lowellmina could tell people were starting to get impatient.
The Empire was still going strong, but there were hints of rebellion in its territory. Nations in the West were waiting for their moment to strike.
No one knew how long this period of peace could last with an empty throne, and every citizen hoped political stability would come as soon as possible.
“But his ascension will pose problems for me.”
If Prince Demetrio became Emperor, Lowellmina would have to give up her dream. However, there was no way she would just accept defeat lying down.
And so she would take action. Nothing had happened so far, because that was the way she’d wanted it. But things were going to be different from now on. For her own sake, she was going to have to go against the people’s wishes.
“…The irony,” Lowellmina repeated before looking at her attendant. “Well, Fyshe? How are the plans for Wein’s visit coming along?”
The crown prince of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest.
They had history. Known throughout the continent, the prince was planning to visit the capital to aid her with the coronation ceremony.
“About that. We just received a message. It said—”
Lowellmina looked up at the ceiling as she listened to Fyshe’s report.
“Hrm…” groaned Demetrio, the eldest prince of the Earthworld Empire.
He was in a room in the city of Bellida. Of course, the perimeter of the building was stationed with guards, as was the rest of Bellida. In fact, the whole city had become his personal garrison.
“Your Highness, I have reports from our spies on the middle prince.”
“Our potential ally, Lord Enshio, will be arriving tomorrow.”
“The other factions are moving faster than anticipated. We should act without delay—”
“But the soldiers are getting tired. Right now, we should—”
In front of Demetrio, vassals were exchanging reports and opinions at lightning speed. They had one goal: to put Demetrio on the throne.
That was why they were currently leading the troops toward their destination.
—However…
“Mmgh…” Demetrio was having a hard time focusing, even though they were in the middle of something crucial.
He wasn’t alone. The vassals seemed to steal glances at the corner of the room, even as they engaged in heated debate.
So what was there in the corner?
“Hm? What’s the matter?”
There was someone flashing a blinding smile.
“Don’t mind me. Go on. Continue.”
…Wein Salema Arbalest.
The prince of Natra was in the room, for whatever reason.
Demetrio and his vassals were united in their thoughts: Why is he here?
Wein thought the same thing. Why am I here?
The curtain was rising for the newest chapter of our tale, tangled up in a web of conflicting goals and drawn by unintended scenarios. Sparked by Prince Demetrio’s coronation announcement, this incident would be known in history books to come, labeled as the following:
A New Era for the Earthworld Empire—
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