Genius Prince’s National Revitalization from State Deficit ~ Right, Let Us Sell the Country - Volume 7 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - A Wish

—You’ll make a grand Emperor.

That was what his late mother always used to say. She would always repeat that the Empire would grow even more prosperous with him on the throne.

Since he was the eldest son, it was obvious he was going to become Emperor. But his mother’s reminders never bothered him. He knew it was because she had love and high hopes for him and the country. He never questioned it.

To show his love to his mother, he would nod back, showering her with gifts of words, poetry, and the occasional flower garland. Trust me, Mother, he would think. I’ll become a great Emperor.

—You’ll make a grand Emperor.

The first time he killed someone was when he was ten.

He’d slain a low-ranking official for disrespecting his mother.

His mother was from a foreign nation. She had loved her homeland and a certain man, blessed to be born into nobility and with beauty that captivated all. If nothing had happened, she would have lived a peaceful life in her native land.

For better or for worse, however, the Emperor had fallen in love with her at first sight.

—You’ll make a grand Emperor.

For the sake of her country, his mother abandoned love to become the wife of the Emperor. That was her noble sacrifice.

What could she have done, however, in a palace with secret plots and alliances? She had no knowledge of how these things worked nor any allies.

In the end, her homeland was ransacked by the Empire, taking the life of the man she loved with it. Those with bad intentions mocked her, saying that after she’d lost everything, her heart must have hardened with resentment. They said she would turn into a poison that would eat away at the Empire one day.

Ridiculous! His mother was the Empress and an upstanding citizen. And she had him now. How could she resent a nation to be inherited by her own child? She would never turn her back on their country as long as she loved her children.

That was how it was supposed to go down.

—You’ll make a grand Emperor.

When he happened across his mother crushing his gift of a flower wreath and tossing it to the side, he started to wonder, Does Mother really love me?

“Aww, yeah! We got this in the bag!” Wein crowed in the room assigned to him, looking at the map where he’d jotted down the current state of affairs.

“Careful not to get the rug pulled from under your feet,” Ninym warned, safely returned from Nalthia. “We might have orchestrated a battle between the two younger princes, but don’t forget that Demetrio has sustained major damage. And we still haven’t gotten official confirmation that you’re going to be in charge of his troops.”

“Oh, we don’t have to worry about that,” Wein insisted. “I imagined Demetrio would be resistant, but he went along with the plan. If he gives the all clear, we’ll figure out the rest.”

“If you’re sure…but I’m a little surprised. I thought he’d decline your offer until the end.”

“Yeah, you would think. Now that you mention it, Demetrio hasn’t been too critical of me since we partnered up. Not sure why.”

Wein had expected the prince to be openly hostile, but he listened to his opinions without rejecting him outright, though he did keep Wein at a distance. It was a happy miscalculation, but they didn’t know anything that would explain his attitude.

“Maybe he learned some restraint because he knows he doesn’t have many options?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Having both malleable and unyielding personality traits is what makes us human. I have a feeling that restraint might fall in the unyielding category here…but hey, I don’t think we need to sweat it.” Wein shrugged. “At any rate, it’s better if Demetrio is cooperative. Now, we just have to figure out when we can step into the battle between the other princes. We’ll blindside ’em at the perfect moment…!”

“I wonder how well that will go. Did you forget they have Glen and Strang, who know how you operate?”

As soon as Ninym said their friends’ names, Wein looked at her seriously.

“Oh, yeah. You said you ran into Glen. How’d that go?”

“I think he’s trained even more since the last time we saw him. I would have been able to hold out against him back in school, but now he’s untouchable. I think he was showing restraint because he intended to capture me alive. If he’d wanted to kill me, it would have taken all I had to escape.”

Ninym served as Wein’s aide, but this composed girl possessed unimaginable physical prowess. She knew horses and swords like the back of her hand, confident enough to take on two or three average soldiers alone without breaking a sweat.

Even Ninym, however, was admitting that she was no match for Glen. Wein had always lagged behind him when it came to combat, too. Back at the academy, they had called Glen “the Human Iron,” “the man who could get out of a carriage crash unscathed,” and “Hundred-Man Powerhouse,” but he had apparently outgrown these monikers.

“If Glen is that strong now, we should assume Strang is, too. Doesn’t Manfred consider him a close confidant? There is a good chance he’ll be a commander in Manfred’s army.”

If Glen’s forte was in combat, Strang’s was in strategy. His battle tactics weren’t just effective. His habit was striking the enemy’s metaphorical vitals without mercy. In school, they called him “a poison of a man in glasses,” “the man with a bounty out for his spectacles,” and “the terrifying tactician from the provinces.”

“Good point. The guy was a monster during war exercises in class. If we have to battle him head-to-head, I’ll have to admit we won’t be in the best position.”

Even though he said that, Wein—“the dreaded SOB,” “the one who made devils look cute,” “the man with everything except looks and personality”—grinned wide.

“His forte is in strategy. In other words, he’s only strong on the battlefield. If we can get him when he’s out of his element, we’ll be fine.”

“…You’re thinking of doing something awful again, aren’t you?”

“I want to be a gentleman, but devilish temptation won’t let me.”

“Must be nice being popular.” Ninym seemed exasperated.

She suddenly looked outside the window.

“Something wrong?”

“There’s some sort of commotion in front of the gate.”

“…Before schedule, huh? It seems either the middle or the youngest prince has made his move.” Wein stood up. “I’ll go see Demetrio. He should be ready to put me in command by now.”

He left for Demetrio’s room, Ninym tagging behind him. As he approached the door flanked with guards, he could hear someone arguing inside the room. The stationed soldiers had indescribable looks on their faces. Wein didn’t know which prince was making his move, but Demetrio had to be enraged.

“—Pardon me.” Wein glanced at the guards before opening the door with an innocent look.

Sure enough, he found a messenger and Demetrio inside.

“May I ask what’s going on?”

Wein guessed it was Prince Manfred who had made the first move. Prince Bardloche must have prioritized recovering from the battle. Manfred would have trouble laying a hand on him in Nalthia, which spoke favorably of the middle prince.

Of course, Manfred wouldn’t stay silent. He had to sway public opinion and denounce Bardloche. The plan was to get the people on his side. That was what Wein was hoping would happen. By manipulating Manfred’s actions, Wein could create an opportunity for himself to throw them off their game.

Ah, nothing like a scheme going right! Wein thought.

“…They’re rebelling,” Demetrio said shortly.

Wein blinked. “…They’re rebelling?”

“…That’s right.”

“…Where?”

“…In my faction’s domain.”

“………”

A long silence followed. Finally, Wein worked himself up to ask a question.

“Umm…I’m sorry. Let me hear that again. What’s happening where? How big is it?”

Demetrio let out a heavy sigh. “There is a large rebellion happening in my domain—!”

“…Excuuuuuuse meeee?!”

“So I suppose we’ve reached an agreement.”

“Yes, that’s fine with me.”

In the Imperial Palace of the Earthworld Empire, two people sat across from each other at a desk. One was Imperial Princess Lowellmina, The other, Prince Manfred.

“This was unexpected. I didn’t think you would use this strategy to stop Demetrio,” Lowellmina said.

She had heard about the rebellion in the territory claimed by Demetrio and his faction. There were reports of looting and violence, and there were no signs of it stopping anytime soon.

Demetrio had gathered as many soldiers as possible for the battle against Bardloche. That included personnel tasked with maintaining public order and safeguarding the domain. Without them stationed, the domain had become temporarily lawless.

Manfred had set fire to this.

Demetrio had never had a stellar reputation. His people were already dissatisfied with him. The embers of their discontent were there. If he’d managed to win that battle against Bardloche, they might have thought twice about doing something, but he’d made a mistake that would land him in the history books. Setting those embers ablaze was a simple enough task.

Manfred did all this too fast for it to be a last-minute idea. They must have planned it out beforehand and used this opportunity to set it in motion.

Lowellmina turned her attention from Manfred to Strang, who stood at attention nearby.

“You came up with this plan, right, Strang? I didn’t think you could fight outside the battlefield.”

“………” Strang remained silent and unaffected. He was Manfred’s subordinate first, Lowellmina’s friend second. He kept his mouth shut.

“Of all the things to say. A baseless accusation, Lowellmina,” Manfred replied, speaking in his stead. “Our older brother got what he deserved. If Demetrio had managed his territory, none of this would have happened. I never imagined his people were so unhappy with him that they would be spurred to rebellion.”

“Pardon me. Demetrio’s governance was the cause of the conflict, of course. So it was a total coincidence that this happened at a time that would benefit you the most.”

“Heh, I imagine the heavens want to put me on the throne.” Manfred smiled, shameless.

Lowellmina was about to rain on his parade. “But this is Demetrio we’re talking about. He might say that even if he neglected his territory, all would be forgiven once he’s Emperor.”

“That won’t change a thing. I already have a pledge from the prime minister.”

“ ” Lowellmina’s eyes darted.

The prime minister. The man holding the Empire together after the passing of the Emperor. It was said he was the only reason why the Empire had managed to survive years of in-fighting among the princes.

Manfred continued, “He said that if Demetrio continues to do nothing, we might have to deploy Imperial forces to stop the rebellion or he could be stripped of his domain.”

It was easy to assume that all the Imperial soldiers served under Prince Bardloche, but that wasn’t true. In fact, his faction made up less than a third of the total forces. Rather than belonging to one prince’s personal army, most commanders and soldiers serving in the Imperial forces remained neutral. They numbered in the tens of thousands, quick to move in an emergency.

“…I’m surprised. I suppose even the prime minister can’t let the Empire burn to the ground, though he’s let all of you fool around until now.”

“‘Fool around,’ huh? Ouch,” Manfred said with a pleasant smile. “Speaking of surprised, Lowellmina, I’m the one who’s shocked that you’re even making this deal. I never thought you’d be willing to provide for my army.”

Manfred’s forces had convened outside Grantsrale.

He’d heard of Demetrio’s defeat and started preparations to disband his army, but he found himself forced to get ready for battle after Bardloche changed directions. That meant his main issues were people and supplies. Manfred only had enough to carry out a pincer attack, but it wasn’t early enough to fight against Bardloche.

He had used his connections to gather personnel, but he still fell extremely short.

That was when Lowellmina approached him.

“An eldest brother weaponizing his army for his own needs. A middle brother absorbing the very vices that he was trying to stop. Neither has the makings of an Emperor. So I shall aid you, Manfred.”

Lowellmina convinced the patriots and supplied Manfred’s forces with everything they required. For Manfred, it was a miracle, which was why he made sure to use his limited time to visit her in the capital. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to take her words at face value.

“So, Lowellmina? What are you after?”

“What am I after, you ask? Prosperity and stability of the Empire, of course.”

“Then shouldn’t you stay out of this and just watch as we ‘fool around’?” Manfred retorted.

She might have been his little sister, but their relationship was purely by blood. He never once thought of her as his adorable sister. The feeling was mutual: Lowellmina didn’t love or respect him as her big brother.

Their relationship wasn’t unique. All royalty had their own status and territory. It was determined by fate that they would conspire against one another to protect themselves. A child might not understand their situation, but they were old enough to consider the other a political opponent.

“Even if I have all the soldiers and commanders in the world, I’ll get nowhere without resources. If I lose and Bardloche becomes Emperor, peace will return to the Empire… Isn’t that what you should be after?”

“………”

“But you’re intentionally balancing me out with Bardloche. And that’s because…you plan on taking us both down.” Manfred stared at Lowellmina. She gave a troubled smile and tilted her head. She was flustered by his verbal attack.

But he knew she was just putting on an act.

“What could I gain from doing such a thing? Prolonging a fight among Imperial subjects will only destroy our power as a nation. There is no benefit to that.”

“But there is,” Manfred insisted. “There’s something you get when we’re both out of the picture.”

“I can’t imagine what that could possibly be.”

“You become Empress,” Manfred said, his words cutting into her. “With the three of us gone, the other Imperial princess should technically rise to the throne, but she’s out of the royal family. That means you would rise to the throne.”

“Oh.” Lowellmina giggled. “Someone is jumping at shadows. Such is the nature of those after the throne, I guess.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want to be Empress?”

“Precisely. I’m concerned for the future of the Empire. Nothing more. I could never dream of reaching such a position.”

“………”

Manfred and Lowellmina glared at each other for a few seconds. Then, Manfred smirked.

“As long as you know your place, we have no issues. Besides, you wouldn’t have enough support even if you wanted to become Empress. You would just incite more chaos.”

“I think you’re right.”

Manfred stood up. “Then, my business here is done. Good talk, Lowellmina.”

“I pray for your continued health.”

“Ha, you don’t mean it. Let’s go, Strang.”

Manfred and Strang proceeded to leave the room. Strang glanced back at Lowellmina and offered a tiny smile. She waved at him.

When it was just her and Fyshe standing at attention nearby, Lowellmina clasped her hands together as if in prayer.

“…Your Highness, are you praying for Prince Manfred’s victory?”

“As if. I’m praying he’ll trip on the stairs and twist his ankle.”

“………”

“All right, that should do it. I bet he’ll hit his foot at least. Serves you right, jerk!” Lowellmina nodded in satisfaction. “By placing them on equal playing fields, Manfred will head to the battlefield with some margin for error. They won’t rush to make this a quick battle. That should buy us some time.”

“We never expected Prince Demetrio’s efforts to be obstructed…”

“I know! That was not cool of you, Strang…!” Lowellmina said, holding her head in her hands. “At this rate, either Bardloche or Manfred will win. But I wanted Demetrio to come out on top. That means…I’m in trouble! What am I supposed to do?!”

Just as Manfred had accused, Lowellmina had supplied his troops, hoping to prolong the battle. This would hopefully give her enough time to carry out her next move. But what should she do exactly? Lowellmina searched her mind for answers.

She turned to Fyshe. “How is Demetrio faring?”

“He seems rattled. Understandably so. He’s just lost a battle, and his people are rebelling. Many in his party are starting to think about returning home. I imagine it’d be difficult for him to stop them now.”

“…I anticipated he’d have five thousand soldiers left, but I guess we should adjust that. I imagine he has two thousand, tops.”

“With such a small army, I don’t suspect he’ll be able to step in and outmaneuver Bardloche and Manfred during their fight, even with Prince Wein at the helm…”

Fyshe was probably right. Wein was no joke as an opponent, but he wasn’t a wizard. This situation must have locked him in a corner.

Will he call for troops from Natra? But that would basically wage war with the Empire. Maybe he’ll give up and go home? Knowing Wein, I bet he’ll hang on until the very last second. But who’s to say he’s not already at the end of his rope…? Lowellmina crossed her arms.

“Come to think of it,” Fyshe said. “Your Highness, I believe we discussed this morning that you’re scheduled for a meeting with Princess Falanya in the afternoon. We’re ahead of schedule, but are you ready to meet her?”

“Oh. Is she already at the Imperial Palace?”

Fyshe nodded.

They might be in the heart of the battle with Wein, but Falanya was still a member of the royal family in Natra. She might give them a clue to help them overcome this situation.

“Then, please call her at once—hm?” Lowellmina heard a commotion outside her window. She leaned forward to search the Imperial courtyard.

There, Lowellmina found the topic of their conversation, Falanya, standing with one more unexpected figure.

“Phew…” Falanya sighed, perched on a bench in the courtyard.

Her schedule had been packed for the past few days. She’d been meeting with all kinds of important people in the capital.

On the surface, this was for the prosperity of Natra and the Empire. Her ulterior motive was to bully Lowellmina, which the Imperial princess already picked up on.

“Wein told me I just had to move around the capital, but…”

Falanya had accomplished an incredible feat back in Mealtars. Lowellmina would have to dedicate her attention and available pawns to tracking her if she was wandering through the capital. The Imperial princess had her eyes on the three princes, too, so Wein knew this would make things slowly difficult for her, like a sore spot after a body blow.

Falanya had mentioned to Wein that Lowellmina might trap her to limit her activity, but Wein smiled and assured her not to worry. He was convinced that he could get Lowellmina to play along and that this would bolster Falanya’s reputation at the expense of his own.

Lowellmina would want Falanya to spread her name by meeting with influential leaders. It fit into her goals. Wein bet she would resort to keeping an eye on Falanya after considering the situation.

And everything was going according to plan, a tricky one that was terrifyingly clever.

“I’m starting to think Wein might be a little scary to everyone other than me and Ninym. What do you think, Nanaki?”

“…Yeah.” Nanaki barely stopped himself from saying, More than “a little.”

“I think I get it now that I’ve been studying. To move a country, you can’t just go after some pleasant utopia. You need to figure out what the people want, including their darker wishes,” she said, convincing herself. “I’m going to work hard to be like him…!”

“………”

“Hey! Nanaki! I bet you’re thinking I can’t do it, huh?”

To be honest, he didn’t think she could do it, and he didn’t want her to become like him. Nanaki kept silent.

“I’ll have you know that I still have energy to keep going. I’m just taking a quick break. To fulfill my duty to Wein and to work toward the future, I’m going to work very hard here.”

“The future, huh…? Are you talking about that one request that you had for Silas?”

“I’m not sure if I’ll work out, of course.” Falanya stood up. “Break is officially over! I know we’re ahead of schedule, but let’s go back and wait for Princess Lowellmina.”

Nanaki nodded and followed her…before opening his eyes wide.

“Falanya, stop!”

“Huh?”

Falanya’s foot stepped on something strange. When she looked down to see what it was, she found a person collapsed on the ground.

“Mhgg?!” Falanya yelped incomprehensibly and jumped.

Nanaki quickly grabbed Falanya and hid her behind him.

“Um, Nanaki? Th-that’s a dead body…”

“No…”

Falanya peeked over Nanaki’s shoulder to get a good look. He didn’t take his eyes off them either.

“—I’m alive,” said the person, rising slowly. “Ah, my apologies. I always get sleepy when I soak in the sun.”

He was a lanky man, seemingly sloth-like. He had a five-o’clock shadow and wrinkled clothes.

He didn’t seem like he belonged in the Imperial Palace, which was at the center of the Empire.

Nanaki didn’t let his guard down, keeping Falanya behind him. “…That was surprising. I didn’t sense your presence. You were like a corpse.”

“I have a condition where my heart stops while I’m asleep.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.”

“………” Falanya eyed the man suspiciously.

This didn’t seem to bother him. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you around these parts. Who are you? If you could trace back and tell me your family lineage, I’d appreciate it. If you’re a suspicious character, I might have to call the guards on you, but I’m still too drowsy to walk or run to find them. Oh, I know! Maybe you can find them yourself, suspicious character or not.”

“…Umm.” He was the most suspect character, but Falanya decided it would only be polite to introduce herself. She bowed. “I am the crown princess of Natra, Falanya Elk Arbalest, currently visiting the Imperial Capital on an invitation from Princess Lowellmina.”

The man nodded. “Princess Falanya. I see. Pardon me. So you must be King Owen’s daughter. I can tell from your face that you’re logical and intelligent.”

“You know my father?”

“We’ve never met personally, but I was impressed by his governance when I was young and King Owen became the next successor in the long line of rulers. I remember it like it was yesterday. At the time, I worked for a civil officer. I had no money and a stomach that was always empty. My job was all I had. So I had this brilliant idea to trick myself into thinking my work documents were a five-course meal. I spent those days chewing through paper. What do you think happened to me after a month?”

“U-um, you successfully tricked yourself into thinking it was a five-course meal…?”

“No. As you might expect, I almost starved to death.”

“………”

“Humans make bad mountain goats, you see. I spent a month learning a valuable lesson in my youth. These kinds of life experiences are often lost to later generations, but I will pass this knowledge down to you, Princess Falanya, to celebrate our meeting.”

“Um, okay.” She seriously wondered if he was picking a fight with her.

When she looked at Nanaki, he signaled with his eyes that the man was serious.

Isn’t that kind of worse? Falanya thought, but she had been raised a lady and smiled through her troubled expression.

“Thank you for sharing such a valuable lesson with me. I’m afraid I have some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Ah, wait,” he called out, just as she turned on her heel. “Have you ever dreamed of a broad river? I always have this dream where I’m fishing as a tattered boatman helps those on the verge of death cross to the riverbank on the other side. For whatever reason, I heard a voice call me from behind today, wailing that running a nation was difficult business. Just as I woke with the thought that I must offer advice as a leader, you appeared before me, Princess Falanya.”

“Umm…” So was he saying he had heard her and Nanaki’s conversation while dreaming?

He definitely shouldn’t be dreaming about crossing any rivers. Those were bad omens.

The man continued, “So, Princess Falanya, do you understand the difference between a person and a citizen?”

She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to respond seriously or force her way out of the situation. She went with the former.

“Aren’t they the same?”

“They’re not.” His answer was surprisingly curt. “People do not belong to a nation. They have no rights, but in return, they have no obligations, while citizens have both. So I have a follow-up question. What makes a person a citizen?”

His voice took on a new intelligence. Falanya knew she couldn’t just give any random answer, but nothing was coming to mind.

Falanya chose to respond in a different way. “I’m not sure. What’s the answer?”

“Laws,” he replied. “The laws created by a nation shove its people into a mold and recast them. Through that process, they become creatures known as ‘citizens.’ Laws must be observed. Bending, breaking, or otherwise abusing these laws to shake the foundation on which citizens are built is considered a serious act of betrayal.”

For just a moment, Falanya saw a furious passion in the man’s eyes.

“There are no exceptions, even royalty. There can’t be any exceptions… Someday, you’ll rule your own land and find yourself in the position of protecting your citizens, Princess Falanya. May you never forget the weight of law.” He broke into a sudden smile. “That is all I have to say. My apologies for keeping you for so long.”

“Oh, please don’t mention it…”

Falanya shook her head. Until just a short while ago, she saw him as some eccentric person. Her opinion of him hadn’t changed, but he had piqued her interest.

“May I ask your name?”

He clapped his hands. “I haven’t introduced myself. How rude of me. My name is—”

“Keskinel!” Someone was shouting from the courtyard entrance.

When Falanya turned around, she found Lowellmina.

“What are you discussing with my guest?”

“Good day to you, Princess Lowellmina. You’re looking fine on this day.”

The man—Keskinel—bowed. The gesture was indescribably elegant for his shabby appearance.

“I’m not fine at all. Please don’t approach Princess Falanya. She’ll catch your strange quirks.” Lowellmina tugged Falanya away, embracing her. “Princess Falanya, this man didn’t say anything weird to you, did he? He loves to prey on honest people and spread his strange ideas.”

“N-no, though I can understand why you think that way…” Falanya said, squirming in Lowellmina’s arms.

“Princess Lowellmina. Me? Odd? I’m always serious, and I have an honest heart. I only speak to others because I love to talk. It’s like everyone is avoiding me like the plague lately, so I admit I thought Princess Falanya was a precious listener. Anyway, don’t you think it’s horrible that the guards beg to stop after we’ve only talked for six hours?”

“Okay, okay. By the way, I spotted the officials looking for you. They are in a much worse mood than me, so I suggest you hurry back to them.”

“Hmph. That’s too bad.” He turned on his heel. “You know, anger and sadness stir the heart. If my heart were an instrument, I would ask you all to strum it more gently. But I guess I’ll never get through to you. I shall take my leave… Ah, my name is Keskinel, Princess Falanya.”

The elusive man walked away, marching to the sound of his own drum.

“Phew. The nuisance is finally gone,” Lowellmina said with a nod that suggested they could now rest easy.

“Um, Princess Lowellmina? Who was that person? He seems like a civil officer, but…”

He didn’t act like one, and he seemed to know Lowellmina.

Lowellmina guessed what she was thinking. “He’s a civil officer. I don’t want to say this too loud, but he’s one of the highest-ranking officers in the nation.”

“By that…you mean…”

“That’s Prime Minister Keskinel,” Lowellmina stated as she looked in the direction where he had just left. “At the moment, he’s the one pillar supporting the Empire.”

“The prime minister…” Falanya’s eyes widened, especially when she remembered his eccentric behavior. She tilted her head. “…That weirdo?”

“Yeah. That weirdo.” Lowellmina crossed her arms. “He’s odd but brilliant. He wouldn’t be prime minister if he didn’t have something going for him. That said, he really isn’t right in the head…” She chuckled dryly. “Let’s save this conversation for later. Didn’t you have some business with me? Of course, I’d be delighted if you’ve simply come for a pot of tea.”

Her encounter with the weirdo had temporarily wiped her schedule for the day from her mind, but Falanya hadn’t come to appreciate his eccentricities.

“There’s something I wish to discuss with you, Princess Lowellmina.”

“Then let us find a room to converse in. I already have tea and biscuits prepared.”

The two nodded and walked toward the palace.

To be perfectly frank, Demetrio’s army couldn’t have been in a worse position.

He had about five thousand remaining soldiers in Bellida, no supplies, and no morale. It took everything he had just to keep public order in the city from deteriorating. Fighting against Bardloche and Manfred was a pipe dream.

As if that wasn’t enough, his people were rebelling. Even those who had managed to stick by Demetrio for all this time weren’t focused on the battle. They needed to put out fires in their own domain.

On top of that, Prime Minister Keskinel had threatened to put a stop to him. If Demetrio neglected his domain for any longer, the Imperial army would mobilize to confiscate it. Even if the prince wanted to double-down, resistance was not an option.

“…Is this how it ends for me?” Demetrio laughed at himself in his private room, boozed up. The room reeked of alcohol. Near his hand was a toppled glass.

“As if I’ll just take that. There’s gotta to be some way…to make me Emperor… That’s what was expected of me…” Demetrio murmured incoherently.

Though he’d drowned himself in spirits, something burned in his eyes.

Things were looking grim for him. His soldiers had been whispering among themselves, asking when they should desert the troops, if they should join Bardloche or Manfred, and if they should bring Demetrio’s head with them.

He’d surrounded himself with his trusted confidants, but who knew how long they would stick by him? They wouldn’t save him, even when he was backed into a corner, because he hadn’t saved them. Demetrio was facing his consequences.

“—Pardon me. Oh, someone’s having a rough time.” After a few raps, the door opened.

Wein stood there before him.

“It’s you… I’m in a bad mood. If you’ve got business, come back later.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You were talking about how something is expected of you. Care to elaborate?”

Despite Demetrio’s best efforts to drive him out, Wein parked himself in a chair in front of him. The Imperial prince glared at him, but it was apparent that nothing he said would get this intruder to leave.

He gave up and clicked his tongue. “…I’m just rambling. I was told to become Emperor. So now I have to fulfill that expectation. That’s all.”

“…You have to be Emperor because it’s expected of you? You make it sound like you’re being forced into the role.”

“It’s the truth. You think anyone would look at me now and think I’ve got a handle on this?” Demetrio had on a mocking smile, perhaps because of the alcohol. “I was born the eldest son, so I’m obviously supposed to be Emperor. But look at reality. My stupid brothers got the better of me. My army is destroyed. My people are rebelling. Dammit! Why?! I have to be Emperor, and yet…!”

Demetrio’s voice got hoarse as he barked in rage and resentment. Wein stared at him, his expression neither indifferent nor crafty. It was surprisingly compassionate.

“…I get it. You’ve been placed under a horrible curse.”

“What? A curse…?”

“Prince Demetrio. A word of friendly advice from one member of royalty to another: Humans rarely have just one motive. For better or worse, our actions can be perceived in many ways. That’s why people can just pick and choose the one that suits their needs, as long as they can agree with the outcome.”

It didn’t feel as if Wein was mocking him. He sounded sincere, but it wasn’t enough to move Demetrio.

“…I have no clue what you’re talking about. Forget it. Just leave.”

“That’s unfortunate. We’re not done yet. We have bigger things to talk about.”

“What now? I don’t have time to deal with…” Demetrio cut himself off, realizing something and sobering up slightly.

Why didn’t I think of it before? There is only one thing that this guy should be doing right now.

Wein should have been an outsider. Whatever his motives, he had joined with Demetrio to take down the other two princes.

The outcome spoke for itself. Demetrio’s faction was going to be defeated. It was inevitable. All Wein could do was find favor with either the middle or the youngest prince. His best bet was presenting one of them with Demetrio’s head.

And his attitude. He was so brazen. He must have planned to separate Demetrio from his men to abduct him. No one would hear Demetrio, even if he called out, and his drunken legs would never manage to bring him to safety.

“…Who are you planning on bringing my head to?” Demetrio barked, filled with rage, feeling betrayed and cursing himself for his own stupidity. He was just thinking he could talk long enough to buy himself time to come up with an escape plan when…

Wein tilted his head. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb! You were going to offer my head to my brothers so you can patch up the relationship between Natra and the Empire!”

Surprise crept across Wein’s face—and then he held his ribs as he burst into laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Great idea! —Maybe for Plan B!” Wein chuckled, spreading a map on the desk before them. “This is why I’m here. Everything is set. If you’re still up for it, you’ve got a chance to grab the throne.”

“What…?!” Demetrio halfway rose from his chair.

He still had a chance? Even in this situation? He was ready to jump headfirst toward this beacon of light, but he had some suspicions.

“Wait…you say there’s a chance, but what do you plan on doing? Most of my soldiers want to return home. I imagine some have already deserted their stations. I have less than a thousand soldiers left. Are you suggesting I should blindly charge at my brothers’ armies?”

“Nope. Those thousand men can go home with the rest.”

Demetrio jolted. “So…you don’t intend to fight? And you still think we can win?”

“We can,” Wein replied confidently, “but the road won’t be easy. Whether we sink or swim will depend on you, Prince Demetrio.”

“………” Demetrio hadn’t the slightest idea what he meant.

How were they supposed to win? He should have waved this off as nonsense, but he didn’t get the sense that Wein was lying or trying to mess with him. The truth was that the prince of Natra had no reason to lie by this point.

Does he actually think there is a way for me to win…?

If that meant he still had an option…

“…I’m done hesitating. I’ll drink your poison,” Demetrio said with fury in his eyes. “Use whatever methods you must. Secure me victory, Wein Salema Arbalest.”

“Leave it to me. I guarantee you’ll be going through that baptism, Prince Demetrio.”

As Bardloche and Manfred prepared for their battle, Demetrio and Wein started to gear up for their last chance to win this thing.

Who would be victorious? The clock ticked ever closer to the moment that would go down in history.

Bardloche’s and Manfred’s armies.

They faced their enemy on the same field outside Nalthia where Demetrio’s forces had failed two weeks prior.

Their troops each sported around ten thousand soldiers. Bardloche’s army was hot off the heels of its victory against Demetrio, while Manfred’s touted justice, backed by the patriots.

Public opinion would state that Bardloche was the clear winner. He had proved himself in the last battle, and morale was high, though these back-to-back fights were taking a toll.

The reason why Bardloche had not gone through with the ceremonial baptism was to stop Manfred from using his moral high ground to justify an attack. The middle prince had padded their supplies from local merchants and aristocrats, hoping to hop on the victory bandwagon, though it wasn’t as much as the patriots could provide. They were more than ready for a lengthy battle.

“We appear to be at a disadvantage. What do you think, Strang?” Manfred asked in the main camp before a row of commanders.

“Our soldiers might be a little flighty, compared to our opponents, who just got an ego boost from defeating Demetrio’s army. To acclimate our soldiers to battle, I suggest dedicating the first day solely to defense,” Strang replied.

One of the vassals spoke up. “Isn’t that approach a bit too passive?”

“The battle has only just begun. We can’t afford to burn out. Or our minds and bodies won’t last the fight. I assume the other side will keep it light for the first day.”

The vassal groaned in dissatisfaction. Manfred turned to him and smiled.

“If you’re so eager to see blood, I would be happy to put you on the front lines.”

“P-please show some mercy, Your Highness.”

Laughter rang across the headquarters. The corners of Manfred’s mouth curled into a smile, and he addressed all present.

“Strang has devised our plan for victory, but our enemy is a tough one. For the best results, we must find the right moment to cut off their morale and stamina. Be careful out there.”

““Understood!”” The commanders bowed and left to man their stations.

As Strang had anticipated, the first day of the battle was played out with more caution than expected of a war of this scale.

Arrows had been shot, but not close enough to cause critical damage. Cavalrymen skimmed the enemy’s perimeter to deliver blows. Foot soldiers limited their opponent’s movements while maintaining their distance. They were appraising the enemy’s skills, battle tactics, and slips in their formation.

The sun set on the first day. This battle was over for the day. Both armies withdrew to their campsites to rest.

“Two hundred casualties today. Three hundred wounded, all light. The soldiers should be able to participate in our fight tomorrow.”

“Good work,” Bardloche said to his subordinate inside his tent and faced the leaders in front of him. “Damage is minimal, as expected. At this rate, we shouldn’t have any problems tomorrow.”

The leaders nodded.

“We picked up on their tricks today. Tomorrow, we’ll crush them.”

“In terms of skill, they aren’t much different from Demetrio’s forces.”

“No match for us.”

Spirits were high. The leaders seemed certain of this outcome.

Bardloche stared at them coolly. “You’re right. Based on today, we’ve all but won. But don’t forget that those who let their guard down on the battlefield are the first to die.”

His words failed to reach their ears.

“Ha-ha-ha! You’re being too humble, Your Highness.”

“We’re not lowering our guards. We’re just stating the truth.”

The leaders mouthed off to their master, continuing to make comments rather than put a stop to their conversation. They were acting especially arrogant that night. Manfred’s army was the last hurdle, and they were surprisingly unresponsive. If they overcame this, their leader would become Emperor. This had padded their egos.

“…Lorencio.” Bardloche turned to the only one watching the scene in silence. He thought the old man might be able to do something, but Lorencio shook his head. It was futile.

“…That’s enough for today. You’re all dismissed.” Bardloche realized this would be a waste of time and sent everyone away, including Lorencio.

As soon as he was alone, he thought, We can beat Manfred at this rate. Even I know that. But something’s been bothering me. The enemy is probably thinking the same thing.

The thing that was bothering him was Prince Demetrio. The truth was, Bardloche had lost track of his movements about a week prior.

He was spotted returning to his domain with his soldiers, but then they vanished into thin air. He must still be working with Prince Wein.

If Demetrio were by himself, Bardloche would have assumed he’d been betrayed by his soldiers and assassinated. But since Wein had disappeared along with him, that was wishful thinking.

I can’t help but think he’s got another plan in the works. And if that’s the case, I imagine he’ll butt into our battle at some point.

He had informed his subordinates of Demetrio’s disappearance, but none felt it was any cause for alarm. They asked what Demetrio could possibly do without any soldiers. Bardloche shared that sentiment to a certain extent.

Am I just overthinking things, or…?

Night grew darker, and his question went unanswered.

It was the dawn of the second day. Unlike the day before, Bardloche’s army was going in on the offensive.

Arrows rained down on them, foot soldiers bashing into the enemy, and horsemen storming through weak spots. The battlefield was filled with angry cries, agonized screams, and corpses.

Manfred’s army held their ground, which came as a surprise to Bardloche’s soldiers. If one took a tally of the second day, it would be clear that they suffered as little damage as the day before.

The reason for this was that both parties had benched their main forces. Bardloche’s attacks were met with defensive strategies and shrewd tactics orchestrated by Manfred.

This continued into the third and the fourth days. Bardloche was the one getting frustrated.

“Your Highness, their defenses are more difficult to disrupt than we anticipated. At this rate, it will be hard to break through their vanguard.”

“And we’ll just be wasting our valuable resources. I would like to avoid a war of attrition with Prince Manfred and the patriots who support him, if possible.”

“We ought to mobilize our main forces and settle this.”

Each of the vassals made it clear that they were hoping to end this battle as quickly as possible.

These war veterans had a wealth of experience, and with their long-term physical and mental stamina, they could stay focused for ten, even twenty days on the battlefield. However, now that they were so close to having a new Emperor after three years, the leaders were starting to get tunnel vision.

“Hmph…” Bardloche groaned.

Should he raise his voice to have them settle down? But they had been hostile when addressing the issue with the baptism. He might have acted differently if these were times of peace. Right now, he couldn’t risk fissures forming in his inner circle.

Plus, he’d reserved his main forces so they could deal with Demetrio and Wein whenever the two decided to show up, but there was no sign of them. He had planned on being vigilant, but this might be his opportunity to rethink his strategy.

Bardloche arrived at a decision as he looked out at all of them. “…Fine. Tomorrow we’ll fight with our entire army.”

The leaders rejoiced.

“Yes! Fantastic decision!”

“That should teach them about Your Highness’s authority!”

“Well, let’s prepare straightaway!”

The leaders were certain of their victory, rushing to prepare for the next day. Just as Bardloche was sensing the precariousness of their situation…

“Pardon me!” A messenger flew into the tent. He began shouting before Bardloche even had the chance to ask what happened.

“Our soldiers are falling ill! —The food donated to us has been poisoned!”

Surprise rocked the tent.

“…Did it work?”

On the morning of the fifth day, Strang looked across the way at Bardloche’s army and replied in a quiet voice, “The plan was a success, Your Highness.”

“Yeah, I can see there are visibly fewer soldiers out there.”

Only the day before, both armies had suffered two thousand casualties. If nothing changed, they would have gone into this day with approximately eight thousand soldiers each…except Bardloche had no more than five thousand at the moment.

“You surprised me when you first explained your plan. I never thought you’d suggest mixing poison in the food from their supporters.” Manfred wasn’t being sarcastic. He was in awe.

Poison had been used on battlefields forever, starting with laced arrows, but there was no precedent of using it on such a large scale.

Strang shook his head at his master’s praise. “It was nothing. I just mimicked a friend.”

“Man-to-man, you sure know how to pick ’em.”

“Yeah. I picked this terrible friend of mine,” Strang replied. “After Bardloche’s battle with Demetrio, it was inevitable that his army would be low on supplies. The locals would want to ride on his coattails to victory, so I knew they were going to supply him with their goods.”

“So you swiped a few crates, laced them with poison, and handed them to the enemy camp. You knew Bardloche’s forces would need it so bad that they wouldn’t check closely.”

“Precisely,” Strang said with a nod. “Three thousand soldiers absent from the battlefield. I bet only two thousand are incapacitated. None will die. The rest will be concerned about their own health or tending to the sick.”

“I see. Couldn’t you have used a stronger poison?”

“If it was too strong, the effects would have been instant, which means they’d be quicker to realize their food has been tampered with. Less damage that way, you see. Plus, the dead require nothing, while the living will laugh and cry and eat and excrete.”

“So you’re saying keeping them alive is more of a hassle.”

“Yes. We carry the weight of the dead in our hearts and the weight of the living on our backs.” Strang shrugged. “And it isn’t realistic to plan to procure enough lethal poison to use in battle. Not just because of production, testing, maintenance, and cost. Its uses are too limited.”

“I guess, now that you mention it. So what else can your choice of poison do?”

“It’s originally from a plant used for dyeing clothing, but when it’s injected over a long period of time or in great quantities, it can wreak havoc in the body. I mixed it into their hay or ground it into fine powder to add to their food.”

The tactics could be called unjust. Demetrio would have rejected such a proposal on instinct, and Bardloche would have turned it down out of pride, but Manfred accepted the plans to use poison and incite rebellion without hesitation. As the third son, he knew he couldn’t afford to be picky.

“So what now?”

“We go on the offensive. We’ll secure victory while the enemy has lost their composure.”

“…And once we’ve got this wrapped up, I can be baptized and officially become Emperor.”

“Don’t forget that you’ll let my hometown become independent after your ascension.”

“Of course. I always reward my vassals for a job well done,” Manfred replied amicably, but Strang noticed his eyes weren’t smiling. “As future Emperor, I better go inspire my men.”

His steps light, Manfred walked away. Strang watched from behind before letting out a small sigh.

“It won’t be easy, even if things go well… Anyway, I should focus on what’s in front of me.”

He stared out at the battlefield once more.

The final day of the battle had only just begun.

Manfred’s army had done a complete one-eighty from their original strategy, launching a powerfully aggressive attack.

Bardloche’s soldiers had dwindled because of the poison, but their morale had taken an even bigger hit. They were worried about their fallen comrades and their own health, which dulled their blades and made them hesitate.

Manfred’s army had used this as a golden opportunity to take revenge against their enemy, for all the violence inflicted on them. They were seemingly winning on all fronts.

Bardloche’s men might curse them for being spineless and unethical, but they couldn’t stop the onslaught. From the perspective of Manfred’s soldiers, Bardloche had betrayed their mutual agreement by attempting to go through with the baptism. What’s more, Manfred had indoctrinated his troops, making them believe they were defenders of justice who were cleansing the Empire of vermin.

Frankly, Bardloche’s forces were facing quite a dilemma.

“Your Highness! The front line for the second unit has been overtaken!”

“The messengers are being targeted! We can’t get a read on the situation!”

“We can’t stop the enemy’s central forces! Your Highness…!”

The nightmarish reports were unrelenting. Bardloche had held the advantage for the first four days of the battle. Anyone would have assumed this pattern would continue, but this was the reality of the situation. Everything had been turned on its head in the span of a single night.

“Who knew this would happen…?”

The thought of defeat flashed in his mind.

He should have been bolder from the beginning—should have been warier about the donated supplies. Should have. Could have. Would have. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about these possibilities, even though he knew it was pointless.

“Your Highness, please get a grip!” Next to him, Lorencio had on a look of agony. “Now that it’s come to this, we should make a temporary retreat…!”

“A retreat? And where are we supposed to go?!”

“To Nalthia. If we lock ourselves away in the city, we will be out of their reach.”

“Hngh…!” Bardloche glared at Lorencio. “Nalthia is sacred land! Are you telling me I should use it as a shield?!”

“We have no other methods at our disposal if we wish to recover from this…!”

Bardloche could withdraw into his own domain. Manfred wouldn’t dare come near his territory. That meant that Manfred would undergo the ceremonial baptism and become Emperor, however. To Bardloche, this was basically the same as accepting defeat.

“I beg of you. Please listen to me!”

It would take a while for their army to recover. Using Nalthia as a shield was the only way that they could buy enough time. Bardloche knew this.

It took him several seconds to come to the difficult decision.

“…We’re retreating to Nalthia!”

Strang immediately noticed movement in Bardloche’s headquarters.

“So he’s chosen survival over dignity…”

Strang had thought through the possibility of the military man accepting a valiant death in battle, but he’d apparently cared more about being a prince. Either way, Strang was prepared.

“Send out the spare cavalrymen. Attack the main camp.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Send a messenger to all units. The enemy is planning to withdraw. Strike them from behind.”

The messenger went to inform the army.

As Strang had mentioned, the main camp was retreating to Nalthia, and the rest of Bardloche’s army was beginning to fall back. Manfred’s forces would pursue them from behind…

This did not escape Glen’s notice.

“All hands, follow me!”

This is our chance, Glen thought, raising his voice and steering his horse forward.

“Captain?!” cried one of his subordinates, falling back with the rest of their comrades.

Even more surprised were Manfred’s soldiers. They were thinking that they would close in on their retreating enemy, only to find themselves being chased.

It was so sudden, they couldn’t prepare fast enough. They were sent flying by the cavalrymen.

“C-Captain! Please wait!”

Glen was charging farther inside after tearing through their defenses. His panicked subordinates were hot on his heels.

“Captain! This is reckless! The rest of our troops are escaping!”

“We won’t be able to get past their defenses by ourselves! We’ll be in enemy territory!”

Five hundred soldiers followed after their captain. Several thousand enemies surrounded them. Glen barked with laughter, though his approach seemed impulsive.

“No. Their attention is scattered now! It’s our chance to strike!”

As Glen had said, Manfred’s defenses weren’t nearly as tight as before. If they could break through, they’d arrive at the innermost part of the enemy’s stronghold. It was here Glen would find his friend and his friend’s master—Strang and Manfred.

“We’re diving right into the heart of the enemy! —I’ll capture the youngest prince and lead us to victory!”

“He got us…!” Strang started to sweat, watching Glen blow past their forces.

Manfred’s army was inherently weaker than Bardloche’s troops, but a sense of purpose alone had united them to endure their vicious attacks. With all soldiers on the defensive, their battle formation had been rock solid.

But they had started to attack on this day. This switch from defense to offense and Bardloche’s defeat had wiped the thought of guarding the front line out of their minds.

And that was exactly when Glen made his counterattack.

Manfred’s soldiers didn’t stand a chance against their battle prowess. In fact, Strang was watching Glen’s unit grow ever closer. He swiftly issued orders to his subordinates.

“Arrange three rows of armed soldiers in front of that enemy unit! And fast!”

“U-understood!”

“Where is our closest cavalry?!”

“The cavalry is already pursuing the enemy to its headquarters! We would need time to call them back!”

“Tch…!”

Manfred’s faction was made of new money, which meant they were ambitious. They were desperate to get one step ahead of their neighbor. Obviously, they would never miss the golden opportunity to chase a retreating army.

“The armed forces are ready!”

“All right, then. With this—”

After stopping the enemy cavalrymen in their tracks, Strang would mobilize the surrounding soldiers to crush them.

“You think this is gonna stop me?!”

Glen’s attack blew away three rows of Manfred’s best-equipped soldiers, however.

“Th-the enemy is advancing!”

“…Evacuate Prince Manfred to the rear!”

There was no longer any way of stopping Glen and his men from reaching the main camp. They would arrive at any moment.

Strang understood this. “All hands to your stations! Prepare to release all traps! We’ll engage the enemy here!”

“Captain! I see the main camp!”

It had been some time since they’d advanced, hacking away at their enemy. Glen’s forces had caught sight of the stronghold.

“Awesome! We’re almost there!”

“We got this!”

Even the soldiers in their midst who doubted Glen were starting to get a boost in morale. They couldn’t even imagine the accolades that awaited them if they managed to capture the enemy commander, especially when it seemed like they would lose.

“No one let down their guard! It’s probably loaded with traps! This is where the real battle begins!”

The subordinates calmed their hearts.

Just then, Glen noticed something. Standing at the center of the camp was a single man. Their eyes met.

Glen shouted, “—I’m here, Strang!”

“—You’re here, Glen.” Strang felt himself smiling, oddly enough.

Maybe it was because he’d seen his friend acting like normal, even though they were at war. But this was where it ended. There was no room for friendship.

To think you’d tip the scales in a battle that was seemingly over. I’m as impressed by your strength as ever, Glen, Strang thought.

To think your genius would drive us into one hell of a corner. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Strang, Glen thought.

They then came to their simultaneous conclusion: That’s why I must take you down here—!

Glen, approaching. Strang, expectant.

Would Strang’s resourcefulness capsize Glen? Or would Glen’s strength in battle surpass him? The moment of truth was coming ever closer, rocking heaven and earth—

“—Drop your weapons at once! This is an official proclamation of a cease-fire by order of the Empire!”

From the sidelines came news at impeccable timing.

“A cease-fire?! What’s going on?!”

“What?! According to who?!”

From all sides of the battlefield came cries of confusion and anger.

This was the momentous fight to decide the next Emperor, after all. Obviously, everyone would have something to say if a third party came to rain on their parade, just as they were about to resolve things. Coming up on top, Manfred’s army was trying to continue their attacks.

…Until they came to a certain realization.

“H-hey, look at that…!”

Soldiers were waiting on standby next to the battlefield. It wasn’t their presence itself that surprised both armies. It was the flag they were touting.

It belonged to neither the eldest, nor the middle, nor the youngest prince.

“—That’s the flag of the Emperor.”

A holy symbol in the Empire. If anyone mishandled it, their head went flying. It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be waved around to deceive others.

“That means those are the Imperial forces…who directly serve the Emperor!”

“Wh-whoa, this is bad! Drop your weapons!”

Even after death, the Emperor’s authority held strong. As soon as both sides realized a cease-fire had been declared under his flag, they were quick to abandon their arms.

“B-but His Majesty passed away a while ago.”

“Yeah. Who could mobilize his forces in his stead…?”

Though the soldiers thought long and hard, they couldn’t figure it out. Some of the officers knew, however. There was one person with the right to govern in the absence of the Emperor.

It was a messenger dispatched from this Imperial force who revealed the truth.

“Prime Minister Keskinel shall hold a meeting in Nalthia! Required to attend are the representatives of both parties, Prince Bardloche and Prince Manfred!”

The sound of clashing swords ceased. Commotion started to ripple through the soldiers.

The atmosphere in the room couldn’t get any worse.

The source was obvious: Prince Bardloche and Prince Manfred were glaring at each other, ready to explode at any moment. Plus, they both had guards standing at attention behind them, who seemed eager to fight as soon as their masters gave the order. The air was heavy.

“…What rotten timing. My victory has gone out the window,” Manfred said suddenly. “You should be grateful, Bardloche. Keskinel is the only reason you still have your head.”

“…You better watch your mouth, Manfred,” Bardloche barked. “You have to stoop low to feel proud of a dirty win. And against fellow Imperial citizens, no less. You don’t have a shred of decency, do you?”

“Ha-ha-ha. So you’re saying using poison is unfair, but swords are fair play? That works so conveniently for army men. You got screwed because you’re not very principled, you know.”

They were shooting daggers at each other. The tiniest slight might invite another war between them.

The door opened. “—Pardon my tardiness.”

Prime Minister Keskinel appeared. Several soldiers followed behind him, and Bardloche groaned when he saw one of them.

“…You joined Keskinel, General Silas?”

Silas. A commander in the Imperial army. An aristocratic Flahm who once had housed Prince Wein and was currently entertaining his sister, Falanya. He smiled.

“Of course not, Your Highness. But I thought it was a shame that the Imperial troops who served His Majesty had no general to direct them. So I offered to command the soldiers, and no more. Please do not worry.”

“You really helped me out, General Silas. I can come up with the budget to support the troops, but I don’t know how to deploy them. Armies are so strange. So rigid on the outside, but fluid when working from within. Like a chrysalis. Did you know there’s viscous liquid inside them? The caterpillar dissolves into a liquid before transforming into a butterfly. Can we say that a butterfly and caterpillar remain the same entity after the process? I mean, they’re only the same on the inside. Everything else—its shape, its appearance—make it seem like a new existence. Oh, and they taste different, I recall.”

“Sir Keskinel. The princes are waiting. Perhaps we could save this fascinating discussion for later?”

“Oh dear, my apologies. Remind me to come back to this.” Keskinel bowed his head to Silas before turning his attention back to the princes.

“…So, Keskinel, care to explain?” Manfred asked. “Why did you get in my way? Weren’t you supposed to be a neutral party in our fight for succession?”

“The word ‘neutral’ is a bit misleading. I just respect you all as the sons of the Emperor. But there was an incident that I can’t excuse, which is why I stepped in. I assume you know what I am referring to, princes?”

“The rebellion in stupid Demetrio’s territory,” Bardloche replied with a sneer. “He abandoned the people that he was supposed to be protecting. How pathetic.”

“Seriously. He makes me ashamed to be a prince,” Manfred agreed, despite being the one responsible for it in the first place.

Bardloche went on, “Well, what else could you expect? He might be a prince of the Empire, but his mom came from some random little country. He’s an insult to the royal line.”

“He was pretty attached to her apparently. Even the casual mention of her name sends him into a flying rage. Maybe the people are rebelling because he’s their leader.”

They were ruthless to Demetrio in his absence. Well, they would have done so even if he were around. Their older brother was going to drop out of the race. The two were in agreement there.

Keskinel turned to them. “I am relieved to hear you say that. Now we will be able to settle matters peacefully.”

“Huh? What are you trying to say?”

“I have come here today to tell Your Highnesses something.” Keskinel took a breath before continuing. “—Your people are currently rebelling in both your domains. I would like you both to hurry back and put a stop to it.”

““What…?!”” All present opened their eyes in shock.

“A r-rebellion?! In my territory?!”

“What’re you talking about?! That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s the truth. It seems that reports are coming in, since you recruited so many people with you to the battlefield. Also—”

Just as Keskinel was about to continue, they heard heavy footsteps stamping outside the room. The door burst open. Bardloche and Manfred gaped at the people before them.

“Looks like everyone’s here.”

“You can’t even walk in without causing a scene.”

“Hmph. Who cares? It’s just my stupid brothers.”

“Goodness. I love to see that your brotherly bond is strong.”

Sniffing haughtily was the Imperial Prince of Earthworld, Demetrio.

Standing next to him in exasperation was the Second Imperial Princess, Lowellmina.

And one step behind both of them was the crown prince of Natra, Wein, smiling wryly.

The three perpetrators of disorder had entered the scene.

“What the hell is going on…?!”

Bardloche was visibly flustered. His guards were the same way, and no one was following the situation.

However, one person—Manfred—was different. As soon as he saw Wein, his mind sorted out the possibilities.

There was rebellion in Demetrio’s territory. Keskinel’s interference. Demetrio and Wein’s vanishing act. And the revolt currently in his own domain.

That could only mean one thing—

“…You didn’t stop the rebellion, Prince Wein,” Manfred said, voice trembling.

He didn’t want to believe it. It had to be a joke. However, Manfred knew it to be true.

“And that’s not all. You spread the fighting in Demetrio’s territory—all so it could reach ours!”

“Wh-what…?!”

Bardloche and Manfred glared at Wein, but he took this in stride.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wein said with a brazen grin. “I’m only here to watch from the sidelines. Right, Prince Demetrio?”

“Exactly. False accusations only make you look bad, Manfred,” Demetrio added, flashing a relaxed smile. This was all the proof that Manfred needed to confirm his hunch was correct.

—Who knew walking poison could be so lethal?

Even though Demetrio knew everything, he still couldn’t stop himself from shuddering.

A rebellion in your territory was like setting yourself on fire. Anyone would instinctively put out the flames.

…Everyone except Wein. For him, extinguishing these flames meant losing. When he realized Demetrio’s territory was adjacent to his brothers’, he used the eldest prince’s few remaining soldiers to incite the rebellion in his domain to spread it to the other territories. He didn’t want to put out the flames. He wanted to take the two princes down with him.

“…So let me guess,” Bardloche began through his teeth. “We don’t have time to argue over who gets the throne, since the people are rebelling in our lands. You’re telling us that these battles meant nothing and that we need to pack it up and go home…!” He sounded furious.

This wasn’t the truth, however.

“You’re wrong.”

The reality was far worse than what Bardloche had imagined.

“The only ones leaving are you, my stupid little brothers,” Demetrio announced.

Huh? Manfred and Bardloche looked at him, brows furrowed.

“After all, we’ve ready suppressed the revolt in my territory.”

““What…?!”” The eyes of the two younger princes grew large, and they looked at Keskinel, panicked.

He nodded slowly. “As Prince Demetrio says, we’ve confirmed that the turmoil in his domain is quieting.”

“That’s impossible!” Manfred yelled. “The uprising got big enough to spill into our territories, right?! Even if Demetrio’s faction tried to restore order, he lost his men and supplies in the last battle! If he only had the foresight to deal with it when he had the time! I mean, he didn’t have any…people or resources…to spare…”

He trailed off before snapping his head up to look at Lowellmina smiling placidly next to Wein and Demetrio. At that moment, he understood everything.

“Lowellmina, you—!”

“Your instincts tell you right, Manfred,” Lowellmina replied, placing a hand on her chest as if she were in pain. “Of course, we can’t blame citizens who got caught up in the rebellion. And those who sparked it aren’t evil either. You know I’ve been worried that this infighting will have its victims. Wouldn’t the patriots want to bring them salvation?”

Lowellmina continued, “Fortunately, Demetrio granted us unrestricted movement within his domain and the right to pass proper punishment upon those who participated in the rebellion. For the sake of our Imperial citizens, I called upon my patriots to restore order.”

Wein was the one to propose this plan and contact Lowellmina through Falanya. That was how Demetrio stabilized his domain and Lowellmina boosted her reputation as a member of the patriots.

If Ninym had been present, she would have rolled her eyes at Wein and Lowellmina.

In the beginning, Lowellmina had caught Wein in her own schemes, forcing him to side with Demetrio. But Wein got his payback, turning this on her and raising the stakes.

They had been in the middle of scheming how to one-up each other when they realized Demetrio’s faction might lose to Manfred’s plan. So they decided to join forces.

This had nothing to do with their own feelings, whether it be rage or resentment. They were acting in self-interest and self-interest alone.

“Well, I’m sure you get the picture now. Neither of you will be staying behind to experience the ceremonial baptism. I am,” Demetrio declared.

Even if Demetrio hadn’t dropped into this room, even if Keskinel hadn’t informed them that order had been restored in the eldest prince’s territory, the other two princes would have been in a tight spot. Neither could leave Nalthia if they wanted to prevent each other from becoming Emperor, but their land was still going up in flames. They would have to continue glaring at each other, feeling that the fire beneath their feet was climbing up their bodies.

“…Do you think I’ll just sit back and let you?!” Bardloche asked, slamming a fist on the desk. “Do you even hear yourself?! All of you! You think your plan will decide the next Emperor?! As if! I’m not having it!” Bardloche looked at his younger brother. “Manfred! Tell me you aren’t going to put up with this either!”

“…Of course not. I don’t agree with it at all.”

Demetrio scoffed at them. “Oh? If you can’t accept it, what are you going to do?”

“…If Manfred and I join forces…you know how much we’ll overpower you.”

Bardloche’s hand went for the sword at his side. As soon as everyone saw this, they moved into battle positions. In any time, place, or occasion, it was natural to physically vanquish an enemy when logic didn’t work out.

Wein spoke up. “I wonder who’s gonna get the blame.”

He didn’t seem like he was even in the same room as them. He sounded so causal.

Lowellmina humored him. “What are you talking about, Prince Wein?”

“I guess I was wondering which of the two princes will be responsible for the deaths of you, me, Prince Demetrio, and Sir Keskinel.”

She considered this for a moment before breaking into a tiny smile. “Bardloche, of course.”

“Is it so obvious?”

“Yes. Even if they shake on some agreement here, it won’t take Manfred long to devise a plan to pin the blame on Bardloche.”

Bardloche and Manfred gulped.

Lowellmina continued, “This would work in Manfred’s favor. Though he feigned confidence, he had failed to stop Bardloche on the battlefield. With time, Bardloche’s forces will recover from the poison and regain their strength. If they fight again, Manfred will certainly lose.”

“So you’re saying he wouldn’t pass up on the chance to foist the stigma of killing the rest of the Imperial family, a prince of an ally nation, and the prime minister onto Bardloche?”

“Precisely.” Lowellmina looked over at Bardloche. “But isn’t that only natural? I mean, Bardloche went behind Manfred’s back and tried to get the baptism. The betrayer often becomes the betrayed.”

Bardloche bit his lip. In an instant, the air of cooperation between the two brothers dissipated.

Manfred spat more than spoke. “…You’ve got a nasty personality.”

“Ouch. That’s not true at all. Right, Prince Wein?”

“Oh, no comment.”

“Pardon?” Lowellmina poked Wein’s arm.

“…Can you please wrap it up?” Keskinel asked slowly. “If Your Highnesses return to your domains and restore order, I shall do nothing. If you remain here and continue to quarrel, however, I will deem you unfit to govern your lands and use my authority to confiscate them.”

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Not long after, Manfred spoke up.

“…Fine, I’ll return home.”

“Manfred?!” Bardloche was the most surprised by this development. “Are you serious?! You know what will happen if you retreat now, right?!”

“What am I supposed to do? Glare at you here while my land burns to the ground? I’ll pass. If that happens, I won’t be able to get any more chances.”

“Ngh…but…!”

“Sorry. It’s hard for me to change my mind after I’ve made it up. If you’ll excuse me.” Manfred stood up from his seat. “You two got the better of me this time, but don’t think it will happen again.”

Manfred left Wein and Lowellmina with these words, exiting the room with his guards. Now on his own, Bardloche sat in agonizing silence for some time.

“…I’ll withdraw, too,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Both armies stationed outside Nalthia were confused by their princes’ orders to withdraw. Few resisted.

Their attitudes, however, changed once they heard about the rebellions breaking out in their domains. It wouldn’t mean much if their leader became the Emperor if it came at the cost of their land burning to the ground. The backlash died down as they came to grips with retreat.

“Pardon me, Sir Lorencio.”

Glen popped his head inside the tent in Bardloche’s camp to find Lorencio hanging his head.

“…Oh, Glen.” He only looked up for a moment before letting his gaze lower to the ground. He had been a hearty figure only days before, but he seemed to have aged a few years.

“I’ve come to report that our forces will prepare to withdraw soon. The injured and poisoned have recovered, so we project they will be able to march.”

“………” Lorencio did not respond. He wasn’t the only one in this state. All the other faction leaders acted the same way.

Prince Bardloche must be the most disappointed…

No one could have imagined such an outcome, back when they defeated Prince Demetrio’s army. Knowing that the throne had been within arm’s reach made it sting more.

“Where did we go so wrong that the road forward for Prince Bardloche would be blocked…?” Lorencio shook his head, trying to dispel the nightmare.

But this was his reality. No shakes of the head would make it go away. He knew that, but that was all he could do.

“Glen… If only you had got the youngest prince…”

“……”

Lorencio was right. Things might have been different if Glen had run his sword through Manfred when he had the chance. Or even if Glen had insisted more forcibly to Bardloche that Wein had influenced the citizens to push for a ceremonial baptism.

…Who can say? There’s nothing I can do now.

As a member of the faction, Glen felt like he had to yield to his superiors.

But that was the same for Lorencio, too. He realized he was taking his frustrations out on Glen. He checked himself, stopping his verbal assault and lowering his voice.

“…Forgive me. That was foolish.”

“Please. Don’t even mention it.”

There was nothing to be gained for a heart to long for the shadows of a missed future. Everyone knew that, but it was hard to stop it, especially in times like these.

“Hurry with the preparations. For Prince Bardloche and for us, our top priority is returning to the domain and restoring order.”

And so Bardloche’s disheartened troops trudged home. It was this move that ultimately cemented Bardloche and his faction to their fall from power.

“Are you all right with retreating?”

Back in Manfred’s camp…Strang asked the prince as scores of personnel prepared to set out.

“At this rate, Prince Demetrio will become Emperor.”

“Seems that way. I mean, obviously, I’m not okay with it. My blood is boiling,” Manfred said, shrugging. “But there’s nothing I can do. I lost this time. They got me.”

“It was my plan that cost us the win. I never expected them to stir a rebellion in our own territory. Please forgive me.”

“I was the one who approved the plan, so it’s on me,” Manfred said. “But are you okay with this? Now that I’ve lost, I can’t guarantee independence for your hometown. Demetrio doesn’t care about the provinces.”

“As long as the new Emperor isn’t Bardloche, seeing how he has a track record of mishandling affairs in the provinces. That would be my worst-case scenario. Besides, this incident has gotten Lowellmina to establish ties with Prince Demetrio, so I was planning on using her to get what I need for my hometown.”

“Ugh. I hate that you can move on so quickly. It’s always guys like you who only care about themselves…” Manfred grumbled in a less-than-princely fashion before picking up on a minor detail. “Past tense? You were planning to use her?”

“Though I’ve only served you for several years, Your Highness, I know you’re not the type to give up. I imagine you have some other plan if you were so quick to retreat.”

“…I see. You’re a sharp one,” Manfred noted, nodding in admiration. “Nothing’s set in stone yet, but a few things have been bothering me.”

“For instance?”

“Lowellmina. I was so sure she wanted to become Empress, but she helped Demetrio out.”

“…Maybe you misread her intentions or she gave up the throne.”

“Or she has something to turn the tables on us.” Manfred suddenly smiled. “It’s possible at this point. So we should conserve our energy, right?”

“I see.”

Upon finishing his explanation, Manfred looked at Nalthia in the distance, hosting Demetrio, Lowellmina, and Wein. What in the world were they planning?

“…Whatever it is, I pray it’ll work to my advantage.”

There were two facilities of holy value in Nalthia.

The first was the mausoleum housing generations of Emperors, but that was located on the outskirts of the city rather than Nalthia proper. It was a massive structure, so keeping it inside would have interfered with the functionality of the city.

The other was the site for the ceremonial baptism. It was said that this was where the spirits of past Emperors watched over the land. The successor to the throne would receive the blessings of their ancestors through a priest before announcing their ascension in front of the citizens in the Imperial Capital.

Stepping into this site was Demetrio and the leaders of his faction.

“So this is what it’s like…”

The ceremonial site contained no lavish ornamentation, but it was lit by flickering flames, giving it a sacred feeling that made anyone correct their posture.

“How are the preparations for the baptism going?” Demetrio asked a subordinate next to him.

“They should be done in the next few days. Prince Bardloche is planning to withdraw.”

“I see… Perfect.” Demetrio’s shoulders trembled. “I will be Emperor… That’s right—me!”

Delight bubbled up in his heart.

He’d put up with daily harassment, scorned for being incompetent. In reality, he came up short compared to his younger brothers and sister. All that others saw was that he was the eldest child of the Emperor. After enduring it all, he would finally rise to the top.

“Good for you, Prince Demetrio.”

“I’m so happy for you, brother.”

Wein and Lowellmina were calling to him from nearby. Wein had stuck by him to the end, though he was a prince of a foreign nation, and proved himself to be a pillar of support. Lowellmina had deployed the people of her faction to help suppress the rebellion. No one could raise any objections, even if Demetrio let them stand by his side.

Demetrio didn’t take any notice of either one, however. For at that very moment, the back of his dearly departed mother flashed before his mind’s eye.

Mother…

—You’ll make a grand Emperor.

When did he start doubting that his mother loved him?

Was it when he watched her throw away his flower wreath? Or when he noticed his smiling mother had eyes as cold as ice?

These small suspicions had piled up. It made him question himself, pulling him into darkness. He wanted to clear these shadows. He wanted to confirm his mother loved him and respected him, just as he had loved and respected her. But death had taken away his chance.

With this, I’ll…

He was going to be a grand Emperor, just like his mother wanted. If he could make the land prosperous, then it would be the same thing as his mother loving the Empire as an Imperial citizen. And that would be the same thing as proof that she had loved him, her child.

I’ll finally take the first step…!

Demetrio ventured farther into the ceremonial site.

He stepped forward with confidence that he would inherit the throne. With a sense of accomplishment and duty to become a great Emperor, Demetrio could only express his current feeling as pure euphoria.

“—Stop. I cannot allow the baptism to happen.”

Fate was just waiting to push him back down this pinnacle.

The party started to stir. They all turned toward the entrance behind them.

Standing there with several guards led by Silas was Prime Minister Keskinel.

“…What are you talking about, Keskinel?” Demetrio asked cautiously. “I’m in a good mood right now. If you want to apologize for losing your senses and speaking out of turn now, I’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No need.” Keskinel walked toward Demetrio as he repeated himself. “Prince Demetrio, as the prime minister, I cannot allow the ceremonial baptism to take place.”

“What are you talking about?!” Demetrio roared. “Gone is the rebellion in my territory! My brothers have returned home! There isn’t a single reason why you should be stopping me.”

“But there is, Your Highness,” Keskinel replied matter-of-factly. “Several days prior, your candidacy for Emperor was questioned.”

“You doubt my right to the throne?! On what grounds?!

“You might not be the child of the Emperor.” Keskinel’s words pierced into him like arrows. “We were recently informed of this possibility.”

“ ”

All present were at a loss for words, jaws slack. And who could blame them? They’d known Demetrio as the eldest Imperial prince of the Empire for their entire lives. Of course, they would have trouble wrapping their heads around the idea that he might not be the Emperor’s son.

“What…do you think you’re saying…?” Demetrio asked, voice trembling. “You think I’m not his child?”

He sounded like he was hoping he’d misheard him, but Keskinel did not backtrack.

“Yes. Until those doubts are cleared, I cannot allow the ceremony to commence.”

“………” Demetrio wanted to say something, but found himself unable to. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, rage flashed in his eyes. “…Keskinel! You can’t joke about these things!”

His shouting snapped the vassals back to their senses.

“Th-that’s right! You can’t just go around spouting nonsense!”

“As if! How could the prince not be the Emperor’s son?!”

“Where’s your proof?!”

They protested angrily, but Keskinel remained unfazed, taking their verbal abuse. He carefully took out a single book from his inner breast pocket.

“Look at this.”

“What is that…? A diary?”

“Indeed. It belonged to your deceased mother, the first wife of the Emperor.”

Their eyes all snapped open.

Demetrio’s mother? His faction knew this was a subject that shouldn’t be broached.

“I believe everyone has heard the rumors of how she was displeased and angry at the Empire after her homeland was annexed.”

“Th-those were just rumors!”

“Yes. But looking at this diary…it seems she had really felt that way.” Keskinel casually flipped through the book and opened to a page to show everyone.

Filling the margins was her animosity toward the Empire. They could feel the intensity behind her entry, which took away their breaths.

“And this page. It describes a certain plan. One meant to exact her revenge on the Empire by putting a child of nonroyal blood on the throne.”

“…That’s ridiculous!” Demetrio shouted, prying the diary out of Keskinel’s hands. “You think my mother actually wrote this?! I’ve never seen it before in my… Wait, this is…?!”

The hand holding the notebook trembled.

He had no memory of ever seeing this diary before. He wanted to look away from the vitriol written in it that read like hexes, but the letters were unmistakably in his mother’s hand.

“Th-this handwriting. It can’t be…”

“Impossible… But this is the Empress’s…”

The vassals who peeked at the diary gasped.

Keskinel continued to nail in the coffin. “Upon reevaluating the information in the diary and date of the entry, I have discovered a slight inconsistency between her pregnancy and when she lay with His Majesty. I have verbal testimonies from those who knew her at the time.”

“B-but visible signs of pregnancy don’t look the same for all women! You can’t determine anything from that!”

“Which is why I have questions,” Keskinel replied respectfully. “As prime minister, I intend to fully investigate the matter. If this is a baseless accusation, I shall cut off my own head in apology. However, I have no choice but to delay your ascension until then. The vassals must understand that we cannot allow anyone outside the Imperial family to become Emperor.”

The ceremonial site was silent once again. They all looked at Demetrio in disbelief. Royal blood was the most basic prerequisite to becoming Emperor. Only after that did the Empire’s most powerful leaders choose to support one of the three princes and scheme to put their choice on the throne.

Now that prerequisite had come crashing down. If Demetrio wasn’t the Emperor’s son, he would never rule the nation.

Even if it was later proved that he was of royal lineage, was it realistic to think he could shake off the other two princes and return again to Nalthia after losing this opportunity?

“This can’t be happening…” Demetrio was unstable on his feet. He staggered back two, three steps.

The diary slipped from his hands as his knees buckled under him. He was wiped out on the floor.

They stared at him. No one could move. Well, it was their choice not to move. They just exchanged glances, lost in thought. Should they help him up? Should they offer words of comfort? Should they leave his side, seeing that he might not be worth their support? They were desperate to look out for their own selves.

Someone in the group had a totally different idea in mind.

“Sir Keskinel, I have a question.”

It was Wein. He had remained silent so far but now faced the prime minister.

“Ask whatever you wish, Prince Wein.”

“Okay, I won’t hold back, then… How did you obtain that diary?”

Wein already had a feeling that he knew the answer, and sure enough, Keskinel said exactly what he’d expected to hear.

“—Princess Lowellmina offered it to me.”

Everyone turned to look at her. She shrank back, looking shocked to be the center of attention.

“Keskinel is right. I provided him with the diary.”

“Wh-why would you do such a thing?!” one of the vassals lashed out.

Lowellmina shook her head. “I came across it by chance. It’s a diary written by someone who has passed, so I intended to never bring it up to anyone. But for the future of the Empire, I realized I must not shirk away from the truth. I, therefore, entrusted it to Keskinel.” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “To think it would turn out like this… I am so sorry, Demetrio.”

Of course, her horrible performance suggested otherwise. Everything was a lie.

The only truth in her statement was that she’d stumbled across the diary. And that was technically a half-truth, because she’d come across it when she was looking for the princes’ weaknesses. It was less coincidence than a testament to her persistence.

This was why I couldn’t let Bardloche or Manfred win the battle.

Lowellmina knew she could use the diary as soon as she read it.

It didn’t matter whether the contents were true or not. Either way, it would question Demetrio’s lineage. That was more important than anything else.

If the diary had belonged to Bardloche and Manfred’s mother, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. After all, their factions were made of people who believed in their skills, their character, and the promise of a reward.

That wasn’t the case for Demetrio. His blood was the only thing that kept him in charge. People followed him because he was the eldest son of the Emperor.

And Lowellmina had just shot that down.

Now Demetrio’s faction will come apart. Its members will have nowhere to go. And I’ll snatch them up!

Bardloche and Manfred had gained nothing from this battle. In fact, they were left with piling war costs and rebellion in their respective territories. Neither would have time to deal with anything else. This was the perfect chance for Lowellmina to absorb Demetrio’s faction.

And then, I’ll officially announce that I’m joining the fight for succession!

Until this moment, Lowellmina had publicly pretended to think that one of the brothers would become Emperor. However, this triple failure had made the citizens lose faith in them.

That would be like wind to her sails. Lowellmina would replace her disappointments of brothers and declare her intention to become Empress. It had been all part of her plan to mobilize the patriots to calm the chaos in Demetrio’s territory.

I imagine Bardloche and Manfred will fight against this and conspire to push me out of the running. But at the moment, their forces have been substantially weakened. I should be able to handle them myself after I take over Demetrio’s faction!

Lowellmina felt a sense of certainty.

I am going to win this battle—!

“I wouldn’t be so careless to think that, Lowa.”

“What ?”

Clack. Wein took a step forward. In front of him was Demetrio, who hung his head in defeat.

“Wow. Who would have thought this would happen, Demetrio?” Wein said sympathetically as he put his hand on the prince’s shoulder. “I can only imagine how you’re feeling. I wish I could help, but, well, I wonder what I could even do at this point…”

His gestures seemed rehearsed. He pretended to think. Then, Wein looked over his shoulder at Keskinel behind him.

“Sir Keskinel, you said we would wait until all suspicions were cleared, but you don’t intend on confining Prince Demetrio in the meantime, do you?”

“…We will continue to treat him as an Imperial prince until all suspicions are cleared.”

“Glad to hear it.” Wein turned to Demetrio and grinned. “You must be exhausted from all this mayhem, Prince Demetrio. Would you care to recover in my country for the time being?”

“Prince Wein…”

“Natra is a fantastic little country. We can’t do anything about the cold weather, but our economy has never been better, and we’re importing new goods from the West. You might find something that you wouldn’t be able to in the Empire.”

Wein talked to Demetrio as if they had been good friends for a decade. It sounded like he was concerned for him.

Lowellmina knew that wasn’t the case. Something else was going on. What was he after? What could he gain by inviting the downtrodden Demetrio to his country?

—Ah. It hit her. An instant later, Lowellmina shouted, “Sir Silas!”

She turned around to look at the man standing next to Keskinel. “Secure Demetrio!”

Silas vaulted off the ground and raced straight toward the prince without asking any questions. He stopped halfway.

“Have we made… a fatal mistake?” He looked around him and quietly tsked.

“Sir Silas?!”

“My apologies, Princess Lowellmina… But external forces are already among us.”

“Wha…?!” In a panic, Lowellmina scanned the area.

The ceremonial site was dimly lit. There wasn’t enough light to illuminate the inky corners of the space. However, Silas had sensed something lurking within it.

“We won’t make it in time to reach Prince Demetrio where he stands.”

“…Prince Wein!” Lowellmina yelled. “Please hand over Demetrio!”

“Hand him over? What do you mean?” Wein asked, shrugging and feigning ignorance. “Prince Demetrio is the only one who can make his own decisions. I’m not his keeper. I’m only inviting him to my home country. I’m confused by your threats.”

“If this were any normal invitation, I wouldn’t be so worried…!” Lowellmina gritted her teeth. She knew Wein was up to something, but she’d never expected him to put a lid on her secret plan.

Well, he didn’t succeed in that regard. Wein couldn’t put a wrench in Lowellmina’s schemes…but he had set his sights beyond that.

“Prince Wein…you’re planning to help Demetrio seek asylum in the West, aren’t you?!”

Lowellmina’s strategy had pushed Wein and Demetrio together. And it was at this point Demetrio had confirmed one thing: He had no chance of winning this battle.

Lowellmina had woven her plot tightly, which all but confirmed her victory. Wein knew he wouldn’t be able to counterattack, considering the disadvantages stacked against him: operating on foreign soil, working within a limited time frame, and dealing with hostile powers.

So he thought outside the box.

In all likelihood, Lowellmina’s goal centered on Demetrio’s baptism. In that case, Wein figured he should set up a plan of his own at the site of this ritual.

For example, something like inviting Demetrio to Natra after he lost to Lowellmina, so Wein could use him as a card to play in the West.

“Y-you want the prince to seek asylum…?!”

The vassals were stunned. Things had shifted so quickly and drastically that they couldn’t keep up.

“Me? Flee to the West…?” Demetrio was apparently still hanging in there, despite the revelation in his mother’s diary. He looked up at Wein with a fire in his eyes.

“—Don’t you get it, Princess Lowellmina?” Wein shook his head. “As I mentioned before, I’m only suggesting the prince take a little vacation.”

“And then you’ll talk him into doing what you want, by telling him that if my brother seeks asylum in the West and that gives them the ‘moral’ grounds to invade the Empire, it’ll open up his path to the throne!”

Demetrio was invaluable to the West. If they backed him up and claimed that the Empire was under the rule of a leader unfit for the throne, it could seriously destabilize Imperial territories.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. After all, the Empire and Natra are bound by an alliance. It’s impossible for Demetrio to seek asylum in the West,” Wein insisted, trying to talk himself out of this sticky situation.

Lowellmina snapped back at him. “Maybe if our two nations still had a volatile relationship. But Natra is slowly inching its borders into the West and working on building cordial relations with surrounding nations. If you gift an Imperial prince to the West and suggest they accept him as their own, your kingdom might be able to join the alliance between the Western nations!”

Of course, executing this had its risks. By tempting Demetrio in this matter, Natra could earn itself the wrath of the Empire, and the Western nations might prey upon their newest member of the alliance—Natra.

However, Wein might be able to pull it off. With Demetrio as the ace up his sleeve, he could have the Empire and the West in the palm of his hand and snatch up everything for himself. He’d done something similar before.

If that happens, I’ll be cornered… The Empire will be cornered…!

Lowellmina was confident that she could go against both Bardloche and Manfred once she absorbed Demetrio’s faction. If the Western nations butted into their affairs with Demetrio by their side, her calculations would be thrown off, which would be the same as her plan failing. She had to prevent that from happening.

“Demetrio, please come this way. Prince Wein is trying to use you…!”

She had failed to seize Demetrio by force, so Lowellmina’s only option was to persuade him to come of his own volition. It hit her that this was their final battle. She was sweating.

“As if you’re any better, Princess Lowellmina. Think about this for a minute, Prince Demetrio. Will your wishes come true if you stay in the Empire?”

This was Wein’s final battle, too. If he could just appeal to Demetrio and convince him to come to Natra, he would win. If he failed, he would lose.

“Brother! Siding with the West will put the entire Empire in danger! You might have fought for the throne with our other brothers, but you must all have love for our country!”

“They’re suspicious of your lineage! And who’s to blame for that? None other than Princess Lowellmina herself! Should you trust the woman who caused you to lose everything?”

Wein’s and Lowellmina’s words sliced through him like knives. Demetrio’s fate was suspended between them.

No one else could intervene. They all watched the situation unfold with bated breath. The only one permitted to step in was the one being contested, Demetrio himself.

“……”

…He was staring intensely at the final page of the diary.

I guess I wasn’t loved after all…

Of course, it was still conjecture that he wasn’t the Emperor’s son, but Demetrio had surprised himself. He had accepted it so readily.

His mother’s eyes had been cold whenever she’d looked at him. She’d pressured him into becoming Emperor over and over. All those gifts that she threw away.

It was clear that his mother had seen him only as a tool of revenge against the Empire.

I see… That was it, huh…?

Demetrio was the child of a foreign citizen. Few in the palace had any faith in him. His mother gave him a place to belong with her love. But if her love had been a lie…

I really…don’t have anything left—

Wein and Lowellmina were bickering over whether Demetrio should stay in the Empire or head West. He had no future in the Empire. His fate would either end in forced retirement or poisoned alcohol.

So what would happen if he joined the West? He imagined he wouldn’t become Emperor by turning into their lapdog and defying his homeland. What waited for him was the title of the feudal lord or death.

Either way, he’d never be Emperor. Accepting this fact didn’t change anything in Demetrio’s heart. He’d already lost the reason to complete his goal. He felt nothing for the throne, the Empire, or his own life.

Maybe I’m better off dead… His mind was crowded with such thoughts.

Just then, he suddenly looked at the fallen diary of his mother.

A notebook of curses. Who would have thought her mild features could house such hatred? He hadn’t noticed it, even though he should have been the one closest to her.

Emotions rose to the surface: Shame. Frustration. Remorse. Would the outcome have been any different if he’d paid more attention to her feelings? He searched for an answer, flipping through the diary. He finally came across the last page.

Demetrio stared at it. His eyes widened.

Written there was a short message devoid of any loathing for the Empire.

—I know he has it in him to make a grand Emperor.

Unlike the rest of the diary, there was no severity, anger, or resentment. It was short, transient—and affectionate.

…I see.

He remembered what Wein had said before: “Humans rarely have just one motive. For better or worse, our actions can be perceived in many ways. That’s why people can just pick and choose the one that suits their needs, as long as they can agree with the outcome.”

Demetrio didn’t understand this before. But after reading the diary, it dawned on him.

…I still have a purpose.

His heart soaring, the prince stood up on his own two legs.

“—Prince Wein.”

Demetrio’s voice came out of nowhere. It cut off Wein and Lowellmina’s verbal war. All eyes turned on him as he stood and looked over his shoulder.

“An invite to Natra? Who do you think I am? I’m Demetrio, the First Imperial Prince. I would never set foot in the boonies!”

Lowellmina broke out into a victorious smile, and Wein frowned.

“However! You helped me get this far, even though you’re foreign royalty. You may have other motives in mind, but my name would be sullied if I didn’t reward your efforts.”

Wein looked at him curiously. The smile on Lowellmina’s face disappeared. She had a bad feeling about this.

Demetrio turned to her. “Lowellmina, you don’t want me to join the West, right?”

“Huh? Y-yes, that’s correct.” Lowellmina nodded over and over, begging him not to do it.

“Then, I have a condition: You will complete the ceremonial baptism in my place.”

“What?” Lowellmina yelped involuntarily.

“Incompetent as I may be, even I know you want to become Empress. Isn’t that right?”

“P-please slow down. Well, yes, it’s true, but if I went through the baptism without laying the groundwork first, I would make enemies and—”

“Uh-huh. Obviously, our stupid brothers would fight you. Some of your patriots who believed in your message that you’re a servant of the people might be enraged when they realize they were pawns for your own goals. But you have to do it anyway.”

Lowellmina was at a loss for words.

Demetrio ignored her. “Mother hoped I would be a great Emperor, but those dreams are dashed.”

His mother had hated the Empire. That was an irrefutable fact. However, Wein said people’s motives were multifaceted. If that was the case, then his mother must have had some love for the Empire and her child. Demetrio was going to chose to believe that was true. He would follow the dreams of his mother, lover of the Empire. That was the only way he could be pious.

“You’ve beaten me. Now, I know you’re the ruler that our Empire needs most… Take my place and become Empress, Lowellmina.”

That hammered the last nail in his political coffin.

Lowellmina and the vassals sank into breathless awe. It didn’t take too long for her to regain her composure.

“…That goes without saying. I shall become Empress,” she answered clearly before timidly adding, “But, erm…might I have some time to gather my thoughts?”

“Why would I grant such a thing to the person who ruined me?”

Lowellmina gave no reply.

Demetrio understood that it would be for the best if she did things her own way to be Empress. But she’d been allowed to run wild until now. Who could blame him for wanting some petty revenge?

“If you need someone to back you up, I have the perfect person in mind.”

“R-really? Who?”

“The one right in front of you.” Demetrio pointed next to Lowellmina: Wein. “Prince Wein, I’d like to reward you, but I’ve lost my land and authority. So I can only present you with the opportunity to wring my sister of everything she’s worth.”

Demetrio couldn’t go to the West, but Wein wasn’t going to stay quiet if he had to leave with nothing, especially after such a long stretch of fighting. And so the Imperial prince would weaken Lowellmina’s position and make it easier for Wein to get ahead. Demetrio was practically begging Wein to work with him here.

As soon as he picked up on this, Wein’s shoulder suddenly drooped. “Looks like I got tripped up at the finish line.”

“You told me I carried a heavy curse before. You were right, but it was also a message of hope. That little thing let me get the better of you. I won’t say this again, so listen closely… Thanks for getting me this far.”

“Words of gratitude from an Imperial prince? That’s a priceless experience.” Wein smiled. “It would be rude of me to ask more of you. As you say, Prince, I’ll have Princess Lowellmina pay my debts.”

“Yes, please make her life a living nightmare.”

“Hold on !” Lowellmina cried, standing next to the two princes, who had come to an understanding.

Demetrio gave her an easygoing smile before approaching his vassals.

“Y-Your Highness, we…”

“Join Lowellmina. She won’t make you regret it.”

“But, Your Highness—”

“It’s fine… Forgive me for failing to lead you to glory.” Demetrio walked briskly past his vassals as they hung their heads, and he approached the prime minister. “Keskinel, I’m forfeiting my claim to the throne.”

This signaled the end of Demetrio’s political career. If he didn’t formally retire, he might be hounded by others trying to use him for their own diplomatic schemes. And more important…

“I give up my title as an Imperial prince. So…it shouldn’t matter who my parents were.”

He would protect his mother’s reputation.

“…You’re right,” Keskinel said, politely bowing and intending to respect Demetrio’s decision.

Afterward, it was officially announced that Imperial Prince Demetrio had relinquished his claim to the throne. The citizens weren’t given too many details, so they were confused by his motives and annoyed that there was still no Emperor, even after this messy fight.

At the same time, Imperial Princess Lowellmina had announced her own candidacy. The remaining two princes were outraged when she told them that she had no faith in leaving the fate of the Empire in her stupid brothers’ hands and that she had already completed the ceremonial baptism. The citizens themselves had mixed feelings over the idea of the first Empress.

What would become of the Empire? No one knew the answer, but it was clear to all that these events would bring new trouble.