Chapter 155

Chapter 155
## Chapter 155

“Hold your tongue, you snake.”

First Prince Claude growled, his eyes fixed on Cedric with the intensity of a trapped predator.

If it weren’t for the heavy iron binding his wrists and ankles, he looked as though he would have lunged forward to rip Cedric’s throat out then and there.

“As the rightful ruler of this Great Empire, I order you: remove these chains this instant and bow before me. This is the final moment I shall offer you my mercy.”

“You certainly have a recurring theme with these ‘final’ moments. Is this the seventh time you’ve granted me one?”

“Don’t play word games with me! You should be groveling in thanks! It is only through my immense magnanimity that your chances have multiplied!”

“And once more, I find myself forced to stomp on that chance. I refuse. Please, do enjoy your continued stay in this rot.”

At Cedric’s biting mockery, Claude mashed his teeth together with a bone-grinding sound.

More than half a year had passed since he was first cast into these shackles, yet his rage remained as white-hot as the day he arrived.

To some, such persistence might look like an unbreakable spirit, but to Cedric, it was something far uglier.

It’s pure vanity. The delusional belief that he is so sacred that no soul would ever dare defy him.

Even with the scales tipped against him and every glimmer of hope extinguished, the look in Claude’s eyes—that unwavering conviction that the throne belonged to him by divine right—was utterly draining to witness.

Cedric felt that arguing with a stone wall would be a more productive use of his time.

Ignoring Cedric’s internal exasperation, Claude forged ahead with his usual rhetoric.

“Never forget this. I have extended many olive branches. When your head is finally put on display atop the ramparts, you will look back on this day with bitter regret.”

“…Brother, I am asking this with genuine curiosity: where do you find such misplaced certainty? It’s over. There is no path left for you to reclaim what you’ve lost.”

“A path? Preposterous. I am the firstborn of the Great Late Emperor and the only legitimate successor to this realm. There was never any other option but me, so why do you speak of ‘possibility’?”

Cedric massaged his temples, trying to dull a mounting headache.

He could see that this wasn’t mere theater; Claude truly, fundamentally believed his own words.

“So, you honestly believe that if the truth of your situation reached the public, the court would cast me out and seat you upon the throne?”

“This Empire has stood for a millennium. Even if the treacherous nobility follows you out of greed, do you think there are no loyal ministers left who value the path of honor?”

“Wake up. Even Marquis Bernhardt has pledged his sword to me now. Tell me, who are these ‘honorable’ men you’re counting on?”

“What!? Why would the Marquis…!”

The bravado vanished from Claude’s face as his eyes went wide with shock.

He looked utterly blindsided, unable to process why such a man would defect from his cause.

“What foul sorcery did you use to turn him, you viper!”

“It wasn’t sorcery. The Marquis simply reached his limit with you. If you had shown him even a modicum of respect or foresight, he might still be standing by your side.”

“Stop speaking in riddles! Give me the truth!”

“…The fact that you can’t grasp something so basic is exactly why you aren’t fit to wear the crown.”

Had the Marquis ever followed Claude out of true devotion? Hardly. He had chosen Claude because he was far dimmer than Cedric and seemed like a puppet that would be easy to string along.

But after Claude nearly led them all to ruin by dismissing the Marquis’s strategic counsel during the suppression of the revolt, the man had seen enough.

If you are going to be a fool, you should at least be a compliant one. But since you swing your blade blindly, striking ally and foe alike, it’s no wonder the Marquis abandoned you.

Cedric cut the thought short; continuing this circular argument was only making him more livid.

He hadn’t come down to these dungeons for idle chatter, anyway.

“Enough of this. Let’s get to the point. Are you prepared to do as I ask?”

“Do as you ask? What sort of request?”

“Duke Lucian is pressing for proof of whether you are breathing or buried. He is sending an envoy, and I need you to appear before him and speak a few lines about the ‘excellent’ care I am providing you.”

“A joke. Do you truly believe I would play a part in your theater?”

“If you play along, I will strike those chains from your limbs. If you wish, I can even arrange for a few attendants to see to your comforts…”

Before the sentence could land, a wet, disgusting sound echoed as a spray of spit flew through the air.

Caught off guard, Cedric jerked his head to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile.

Claude let out a sharp click of his tongue in frustration, while Cedric’s features twisted into a mask of fury.

“…Fine. Since you seem to cherish the weight of those irons so much, keep them. I won’t be coming to you for help again.”

“And I won’t be offering you another moment to beg for my forgiveness, either.”

*Slam!*

With Claude’s abrasive voice still ringing in the stone hallway, Cedric kicked the heavy door shut and marched away.

In that moment, he made a silent oath: he would eventually see that arrogant face drenched in genuine fear and tears of despair.

—

When the agreed-upon date arrived, Lucian wasted no time in sending his representative.

Given the volatile state of the realm, the protective detail was kept small, yet there was little fear of a roadside attack.

The eyes of the entire Empire were fixed on the messenger’s progress.

*Has he lost his mind? Once that envoy sets foot in the capital, there is no turning back the clock.*

*Why is the Second Prince so passive? He should at least be crafting a convincing lie!*

*It looks like neither man will blink. At this rate, a total civil war is inevitable.*

The lords whose lands were caught in the middle between the Imperial Throne and the North felt a knot in their stomachs.

This wasn’t a minor skirmish; the titans involved were the Imperial Dynasty and the Conqueror of the North.

If the swords were drawn, these middle-tier nobles would be the ones crushed in the collision of giants.

With the very future of their bloodlines dangling by a thread, their nerves were frayed to the breaking point.

However, there was one man whose anxiety eclipsed even theirs.

“Phew.”

Fritz, acting as Lucian’s voice, let out a heavy breath and wiped the moisture from his forehead for the tenth time.

Each time his hand touched his face, he felt the cold, slick sweat of a man under immense pressure.

Observing this, Marius, who was acting as his primary guardian, broke the silence.

“Are the nerves getting to you?”

“…I have shown you a shameful display. An envoy should be a mirror, reflecting no internal emotion, no matter the stakes.”

“It’s understandable. You are traveling to pull the final brick from an Empire that has stood for a thousand years. Anyone who truly understands the gravity of this mission would be trembling.”

Fritz gave a somber nod.

He was no stranger to putting his life on the line, but this mission carried a weight far greater than his own survival.

The words he was destined to speak within the Imperial Palace would dismantle a dynasty and plunge the world into the fires of war.

The burden of ending an entire era with a few sentences was a weight that even a veteran like Fritz struggled to carry.

“It’s ironic, really. I’m worrying about the fate of the world when I don’t even know if my own head will remain on my shoulders.”

“Put that thought out of your mind. You will return without a single bruise. That is why I and my followers are here.”

“Indeed. It is a level of protection far beyond what an old man like myself deserves.”

To ensure Fritz’s safety, Lucian had committed the strength of Marius, Colin, and Helen.

In a world where mages had been hunted for three centuries, these three were irreplaceable assets.

Losing any of them would be a catastrophic loss for the North, yet Lucian hadn’t wavered for a second.

*—Regardless of the cost, you must bring Fritz back to me. If it comes down to his life or yours, you are to die so that he may live. That is my first and final command.*

Thinking back to the intensity in Lucian’s eyes when he gave that order made Fritz’s chest tighten with emotion.

While the order might have served to keep Marius on a short leash, Fritz knew it was born from Lucian’s genuine care.

“Since I have been granted such extraordinary protection, I must fulfill the Duke’s vision, even if it costs me my soul. This anxiety is a luxury I have to abandon.”

“I feel the same. If I fail to bring you home, I have no future left. Just as His Grace ordered, I will become your shield, even if it means my end.”

“That is a great comfort.”

Fritz offered a small smile, but a lingering curiosity tugged at him.

Just what had this mage done to earn such terrifying animosity from Lucian?

The man possessed enough power that most leaders would overlook almost any character flaw.

Fritz couldn’t begin to guess the secret, but he knew one thing for certain.

If Marius couldn’t keep him safe, there wasn’t a soul on the continent who could.

—

Fritz’s company crossed out of Northern territory and eventually crossed into the lands controlled by the Imperial Family.

The Regency immediately dispatched a battalion of knights to conduct them to Tivron.

On the surface, it was a gesture of respect for an Imperial guest and a show of goodwill toward Lucian, but the true purpose was clear: surveillance.

*They want to ensure no disgruntled factions can whisper in our ears before we reach the palace.*

Fritz saw right through the Second Prince’s paranoia and found it almost pitiable.

The Prince was obsessing over minor political leaks while a much larger storm was brewing right in front of him.

Regardless, Fritz had no interest in side-deals, so he accepted the escort without complaint.

Upon their arrival in Tivron, the group was ushered into an immediate audience with Second Prince Cedric.

Seated on the Regent’s chair just below the fabled Jade Throne, Cedric greeted Fritz with a polished smile.

He behaved as though he had completely forgotten that Fritz’s master had recently imprisoned his own royal inspector.

“Welcome to Tivron, the crown jewel of our Empire, Messenger. You must be exhausted after such a grueling trek.”

“I am grateful for the Second Prince’s hospitable reception. I am Fritz, representing the house of Asagrim.”

“As the Duke’s chosen voice, I trust you’ve brought tidings of peace. His devotion to the throne is a matter of record throughout the land.”

Despite the sharp edge hidden in Cedric’s greeting, Fritz simply bowed with practiced grace.

He was far too seasoned to be knocked off balance by petty sarcasm.

“If that was your expectation, I fear I must disappoint you. I have come to deliver the Duke’s inquiry.”

“An inquiry? The Duke has questions for the Crown?”

“It has been quite some time since we have had news of His Highness the First Prince, the rightful heir. As a loyal subject, how could the Duke not be concerned for his lord’s well-being?”

“A minor concern. My brother is simply confined to his chambers. He was deeply shaken by the passing of the Late Emperor and has been quite unwell.”

“Is his condition so fragile that he cannot receive visitors?”

“Regrettably, yes. The physicians insist that without total isolation and rest, his health could take a turn for the worse.”

Using a mysterious illness to block a meeting—it was a move as old as time, yet incredibly difficult to counter.

To force one’s way into the room of a sick royal was a slight that could be labeled as treason.

A typical envoy would be forced to retreat, knowing full well they were being lied to.

But Fritz held a tool that could shatter any excuse.

Drawing a steadying breath, Fritz pulled that tool from the depths of his traveling robes.

“If his health is so poor, then we must respect that. However, I must ask you to convey this to His Highness the First Prince.”

“What is that object?”

“It is a magical relic that the Late Emperor once bestowed upon the Duke. It is a device for two-way communication, though it can only be activated by the Emperor himself.”

“I see. So, because the Duke finds it useless, he is returning it to the throne now?”

“Exactly. Since it belongs to the First Prince, who is destined for the throne, it is only proper that it returns to his hand.”

Cedric’s eyes narrowed as he signaled an aide.

The attendant moved toward Fritz, took the glowing red stone with great care, and brought it to Cedric.

Cedric turned the stone over in his fingers, his expression one of curiosity, and clicked his tongue.

“I haven’t the faintest idea how to operate this. What a pity. If the Late Emperor had left a manual, we might have found a use for it.”

Fritz’s eyes sharpened.

Cedric was likely trying to get ahead of the situation, explaining away his inability to use the device before anyone could ask.

But that bit of political maneuvering had just handed Fritz the dagger he needed.

Seizing the opening, Fritz moved to execute Lucian’s final strike.

“That is most peculiar. Are not the Imperial relics forged so that even a babe of the direct royal line can wake them? If one possesses the blood of the Late Emperor, the stone should have ignited the moment it was touched.”

“…What are you saying?”

“Why would Your Highness need a manual for a relic of your own bloodline? And why, despite Your Highness holding it even now, does the stone remain cold and dark?”

Cedric stared back, his mind seemingly unable to grasp the words.

He couldn’t bridge the gap between Fritz’s question and the heritage he had taken for granted his entire life.

To that stunned Cedric, Fritz delivered the one sentence that would set the Empire ablaze.

“Your Highness the Second Prince… do you truly carry the blood of the Late Emperor?”