Chapter 156

Chapter 156
### Chapter 156

The assembly of court nobles felt a collective chill, as if their very pulses had faltered.

To cast doubt upon the purity of the imperial blood—specifically that of the Second Prince, the presumptive heir to the throne—was an act of staggering audacity. This went beyond mere whispers of sedition; it was an overt, undeniable declaration of high treason.

“…Are you truly aware of the gravity of your words?”

Cedric maintained a mask of indifference as he looked at Fritz. He projected the air of a man facing a query so preposterous it didn’t warrant a genuine reply.

Nonetheless, Fritz continued to press his ‘reality’ upon the Prince.

“Legitimate offspring of the sovereign house possess the innate ability to trigger the enchanted relics of the departed Emperor. Indeed, the entirety of the imperial treasury of artifacts is calibrated specifically for those of direct descent.”

“Be silent.”

“Consequently, Your Highness, as the Second Prince, should find no difficulty in activating them. You ought to prove your legitimacy by doing so here and now. If you cannot…”

“Hold your tongue! Such insolence!”

Unable to withstand the clinical dissection of the situation, Cedric’s composure broke into a thunderous shout. His skin flushed a violent shade of red, and his gaze radiated a lethal hostility that suggested he was on the verge of cutting Fritz down where he stood.

Fritz, however, remained unmoved. “Is it your intention to execute me in this chamber?”

“Do you believe I would hesitate to kill a common messenger?”

“Not at all. I am simply pointing out that my death will not alter the facts.”

“…”

“I have presented my case. The burden of clarification now rests with Your Highness.”

“Clarification?!”

Cedric felt the urge to scream—to demand why he should have to explain anything at all—but the words died in his throat. He could see the shifting eyes of the nobility; their faces were already clouded with burgeoning doubt and confusion.

Fighting back his soaring temper, Cedric’s thoughts turned tactical. Regardless of the validity of the messenger’s claims, a flat refusal to engage would only cement the brewing suspicions. He desperately needed a logical pretext for his inability to command the relics.

“I cannot fathom what fantasy has taken hold of you, but your premise is entirely flawed. That only those of direct blood can wield these artifacts? Where did you encounter such a fabrication?”

“It sounds as though you are suggesting my information is erroneous.”

“The imperial artifacts are accessible to anyone provided the previous sovereign grants them the necessary clearance. One need only observe the armaments of the Red Wing Knights to see the proof of this.”

This statement contained a grain of truth.

The Red Wing Knights, the elite guard serving under the Emperor’s personal command and hailed as the most formidable force in the realm, were outfitted entirely with enchanted gear. They tapped into the power of these items through the Emperor’s delegated authority, a fact demonstrated during the brutal suppression of the Krepelt uprising.

“Following the established protocol, I was meant to receive such authorization from the late Emperor, but time was against us. No one anticipated his sudden departure to the Eight Gods.”

“To clarify, then: Your Highness never actually received this authorization from the former Emperor?”

“That is the case. Regarding my brother, it would not be shocking if he could operate them. To be candid, our father held my brother in… quite high affection.”

Cedric was subtly painting a picture where the late Emperor, intending to pass the crown to the Crown Prince, had granted him all the necessary permissions in advance. However, since Cedric now held the reins of power, dwelling on the late Emperor’s preferences was a moot point.

“Furthermore, the more I consider it, the more suspicious your story becomes. The Duke surely witnessed Sir Glen utilizing magical artifacts with his own eyes. How do you explain that discrepancy? Are you attempting to deceive those who lack an understanding of the arcane with these falsehoods?”

Cedric gave a sharp, mocking laugh, citing Glen, who had been sent out on the late Emperor’s business. If Fritz’s claim that only direct descendants could use the gear were true, then Glen’s documented use of them would be an impossibility.

Yet, Fritz merely shook his head with a calm demeanor.

“It pains me to say it, but it is Your Highness who is misrepresenting the nature of things.”

“What?”

“A true imperial descendant is akin to a master of a house holding his own key. Others are merely guests who have been lent a spare. It is nonsensical for the master of the house to claim he cannot enter because he wasn’t handed a key.”

“So you insist I should be able to command them even without a formal transfer of rights? Are you now trying to bully me with invented theories? This is farcical. To think you would dare argue the mechanics of imperial artifacts against a member of the royal family.”

The surrounding nobles were paralyzed, caught between two men locked in a fierce intellectual duel where neither would yield. Lacking specialized magical training, the lords could not discern who held the truth.

In that moment of tension, Marius, who had been standing quietly by Fritz’s side in the guise of a servant, stepped forward.

“If there is such uncertainty, why not seek the counsel of Lord Blasker, the leader of the Flame School? Surely there is no higher authority on magic within these walls.”

“And who are you supposed to be?”

“I am Marius, the High Mage of Asagrim.”

Cedric’s expression darkened with irritation. He felt they were exploiting the prestige granted by the late Emperor just to entertain this nonsense.

Taking a stabilizing breath, Cedric turned his gaze toward the court mage.

“Lord Blasker. This elder seeks your professional view, so pray, clarify—”

Cedric stopped mid-sentence. While the other courtiers looked merely uncertain, Blasker was visibly shaking, his complexion turned a ghostly white.

Marius directed a thin smile at the mage.

“Lord Blasker. Please inform us: how do the imperial artifacts truly function?”

—

Blasker Linveil, the commander of the court mages, squeezed his eyelids shut.

The vast knowledge he usually wore as a badge of honor felt like a heavy shackle today. Because his understanding was so deep, he found it impossible to ignore the reality of the situation.

“Speak plainly. What is the significance of the Second Prince being unable to wake the imperial relics?”

“…”

“Is it factual that they operate only through the explicit permission of the late Emperor? If a ruler perishes abruptly without delegating those rights, does it imply the artifacts are rendered useless forever?”

Blasker found himself unable to produce a response.

Among the myriad of ancient enchanted items, no noble house would ever configure their inheritance in such a restrictive manner. To require a manual transfer for every generation? If a patriarch died unexpectedly, it would turn priceless heirlooms into dead weight, regardless of the bloodline.

In contrast, using genetic or bloodline resonance to identify an owner was a standard practice. In the eras of old, it was so commonplace that nearly every prominent household utilized it.

*If only I were the sole person aware of this.*

How simple it would be if he could just weave a lie to settle the unrest and mask the truth. But the mechanics of artifact ownership were fundamental concepts for any trained mage. Even if he attempted to deceive the room, the other mages in the court would see through the ruse immediately.

“…It is not an absolute impossibility.”

Ultimately, Blasker offered a non-committal, weak confirmation. It was a rare occurrence, certainly, but could one say it was entirely impossible?

Yet, that tepid defense felt like a killing blow to Cedric. It was glaringly obvious to everyone in attendance that the mage was desperately trying to provide cover for an scenario that was fundamentally unlikely.

Marius let his lips curl into a derisive smirk at the answer.

“Indeed, not impossible. I have personally never encountered an artifact with such a cumbersome restriction, but perhaps you have been more fortunate.”

“…”

Blasker retreated into silence once more. He understood that further lying would only lead to a public unmasking.

The nobility watched in growing dread as Blasker failed to provide a robust counter-argument. For all intents and purposes, his silence had validated the accusations Fritz had leveled.

While the room remained paralyzed by the shocking turn of events—

“Apprehend… apprehend them.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Seize them! Take these men into custody this instant!”

Cedric’s voice broke into a frenzied roar. It no longer mattered if they were spreading fabrications or exposing state secrets. Either way, they had struck at the very core of imperial legitimacy—a crime that demanded a brutal response. He would have them dragged to the dungeons and broken until they pleaded for the end.

As the knights surged forward to surround Fritz and his companions—

“We are grateful for the Second Prince’s reception, but our time here has concluded.”

*Whoosh!*

“What is this?!”

“A ward!”

A shimmering barrier manifested, pulsing with streaks of cerulean light, forcing the knights to stumble back in alarm. Recognizing the magical nature of the wall, Cedric screamed at his lead mage.

“Lord Blasker, tear down this barrier!”

“I—I am unable to!”

“What do you mean! You are a master of the craft!”

“The caster’s power is on a level far beyond my own! Dispel it? I cannot even hope to scratch it!”

Blasker lowered his head, overwhelmed by a sense of inadequacy. He had always viewed himself as one of the five greatest mages of the age, yet here was a power that made his own look like child’s play. He felt the foundation of his career turning to ash.

Looking at the defeated Blasker, Cedric ground his teeth as a parting taunt reached him.

“We shall depart now. I trust Your Highness will find a way to manage the fallout of this meeting.”

“You arrogant wretches…!”

*Flash!*

Before Cedric could finish his threat, a radiant burst of light filled the hall. The onlookers were forced to shield their eyes from the blinding glare. By the time the spots cleared from their vision, Fritz and his entourage were nowhere to be found.

In the heavy silence that followed, the nobles began to cast nervous glances at Cedric. They found him staring back with a gaze that promised cold, calculated violence.

“Not a single whisper of what transpired here today is to leave this chamber.”

“…”

“No response? Perhaps some of you have kin you are eager to put at risk?”

“N-No, Your Highness!”

“I swear by the Eight Gods, my lips are sealed!”

Cedric closed his eyes as he listened to the frantic oaths of the nobility. Despite their terror, he knew the secret would eventually seep out. He had to take definitive action before the rumors became uncontainable.

“Lord Blasker, a private word.”

—

Just as Cedric feared, the whispers didn’t take long to travel. The court nobles were terrified, but the palace had too many walls with ears. No matter the threats of execution, bits of the truth began to leak through the cracks.

Moreover, the actions of the Duke’s party were being scrutinized by the entire Empire. Since the high-profile meeting had ended without an official decree, curious parties began to dig. It wasn’t long before several high-ranking lords uncovered the heart of the matter.

Among them was Marquis Bernhardt.

“The Duke’s envoy actually challenged the Second Prince’s lineage? Is this verified?”

“It is. And it appears the accusation carries significant weight.”

“What? Are you suggesting the Second Prince is truly not of the late Emperor’s seed?”

“Nothing is confirmed, but the level of censorship is extreme, and no counter-proof has been offered. If it were a simple lie, wouldn’t they have proven him wrong immediately to strengthen their position?”

“Ooh…!”

Marquis Bernhardt felt a surge of adrenaline at the spy’s words. He had never been a true supporter of the Second Prince, fearing the young man would clip his wings once he secured the throne. He had only sided with him because the Crown Prince was an utter failure.

But a flaw in the Second Prince’s very right to rule changed everything.

The Marquis’s mind began to weave a complex web of opportunity.

*If this holds true, the Second Prince’s claim is void. And the Crown Prince, having lost the respect of the people, has no path back to the palace.*

This meant the throne would sit empty for a time, followed by the inevitable chaos of Cedric’s desperate attempts to hold onto power. If Marquis Bernhardt could produce a tractable puppet from a distant branch of the imperial line and establish himself as a neutral third power, who would have the strength to oppose him?

Success would mean he could rule the Empire as a regent, hiding behind a figurehead. If he played his cards right, within a few generations, the ruling house of the Empire might shift from the name Astria to Roglan.

The Marquis smiled, a cold shiver of excitement running down his spine.

“The Eight Gods are truly smiling upon me today.”