Chapter 170

Chapter 170
Chapter 170

Gulp, gulp.

Positioned below the Emperor’s majestic jade throne, seated in the chair of the regent, Second Prince Cedric was aggressively consuming wine directly from the bottle.

Upon draining the container in a single, breathless draught, Cedric immediately flung the empty glass vessel away.

Crash!

The bottle exploded with a sharp, jarring crack, yet the noise drew no servants. He had laid down a lethal ultimatum: no person was to set foot near the audience hall for at least sixty minutes.

Within the hushed expanse of the room, Cedric tracked the patterns on the ceiling for a second before whispering, “I can’t even find release in intoxication.”

Mumbling to himself, Cedric reached out to grab another bottle. But before his fingers could close around the neck, a slender, obsidian streak darted from the darkness. The shadow flicked the bottle just out of reach, leaving Cedric’s hand to grasp at the cold air.

“…What are you playing at?”

—Ingesting such a quantity so rapidly is detrimental to your physical well-being. I empathize with your plight, but I implore you to maintain your composure.

“Ha, you empathize?”

Cedric produced a dry, bitter chuckle at the voice echoing from the corners of the room. He lowered his gaze and laughed as though the sheer mockery of the situation was too much to bear, then cast a sharp look into the gloom.

“Very well. If you truly understand, then speak. What do you imagine my internal state to be at this moment?”

—…

“The Empire, which was finally within my palm, is leaking out like dry sand. The palace aristocrats, who once vowed they would trade their spirits for my favor, now treat me like a leper. and from every corner of the map, power-hungry idiots are posturing as if the world has been handed to them on a platter.”

—The game is not concluded.

“Indeed, you are correct. It is not over.”

To be sure, Cedric still possessed a path to victory. Regardless of how the insurgents behaved, he maintained his grip on Tivron. If he could consolidate his loyalists at the capital and restore order to the Empire, the dissenters would be forced into silence once more…

“But why in the world should I be forced to crawl through such lengths?!”

Smash!

With a face twisted into a demonic mask, Cedric lunged and threw the wine bottle at the jade throne. The seat of power, occupied by a thousand years of rulers, was splattered with a dark, crimson stain from the bursting wine.

Heaving with exertion, Cedric kicked over a nearby table and let out a guttural roar.

“It was mine from the start! I was the rightful ruler of this Empire! And yet, I—the Sovereign—am expected to sit across from those talentless mongrels and participate in petty power games?!”

—…

“Even a victory only grants me what I already possessed! Yet those bandits, regardless of the outcome, get to tear pieces off the Empire as if it were their personal property! What sort of crooked wager is this?!”

Clatter, crash, shatter.

After toppling, snapping, and pulverizing everything within reach, Cedric drew breath in jagged, uneven heaves. He recognized that his outburst lacked logic, but the frustration was simply more than he could bottle up.

He had ascended the throne long ago; he only needed to remain seated. But now, he was uncertain if he could ever truly solidify his rule, even if he dedicated the rest of his days to the effort.

Every bit of this chaos had originated from a lone messenger arriving from the North.

“Lucian! Bernhardt! You treacherous curs! Even hacking you into pieces and tossing them to the hounds would be too merciful…!”

Cedric’s complexion was a deep scarlet, fueled by a towering rage that made his limbs shudder. While Lucian was the catalyst who had ignited the fire by doubting his lineage, Bernhardt was the one truly responsible for the wildfire-like spread of the scandal.

Bernhardt had taken the doubts Lucian cast, woven them into elaborate theories, categorized the evidence with precision, and distributed it throughout the Empire. The nobility, who had been harboring quiet suspicions, finally abandoned Cedric because of the manuscripts Bernhardt had put into circulation.

In Cedric’s mind, Bernhardt was a foe just as loathsome as Lucian.

“What is all this hysteria over a simple magic tool?! It is a relic a millennium old! It is perfectly natural for such an object to malfunction!”

—The papers spreading among the commoners and lords are merely logic bent to serve the rebels’ agenda. Had the understanding of magic remained as sophisticated as it was in antiquity, they would never have succeeded with such a deception.

“Precisely! I never suspected those rats would so cleverly weaponize the general ignorance of the masses!”

Cedric clung to those words as a lifeline, trying to rationalize his downfall. He insisted to himself that the situation was merely a series of believable lies filling a void of knowledge. He maintained the internal lie that he was the true biological offspring of the late Emperor and the only legitimate successor.

After fuming for several minutes, a long breath escaped his lips.

“…Where did the first crack appear?”

Was it the failure to execute First Prince Claude earlier, trying instead to squeeze more use out of him? Was it the error of poking a beast like Lucian? Or was it, from the very start, the decision to ignore his father’s final wishes and reach for the crown…

Bang, bang, bang!

“Y-Your Grace! Prince Cedric! A catastrophe has occurred!”

Pulled from his brooding, Cedric knit his brows at the violent thumping on the chamber doors. He had issued explicit warnings that he would execute anyone who interrupted him, yet they had already cast his words aside to create this din.

Finding no reason to speak, Cedric used his eyes to signal the shadow to kill the person at the door.

“The insurgents have abducted Prince Claude and are making a break for it! You must come out at once!”

“Tsk, about time.”

Hearing the report, Cedric waved off the silent executioner. This development was significant enough to excuse the breach of his orders. However, Cedric, who had foreseen Claude’s attempt at flight, yelled back with a cold, unmoved expression.

“Let them run!”

“Wh-What?!”

“I have already laid the trap. Even if they manage to get past the White Walls, they won’t make it far before they are in chains.”

Among those questioning Cedric’s right to rule, there were bound to be opportunists looking to align themselves with Claude. There would be all types—those leading the rebellion openly and those who would stay quiet now only to claim a reward later.

After careful thought, Cedric had realized he couldn’t stop the escape from happening entirely, so he had wrapped a hidden net around the perimeter of the White Walls.

“They will move as a small unit to stay fast. They will be intercepted in no time.”

“Y-Your Highness… Please forgive me, but the insurgents are not moving toward the White Walls.”

“What? If they aren’t heading for the city gates, where could they possibly be going?”

Whether they tried to burrow into the earth or soar into the clouds, they needed to clear the walls to truly vanish. Just as Cedric was pondering the stupidity of the report, he went rigid at the servant’s next words.

“I cannot explain the logic, but the rebels are sprinting toward Prince Claude’s former chambers!”

“…!”

If the fugitives were moving toward the center of the palace rather than the exit, there was only one conclusion. A method of departure—a hidden tunnel or a magical shortcut—existed there that was far more efficient.

Grasping the reality of the threat, Cedric’s face went white as he shrieked.

“Intercept them this instant! They plan to use a concealed magical artifact to escape!”

—

Slash!

“Huff, huff!”

Richard, having slaughtered the entire security detail to reach Claude’s private quarters, was gasping for air. The majority of the knights who had joined the insurrection were dead, and those who survived were on the brink of fainting from pure fatigue. This was the inevitable price for charging into the core of the Imperial Palace—a place swarming with soldiers—instead of following a pre-planned exit strategy.

“Tsk, tsk. Is this the extent of your capability after one minor skirmish? I followed your lead thinking you had some value, but your incompetence is staggering.”

Richard, who had been trying to ignore the bitterness of their losses, felt a wave of fury at Claude’s voice coming from the rear. He didn’t expect Claude to draw a blade or use his royal presence to scare off the guards, but he had hoped for at least a shred of sympathy for the men who had died in his name.

To be insulted so blatantly, without so much as a fake gesture of thanks.

A retort burned in his throat, but he couldn’t risk upsetting Claude’s temperament at the exact moment his cooperation was required.

“…My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

“Never mind. I didn’t set the bar very high for you people regardless.”

Click.

Claude didn’t bother to wait for the apology to finish before stepping into his old room. Moments later, Claude pressed a specific spot on the masonry, and a tiny, concealed door popped open. Within the cavity, barely large enough to hold a few trinkets, sat a ring and a necklace.

“Hmph, it seems that brother of mine failed to locate this spot. He truly believes he is the only one who thinks ahead. Did he think no one else spent their lives making contingency plans?”

“Your Highness, time is of the essence. The guards are converging.”

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Hearing the heavy rhythm of boots approaching, Richard pushed Claude to move. Claude scowled in irritation for a second before sliding the ring onto his finger.

Instantly, a crimson glow radiated from the jewelry, and the very atmosphere began to warp and ripple.

Whoosh!

“Oh, so this is the legendary Imperial…!”

Richard stared in wonder as a Dimensional Gate materialized in the middle of the room. The second they crossed that threshold, they would be beyond Cedric’s reach forever.

It was at the moment Richard and his knights surged toward the Dimensional Gate.

Thud!

“Gah?!

Richard bounced back as if he had run full-tilt into a stone wall. As he scrambled to his feet, baffled by the invisible barrier, Claude erupted into a fit of laughter.

“You moron. You aren’t invited.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve activated a barrier with a secondary relic so you can’t follow. How do you like it? You didn’t even notice it engage, did you?”

“Your Highness, what are you doing?!”

Richard was completely lost, blindsided by Claude’s sudden betrayal. He couldn’t wrap his head around why the Prince would do this after they had risked everything to get him here.

Claude addressed Richard with a sneer of pure mockery.

“You simpleton. Did you think I was blind? You likely worked for Cedric until you found a better deal with me. Your only aim was to grab power.”

“Your Highness!”

“You planned to present me to that Lucian person and play the part of my elite guard, didn’t you? Making sure that anyone who wanted to speak to their Prince had to pay a toll to you. Your ambition is written on your face.”

“….”

Richard had no response for Claude, who spoke with the clarity of someone who had seen his inner thoughts. He certainly did crave status. He also wanted to jump from a sinking ship before he was executed as a traitor for his ties to the Second Prince. He had also assumed that in Asagrim, the center of Lucian’s power, Claude would be forced to lean on his rescuers.

But even with those selfish motives, Claude’s lack of foresight was beyond anything Richard had imagined.

“…Your Highness, I will ask you one thing. Do you truly imagine that if you arrive in Asagrim by yourself, Duke Lucian will bow his head in loyalty and hand you the keys to the world?”

Even if he reached the North alone, what leverage did Claude have? Loyalty? Allegiance during a civil war was nothing but a fragile house of cards built on greed and necessity. Legitimacy? If a man had a title but not a single soldier or a piece of bread to his name, he was nothing more than a puppet used to sign off on someone else’s orders.

The many monarchs throughout history weren’t idiots for putting up with the corruption of their inner circles. It was because they were powerless to enforce their will if they didn’t have a dedicated force to give their words weight.

However, Claude seemed oblivious to this basic reality as he smiled and gave a dismissive shrug.

“At the very least, my own voice will be heard. It won’t be a filtered command coming through a sycophant like you, but a decree that is truly mine.”

“Haha.”

At Claude’s response, which proved he was living in a fantasy world, Richard let out a hollow, defeated laugh. To think the Prince still believed that, just like the old days, his problems would vanish if he simply gave an order to the right person.

Mutual respect and dialogue only existed between parties that held some measure of power—some teeth—but the dim-witted Claude had pulled his own fangs.

“You viewed the entire world as your playground, and now you’ve put yourself in a position where you’ll need a stranger’s permission to take a breath. This is the path you carved for yourself, so if you’re looking for someone to blame, look in a mirror.”

“…What did this dog just say? Have you lost your mind?”

At the sudden abandonment of formal honorifics, Claude’s face twisted in fury. He was outraged by the blatant disrespect, but Richard, the man who had spoken, simply waited for his death with hollow, empty eyes.

After burning Richard with a final glare, Claude clicked his tongue.

‘I’d enjoy carving that tongue out of his head, but I don’t need to waste the energy; Cedric will do much worse to him.’

Knowing Cedric’s cruel streak, he certainly wouldn’t grant the traitor a quick end once he realized what had happened. Shedding any remaining concern, Claude dove into the Dimensional Gate.

He felt not a single spark of remorse for the lives of the men who had rescued him, regardless of why they had done it.

Boom!

The moment Claude stepped through the portal, the heavy doors to the room were blown inward, and soldiers flooded the space. Cedric, following close behind the front line, caught a glimpse of the back of Claude’s head as he vanished into the gate and roared.

“Stop him!”

At the sound of Cedric’s voice, Claude looked back one last time. All that remained of the gate was a shrinking slit of light no bigger than a palm, but Cedric saw them clearly.

The eyes of his brother, narrowed in a mocking smile, watching Cedric’s helpless frustration.

Flash.

“….”

“….”

A suffocating silence took hold as the Dimensional Gate winked out of existence. Though the soldiers didn’t know the specifics of the magic, it was obvious to everyone present that Claude had escaped.

After shaking with a silent, internal fury for a long moment, Cedric turned his gaze toward Richard, the man who had organized the breakout, and spoke.

“…Do not dream of a quick death, you traitors.”

Under the weight of Cedric’s murderous intent, Richard and the remaining knights could do nothing but tremble in the quiet room.