Chapter 41
Chapter 41
The Imperial Palace, Seraph.
Within that magnificent palace, the Third Princess, Lobelia, stood together with the Sixth Prince, Valen, awaiting a banquet with the Emperor.
“Sister, do you think I can truly earn Father’s favor?”
“As long as you carry yourself with confidence, Father will not find fault with you.”
This was the first time the Sixth Prince, Valen, would be dining with the Emperor.
Receiving the Emperor’s time was no easy matter.
There was a reason the Emperor had decided to hold a banquet with his children.
“…I didn’t think Father would even know my birthday.”
That was because today was the Sixth Prince’s tenth birthday.
A banquet to which all imperial family members had been invited.
It held even greater meaning, as the Emperor—who had never once shown his face on their birthdays—had personally arranged this banquet to celebrate Valen’s.
Unfortunately, aside from Lobelia, the other siblings had already sent word they would not attend, so it would be a modest meal…
‘To be able to spend time with Father.’
A great conquering monarch.
For Valen, simply being able to sit at the same table as His Majesty the Emperor was an immense honor.
“He remembers everything. It is not that he forgot you. But whether that is a good thing… I am not so sure.”
Lobelia gently stroked Valen’s head, sensing his tension.
Today was a turning point in his life.
For the Emperor’s children, turning ten carried such meaning.
After this banquet, many things would change.
“His Majesty says the time has come. You are to proceed to the banquet hall.”
“We will go at once.”
Lobelia nodded at the attendant who delivered the message.
“Valen, do not forget what I told you. Maintain your vigilance at all times. If you make even the slightest mistake…”
“Do not worry, Sister. I know this is not simply to see me. This is Father’s test.”
“…Very well. I trust you.”
Lobelia nodded and walked toward the banquet hall with Valen.
Though the young Valen’s face was stiff with tension, he stepped forward without hesitation and entered the hall with confidence.
Watching him, Lobelia slowly turned her head.
“Come in.”
The Emperor stood before a table filled with delicacies from land and sea, smiling with an almost human warmth as he looked at the two of them.
Flaming red hair that seemed ready to ignite at any moment, and sharp yellow eyes that could devour even a beast.
He did not look like a man who had lived for over a hundred years.
That man smiled brightly as he looked at them.
Yes, that man was—
“We greet Your Majesty.”
The Emperor of the Empire.
Abraham Vicious van Miltonia.
His mere presence overwhelmed others.
It felt as though they had sunk into the depths of a vast ocean, an intangible pressure pressing down upon them.
There was no hostility, no killing intent.
He merely showed interest.
And yet, that alone made it hard for Valen to breathe.
“Huff… huff…”
Valen’s body trembled.
He wanted to run away at any moment.
But—
“We greet… Your Majesty.”
He did not forget Lobelia’s words.
In the end, Valen endured the pressure and met Abraham’s gaze.
Valen was of imperial blood.
And so, he stood proud.
“Hmm.”
The Emperor seemed pleased, giving a slight nod.
The oppressive force weighing on Valen eased somewhat.
Only then was Valen able to breathe again and move forward.
“Lobelia, it has been a while. How go your studies?”
“Yes, thanks to Your Majesty’s grace, I continue to make steady progress.”
“Good. Continue to strive.”
After a brief formal exchange with Lobelia, Abraham turned to the true focus of this gathering—Valen.
“And Valen. Happy birthday. You are now a proper member of the imperial family.”
“I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty’s grace.”
“There is no need to be so stiff. Remain at ease, with only a proper amount of tension.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then sit. We will continue our conversation over the meal.”
Abraham chuckled lightly and gestured for the still-standing Valen and Lobelia to sit.
Valen took the seat directly across from him, while Lobelia sat to the side.
Thus began the banquet of the three.
Valen found the meal with Abraham less uncomfortable than he had expected.
Lobelia had been right.
Though Abraham seemed indifferent to his children, he was, in truth, paying close attention.
“I heard you placed first in the riding competition. It was your first time competing, was it not? Were you not burdened?”
“No, Your Majesty. I simply enjoyed riding together with the horse.”
“Good. On the battlefield, your horse is the one you must trust with your life. To realize that at such a young age… I am pleased.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Hahaha! What is there to thank? It was your own achievement. There is no need to thank me for everything. Even if I provided support, the result came from your own effort.”
“…Yes!”
Abraham was more emperor-like—and more human—than Valen had imagined.
Valen gradually forgot his fear and began to grow excited.
Abraham, too, seemed pleased, drinking as he enjoyed the moment.
As the atmosphere deepened,
Abraham spoke again, his tone now more serious than before.
“Valen, now that you are ten, you understand that you must compete with your siblings, do you not?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then what kind of emperor do you wish to become?”
“…I wish to become an emperor for all people.”
Valen swallowed dryly.
It might sound naive.
Even Lobelia, who had supported and cared for him, had smiled bitterly at that dream.
Would he be scolded? Or dismissed?
With a nervous heart, Valen waited for the Emperor’s answer.
“It will be a difficult path. The Empire has grown so vast that even I find it difficult to manage. The ‘all people’ you speak of will be countless and diverse beyond imagination. Can you truly say you will embrace them all?”
“I may not be able to say that with certainty. But I will strive endlessly to become someone who can.”
“Hm…”
Naive.
Yet Abraham did not find the answer entirely displeasing.
“Very well. A person cannot move forward without a dream. I look forward to the day you surpass your siblings and reach this seat.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Abraham smiled gently.
He did not particularly care what kind of ideals his successor would hold.
After all, had he not once been an emperor who dreamed of conquering the world?
Rather, one should dream that big.
The greater the dream, the greater the effort it demands.
Abraham looked at the wine glass in his hand for a moment, then set it down.
That was enough proof.
“Valen, I have entrusted your nanny with a gift. Receive it after the meal.”
“Yes…!”
Valen realized he had been acknowledged by Abraham.
And at that moment—
Thud!
Valen’s head burst apart.
A knife was lodged where his head had been.
He likely never even realized he was dying.
Abraham, seated across from him, spoke to a servant beside him with an indifferent expression.
“Bring me a new knife.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
Taking the new knife, Abraham began cutting the meat on his plate as if nothing had happened.
“Do you think I am wrong?”
The question was directed at Lobelia.
She stood frozen, one hand still stretched into the air.
She must have tried to catch the knife he had thrown.
A sudden attack.
She had been unable to respond.
The flames coiling around her wrist had restrained her.
The Emperor had not allowed her intervention.
But—
“…No. Your Majesty is correct.”
Valen could have responded.
Abraham’s attack had been one that Valen could have handled.
Valen died because, at the final moment, he let his guard down.
“For someone who says that, your eyes look as though you would kill me at any moment.”
Abraham glanced sideways at Lobelia’s hollow expression and smirked.
“You know as well as I do. This was my mercy. Valen would not have survived in this wretched imperial family.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Dying peacefully now was a better fate for him.”
Valen died with his dream intact.
Abraham believed that, perhaps, was for the best.
A dream too great would only break a person here.
In this imperial family, strength was everything.
Without it, one could not survive.
And the moment one let their guard down, even for an instant, they would lose something precious.
The moment one turned ten and was recognized as imperial, no one would protect them anymore.
That was why he killed him.
To see if he had the strength to protect his dream.
Unfortunately, Valen failed the test.
“You understand this as well, do you not, Lobelia? You experienced all that Valen would have faced before he did. You should not have planted dreams in him. You should not have given him warmth.”
Instead, she should have planted cruelty.
She should have broken that pure, dream-filled boy.
If she truly wanted him to survive, she should have done even that.
“The First Prince pursued ideals and abandoned his cause. The Second Prince pursued his cause and abandoned even his ideals, becoming a monster.”
The First Prince had abandoned even the position of Crown Prince and left the imperial family.
The Second Prince had thrown everything away to obtain that very position.
“And you, Lobelia? You are the only princess challenging for the throne. Which path do you think you resemble?”
Lobelia had chosen compromise.
She would pursue ideals without abandoning her cause.
Some would call her half-hearted. Others would call her contradictory.
And the Emperor, Abraham, said this—
“If you do not collapse, you will become the next Emperor, Lobelia.”
You are the one most suited to the throne.
“Of course…”
The Emperor smirked and looked at her again.
“You still have much immaturity to overcome.”
At that moment, Lobelia’s fist was already flying toward him.
No battle took place.
The gap between them was too vast for even a fight to exist.
Abraham looked down at the bloodied Lobelia and smiled.
“That was close.”
She had endured well.
It was Abraham who had provoked her, pushing her until she lashed out.
Had she endured until the very end, he would have given her a passing mark.
“For now, you resemble the First Prince more. Though your ability is far inferior.”
Of course, it would have been better if she had shown the capability to surpass him.
But she failed in both regards.
“Know that you received my mercy.”
With those words, Abraham left the banquet hall.
“……”
Lobelia, collapsed in a pool of blood, quietly clenched her fist.
It was humiliating.
Her own helplessness, unable to even lift a finger, was unbearable.
The gap was too great.
Splash.
She pushed herself up from the pool of blood.
The other surviving siblings might mock her.
Even she did.
“Pathetic.”
She was the first to mock herself.
No strength. No ability.
She lived only because of Abraham’s mercy.
She had survived by clinging to that mercy.
Bang!
Lobelia struck a pillar with her fist and staggered out of the banquet hall.
As she did, she saw someone standing in the corridor.
“Y-Your Highness… Prince Valen…”
It was Valen’s nanny.
In her arms, she held a sword that appeared to be a gift from the Emperor.
She clutched it tightly, as if it were something precious.
It was a fine weapon.
At the very least, it meant Abraham had sincerely celebrated Valen’s birthday.
If Valen had blocked that attack, he would have been receiving that sword with a bright smile.
The mere possibility of that tightened Lobelia’s chest.
She spoke briefly.
“He is dead.”
“Ah…”
The nanny trembled.
The Emperor’s gift in her arms felt like Valen’s corpse.
She collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
Leaving her behind, Lobelia staggered away.
She had to become Emperor.
She reaffirmed it again and again.
After throwing Stan Robinhood into some underground prison cell,
I arrived at the Cradle late.
Ha… I keep ending up going out like this.
Should I go to class? No, it’s probably already too late. Maybe I should just head to the workshop instead.
Skipping a day or two won’t get me expelled, right?
Yeah, I’ll go to the workshop.
“Hmm?”
Then I noticed someone nearby.
Another student skipping out like me?
Well, not everyone in the world is a model student.
Feeling a strange sense of kinship, I approached to take a look.
“….”
Familiar.
And the one person I least wanted to run into here.
Lobelia Vicious van Miltonia.
She was leaning against a bench, her body wrapped in bandages.
“Hmm.”
I naturally turned around and started walking the other way.
I can just take a longer route to the workshop. A little fresh air won’t hurt.
“Yohan Damos.”
“Yes.”
“Stop and turn around.”
“Yes.”
“You seem quite free, skipping class like this. Care for a brief conversation?”
“Oh, I’ve got nothing but time. Of course, Your Highness.”
Damn it. Of all people to run into.