Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Beloved Ally
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At the western edge of the empire lay the city of Schnifel.
When the rebellion broke out in Dreihart, a revolt erupted here as well.
Unlike Dreihart, Schnifel wasn't a city teeming with slaves.
But the people were effectively worked to the bone like slaves for their lord.
The root of it all was the usury racket.
Schnifel's lord never openly violated imperial law on the surface.
But he wielded taxes like passage fees, customs duties, and capital levies with artistic precision to squeeze his subjects, ultimately forcing them to borrow from the moneylenders he backed.
These usurers, with the lord's support, fleeced the people at an outrageous annual interest rate of 240%.
Even when the subjects sued the usurers, the lord's influence ensured the cases were dismissed out of hand, and the complainants vanished or ended up as slaves.
Then one day, around the same time as Dreihart's uprising, the usurer was assassinated.
Evidence of his collusion with the lord to oppress the people was scattered across the territory, igniting the fury of the masses.
They rallied around Norland, the folk hero of Schnifel, rose in rebellion, slaughtered the lord and nobles, and seized the territory.
With support from Bloodkin mages, they prepared defenses far more solid than Dreihart's—complete with farming and underground water sources—making suppression far from easy.
The problem was that this region was a stronghold of lords loyal to the crown prince.
The prince couldn't sit idly by while a revolt flared in his supporters' heartland, repelling suppression forces no less.
So the crown prince personally led the Golden Knight Order to crush them.
The result was overwhelming.
Schnifel's rebels outnumbered Dreihart's by several times.
Their leader, folk hero Norland—a former bandit with seasoned experience battling various knight orders and a brilliant tactician—had the aid of Bloodkin mages to boot.
Yet even this force, far stronger than Dreihart's, crumbled before the prince and his Golden Knights in less than a day.
The burning forests of Schnifel were littered with rebel corpses.
Norland, drenched in blood and missing one arm, knelt before the prince, begging for his life.
"Pl-please spare me! I surrender!"
The battle had raged for half a day.
The woods blazed, the ground soaked in blood, but amid it all, the prince remained pristine, shining in golden light.
He leveled his golden sword at Norland and spoke.
"Are you the rebel leader?"
"Y-yes, I am!"
The prince gazed down at Norland.
His eyes held no anger.
Only pity and sorrow.
"I investigated on my way here. I know why you rebelled. No one in Schnifel will suffer usury again."
"Th-thank you!!!"
At the prince's merciful words, Norland felt hope.
The hope of survival. The hope of a better tomorrow.
"But rebellion is rebellion. You violated imperial law and slew nobles with claim to the throne, even if they were mere retainers."
Pitying Norland, yet bound by his position as prince and upholder of the law, he raised his sword.
To the rebel leader, he declared:
"Thus, I, First Imperial Prince Kyros Sword Novarens of the empire, sentence you to death."
"Pl-please spare me!! I was wrong!! Mercy!!"
Clutching at life with his one remaining arm, Norland was no hero or leader—just a desperate human clinging to survival.
Toward that man, the prince swung his sword as judge and executioner.
"May you be blessed in your next life."
Sching-!
The golden blade flashed like lightning across Norland's neck. He died without even feeling it.
That was the last mercy the prince could grant him.
Having personally crushed the rebellion in a single day, the prince issued follow-up orders before swiftly returning to the capital.
Waiting by the prince's carriage was his secretary, the brown-haired young man Duran, who bowed deeply to greet his lord.
"You've worked hard, Your Highness."
"It's nothing compared to the suffering of the imperial subjects."
The prince boarded the carriage and set off for the capital at once.
As he tackled the backlog of work inside, one report caught his eye.
"Dreihart's rebellion in the east has been quelled?"
"Yes. The Cron Family handled it alone successfully."
Dreihart—the other rebellion that had erupted around the same time as Schnifel.
To bolster the Lion Family, the prince had negotiated with the princess: whichever house suppressed Dreihart would gain governance over it.
Yet neither the prince's Lion Family nor the princess's Silla Family, but a third house—the Cron Family—had quelled it single-handedly. The prince couldn't hide his surprise.
Reading the report slowly, he pieced together how Dreihart's suppression had unfolded: the failed joint operation, the start of the siege, the Cron Family's solo assault, successful suppression, and meticulous aftermath handling.
The prince marveled at the clean, thorough execution—the first he'd seen in ages.
"The Lion Family should have handled the suppression... I'm sorry our plan failed."
"No. Even beasts have battlefields suited to them. It was my mistake not to place the right talent in the right spot."
"My deepest apologies, Your Highness."
While the prince was away quelling the revolt, Duran had managed his duties. Feeling his own incompetence had cost the Lion Family the suppression, he was mortified.
But the prince brushed it off.
Dreihart was regrettable, but just a minor eastern city in the grand scheme. The one who orchestrated this turn of events was no ordinary mind.
Sensing a masterful strategist—be it the Cron lord or his retainer—the prince grew intrigued by the Cron Family.
"The Cron Family... Their name keeps coming up lately."
"Yes. The common folk and bards are cheering his bold policies and actions."
Duran had been monitoring the Cron Family since Sharen the Red Mage joined them and their clash with the Lion Family.
Their sudden rise had shaken the southern power balance.
If they became allies, wonderful. But if they sided with the princess or another faction, trouble. So Duran kept watch.
After reviewing all the Cron intel, the prince set down the report.
"My sister won't sit still."
"Indeed. She's already sent her 'gift,' they say."
"Quick as ever. That's Lily for you."
The prince had long known of his sister's schemes.
He acknowledged her unrefined, reason-defying tactics were brutally effective.
Case in point: Jeras's Silla Family had nearly joined the prince's faction, only to flip to the princess's after her "gift."
"What shall we do, Your Highness?"
"...Playing along with her prank once won't hurt. Send one of ours too."
This time, the prince decided to humor his sister's game.
At his words, Duran asked:
"Understood. Whom shall we send?"
After a moment's thought, a knight came to mind.
Confident this one would handle exactly what he wanted, the prince instructed Duran.
"Send that child. If our goals align, it'll help him. If not, he'll handle it himself."
"Excellent... Understood. We'll send that child."
With all matters settled, the prince reflected.
The game for the throne drew ever nearer, and the Bloodkin had begun acting openly.
To unify the chaotic empire, he needed overwhelming power and strong allies aplenty.
The empire brimmed with heroes.
Not all were his allies, but neither were they all foes.
In these ally-scarce times, Calix Cron—hailed as the King of Liberation, Silver Dragon of Cron, darling of the masses—was a tempting force to win over.
"Calix Cron... I'd like to meet him."
Hoping the reports rang true—that he was a just lord—the prince anticipated their encounter from his carriage.
Having resolved Dreihart's crisis, I finally returned to Cron after so long.
There were still issues to tackle, but as lord, staying away from the territory too long wasn't wise—and the major decisions needing my hand were settled.
After resting comfortably in my Cron bedroom for the first time in ages, I sipped tea in my office and pondered calmly.
Have I come too far to play the incompetent fool now?
I'd aimed for a moderately beloved, harmless lord, but honestly, that ship had sailed long ago.
Cron Territory grew daily through land reclamation, and with Dreihart added, we now had battle-hardened soldiers like Zarha's gladiators.
If my memory served, in World Archive, my title had likely upgraded from lord to grand lord by now.
Sipping my tea thoughtfully for the first time in a while, I made my resolve.
It was too late to feign incompetence—the board was too vast, my retainers too capable.
So the role I needed wasn't the beloved dimwit lord.
From now on, to every faction, I would be the Beloved Ally.