Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Those Who Fall Have No Wings
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I was blinded by the imperial throne. My mind was bewitched by the luster of the jade seat.
When I came to my senses, nothing remained, and my hands were covered in nothing but blood.
The resentment soaked into that blood might just be eating away at my flesh, rotting me from the inside.
‘I just wanted the crown.’
From a young age, I thought I was superior.
I’d been swinging a sword since I was five, earning me the title of sword prodigy, and I inherited the imperial bloodline so strongly that I opened my golden eyes, granting me unwavering rational thought.
I was always called a genius, and everyone said I’d be the next emperor. I grew arrogant, mistaking it for pride.
My naive and foolish older brother, my idiot younger siblings—
they could never match me. I was the one destined to be the next emperor.
I wasn’t like my weak father or my brother.
I wasn’t like those fools who couldn’t even dream of restoring our fallen imperial authority.
I am Ardein. The woman who wins every war she fights.
The woman who brings glorious victories to the empire and elevates the imperial prestige.
The day I become emperor, the empire will be great once more.
‘The eagle flying toward the sun will only exhaust itself and plummet.’
I realized all that grandeur was just a mirage—only after I was no longer great.
No, looking back now, my achievements were unstable from the start. I’d simply crushed them under my authority.
Before that pressure could erupt, I collapsed first. But even if I hadn’t, it would have exploded eventually.
*****
“ Your Highness, the war bonds issued when you waged war are coming due soon. Unless you plan to tell the bankers to go hang, any major wars are off the table for the foreseeable future.”
At some point, the finance minister had started clinging to the phrase “we have no money.”
In a world where power trumps wealth, you can just tell them to go hang if you’re short on cash.
But that only works once or twice. Abuse it, and the nation’s credit—built since the founding—crumbles.
What banker would lend to a country that’s brazenly defaulted since day one? If capital flow freezes and loans dry up, every major project becomes a nightmare. Even I knew that much.
And my pride was far too great to just stiff them on the debt.
“Gut the rich who break the law. Confiscate all their illegally amassed fortunes.”
“...Do you truly believe you can run a country on that kind of money? Really?”
“When mountains of gold pile up from corruption and silver flows like the sea, of course.”
Truth be told, I don’t think I took the issue seriously.
I figured seizing the fortunes of those who’d illegally enriched themselves would more than cover the empire’s needs.
The finance minister’s warnings fell on deaf ears. I saw him as a whiner, and my authority was at its peak then.
“ Your Highness, we are not some plundering tribe. This vast empire cannot be run that way. The scale of national funds is worlds apart from some tycoon’s hoard.”
Even as talk of empty coffers swirled, the people around me draped themselves in dazzling jewels,
wore gold-embroidered clothes, and threw balls that cost a fortune each time.
So I thought we could just redirect that money to state affairs. My fatal mistake: state affairs devour endless funds.
And I never stopped warring.
The finance minister opposed every war I started, practically frothing at the mouth.
“As long as I have eyes to see, there will be no war. Absolutely not.”
I thought he opposed me as a noble blocking my rise to imperial power.
So I raged and dismissed him. I installed one of my own cronies in his place.
He bent to my will—my will alone—
and cheered on the wars, burning through cash. I learned too late
how much burden I’d placed on the empire just to preserve my authority.
Wars require conscripting soldiers first, then marching them to the front.
That alone guzzles massive funds and administrative resources. And that’s just the beginning.
You could tell them to bring their own weapons from home. But don’t expect quality.
Make them buy their own shields or leather armor? Maybe one in ten shows up with even a padded jacket.
To guarantee combat effectiveness, you have to supply full gear.
Another massive expense—and that’s not even the worst part. Soldiers don’t fight on empty stomachs or dry throats. Feeding a thousand rye loaves to a thousand men means a thousand loaves a day. Three meals? Three thousand. A week? Twenty-one thousand.
They’d normally fend for themselves at home,
but you can’t expect them to pack war rations.
Nor can you tax them for food while conscripting them.
Farmers are being dragged off too—their homes go hungry, so demanding they pay taxes for their own meals would spark riots.
And handing out just rye bread won’t keep morale up.
At key moments, you slaughter pigs or stew chickens to fuel them. Weapons wear out—they break, chip, or rust on the march.
You need spares, and soldiers can’t carry it all.
Ox carts are a must. You can’t waste warhorses pulling wagons, so you conscript livestock that could’ve been productive.
No end in sight. Against humans or other races, you might plunder to offset costs.
Hell, you might even profit from reparations.
But our foes were northern monsters or penniless barbarians. What do you loot from them? Goblin stone axes? Rabbit roasted over a fire, hide and all?
You gain a hollow victory.
You lose everything else.
The man who somehow scraped together funds for all this—
I drove him out with my own hands, exiled him. No apologies now.
He died in exile.
‘In the end, all I accomplished my whole life was salvaging a shred of hollow authority.’
Even that, I failed.
One day, my skin began peeling white.
Years later, it started rotting.
The gods had cursed me.
That’s what everyone said.
No temple, no healer—
all shook their heads. Some even shouted.
“Leprosy can’t be cured by divine power. It’s the goddess’s wrath, her punishment, the ultimate proof of your failings!”
Temples were the prime force opposing imperial growth from the start.
They pounced when they smelled blood. I’d expected that.
What I didn’t see was the knife in my back.
“Ardein claims to be a war hero, but her feats are stolen from her subordinates. Here’s the proof of her demerits.”
“ Your Highness, regrettably, I can no longer serve you. Please understand.”
“The princess is a fraud! The goddess has proven it!”
“Drive the leper from the palace! Petition the emperor to cast out that filth!”
My subordinates—no, those I thought were mine—
suddenly turned and tore into me. That’s when I woke from the beautiful dream.
To accept I wasn’t fit to be emperor,
I had to fall a bit further.
*****
“That won’t do. She’s my daughter and the imperial bloodline’s heir.”
“ Your Majesty. But the goddess has punished her. Keeping the princess risks the goddess’s wrath on the imperial house.”
“My subjects, speak of this no more. I forbid it.”
When those I thought were allies bit me, unexpected saviors shielded me.
My father, whom I’d always dismissed as weak. Amid the uproar, Emperor Father kept me on the rolls.
“Ardein, I’ve spoken with the cardinals and nobles.”
“Step back from duties for now, recover. No more attacks—they’re satisfied.”
“Yes. I’ve stepped down as crown prince. I’m just another imperial prince now.”
My brother—the fool I thought only knew how to smile with nobles—
gave up his crown prince seat for me. The imperial faction gloomily withdrew; nobles and temple gloated.
They truly stopped biting. Then I understood.
What they truly feared wasn’t me becoming emperor.
A barking dog isn’t scary. The real terror strikes from silence.
My brother always smiled, never giving cause,
hiding daggers in grins, acting only with justification.
Everyone but the empire’s loyalists feared him as emperor.
I alone was blind, overreaching for the throne in ignorance.
The moment I realized, despair hit. I clung to his robes, sobbing.
Though I’d become filthy, repulsive, he didn’t hate me.
Despite my scorn and contempt,
he simply held me gently.
“Ardein. Those who fall have no wings.”
That was our first and last embrace.
“I resolved it the moment I stepped down as crown prince, but I probably won’t live long. So many siblings covet this seat.”
No. Don’t lie. My body rots, but my mind’s sharp.
You think I don’t know it’s not our siblings who truly want you dead?
The temples, provincial nobles, central bureaucrats—they all pray for it. They don’t want an uncontrollable emperor.
So why throw away crown prince? Why...?
Why for me—a sister who never said a kind word—
give up your rightful seat, expose yourself to danger?
I should’ve asked. Fear of the answer kept me silent, and now it’s forever lost.
“First Imperial Prince! Your Highness, open your eyes! Summon the imperial physician and High Archbishop Armata! Hurry!”
As he foretold, my brother was soon poisoned,
and the light in my heart shattered.
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