The First Chess Piece
“Walter, and Emilia.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Y-Yes!”
“You two wait here. Only the Chancellor and I will enter the bedchamber.”
Leaving Emilia clutching her racing heart at Evan’s reckless conduct, and Walter watching with an inscrutable gaze, Evan walked through the doorway with Marquis Gregory.
Candle flames wavered in the gloom.
And within that dimness, unwelcome guests could be seen.
Men in white robes bearing a sun emblem upon their chests.
Priests of the Empire’s Sun Church.
They did not so much as glance at Evan’s entrance, murmuring unknown prayers.
“Leave.”
Only then did the oldest-looking priest slowly turn his head.
“This is most inconvenient, First Prince. We are tending to His Majesty the King at the earnest request of the Third Prince and by the will of the Empire. How dare you interrupt a sacred healing ritual?”
There was not a scrap of courtesy for a foreign First Prince in his manner—only the condescension one might show an inferior. Evan was about to speak when Marquis Gregory stepped forward.
“Look at these insolent curs!!”
The Marquis’s roar cracked like a tiger’s.
“His Highness the First Prince has given a command, and yet a mere priest dares wag his tongue so freely! Get out at once!”
“Your words go too far. As I clearly stated, we are here by the Third Prince’s—”
“Get out before I tear that mouth of yours open! Must I summon the Royal Guard to toss you out like so much baggage before you’ll listen?!”
Having just witnessed the clash between Evan and the knights, the Marquis’s reason was half gone; his presence was nothing short of murderous. Even Imperial priests had no choice but to lower their tails before the fury of Phanelia’s Chancellor.
“We will not forget this.”
Clicking their tongues in displeasure, the priests withdrew.
Bang!
Once they were gone, peace returned to the bedchamber.
Evan walked slowly to the King’s side.
There lay the King, lost in a coma. The face in the bed closely resembled Evan’s own as he had seen it in the mirror. Looking upon those familiar features stirred an uncomfortable emotion—even though this man was not his real father.
Strange.
He brushed the residual feeling aside and summoned the knowledge he held from Iron-Blooded Monarch.
Phanelia’s full-scale civil war begins after the Third Prince’s coming-of-age ceremony, when the King dies.
They’re just barely keeping the King alive under the pretext of healing, buying time to solidify the Third Prince’s position.
The Third Prince’s faction needed time to seat a young prince who had not even come of age upon the throne. And Evan, too, needed time to build a force capable of driving out the Second and Third Princes.
While I gather strength, the King must not die.
That was why he had chosen Marquis Gregory as the one to protect the King—a loyal subject who would fight the enemy to the last moment of Phanelia’s destruction and die in battle.
Evan turned slowly toward the Marquis, who was gazing down at the King with a grim expression.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd, Marquis? That despite the priests hanging about for months on end, His Majesty has not once opened his eyes?”
Marquis Gregory’s eyes shook as if struck by an earthquake. A man who had spent a lifetime in the shadowy struggles of power instantly grasped the meaning buried in Evan’s words.
“Y-Your Highness! Surely… you suspect His Highness the Third Prince?!”
The Marquis’s mouth fell open in shock. First Prince Evan was speaking of treason.
“I do not suspect—I am certain. And that is why I summoned you here today.”
Evan looked the Marquis straight in the eye and spoke with iron resolve.
“Protect His Majesty for me.”
But Marquis Gregory could not easily accept the words.
“Your Highness. Do you have any proof? To say such things without a shred of evidence is—”
“Proof, you say… Marquis.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“In your eyes, what is the state of Phanelia now?”
At the sudden question the Marquis’s brows twitched. His sharp gaze traveled across Evan’s face and settled on those unfathomable eyes. The First Prince Evan he knew had been a coward who flinched even at a subordinate’s raised voice. Yet not a trace of that man was visible in the figure before him. The Marquis was confused—and Evan did not miss the opening.
This is where it really begins.
Winning over someone as rigid and loyal as Marquis Gregory was simple. One had only to appeal to his concern and love for the nation. And to steal another’s heart, truth and lies must be blended with perfect craft.
Evan slowly closed his eyes, then opened them, and spoke in a voice heavy with deep regret.
“As you know, I am a very weak man. I myself know better than anyone that I am not of the caliber to lead this nation as king.”
“…Your Highness.”
“That is why I stepped back.”
He watched the Marquis’s pupils waver, then continued in a poignant tone.
“The ugly power struggle in which blood brothers tear at one another over the throne. I feared it, and I did not want it. If I quietly withdrew from the front and kept silent… I believed that one of my far more capable younger brothers would become a sage king and lead this Phanelia to greatness.”
A lie. The original Evan had simply been incompetent and terrified, and had run. But the words he now spoke recast that flight as a sacrifice for the kingdom.
“Then…”
The Marquis’s voice trembled faintly. Cracks began to appear in his expression.
“Why have you changed your mind now?”
Evan looked into the Marquis’s eyes with the rage of a man who had lost his country.
“Marquis. Tell me yourself. What does this country look like right now?”
“…..!”
“A sage king? A powerful kingdom? All I see is Phanelia being torn apart by packs of wolves that have swarmed in from every direction!”
“……”
“The princes who should lead the nation have become puppets of the power brokers, and the royal house has become a playground for those who lust after power!”
“Your Highness…”
Evan stretched out his arm and pointed at the comatose King.
“You asked for proof? This very sight is the proof. The country I sought to protect even by swallowing bloody tears and yielding was never meant to become this garbage heap. I could no longer stand by and watch as the nation marched toward ruin. That is why I have come to this place.”
Evan’s appeal rang through the bedchamber. Marquis Gregory stared at him, lost.
“Marquis. Will you not help me?”
“If it is help, then what…”
This was the critical moment. Most underlings would ask to be supported themselves. But Evan was a conqueror who had once commanded countless lords and subjects.
“Give me time.”
“…Time, Your Highness? What sort of time do you mean?”
“Time to reclaim the authority of the First Prince that has been cast into the dirt. Time to take back what I have lost—so that I may rebuild this kingdom…”
Marquis Gregory asked with grave seriousness, as if a decision had already formed within him.
“Then does Your Highness not need this old servant’s strength?”
He must not snap at bait that looked all too sweet.
“Marquis. To what did you swear your loyalty? To a hollow throne? Or to the solid earth of Phanelia that the kings of old spent their lives building?”
“…..!”
Evan played the part of a patriotic warrior fighting solely to protect the country, not for his own power.
“Marquis Gregory. Never forget that the place you must support and strive for is neither me nor His Majesty, but this Phanelia.”
No sooner had Evan finished speaking than the Marquis, eyes reddened, looked up at him and dropped to one knee. Whether the First Prince’s sudden change sprang from some awakening or, as he claimed, from long concealing himself, the Marquis could not know. But what mattered was that the man before him had stepped forward to save a kingdom headed for ruin. For the Marquis, that was enough.
“…This old servant deeply regrets that his dullness prevented him from discerning Your Highness’s profound intentions all this time.”
The Marquis, who had never bowed his head even to the King, now willingly prostrated himself at the feet of the Evan everyone had ignored.
“This Gregory shall follow Your Highness. I will devote my life to Phanelia.”
The moment the first chess piece that would overturn the board of the Phanelia Kingdom finally entered Evan’s grasp.
Demagogue’s Stage
The moment a lie leaves the ruler’s lips, deception becomes a just cause and falsehood becomes truth.
Passive Effect: Increases the loyalty and courage of those who hear you.