William's Coronation and Chaos in the New Continent
William's betrothal to the daughter of the emperor's faction leader was practically a killing blow. Of course, there were still several procedures left, but to the public eye, the scales had tipped decisively.
Defections from the princes' sides began to accelerate. The princes tried appealing to the emperor as the situation worsened, but he refused to hear them out. Instead, motions to depose the crown prince poured in from numerous nobles. The crown prince and his supporters frothed at the mouth in opposition, but in the end, at a meeting presided over by the emperor himself, the decision to remove the existing crown prince passed by an overwhelming margin.
It was all the result of my groundwork. Still, no new crown prince was selected yet. The former crown prince was now just the first prince, but he still held key military positions.
And the final piece was falling into place. The cornered first and second princes decided to seize their last chance. The problem was their own incompetence—and our side's overwhelming superiority.
Using the first prince's loyal knights and the second prince's intelligence network, they attempted their final gambit: rebellion. Or at least, that's what they tried. They believed it was their own will driving them, but eyes had been watching from the start, and even the rebellion plot was the product of our influence.
Deep into the night, a band led by the first prince himself began to move. Thanks to the second prince's plan, the path to the emperor seemed clear of obstacles. That's what they thought.
They had enough sense to scrap the original plan of splitting forces to attack both the emperor and William simultaneously. With two known Masters residing in the Akasha family estate, they lacked the confidence to take them on.
And finally, when they roughly flung open the emperor's bedroom door—which had no guarding knights—the first prince realized everything had gone wrong.
“Welcome, brother.”
William bowed his head in greeting as he welcomed the first prince. The emperor wasn't alone. William, I, and Argin were with him.
“Who's your brother?! Perfect timing. I'll take care of you filthy bastard and your ghost allies all at once!”
The first prince's confidence was still sky-high. He'd probably confirmed that neither Jayke nor Joseph was with me.
“Hey, Argin, you just got dissed.”
“I'm used to it, my lord.”
In Akasha Territory, Argin might get overlooked, but the man who'd pierced through walls to reach Grand Master was a terrifying monster with the third-highest martial prowess among humans.
“Kill these insolent bastards!”
Enraged by our calm, unflappable demeanor—which he ignored for himself—the first prince charged with his knights. But by then, Argin's drawn aura blade, over ten meters long, was already at the first prince's throat.
Neither the first prince nor his knights could twitch a finger. Argin's immense killing intent was crushing their entire bodies.
Whether it was a technique Howard used or some innate talent, Argin had mimicked it perfectly. The first prince's eyes shook violently, unable to believe the scene before him.
Knight reinforcements, hidden in wait without the princes' knowledge, swarmed in and bound the immobilized first prince and his men before dragging them away.
“Is it over?”
From behind, the emperor muttered in a weary voice. For a man with such strong paternal love, this must have been a heartbreaking moment.
“It's over.”
At the same time, Howard and Jayke had finished handling the second prince's side.
“Then I'll leave the rest to you.”
The emperor had already been informed of the first and second princes' plans well in advance, and we'd discussed the aftermath.
The incident wasn't publicized. Framing them for high treason would force their execution. Instead, the two princes were quietly granted minor fiefs in the northwestern frontier—the most remote part of the Ether Empire—and sent away without fanfare.
In exchange for sparing their lives, we'd made a deal with the emperor. More precisely, William received concessions, while I asked for nothing in return. Promotions to marquis or duke? We politely declined. It'd just mean thrusting ourselves into central politics.
Soon after, William was officially appointed crown prince. And one more thing—though not my doing—the daughter of Marquis Illibard also became engaged to William.
I knew Marquis Illibard was pushing for it, but I hadn't interfered. Unexpectedly, his daughter proved aggressively proactive, causing quite the stir. This put William in a position of absolute support from all nobles, at least for the foreseeable future.
Of course, due to his indiscretion, he'd already fallen under the thumb of Hilda—his official fiancée—before the wedding, but it was his choice.
Amusingly, Hilda didn't care at all about William's fling with Marquis Illibard's daughter. She'd merely used it as leverage to rein him in. Strangely enough, she and the marquis's daughter got along like real sisters.
There was another fun twist. The third prince, holed up in the palace like a wreck after his noble backers deserted him, suddenly perked up once the first and second princes were exiled. Free of his sources of inferiority, he was like a new man.
He swallowed his pride, approached William, and begged to serve. His talents weren't exceptional enough for high office, but he could help under William, building public legitimacy and showing a positive face outward.
“Time to head back?”
William now entered the palace openly as crown prince, swamped with work after inheriting nearly all of the first and second princes' duties.
The Akasha estate in the capital had grown quiet. The nobles who'd visited by the dozens daily had thinned out. I had little left to do in the capital.
Leave him be, and he'd become emperor. He was surrounded by talent, with his two faction leaders—mutual rivals—balancing each other with their counsel. The neutrals got what they wanted: no losses for staying out of it.
I'd considered playing shadow power broker until William solidified his position, but things had gone too smoothly for that.
In any case, the bloodiest imperial power struggle in Ether Empire history had ended with the least bloodshed. That alone made it meaningful.
“Are you heading back now?”
“Nothing beats home, after all.”
Everyone welcomed our return to Akasha Territory. So I informed the emperor and William.
There'd be no immediate ascension. He'd need years learning under the emperor first. Who knew if I'd need to step in then—but not now.
I also met with Marquis Illibard and Duke Aegis. They seemed shocked to hear I was returning to my territory.
“Are you really doing this?”
“Yes. I've never been interested in central politics from the start.”
“Haha! Viscount Akasha is the Ether Empire's true loyalist.”
They couldn't understand me. Maybe in another century or so.
“But if the Ether Empire strays from the right path, I'll return anytime.”
“That's what we want too.”
“Please do.”
Why were they taking my threat as a promise? The Ether Empire had more patriots than I thought.
Over half the talent we'd brought from Akasha Territory began trickling back. Some had served the princes during the incident but switched to House Akasha. Others from Akasha wanted to advance centrally and stayed in the capital. I let them all go.
I even gave generous severance considering their service and put in a word with William to employ them.
Once everyone except the capital estate staff had departed, we—the last holdouts—returned too.
I hadn't ignored the territory entirely. I'd popped back occasionally for minimal lordly duties. With excellent subordinates like Wider and the managers, there was barely any work—but compared to absentee lords everywhere, I was a model one.
In the past year, Wider had become a father. Arguably, he'd had the most productive year among Akasha's key figures. It was a son named Marco, named by me at Wider's request.
On the day Marco was born, I piled baby supplies procured from the capital on Wider like a mountain. I also handed over two elf longevity pills from my sub-space, long dormant. They'd do wonders for mother and child.
I'd taken a few as a kid with good effects, but later ones did little. Probably a fundamental human-elf difference; I hadn't researched it deeply.
Marco was born with even better aptitude than his father Wider. If raised right, he'd make a name for himself.
In my office after the long absence, Bastet was already back, sleeping on the windowsill as if nothing had happened.
“Long time no see. No troubles, I hope?”
Though I'd monitored the New Continent constantly, I greeted her casually. In response, her tail swished once.
The dwarves showed no interest in building airships anymore. The mansion they'd built for Lily in a year dwarfed my Akasha estate—and it still wasn't done. Hauling materials was work enough.
I'd considered complaining, but their long-lived slowness made it understandable. Besides, it'd be useful someday, so I let it be.
Within days, everything reverted to pre-capital life. Eltis's tavern had long been complete and thriving. It had regulars, and amusingly, daytime and nighttime crowds differed.
As before, Violette—now his daughter—ran it days, Eltis nights. I visited Eltis's nights a few times. His vampire-brewed liquor had a unique flavor.
Howard had become a nighttime regular too. They hadn't said it, but they'd recognized each other at first sight.
Argin stuck to days. I looked forward to soon seeing the pureblood vampire craftsman thrashing his Grand Master son-in-law.
Such peaceful days, seemingly eternal, continued for a while.
But not even six months later, word came from the capital. I'd known already, but the emperor—deeply wounded by the princes' incident—declared his abdication.
I rushed to the capital. The emperor planned to retire to the exiled princes' fiefs, overseeing them to prevent mischief. It handed even more power to William.
The sudden announcement threw nobles and ministers into chaos, rushing preparations for abdication and coronation ceremonies. Normally a year-plus affair, the emperor's resolve allowed just two months.
I had little to do but sent funds and manpower support. On coronation day, amid cheers and blessings from multitudes, William finally donned the crown.
I earned the honor of standing closest to the new emperor.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the New Continent. Antariel, finishing his long cave renovations, decided to check out the dwarves Germain had mentioned. He flapped his bat wings and flew toward them.
Finding them was easy: a massive mansion in a barren wasteland of sand and stone stood out from afar.
But he first encountered not dwarves, but Lily—hanging laundry, horns and bat wings catching her eye on the purple monstrosity.
“Wait, miss, I—”
Antariel knew his appearance was grotesque and tried explaining before their eyes met. He blanked out and approached her unwittingly.
Lily screamed at the approaching freak.
“Kyaaah!”
A black shadow flashed, slamming into Antariel.
Bam!
Cat paws sent him crashing through the fence. He flew dozens of meters through the wall but stood unfazed. But it wasn't over.
“What is it, Lily?! Some beast?!”
Rumble rumble rumble!
Dwarves, hearing her scream, unleashed repeating crossbows firing bolts like summer rain.
Antariel shrugged off the volley, shouting amid the storm.
“Wait, hear me out!”
But before he finished, the cat reappeared and swatted him skyward again.
Realizing it wasn't a normal cat, Antariel tried counterattacking—but stood no chance. No strike or spell reached it.
Unable to attend the ceremony, I prayed for Antariel's soul. Surely Bastet won't kill him?
But right then, Antariel was getting pummeled like a dog by the cat. Odd phrasing, but that's exactly it.