Chapter 173
Chapter 173
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 173
Chapter Title: 53. Fill the Goblet with Blood (5)
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Marquis Billefeldt, prostrated flat on the floor, stammered as he spoke.
"Le... Leonberg..."
His voice trembled uncontrollably, unable to contain his overwhelming emotion.
"Long live the kingdom..."
Tears finally streamed down, tracing paths along his wrinkled eyes.
"Long live Leonberg!"
Count Kirguyen followed the marquis's lead, shouting fervently in an impassioned tone.
"Long live the Leonberger royal family!"
"Long live His Majesty the King!"
The nobles' cheers erupted one after another, quickly filling the grand hall.
The king struggled to steady his wildly pounding heart as he lowered his ceremonial sword. Then, raising his hand, he silenced the nobles' cheers.
"Marquis Billefeldt, step forward."
At the king's command, the elderly marquis knelt before the dais.
"I appoint you as the kingdom's Grand Marshal."
The old marquis snapped his head up, gazing at the king. The king's face, meeting that flood of emotion in the marquis's eyes, was equally choked with feeling.
In the past, the Empire had fragmented the kingdom's armies into small pieces, preventing the royal family from unifying and commanding them. In that process, the position of Grand Marshal had vanished, and the Marshal's Office disbanded.
Yet now, after nearly a century, a Grand Marshal was reborn in the kingdom.
"Reform the Marshal's Office, which the Empire disbanded, and unite the kingdom's armies, now split into five."
"I shall devote my life to it!"
The old marquis wore an expression as if he could die without regret right then and there.
The king patted his aged loyal retainer's shoulder.
"I believe you will do it well."
Whispering softly, the king then called upon Count Kirguyen.
"I appoint Count Kirguyen as the kingdom's Prime Minister."
The Prime Minister position, like that of Grand Marshal, had been erased by the Empire.
That was the beginning.
The king proceeded to summon nobles one by one, assigning them new positions and organizations.
All were groups that had been disbanded or rendered obsolete by treaties with the Empire.
The nobles wept or praised the king in fits of passion.
"The era of humiliation shall never return, but the immediate hardships ahead are beyond words. Yet with utmost dedication, we shall surely overcome them."
"We offer our lives!"
The nobles slammed their foreheads against the floor in unison.
Gazing at their loyal display, the king sought out his eldest son.
His firstborn stood leaning against a corner of the hall, watching the nobles.
The king's heart was a tangle of complexity.
Their father-son bond was still too awkward for declarations of affection, and as a father, all he had shown was incompetence, making every word feel embarrassing.
Yet the emotion rising in the king's eyes was profoundly warm and resolute.
"Idrian Leonberger."
Swish.
The prince peeled his back from the wall.
"Step forward."
Thud... thud...
The prince sauntered slowly to the front of the dais and straightened his posture.
Everyone else knelt in reverence, but only the prince stood so boldly erect.
The king nearly smiled unwittingly.
Approaching so leisurely even after being called by the king, without so much as a bow. His disheveled hair and blood-smeared, wastrel-like appearance—what of it?
In the old days, that sloppy look and arrogant attitude would have irked him, prompting a scolding regardless of the nobles watching.
But not now.
The king was immensely pleased by that boldness.
A back that bent easily to an incompetent father like him would bend to the Empire's emperor as well. Now was the time for someone sturdier and more unyielding than anyone.
"Speak."
His tone was surprisingly polite, but the content was a blunt urging to get on with it.
The king finally burst into laughter.
The hall still bore vivid red bloodstains from the traitors, and this was a crucial moment where all steeled themselves for the trials ahead.
He simply couldn't hold back the smile.
"You truly are consistent."
"You've said that before."
At his firstborn's reply, the king suddenly recalled a few years back.
'Not even greeting his father—looks like surviving a brush with death doesn't necessarily change a person.'
He had unleashed such harsh words upon seeing his eldest son, who had barely survived after being stabbed in the gut.
Evidently, the prince still harbored that memory.
Looking back now, there had been no need to be so cutting toward a child who had just cheated death.
"Say what you have to say."
Just as he considered an apology, the prince pressed him to get to the point.
The king smiled faintly at his son's impatience.
"Idrian Leonberger. I name you Crown Prince."
It had already been decided behind closed doors, but this was the first official announcement in a formal setting.
The nobles' eyes widened instantly, gasping in shock.
"Thank you."
But the prince responded indifferently, showing no particular emotion.
As if it had always been his, as if it was inevitable from the start—so matter-of-factly.
If anything, he seemed slightly annoyed.
It was an utterly insolent display.
And so, the king meted out fitting punishment to the prince who treated the crown princely seat as a nuisance.
"I bestow upon the Crown Prince the title of Golden Lion."
At those words, the nobles snapped their heads up.
"The Golden Lion..."
"It is the very name you imagine."
"Heavens."
Old Marquis Billefeldt let out a sharp breath, and the nobles buzzed in commotion.
Only the prince blinked vacantly, unaware of what the Golden Lion signified.
Unable to stand it, the old marquis stepped forward to explain to the prince.
"Your Highness, the Golden Lion is a uniquely royal position that vanished under the Empire..."
"Briefly."
"It is a role allowing decisions in nearly all situations without royal approval—a proxy wielding the king's full authority. In practice, its privileges and powers are no different."
The prince's eyes rounded. The old marquis added one more thing as he watched him.
"Throughout history, fewer than five have ever borne the Golden Lion name, and all were the kings' most trusted..."
"Ahem. That's enough."
The king cleared his throat, cutting off the old marquis's unnecessary elaboration.
Then, in slightly hurried tones, he added,
"It is the sole position wielding kingly authority, thus the responsibility is immense. Its duties are endlessly taxing, so Crown Prince, do not resent me for the hardship."
The prince said nothing.
He seemed lost in thought, realizing the Golden Lion held regent-like weight.
Of course, unlike a regent appointed only in emergencies, this was during the king's active reign, so there were differences. But its authority was so vast it could decide the life and death of high nobles at will—practically two kings in one realm.
It was an impossibility for one kingdom to have two kings, yet it arose because past kings so frequently entrusted regency.
"Are you considering entrusting the realm, perhaps?"
Knowing the history, Marquis Billefeldt cautiously asked the king.
And without a moment's hesitation, the king nodded.
"If necessary, I would not hesitate."
At those words, the somewhat stirred hall froze cold once more.
Now grasping the king's resolve, they realized war was not a mere possibility—it was inevitable.
"Reclaiming what we've lost these past years will not be easy. You must focus without delay on rebuilding the shattered organizations."
The king ushered the nobles out of the hall.
"You wear a face full of words yet unspoken."
In the now-empty hall, the king addressed the sole remaining Marquis Billefeldt.
"The wise Crown Prince does not scrutinize details, so he likely remains unaware. But this old man, dim-eyed with age and fixated on trifles, knows Your Majesty omitted quite a few names from the execution list."
The king nodded at the marquis's words.
"You are right. I deliberately struck several names from the list."
"Might it be mercy upon their crimes?"
"No. I know they differ little from the executed in their treasonous acts and guilt—they merely lacked titles."
"Then..."
Looking upon the old marquis's worried face, the king continued.
"That child said this kingdom needs no nobles—only those willing to stake their lives to protect it. But I think differently."
For the past century, while the royals were powerless in name only, it was the nobles who truly governed the realm. With royal strength not yet restored, executing them all under the guise of cutting out rot could spark dire incidents.
No matter the prowess of the northern elite troops or central forces, covering the entire kingdom was impossible.
"The survivors will breathe relief seeing the executed and watch events unfold rather than plot rebellion immediately. Some may even actively support the royals, eyeing the seized estates as their own."
"Base natures that will soon reveal themselves—filthy greed harmful to the kingdom."
"You misunderstand my intent."
At the old marquis's repeated concerns, the king quietly said,
"It is not them I intend to embrace."
"If not them, then why spare them..."
"The Royal Knight Order Commander sent word. The nobles' eldest and second sons served more diligently than expected at Winter Castle. Tempered by blizzards and gales, they have become truly noble-like. And they praise that child endlessly."
The marquis's eyes widened.
"Uproot the roots, and the budding fruits wither too. I hope the prince reaps those fruits."
Only then did the old marquis understand the king's intent and nod. Yet even as he nodded, he voiced his worry.
"But they will bring great harm to the kingdom in time."
"No need for concern. Their deaths are merely deferred."
The king's eyes gleamed.
"To the world, they shall die as the kingdom's loyal servants, not traitors."
Facing that intensely burdensome gaze, the old marquis asked again.
"This foolhardy old man cannot presume to guess Your Majesty's grand design."
"Once rear affairs are settled, I head to the border—and they shall accompany me."
The king revealed not whether he would let them die in battle, execute them amid the chaos, or something else entirely.
"Thus, I wish that child's era to be filled only with glory."
The king spoke as if he would not be part of that era, and the old marquis's heart sank.
"Your name, who ushered in that glorious age, shall echo across the world."
Even at that earnest plea, the king gave no reply.
He merely sat upon the throne, ceaselessly praying for the glory soon to come.
A hundred poles rose in the capital's plaza.
Atop each pole sat a single head.
Heads of the nobles beheaded at the palace.
The capital's citizens, terrified by the sudden unrest, were told by dispatched Royal Knights not to fear, as the knights listed the executed's crimes.
"Have you ever seen such beastly scum!"
Learning they were all traitors ennobled by the Empire, one citizen spat furiously upon a head.
"Gasp!"
Crime or not, a noble was a noble. Startled citizens glanced nervously at the Royal Knight.
But the knight did not rebuke the citizen.
He merely posted papers listing crimes on each pole and vanished.
"Filthy traitors unworthy of the human name!"
"Latching onto the Empire when they had nowhere else to turn!"
Emboldened, citizens spat and hurled dirt at the traitors' heads.
By day's end, the plaza held only trampled skulls and stark poles.
During the night, citizens and merchants long tormented by nobles had vandalized the heads and dumped them in the mud.
The knights from the palace did not punish those who ruined the royal spectacle in a single day. Instead, they bagged the mangled heads like trash and departed.
Days later, the newly titled Prime Minister gathered people in the pole-lined plaza to proclaim the kingdom's independence—once little more than an imperial province.
In timing, the northern armies encircling the capital dispersed in all directions.
It was no great mystery where the fully armed northern elites, spears and swords at ready, headed.
And soon after they departed, the declaration of Leonberger Kingdom's independence spread across the continent.