The Second Prince's Ambition

The Second Prince of the Empire, Isaac Eternno, was the son of a concubine. Under imperial law, sons of concubines still held rights of succession. In fact, there wasn't much difference from the sons of the primary wife, which was why Isaac had lived a life of respect. After all, a prince with succession rights was someone who could one day become emperor. It would have been stranger if he hadn't been treated with deference.

Isaac had big dreams. His ambitions were crystal clear. It was the same affliction that every man living in the empire—especially those who'd heard the tales of the First Emperor—eventually caught. I want to become like the First Emperor.

Of course, unlike the others, Isaac had legitimately inherited the First Emperor's blood. And quite thickly at that, sitting in second place in the line of succession. That made an enormous difference. It was the gap between a delusion that remained mere fantasy and one that carried the weight of reality.

To the empire, the barbarian tribes of the south had always been a thorn in their side. The empire found the savages' constant border raids and plundering extremely irritating, and Isaac had used that fact with surgical precision. He had gone south, personally commanded the army, and occasionally led the charge himself, smashing the barbarians to pieces. Thanks to that, he'd earned the fierce loyalty of the empire's southern forces. It was a hard-won achievement after years of rolling around in the mud of battlefields.

Having finally split the barbarians' nation in two—ensuring the empire wouldn't have to worry about them for decades—Isaac sat atop a white horse, waving to the crowd. Cheers filled the streets. This was his second triumphal parade, but every time, the same thought crossed his mind.

I want to keep hearing these cheers. Forever.

With the help of the vassal he'd left behind in the capital, Isaac returned to the detached palace that had been assigned to him. Once inside his room, he flopped into a chair with a heavy sigh, then reached out and picked up one of the many objects piled around the chamber.

Isaac was about to toss the Satellite Grail carelessly onto the pile when he thought better of it and gently set it on the table. He'd just remembered what this thing could be used for.

Licking his lips, he scanned the rest of the objects until his gaze stopped on one in particular. His eyes narrowed.

He'd suspected from the color, but he hadn't expected it to actually be the real thing. Isaac let out a low whistle of admiration.

Isaac stared at Roderick with a dumbfounded expression. Roderick lowered his head.

Isaac stroked his chin.

If he wasn't going to use it now, there'd have been no point in creating that tail in the first place. Isaac tapped the table a few times, lost in thought, then asked quietly.

Isaac delivered the harsh assessment and clicked his tongue. To be fair, the First Prince, Orphin, might have found that evaluation unfair. He wasn't exactly incompetent. But everything was relative. Orphin, who sat somewhere between average and genius, was undeniably incompetent compared to Isaac.

Isaac wanted to make the empire great. Just as the First Emperor had done long ago. He had the confidence for it. Even if he couldn't reach the First Emperor's level, he was certain he could come close.

But the world was called the world precisely because it didn't bend to one's wishes. No matter how capable you were, no matter how strong your will, without the choice of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, it was all nothing but a dream.

Carrying the gifts piled in his room, Isaac left the detached palace to meet the emperor. The main palace stood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the center of the imperial grounds. After crossing through it, past the audience chamber and the office, he arrived at a single room.

Sniff.

As Isaac breathed in, he unconsciously furrowed his brow. A sharp smell stung his nose.

At the chamberlain's words, Isaac opened the door and stepped inside. The incredibly spacious room held a massive bed, and upon it lay a man who spoke to him.

The weak voice made Isaac sigh inwardly. This wasn't good. He asked slowly.

As the emperor coughed, attendants rushed to give him medicine. After swallowing the medicine and water, the emperor spoke in a slightly more comfortable voice.

At Isaac's command, the attendants neatly stacked the objects Roderick had gathered throughout the room. Then Isaac personally picked up a particularly eye-catching massive ore and stood before the emperor.

At a single word from the emperor, a new bed was hastily prepared. While ornate decorations and wooden frames—prepared at some unknown time—were stacked in the corner, Isaac suddenly felt as if all of this was nothing but a farce.

The emperor knew exactly what Isaac wanted. He knew why his son came loaded with gifts like this. And Isaac knew that the emperor knew. He understood better than anyone that his sly father wouldn't miss something so obvious.

They were having a conversation with all their cards on the table, every desire laid bare. Yet Isaac and the emperor were like misaligned gears, running parallel without ever connecting.

The emperor would not grant what Isaac desired. Even if the Star Silver he brought today healed the emperor, the result would remain the same. The crown prince would still be the First Prince, and Isaac would remain nothing more than the second in the line of succession.

The realization was so unbearably unpleasant that Isaac quickly bowed and left the bedchamber.

Isaac spat out a curse he'd learned while rolling around in the field, then lightly tapped the ego sword at his waist with his fist before continuing on his way. This ego sword was useful in many ways, but its tendency to scrape at one's nerves was a problem. Still, thanks to it, his head felt a little clearer.

Nothing was set in stone yet. In truth, the higher Isaac's achievements rose, the more the emperor seemed to waver. When news of him splitting the barbarian nation in two reached the capital, he'd heard the emperor had seriously considered changing the crown prince. Though the emperor's remaining lifespan didn't appear long, that was fine. If he could just have one more year—no, six months—Isaac was confident he could change the emperor's mind.

Six months. Exactly six months.

If he used every means available during that time to sway the emperor's heart, then Isaac's victory—

Early the next morning, Isaac received the shocking news from the southern commander. The emperor had passed away from illness. It was so sudden it left him stunned.

The southern commander called to him with a grave demeanor. When Isaac met his eyes, he noticed the resolute look in them and immediately understood.

At the southern commander's declaration, Isaac didn't say things like That's insane or Why are you doing something I didn't order? Instead, he asked quietly.

What Isaac's subordinates did was ultimately what Isaac himself wanted. They were bound by an unshakable bond of trust. The southern commander replied.

Isaac rose from his seat.

If you want something, take it with your own hands.

Recalling the words his father had once told him, Isaac left the detached palace.

Now there were only two possibilities left.

Die.

Or become emperor.