The Throne's Fall Beckons
“Your Highness, it is Princess Jeanne.”
Gaspar offered a respectful bow before her.
Jeanne’s eyes sharpened.
“Call me the head of the Second Knight Order. But why have you come out here?”
“As Your Majesty’s subject, I was keeping watch over the fortress when I saw you. That is why I came out.”
“That is not it. You are clearly… not a…”
Jeanne’s words faltered as she spotted the star embroidered on Gaspar’s cloak.
The meaning was unmistakable.
‘Things have changed.’
Before her regression, Perzan had held the title of general commander. Now Gaspar had taken that place.
“…You are leading this war.”
“That is correct.”
Gaspar stared straight at her.
Her appearance was filthy, far from the regal bearing one might expect of royalty. Soil and grime caked her face so thoroughly that it was nearly impossible to recognize her. Her clothes were torn and ragged.
“Would you like to come inside? I shall order a bath—
“The enemy is approaching this place.”
Jeanne cut him off.
“We tried to delay them as long as possible, but our strength has reached its limit. No time to prepare. We must fight.”
They had traveled without proper rest to arrive ahead of Rotinzel’s forces, and the strain showed in her weary features. Even so, her eyes burned with determination.
“Understood.”
Gaspar gave a brief reply before turning to his aide.
“Summon all commanders to the command tent—except Tiger. Now.”
“Yes, sir!”
The aide took off at a dead run the moment the order was given.
Gaspar had used his authority to gather the officers.
Jeanne had wanted to attend the meeting, but the king’s attendant arrived first and announced that the king would receive her.
She followed the attendant, unwilling to be left behind.
Since her absence, the briefing on the current situation had been handled by Fabian and Divine.
‘That man is her subordinate, is he?’
Gaspar felt a surge of surprise at the sight of Fabian and Divine.
Like Jeanne, they looked disheveled, yet their eyes were clear and sharp.
Especially Divine, whose usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. He had approached the meeting with genuine seriousness for once.
They had once fought bitterly in court, but now they stood united. Gaspar felt a rare sense of relief.
Gaspar asked Divine.
“How long until they arrive?”
“At best three days, at worst two.”
“Tsk. So fast. How large is their force?”
“The entire force under Nicolas. Roughly half the troops that landed in Roire.”
Gaspar let out a sigh of relief. Half was better than nothing.
Divine turned to him.
“How many troops do we have?”
“Originally three thousand three hundred soldiers in Ileang Castle, two hundred more sent from the capital by Princess Jeanne, and another two hundred gathered from the surrounding lands.”
“Less than four thousand. A siege might be winnable, but four thousand is not enough to face an enemy nearly twice that number.”
Sighs filled the air, heavy and hopeless.
The enemy was simply too many. Hope seemed nonexistent.
“We can hold them back.”
“We must. No matter what it takes.”
Divine remained calm even now.
***
In the past, Jeanne had been nothing more than a messenger carrying word from the enemy to the general commander. After delivering that message, it was only natural to meet the king.
This time, however, she had no time to change her clothes and followed the king’s attendant immediately.
Upon seeing the king seated on the makeshift throne, Jeanne quickly lowered her gaze, hiding her shock.
Only a month had passed, yet he looked ten years older. The arrogance and composure that had always defined his face had vanished. His once-sharp silver eyes were now dull and hazy.
Jeanne wondered if the man before her was truly her father.
It could not be anyone else, yet the cold, piercing gaze she remembered was gone. He seemed no different from an ordinary man.
‘He won’t be spared mercy.’
Still, whoever he was, if the moment came to wield power, he would swing the blade of kingship without hesitation.
Instead of pitying her father, she reported the news she had brought.
“It is bad news, Your Majesty.”
She spoke plainly, without embellishment or false pride.
The king offered no words of concern for his suffering daughter.
It was fortunate he had not punished her for abandoning the capital.
“So, the enemy is coming.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Their movements are swift and ruthless.”
“Ileang Castle is a fortress built on steep mountains unlike Roire. We can hold them.”
Jeanne’s optimistic words went unanswered.
The king turned to the attendant at his side.
“I will call a council of ministers. The meeting begins immediately. All nobles are to assemble in the throne room at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The attendants darted through the castle, dragging ministers from wherever they were.
Some had been asleep, others bathing, others still out for a short walk.
Half had not even changed into formal attire before rushing over.
Shirts half-buttoned, mismatched socks—such minor dishevelments were the least of their worries.
Still, with all the ministers present, the council could begin. The king spoke first.
“The Rotinzel army is approaching this place.”
Murmurs rippled through the ministers.
Only the soldiers on the walls of Ileang Castle had witnessed Jeanne’s arrival. To most, the news of the enemy’s march came as a shock.
Those who already knew bowed their heads in despair.
“Heh. Even Ileang Castle?”
The king gave a hollow laugh.
Ever since abandoning Roire, he had not enjoyed a single moment of peace.
He rose before dawn every day and rushed to Ileang Castle, and even the people’s food had been forced onto the royal table for lack of his own.
With the king in this state, the ministers could only endure.
Thankfully it was summer. In winter, they might have starved to death before the enemy reached them.
Having finally settled in Ileang Castle, the sudden news of the enemy’s arrival was like a bolt of lightning.
Every minister waited for the king’s decision.
Fight or flee once more?
Logically, they should have fought. But abandoning a place once was one thing; doing so twice was different.
Since Roire was already gone, there was no reason not to abandon Ileang as well.
“I will retreat to the Blesk Empire.”
The ministers looked at one another, certain they had misheard.
It was an unthinkable, unforgivable declaration. They had assumed the king had simply spoken in error.
Yet the words had already been spoken, and the king made no attempt to retract them.
Retreating from the kingdom was shocking enough. Abandoning it entirely to throw oneself into the empire was far worse.
The ministers stood frozen, mouths agape.
Even the instinctive cry of “Your Majesty!” lodged in their throats.
Silence hung for a moment, then the dam broke.
“That is impossible!”
“This is an outrage, Your Majesty!”
Those who had accompanied the king to Ileang Castle were devoted subjects of King Philippe VII. Whether driven by greed for power or fear of punishment for leaving the capital, they had never wavered in their loyalty.
Some even praised the king’s decision to abandon the fortress, claiming it was the correct course of action.
Yet even among those who had actively supported the retreat, voices of opposition rose now.
A king fleeing to a foreign land was unthinkable.
It was the same as handing over the entire nation.
“We cannot go to the empire. Please reconsider.”
Gaspar, who had rushed over to discuss strategy, also urged the king against abandoning the kingdom.
The king’s expression twisted.
“How dare you oppose me. If you oppose, you must offer an alternative.”
He was the sovereign of the nation, above all men, yet the ministers dared defy his will. It infuriated him.
He wanted to order their heads cut off, but restraint kept him from doing so.
The king glared at them with icy eyes.
“Prepare tributes to be offered to the Blesk Empire by tomorrow. Draft the words to be delivered to the empire’s ministers.”
The king ignored their opinions and made his decision outright.
Then, without waiting for replies, he strode out of the meeting room.
A childish temper, like that of a spoiled child refusing to yield when his will was thwarted.
It took a long time for the ministers, who had bowed their heads in shame, to lift theirs again. Sighs continued without pause.
***
Divine Dragopoly, the current Foreign Minister and Jeanne’s strategist.
Since he had been stripped of his title, he did not need to attend the council.
Divine was glad of it.
Such a council would only rubber-stamp the king’s will anyway.
A tedious waste of time.
Even though the enemy was at the gates, there were things to do. He washed, changed into fresh clothes, and ate a quick meal.
Then he headed to the meeting room to wait for Jeanne. The first to approach him was Raphael.
“Divine, you’ve been dismissed. The Foreign Minister is mine now.”
“Oh, dear.”
Divine frowned at Raphael’s words.
“You care about such things?”
“I never thought the king would act like this. Executions come with every whim.”
“What?”
“The Foreign Minister post is yours or mine. It doesn’t matter. I’m not planning to die right now, after all.”
Divine already knew about the dismissal. What surprised him was that the king had not flown into a rage over it.
Raphael nodded, as expected.
Divine did not care about power.
Even if he died tomorrow, he would mourn not serving his master properly, not his own life.
Raphael knew something of Divine’s master.
“Don’t worry. The king won’t kill you right away.”
“Probably not. He’s too busy trying to save his own neck to think about others.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to say. What if someone hears?”
“As long as you don’t tell.”
Divine smirked and tapped Raphael’s shoulder. Raphael swatted his hand away and changed the subject.
“Speaking of Jeanne.”
“Hm?”
“What kind of person is she that you decided to serve her as your lord?”
“Hmm… Her Highness is like…
“Like?”
“A cloud. Flowing, yet able to become rain.”
“I wanted something more straightforward.”
“Like water, then? Able to go anywhere and change however it pleases. In the end, it becomes the vast ocean.”
“That would suit me. Even if I lose other charms, my literary taste is probably better than yours.”
“Just that? My face is better, and my personality is far superior to yours.”
“Personality I don’t doubt, but your face…”
Divine and Raphael bickered whenever they met, just like brothers of the same age.
Raphael was the kind of man who acted this way even toward his closest friend Simon. Divine was arrogant and prideful. Their meetings were inevitable.
As they argued over who was better, Raphael returned to the original topic first.
“True. A man worthy of serving. Among all the women I’ve met, she’s one of the most beautiful.”
“When will that playboy nature of yours improve?”
“Don’t you know? The most beautiful sound in the world is the rustle of a dress hem. If you don’t understand that, you’ll live alone forever.”
Raphael laughed at his own words.
Divine smiled faintly before his expression suddenly changed and he asked seriously.
“What will you do?”
“What else? The Foreign Minister post you abandoned is now mine. I must follow the king.”
“Hmmm…”
“In the end, we will have to ask for help from the empire. Who will negotiate if the Foreign Minister is gone?”
“That makes me feel a little sorry.”
“If you’re sorry, take care of the princess and make sure she survives.”
Raphael knew the king’s decision was wrong.
Yet his loyalty to the king ran deeper than his reckless, passionate nature.
Even if the king did not flee to the empire, someone had to speak with them. The best person for diplomacy was Divine, but he had been dismissed and followed Jeanne. The next best choice was Raphael—fluent in the empire’s language and skilled in negotiation.
Raphael and Divine looked at each other.
They trusted each other because they respected each other’s abilities.
Both nodded at the same time and returned to their respective places.