The Emperor's Wrath and the Queen's Mercy
Emperor Edward II.
His life had been soaked through with blood.
The bastard son of the previous king, lame in one leg, he had grown up receiving treatment no better than that of a servant despite his royal blood. His brothers openly ignored him, and even the nobles did not hesitate to mock his physical weakness in his presence.
Each time, Edward II had smiled stupidly in front of them, but behind their backs he had sharpened his blade. One day he would make all those who had ignored him kneel beneath him.
The heavens had taken one thing away but granted him many others in return. If his legs had been whole, the talent for the sword that could rival the greatest of all time and the ability to win over the hearts of others would have been enormous powers to him.
He had risen through his own outstanding martial prowess and keen eye for talent. With his powerful charisma he had secured the absolute loyalty of many retainers and strengthened his faction.
Then, one day, the king of Rotinzel had suddenly fallen ill and died. The empire was plunged into chaos by the sudden death without a designated successor.
While the princes were divided into factions and fought among themselves, Edward, who had steadily prepared to become king behind the scenes, summoned his brothers. It was merely to hold a meeting before they fought over the throne.
The princes who had once ignored him had accepted his request, thinking that as long as it was within his territory, it would be safe.
They had no idea what they had walked into the jaws of a beast.
“Block every exit.”
“Understood!”
The moment his brothers gathered in the conference hall, Edward had activated the trap he had prepared. The princes who had entered with only minimal escort were now completely trapped inside.
“What kind of trick is this!”
“You dare!”
Edward appeared before the princes with his retainers. Mocking their anger, he gave instructions with calm ease.
“Do I still look like the Edward you all used to look down on?”
With a gesture from Edward, his retainers drew their swords. The other princes who had brought their forces outside had already been dealt with.
Edward had killed all his brothers gathered in the conference hall.
Not only them, but even the princes who had not attended, he had spared those who knelt before him but crushed those who resisted with force.
Anyone belonging to the forces of a prince who had not surrendered, even their innocent children who had not yet opened their eyes, he had killed mercilessly.
A perfect massacre.
Edward had acted even more cruelly on purpose. That way he could clearly distinguish between enemies and allies, and he believed the frightened ones would submit to him.
Edward, having killed all those who opposed him, ascended directly to the throne.
Some claimed he had not even killed the previous king, but no one dared to dig into the matter before him. All truths were buried in the dark.
And twenty years had passed. Now, Edward had completely subjugated the opposition and taken full control of the throne. Not content with that, he had declared himself emperor and revealed his ambition to not be satisfied with Rotinzel alone. Rotinzel had become an empire under Edward.
Whether it was a reaction to the oppression he had suffered as a child or simply his ambition, he was so hungry for power. It was only natural that after taking Rotinzel into his hands he would set his eyes on the Blesk Empire.
But his imperial power was not yet enough to fight the empire directly. Moreover, Bluisol stood in the way between them. If he were to strike them in the back while they were occupied with the empire, it would be problematic, so Bluisol had to be dealt with first.
Edward had started the war.
Not only would it expand Rotinzel's territory, but it would also turn internal discontent with the long-running terror rule outward, a good plan.
He had requested passage to attack the Blesk Empire.
Edward II had sent a letter to Bluisol. But it was only an excuse. No matter what answer they gave, he planned to crush Bluisol. With new weapons, he was confident he could quickly occupy the land and prepare to fight the empire.
After thorough preparation, he had issued the order to march.
Occupying the capital of Bluisol, Roire, had gone quite smoothly.
However.
Crash!
“Why? There has been no progress since the news that we have occupied Roire?”
Edward slammed his throne hard.
“Your Majesty, due to the defeat of Viscount Ocieden in Ileang, Duke Oschiden is being cautious…”
“Being cautious? Do you call it caution that you cannot even break through a single city with troops several times larger than Bluisol's?”
His long slit eyes fixed on the minister who had spoken.
The minister who had protected Aaron fell silent.
All the ministers bowed their heads and pressed their lips shut. No one dared to defy the angry emperor's will.
“Send a letter. Urgently deliver Bluisol before me. Do not test my patience.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
The ministers answered in unison. Edward II leaned back sloppily on his throne.
***
Rumors spread faster than flames.
The flyers that Divine had first sent everywhere were crudely copied by hand and reached both the southern and northern ends. The song written by Dane after many discussions spread from the capital area to the northern provinces.
The rumors spread without distinction between enemy and ally eventually reached the ears of Philippe VII.
In Aquitaine, the cold wind of autumn had begun to feel like flesh-eating cold. Though it was still autumn, this castle in the north was far colder than Roire. Yet the king wandered outside without even putting on a coat.
“Your Highness, it is cold. Come inside.”
“It is fine. Do not say anything, servant.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He felt suffocated. If he did not breathe fresh air he would explode, so the king continued walking for a long time. The servants following him were a matter of no concern to him.
The folk song he had heard recently from his subordinates kept floating around his mind.
It was only a foolish song sung by ignorant people. He should ignore it.
But the words were too much on his mind.
‘It is not something created by someone who knows nothing.’
Clarentmer. The shining sea.
The name he had given her, how could they not know?
The song was about the savior Clarentmer who had descended from the sky washing away the red stains, the blood in the homeland.
It was clear that the song's author regarded Jeanne as a saint.
It could have been a minstrel who accidentally saw her and composed a hymn, or it could have been created by one of the people she had saved, but even so it felt unsettling.
‘Above all, it says she saves everyone…’
Then she would have to climb to the highest place, the king's throne I am sitting on. Philippe VII's thoughts went that far.
If I am captured by the enemy, this country is finished. Why do the ignorant ones not understand my intention.
Philippe VII truly thought that.
Yet the foolish common people blamed him for not understanding his deep intention and fleeing, and that blame had already reached his ears.
His reputation was steadily declining, while Jeanne's was only rising, so Philippe VII found it very unpleasant.
Power was something that could not be shared even with one's own children. If Jeanne aimed for the throne, she could not be left alone.
Louis and Charles, who had been left in Ileang to restrain Jeanne, were still holed up in Ileang with no further news.
It was nothing but things that displeased him, and the king's frustration only grew heavier. Even after breathing fresh air, his chest remained tightly sealed.
The king continued walking even further, and only when night fell did he finally return inside.
Raphael had returned after completing negotiations with the empire.
“Your Highness, His Majesty of Blake has agreed to support us with an army of one hundred thousand.”
As foreign minister, his first diplomatic mission could be called a success.
With his excellent eloquence, he had secured the promise of support before the year ended.
But in reality it was not negotiation. It was him kneeling before the emperor of the empire and desperately asking to help this country.
“You did well.”
For once, a smile appeared on the king's face.
Even though the empire's support had not yet arrived, he greeted Raphael as if the reinforcements had already come and praised him greatly.
Raphael's expression became strange.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
No matter how much he claimed an alliance with the Blesk Empire, it was still bringing the army of another country inside this nation. It was a happy thing to receive reinforcements when the country was in crisis, but for some reason the king seemed to have something more in mind.
Raphael looked intently at the king. No further words came from him.
Was this the end? He had not even asked after his daughter Marie, the princess married to the empire. Was it truly the end? Raphael once again felt how extremely cold the king was toward his own children.
“Then I will take my leave.”
Since he had already reported to the king, his duty was complete. Raphael bowed and left the audience hall.
***
In the Rotinzel army camp set up in Roire, soldiers were busy sorting captured spoils and loading them onto carts to transport back to the home country.
If they used the sea route, transporting supplies would have been far easier, but the eastern sea of Bluisol was within the empire's territory and the western passage was blocked tight by the navy of La Rochelle, so they had no choice but to move by land.
Watching the soldiers carry luggage instead of training, Herais let out a sigh.
‘When exactly do you plan to march?’
Having come to Roire with the ambitious plan to advance with Aaron and hand Bluisol over to His Majesty, he was only frustrated because Aaron, who should be commanding the army, was staying put in Roire.
Herais entered the tent where Aaron was staying.
Aaron was hugging his fat belly and enjoying tea and cakes. Seeing that, the thread of patience he had been holding on to snapped.
“When exactly do you plan to march?”
“It is not yet time, Herais. I do not want to lose like Nicholas because we acted too hastily without properly fighting.”
Since he had command of the army, Herais had no choice but to follow his orders.
Then, at that moment, a letter arrived from the home country.
‘Urgently occupy Bluisol.’
Apart from the ornate rhetoric, the core was that.
Having swallowed Bluisol in one bite and prepared to fight the empire, Edward II had conveyed his intention through the letter when the schedule was delayed.
“Since it is His Majesty's will, we really must march now, right?”
Riding on the emperor's will, Herais boldly demanded of Aaron.
“Hmph. Not yet.”
Aaron, still not willing, reluctantly began preparations to march to Ileang Castle.
**END**