Why Do You Only Hurt Me (2)
The relationship between the empire and the kingdom was so terrible that calling it a cat-and-dog feud felt like an understatement. Perhaps that was why even the official letters they exchanged were basically an exercise in provocation. It sometimes seemed as if they studied ways to offend each other. Yet the letter the kingdom sent to the empire this time was unusually polite in tone.
To Wolfgang, who harbored no particular ill will toward the kingdom, the contents were reasonably acceptable. Leifen, however, felt very differently. He had never been fond of the kingdom.
“What does it say?”
“To summarize… they wish to form an alliance with the empire.”
“What utter nonsense.”
Despite it being an official diplomatic missive from the kingdom, Leifen snatched the letter from her hands and tore it to shreds without bothering to read it. The corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer.
“It isn’t even worth discussing.”
“You’re reacting rather violently.”
“A hundred years ago, when the empire grew weak, those bastards seized our territory. Forming an alliance with such vermin would be like swallowing a stone.”
History already knew the answer. They had waited for the empire to falter beneath the winter of the apocalypse, then stolen its land. Now that the long winter had ended, they suddenly wanted friendship? Their intentions were painfully obvious. In the end, it was nothing more than a flimsy excuse for old grudges. Leifen paid such sentiments no mind.
He had become emperor because he had no other choice. It was not out of love for the empire or any noble desire to see it prosper. The reason he had been forced into the role was—
“Wolfgang.”
“Huh…?”
“…What is that face?”
“Ahem. Why do you ask?”
Perhaps it was because he had suddenly called her by name after so long. Caught completely off guard, Wolfgang unconsciously let a dazed, vacant expression slip across her face. It was an expression that did not suit her at all—so trivial and small. She seemed aware of it herself; she cleared her throat and averted her eyes. Her face, flushed crimson with embarrassment, looked unbearably cute to him.
It was truly dangerous. I nearly let my heart waver without realizing it.
Even the iron-blooded emperor, a man said to possess neither blood nor tears, found his heart violently shaken by the surprise attack. The fortress wall he had built around his emotions crumbled for an instant, and he had almost spoken the truth he had sworn to carry alone for the rest of his life.
But he was an emperor who reigned supreme. Suppressing personal feelings was not a difficult task for him.
“…Are you truly fine with this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I am asking for your honest heart. Not as emperor and subject, but as one friend who worries for you.”
In the past, when he had been Lord of the Baikal Territory, his responsibility had been to oversee the entire north. The northern lands, hit hardest by the endless winter, had held no other fiefs besides Baikal. As a result, he had always been required to review the list of personnel the imperial family dispatched to the Baikal lands.
Among those names had been Lana Frost.
Her notoriety was already widely known throughout the empire. Yet Leifen had never believed the rumors—especially not when they concerned her.
She must have been framed. Of course she would hold ill feelings toward the kingdom. And yet they want an alliance? I wonder what she truly thinks.
Although Leifen had ascended the throne against his wishes, he was no incompetent tyrant. His mind told him that avoiding open hostility with the kingdom was the wiser path. The empire was still in the early stages of recovering its strength after the Winter War. Starting a conflict now would bring victory, but the burden would be immense.
Therefore, even if an alliance was impossible, the best course was to refrain from overt antagonism. That was his judgment as emperor.
But as a member of the Vendetta Legion, he thought differently.
Second Rule: Absolute obedience to the commander’s orders.
Before he was emperor, he had already sworn loyalty to Wolfgang Leonhardt as a soldier of the Vendetta. If she desired war, he would gladly declare it against the kingdom. The empire’s glory, the throne itself—everything existed for her sake.
In other words, the kingdom’s fate rested entirely in her hands.
And at last, she spoke.
“I am fine with it.”
“…”
“The empire has only just ended the Winter War and is now focused on recovering its strength. We would win if we went to war now, of course… but the burden would fall squarely on the citizens.”
There was no hesitation in her serious voice. Leifen read her intentions without difficulty.
I see. So you are no longer Lana Frost, but Wolfgang Leonhardt of the empire.
She had every reason to want revenge on those who had framed her. She possessed the power to claim it. Yet she cast all personal feelings aside and thought only of the empire and its people. To Leifen, the sight was as brilliant as the sun itself.
A proud smile rose to his lips.
Yes. This is our hero.
The flame of hope that always guided them toward what was right. At the same time, he felt a pang of regret. He had hoped they might stand together on the battlefield once more.
Kingdom, you should thank her for her mercy.
Naturally, Wolfgang was not nearly as concerned with the empire’s or its citizens’ welfare as Leifen believed. The real reason she opposed war was far simpler.
If war breaks out, my workload will only get heavier!!
It was a perfectly Wolfgang-like reason.
By the time the sun had completely set beyond the window and the lonely moon rose to cast its solitary light, the young man who had shut himself inside his office finally allowed himself a brief rest. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the heavy weight of worry pressing on his mind.
His brilliant golden hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. His jewel-like blue eyes were clouded with anxiety and concern. He clutched at his perfectly arranged locks and let out a low groan.
Zaid von Barcleon Mines.
Originally the second prince of the Mines Kingdom, he had never been destined for the throne. His older brother had secured the position of crown prince so firmly that there had been no room left for him. Yet Zaid had never coveted the crown. It was enough to simply serve as a model for others as a member of the royal family.
The reason he had suddenly been named crown prince was simple: his elder brother, Zaiha von Barcleon Mines, had been stripped of the title after breaking the engagement with the Frost Duchy.
“Are you in your right mind?! Apologize immediately! It is not too late!”
“My heart has already chosen this path. How could I possibly defy it?”
“Brother! Please, come back to your senses!!”
“It is already too late to turn back.”
My brother, who had once been so wise… How could he have ended up like this?
Zaiha had been renowned since childhood for his exceptional talent with the sword. He had proven his brilliance by leading troops against monsters at a young age and had even been expected to reach the same realm as the legendary heroes of old. Yet everything had gone awry the moment he met that strange woman known as the Saintess.
If not for her, we would never have become enemies with the Frost Duchy, and I wouldn’t be suffering like this.
The kingdom was now split into two factions. One followed the Saintess chosen directly by the Goddess. The other was the royalist faction led by Zaid himself.
Although the Mines Kingdom was now known as the Kingdom of Knights, in its golden age it had been called the Kingdom of Heroes. The legends of those heroes still lived on in both oral tradition and recorded history. Because of this, the position of Saintess—chosen by the Goddess—held such symbolic weight that even the king was expected to bow his head before her.
That was precisely the problem.
No matter how lofty her symbolic status, the role of Saintess had always been purely honorary. She was never meant to participate in politics or wield real power. Yet the day a woman named Jeanne suddenly appeared in the hunting grounds and was chosen as Saintess, all previous common sense was overturned. Her followers grew in number until they eventually rewrote the ancient laws forbidding the Saintess from engaging in governance.
Now the Saintess wielded authority nearly equal to the king’s—perhaps even greater.
We must bring her down somehow. But her faction is far stronger, and we have no justification to act.
Even with the crown prince and the nobles united beneath the royalist banner, the Saintess’s power was overwhelmingly superior. Simply maintaining the current balance was already exhausting.
It was during this desperate struggle that the intelligence department, recently reactivated within the empire, delivered astonishing information.
The war hero who had led the empire to victory in the Winter War—Wolfgang Leonhardt—was apparently the same person as Lana Frost, the villainess banished ten years earlier.
Of course, the intelligence department could not confirm it with absolute certainty. Some reports claimed her appearance differed from Lana Frost’s. Others insisted she had died in the winter long ago. The information was fragmented and contradictory.
The irony was that the very winter of the apocalypse that had once tormented the empire was the reason their intelligence efforts had failed so badly. The brutal cold had been merciless even to trained agents, and the empire’s northern territories had become a literal white hell. Every operative sent to gather information had vanished. The losses were so severe that operations had been suspended entirely.
Now that the long winter had ended, the Black Knight Order made further infiltration nearly impossible. As a result, the kingdom possessed far less information about Wolfgang Leonhardt than her fame suggested.
But if she truly was Lana Frost…?
This is our chance. The only chance we have to topple the Saintess.
They had already secured proof that Lana Frost had been unjustly banished and saddled with false accusations. The only reason they had not revealed it was the lack of anyone capable of replacing the Saintess.
Yet if—if by some miracle the former Saintess candidate returned to the kingdom, if they could reinstate her—then everything would change.
It was a desperate grasp at straws. Pride? The dignity of the crown prince? Zaid was willing to discard any of it if it meant carving the rot out of the kingdom.
We must send a delegation. Even if an alliance is impossible, we need to confirm whether Wolfgang Leonhardt is truly Lana Frost.
The justification was more than sufficient. Since the previous letter had failed despite noble opposition, announcing that the crown prince would go personally should prevent the Saintess and her faction from growing suspicious.
To elevate the status of the delegation, it would include Zaid himself, a member of the royal intelligence service, and one final person—the only man who could recognize Lana Frost’s face at a glance.
The next head of the Frost Duchy and Lana Frost’s older brother.
Teodore von Frost.