The Empire's Trap
“Your valor and noble sacrifices have earned our deepest gratitude once more, as do the gods and late kings who guided our paths to cross. We are all in your debt, and we know that debt can never truly be repaid.”
His expression and tone carried no artifice, yet they radiated solemnity and dignity, blending with the sanctuary’s atmosphere until a touch of the sacred seemed to linger in the air.
The ceremony continued under the king’s direction, concluding with the nobles, ministers, and priests offering their respects. Once finished, the king dismissed them all. A few lingered, openly reluctant, slowing their steps and glancing back repeatedly, but the king’s sharp gaze soon sent them hurrying out of the temple. The moment the last of them vanished, the regal light faded from his eyes, and he once again wore the anxious expression of a father watching his daughter.
“This is harder than I remembered. It’s been too long.”
The king’s awkward remark was accompanied by a gaze that remained fixed on Aegina. Though the ceremony and greetings had helped her regain some composure, a dangerous spark still lingered in her eyes.
“Ed has been handling most of these lately.”
“You should be the one to do it, Father. After all, everyone came for you. I’m only the regent.”
Ed had never wanted the throne. He had always seen himself as a scholar rather than a king, and even now he likely hoped Rowell and Aegina would take the crown instead. But with both of them having renounced the succession, he remained the sole heir. That was why the king, despite his good health, had appointed him regent and entrusted him with the bulk of state affairs—so he could not step aside.
“You looked magnificent, Your Majesty. Just like the first time I—”
“Where is Mother?”
Rowell had been about to offer a proper greeting to his father-in-law, and the king’s face had lit up at the sight of his son-in-law. Aegina, however, deliberately cut the exchange short.
“Ah, your mother is reflecting in her chambers.”
“Reflecting, or did the two of you simply hide her away?”
At Aegina’s calm yet heavy question, Ed glanced aside. Of course the woman known as the “Sword-Wielding Flower” would never meekly accept confinement. If she were the sort to reflect quietly, she would never have caused such an incident in the first place.
Whatever her reasons, she had acted according to her own convictions. She might accept responsibility, but regret or remorse were unlikely.
Thanks to that mother of hers, Aegina already knew exactly how to handle Orcan during their travels.
“No, even your mother admits she went a little too far.”
A little too far? Beating an imperial envoy—not just striking him, but thoroughly thrashing him—was only “a little too far”?
Several nations bore the title of empire, but when people spoke of “the Empire,” they meant the Sigmut Empire, the Iron Empire that had shouldered the greatest burden in defending the final line during the great war and still held more than sixty percent of that line within its borders.
During the war, the Sigmut Empire had been called humanity’s last shield. Countless refugees and the royal and noble families of fallen kingdoms had fled to it. Though the final line had ultimately held because the Demon King’s army lost interest in further expansion and was forced to divert its full strength against us and the resistance, the result was the same: the Demon King’s forces had never broken through. Because of that, Sigmut’s influence in international affairs remained immense.
Its prestige as the nation that had halted the Demon King’s advance and commanded the allied forces, combined with its powerful military and the extensive networks formed by the exiled royalty and nobility who had sought refuge there, gave it sway over both the surviving nations behind the final line and the occupied countries now struggling to rebuild.
The only nations relatively free of Sigmut’s influence were the Ayman Kingdom—recognized as the Hero’s homeland and part of the final line—the magic kingdom of El Nuakamu with its capital at Afros, the Holy Empire of Bagard, the maritime alliance of Poarnedon, and the vast Tumbler Plateau ruled by various tribes.
And yet someone from that empire had been beaten bloody. And the king called it “a little too far”? No matter how much he loved his wife, that was not the sort of thing one said lightly.
“…Did the empire make some insolent demand?”
The king and Ed answered with silent, bitter smiles.
“Calling it merely insolent feels like an understatement.”
It had been insolent. That much was certain.
“What did they demand?”
Seeing Aegina’s gaze soften slightly, Rowell took her hand and asked Ed.
“Well, to put it simply… they proposed a marriage.”
“A marriage? Whose?”
Ed pointed at himself.
Arranging marriages to strengthen alliances was nothing new. Ed was the crown prince, and Ayman was one of the few nations outside Sigmut’s direct influence. A proposal was not strange in itself. Since Ed was still unmarried, the suggestion alone was not particularly rude.
“Who was the other party? Some minor noble?”
If they had offered a low-ranking noble with no land or hereditary title, that would have been an insult. But Ed shook his head.
“No. A member of the imperial family. The First Princess of the Empire, in fact.”
I tilted my head without thinking. That sounded like a perfectly reasonable match.
“Surely not Lady Malberg? That Lady Malberg?”
Aegina’s expression, however, had turned to stone. Unlike me, she clearly knew something.
“…That is correct.”
At the king’s answer, an uneasy silence fell over us. Rowell and I were simply confused, Bagloros was his usual self, but Aegina and the other three wore grave expressions.
“…Where are the envoys now?”
Rowell’s hand tightened around Aegina’s. I nearly reached out to stop her myself. The king and Ed both raised their hands, ready to intervene.
We had known her long enough to recognize the faint killing intent in her voice.
“Calm down, Aegina. Who exactly is Lady Malberg?”
Aegina let out a long sigh and regained her composure. Even if we had left her alone, she probably would not have acted, but her reaction alone confirmed that the queen’s actions had been justified.
“Malberg Rua Galathes. She is indeed the First Princess of the Sigmut Empire.”
She paused, as if trying to keep her emotions in check, then continued slowly.
“But Lady Malberg is forty-six years old this year.”
Forty-six? That meant she was nearly twenty years older than Ed, who was the same age as Rowell and me. She might even be older than the queen.
“She has also been married twice before.”
Well, it would have been stranger if a woman of that age from a royal or noble house had never married. But a third marriage? As the First Princess, her previous husbands had likely died in the war rather than through divorce. Still, she was hardly a suitable match for Ed in any respect.
“What were they thinking, making such an offer?!”
My voice rose without my realizing it. I understood Aegina’s anger now. I wanted to see the envoys’ faces myself. How could they have proposed something so outrageous? No matter how powerful the empire was, there were limits to how much they could insult Ayman.
“Her Majesty the Queen did the right thing. Don’t you agree, Aegina?”
It was an emotional reaction, and we were royalty, but I was firmly on the queen’s side. Any parent would have wanted to beat them. Even in a political marriage, there were basic standards. A twenty-year age gap was only possible if one side held overwhelming superiority in status or national power.
Ayman might be a small kingdom with far less trade volume or territory than the empire, but it was the nation chosen by the Hero who saved the world. Even if she was the First Princess, she was not the only princess. To bring such a proposal to what they clearly viewed as a vassal state was beyond insulting.
“…What was the empire’s reaction? How did they respond to the envoys being harmed?”
She no longer seemed inclined to blame her mother.
“They naturally took issue with your mother’s actions. They said they would treat the marriage proposal as never having happened, but demanded favorable terms in trade and various treaties. Alternatively, they wanted your mother punished for assaulting the envoys.”
Rowell, Aegina, and I finally understood. This had been a trap set by the empire from the very beginning.
International custom held that envoys should not be harmed, even those sent by enemy nations during wartime. Of course, there had been countless cases where envoys were executed or imprisoned for their conduct, but the current situation was different. We were not at war, and the proposal had been framed as a marriage offer.
No matter her age, the other party was the First Princess. Calling the proposal itself rude would have been an even greater offense, and given the empire’s influence, other nations would likely side with them.
“What a pathetic trick…”
They had known exactly how the queen would react to such an absurd proposal.
If she harmed the envoys, they could demand either her punishment or concessions in the treaties. If Ayman accepted the unfavorable terms, that was fine. If the queen received only a light punishment for assaulting the envoys—after all, she had not killed them, and punishment was a domestic matter—then the empire could escalate the issue, claiming Ayman had insulted the empire and stirring up public sentiment.
That would naturally diminish the immense popularity Ayman and the Hero enjoyed within the empire, strengthening the emperor’s control over his own people and making it easier to push policies against Ayman. The empire knew Rowell and Aegina would never conquer them by force, so they resorted to this petty scheme.