Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Hobby
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The Zeinburg family, which ruled the Dragonia Empire, had long suffered from various threats.
Emperors, for some unknowable reason, couldn't produce many children, and those few were often lost to power struggles, assassinations by nobles or foreign powers, and rarely lived long.
As a result, the Zeinburg family ended up with a peculiar structure where only direct blood relatives existed.
Many voiced concerns, but no improvements were made.
Finally, about five years ago, Emperor Frank Zeinburg died suddenly of illness without leaving an heir.
It was a true sudden death—he hadn't even named a successor, and there were no other viable claimants.
The Zeinburg line had come to an end.
The empire plunged into great chaos.
Members of the Zeinburg imperial family shared two striking traits.
They were born with red hair and red eyes, as if proving the legend of inheriting the Red Dragon's blood, and the Sword of Bloodline, embedded before the throne in the imperial palace, could not be drawn by anyone except a true Zeinburg.
But after several hundred years, for some reason, even Zeinburgs could no longer draw the sword—though the red hair and eyes continued to be passed down unbroken.
Thus, the Sword of Bloodline became a tale of legend, while red hair and eyes became symbols of the Zeinburgs.
So when rumors spread that the throne was vacant, red-haired people from all over the empire flocked to the palace, claiming to be Zeinburgs.
One claimant, a man with red irises due to albinism, was exposed for dyeing his hair red, dumbfounding everyone; another ambitious noble lost his eyesight trying to dye his eyes red.
A massive number of throne claimants emerged, and nobles formed factions backing their favorites based on personal gains.
Of course, there was no way to prove true Zeinburg blood, so their conflicts were turning into outright factional wars.
Then, out of nowhere, the current emperor, Luise Zeinburg, appeared.
At 24 years old, young among the claimants, she was a farmer's daughter from Stilberg, a remote mountain village at the empire's southernmost tip.
She boasted naturally beautiful crimson hair and eyes, claiming to be a collateral relative of the imperial family.
Everyone laughed, saying no imperial kin would live in such a backwater farming—but she swiftly silenced the doubts.
Entering the palace, she effortlessly drew the Sword of Bloodline, untouched for over 200 years, with no resistance as it came into her hand.
Everyone was stunned speechless.
Once other candidates screamed and dropped the sword when handed it—just in case—the proof was complete, and she ascended the throne without opposition.
It aligned the wishes of nobles loyal to the imperial family and ambitious ones seeking an inexperienced young emperor.
The nobles expected the legitimate but young and politically naive Luise to be a puppet in their hands, but she quelled the initial chaos with her unique charisma and insight.
Her sharp eye for talent especially shone; she promoted rising nobles and officials, who coalesced into the Emperor Faction under her influence.
Established nobles, threatened by the growing imperial power, banded into the Noble Faction—but the Northern War they waged alone ended in near-failure, weakening them, and most neutral nobles shifted to the Emperor Faction.
In the end, Luise built the strongest faction of any emperor in centuries.
Not all Emperor Faction nobles were truly loyal, so it wasn't wholly her power—but outwardly, she appeared to have forged an absolute imperial court.
For the Dragonia Empire, long hampered by fragmented power, Luise gathered the hopes of those dreaming of imperial glory.
Nations around her watched closely, gathering intelligence on her moves.
Thus, the woman who drew all eyes—with a word or gesture, she could move the empire—
"Hehe. Hehehehe..."
lay in bed, giggling as she read documents in hand.
The blanket was kicked to the floor; her nightgown, half-unbuttoned, threatened to slip off entirely.
Utterly unlike her usual elegant figure in ornate robes upon the throne.
The documents listed profiles of employment candidates: graduates from the empire's Officer Academy, those recommended by current officials.
Similar papers littered the bedside, under the bed, and her desk.
"Not bad. Hmm. Not bad at all."
Luise devoured every word with intense focus.
Observing humans was her favorite hobby.
Among her kin, who saw themselves as lofty beings, she was infamous—even "that crazy bitch" was instantly understood.
It began in her youth, stumbling upon human tales.
Stories of the Dragonia Empire's founding emperor, human hero Zeke, and more.
Like humans awestruck by a massive anthill.
Among continental races, physically weakest humans wove grand sagas that captivated her.
For decades, she devoured every human legend passed down.
Then she realized: legendary humans all followed the same pattern.
Extraordinary origins, fame, crises bestowed, triumphs, happy endings.
Minor variations, but the framework identical.
Luise grew utterly bored with the formulaic structure.
Polished tales of virtues no longer moved her.
She craved raw, unfiltered human nature.
She resolved to immerse herself among humans.
Believing high status would reveal the most variety, she prepared meticulously.
Imposing restrictions on herself to convince worried kin, she awaited the right moment.
When the human Dragonia Empire's emperor died, plunging it into chaos, Luise seized the chance to infiltrate human society.
At first, she simply enjoyed the spectacle of humanity—but the thrill faded quickly.
Most humans were base and greedy; those lingering near her were often worse.
Especially the self-styled "nobles" who flocked: rude to her face or sly beneath courtesy.
No heroic figures like she sought appeared.
Occasional promising ones vanished or turned ordinary.
Thus, she thirsted for new talent.
Believing a true hero would come someday, she kept collecting intel on exceptional humans.
Reading reports daily, imagining their deeds, summoning them to the empire.
Expectations met disappointment repeatedly, fueling her persistence and obsession.
"Hmm."
She set down the document, rolled sideways, lifted the pillow.
Beneath lay a neatly bound bundle, thicker than others, marked green at the edges: "Victor, Ruth Kingdom."
"This guy's my favorite, after all."
Luise picked it up, reclining comfortably.
Lately, she'd focused most on a human named Victor.
Victor, Ruth Kingdom's famed general who nearly won the Northern War.
His rise from street orphan to supreme commander stirred long-forgotten excitement.
Orphan wandering alleys, topping into Officer Academy: extraordinary start.
Exile and war crises, proving himself to claim command: perfect arc.
Luise flipped through the well-read document again.
Days remained before Victor's arrival, but she'd reread it nightly.
Reports from Paul and his generals praised him highly, swelling her anticipation.
A recent report confirmed negotiations ended; soon, she'd meet him—her cheeks flushed.
She recalled adult advice to temper expectations with time left, but dismissed it.
Great hopes meant great joy if met—or punishment if not.
"Can't wait."
Imagining what face he'd show before her, she spun fantasies amid the pages.
Same time.
Anna, left in Ruth Kingdom, pondered seriously over letters that had arrived.
"...Should we really rebel?"
Guarding Victor's tent at his soldiers' request, Anna muttered at his cooling empty chair.
Her thoughts tilted toward rebellion.
No telling how many would follow if she acted—but over 10,000 had pledged to her already.
Even nobles, who should've moved sooner, were too busy feasting daily.
"...You won't hear it, but."
Approaching Victor's desk—unfamiliar without piled papers—she brushed gathering dust.
His dragged-away back lingered in mind; she sat, glum, at her spot.
Mounds of letters covered her desk.
Most decried the kingdom's betrayal of Victor; many outright urged rebellion.
These convinced Anna: the process to send Victor away was utter disaster, resonating widely.
"General Anna, we're always ready."
A nearby soldier pressed for decision, but she shook her head.
"Not yet enough."
Anna knew rebellion, once started, couldn't stop midway.
Half-hearted uprisings ended in purges—she'd seen it often.
If aimed at noble grievances, success meant purging all nobles tied to the negotiations.
Did those gathered have resolve to cut down nobles—or old comrades blocking them?
Not all letter-writers dreamed rebellion; she thought to wait for nobles' better pretext.
To honor Victor's last order—to live long—she sought an irrefutable justification uniting all.
"...Let's wait."
In a way, she trusted Ruth Kingdom's nobles.
They were so disastrously incompetent, she'd bet they'd blunder massively again.