Part 2, Chapter 18
Part 2, Chapter 18
Translation: godsn
"Iason, you must go to Valdina."
It meant my uncle intended to position me as both the First Prince's rival and the Third Prince's shield.
The Fourth Imperial Princess, whom he had cherished, and all his other insignificant children had long since been culled by the First Prince's hand.
Faced with his eldest son's overwhelming dominance—having swiftly consolidated the succession—Emperor Perdiccas II sought not to repent for his mistakes, but rather to find some way to suppress his child.
That "way" was Iason.
"There is something you must accomplish at Valdina's imperial proclamation ceremony. Cesare—that damned bastard's subordinates will try to interfere, but you must succeed no matter what."
The scheme was to pit Iason against the eldest prince, exhaust both their strengths, and then easily topple the weakened victor.
The Third Prince was the emperor's last remaining stronghold.
I knew. Had there been any other alternative, the emperor would never have chosen me.
Even now, the emperor's closest confidant—the Chief Chamberlain—accompanied Iason.
A clear message that he did not trust Iason, that he was to be used solely as a disposable tool.
I, too, would be discarded like a hunting dog that had outlived its usefulness once the First Prince was suppressed.
The pettiness made my teeth grind, but I had no other choice.
'Even if it's poison, I must drink it. This is the only stepping stone I have to rise.'
Pretending not to notice the festering greed and distrust, Iason took Perdiccas II's hand and came here—to Valdina.
"I, too, had no choice in the matter. I beg Your Majesty to set aside your displeasure."
Iason produced the prepared words, having already anticipated the cold reception in the banquet hall.
"My liege and uncle—His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Kazen—has appointed me as the official diplomatic envoy. I have no choice but to fulfill that duty."
Iason first presented the emperor's decree.
He made sure everyone could see the imperial seal appointing him as Kazen's representative.
The Valdinans frowned.
The Emperor of Kazen was also aware of the atrocities his nephew Iason had committed. He had even seized Iason's territories as compensation.
Yet now, he was sending that very perpetrator back to Valdina as an envoy?
Was this not an attempt to pour cold water on Valdina's celebration?
"......"
Iason lifted his chin.
'As long as the emperor has granted me full authority, they have no choice but to accept me.'
A newborn empire could not afford to oppose Kazen from the very first step it took.
Moreover, he was the only Kazen imperial family member in this diplomatic mission. Even if only in name, the value of that bloodline remained intact.
Thus, they could neither kill him nor drive him away—they could only watch.
Just as three years ago, Valdina had no choice but to let him leave alive.
As he observed Pelleus's hardened expression and the barely restrained fury on the faces of Agema's warriors, a base sense of satisfaction welled up within him.
The countless hardships he had endured in the north, the humiliation of being used as his uncle's puppet—none of it felt painful anymore.
'......Where is she?'
In his heightened mood, Iason found himself unconsciously searching for that ruthless, cold princess.
He wanted to know what expression she was making while looking at him now.
But his crimson eyes struggled to find Medeia. Gritting his teeth, he shook off the rising disappointment.
'This is not the time. Have I forgotten why I'm here?'
He was not the only clown set to take the stage today.
Regaining his composure, Iason gave a slight glance backward.
At his signal, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and those who had been hidden among the diplomatic mission finally revealed themselves.
"Claudio! How dare you show your face in Valdina?!"
Marquess Gilifos's thunderous roar echoed through the hall.
The crowd soon recognized the father and son with faded silver hair standing on Iason's side.
Dozens of eyes instantly scrutinized them from head to toe.
Aside from being somewhat gaunt, Samon's ashen hair and cunning gaze remained unchanged. But his father, Joaquin, had aged astonishingly in just three years.
The deep wrinkles etched across his face and his single remaining eye twitched violently, as if in convulsions.
There was no trace left of the once-feared Duke Claudio, whose absolute power could bring down even soaring birds, in his hunched and pitiful posture.
The extravagant ceremonial robes he had donned to salvage his pride only made him appear all the more wretched, clashing grotesquely with his current state.
"My goodness... Even if his son is the Consort to Princess Kazen, how could he have fallen to such a state...?"
Foreigners who remembered his heyday gasped in shock or clicked their tongues in disapproval.
Beside the Claudio father and son stood Count Laju as well.
Still clad in his signature red suit and sporting his well-groomed mustache, he appeared more polished than before—yet colder.
Neither Catherine nor Virna, who held no titles or official positions, had even been granted the right to attend the celebratory banquet.
At the very least, Samon had managed to secure a place as Iason's advisor, while Joaquin barely scraped by as Laju's attendant.
"Filthy bastards! They deserve to rot in hell!"
Another onlooker, unable to contain their fury, flung champagne over them.
Joaquin's chest was smeared with globs of pie filling, hurled by someone in the crowd.
Dressed for a grand banquet, Samon's group was quickly reduced to a filthy, disheveled mess.
Samon knelt before Pelleus. His murky blue eyes gleamed with cunning.
"Samon Claudio, swallowing my shame, begs my dear cousin for forgiveness. In a moment of foolish judgment, I committed an unforgivable crime."
With a sorrowful expression, he prostrated himself deeply, as if pressing his forehead to the ground. The red wine someone had splashed over him soaked into his faded silver hair.
The wine trickling down his hollow cheeks looked eerily like tears of blood.
"That—that shameless bastard—!"
Even amidst the seething hatred of the Valdinans, who looked ready to tear him apart, he did not falter. Instead, he raised his voice, as if ensuring the entire banquet hall could hear him.
"If Your Majesty, in your boundless grace, would take our family back, I vow to dedicate the rest of my life to the prosperity of Valdina. Please, remember the bonds of blood and grant us your mercy."
His voice carried weight, thick with desperation.
To an outsider, Samon's words might have painted Pelleus as the one who had unjustly cast out his own uncle's family.
"Ugh— Pelleus— no, Your— Your Majesty. Please forgive this uncle of yours. I was wrong..."
Taking his cue, Joaquin collapsed beside his son, bursting into loud sobs.
On trembling knees, he crawled forward, reaching out desperately toward Pelleus.
"Exiled from the homeland where I was born and raised— sob— I couldn't even be by my mother's side in her final moments. How much longer does this old uncle have to live? Even in death, I wish to rest beside my mother. Your Majesty, I beg you— please, grant me forgiveness..."
The Claudio father and son wailed and carried on, stirring up a scene.
"These shameless rebels dare spew such nonsense, forgetting the mercy that spared their lives! Don't you dare dream of crawling back into Valdina!"
Marquess Gilifos exploded, searching for his mace.
These were the parasites that had gnawed at the kingdom's roots. They should have had their useless heads smashed in long ago!
"Samon, what is the meaning of this? Acting without consulting me, committing such impropriety before the imperial family and nobles—!"
Iason's voice dripped with displeasure.
But his words were not meant to reprimand Samon—they were a clear line drawn to distance himself from the Claudio family's reckless actions.
"Take them away."
Pelleus issued the command in a flat, emotionless tone. His icy voice showed no hint of being moved by Joaquin's desperate pleas.
"Your Majesty... Am I not your uncle? The blood that runs in my veins runs in yours as well— sob— how can you be so cruel...? Must I die for your heart to be at ease— gahk!"
Just as Joaquin, in the midst of his sobbing, drew a dagger and pressed it to his own throat—