Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Servant Cedric (17) - Little Uncle
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‘Claudia rampaging alone isn’t scary, but if the surrounding lords in alliance with her band together and raise their voices, it could get a bit tiresome. Should I subtly apply some pressure in the Second Prince’s name?’
‘I’ll need to shore up my assassination defenses too. The fact that he thwarted attempts on the Second and Third Princes means he’s got some skilled swordsmen as guards. There’s always a chance they’ll go all-in and come for my neck, so I have to protect myself thoroughly.’
‘I should also make it crystal clear what benefits Redbell stands to gain from Claudia’s marriage. If I can create a unified wave of expectation around her wedding from all sides, even if she tries some half-baked public opinion play, she’ll just get swept away.’
Armin Redbell’s political maneuvering was meticulously thorough.
Even though Claudia’s faction was at a relative disadvantage, he showed no complacency, methodically sealing off every means and method she might employ.
Rather than throwing in his forces piecemeal like his siblings, his approach aimed for a shutout from the start—a display of exactly why he had secured his position as Redbell’s heir so early on.
However, there was one unfortunate miscalculation on Armin’s part: he had judged his opponent within the bounds of common sense.
“Armin Redbell!! How dare you stab me in the back!?”
Thus, when the Second Prince stormed into his territory with a face flushed beet red, Armin could only flounder in confusion, unable to grasp the situation.
“Please calm down, Your Highness. Stab in the back? How could I ever commit such an insolent act against you? Let’s discuss this calmly first—”
“Calm? Calmly? Do you think I can stay calm right now! Do you have any idea what that worm Bartholomew said to me!?”
Grand Duke Bartholomew.
Upon hearing the name of Birka Kingdom’s royal uncle and the heavyweight eyeing the throne, Armin’s face subtly stiffened.
He instinctively knew the Second Prince’s fury wasn’t some simple misunderstanding or mishap.
And that instinct turned to reality with the words that followed from the prince’s mouth.
“That bastard told me, ‘Your Highness, I understand your impatience in many ways, but selling off a child from your own clan to make a deal? I can’t help but question your character as royalty.’ Now the whole court is buzzing that I tried to build my power by selling my niece!! That wench Claudia’s been going around with Bartholomew, testifying that this was all my scheme!! And you’re still going to deny it!?”
“That’s absurd…”
Armin staggered unwittingly.
His head throbbed as if hammered by a mallet.
‘They know Redbell’s backing the Second Prince, and they still side with the royal uncle? Are they insane?’
The Redbell marquessate and the Sarno count family were backing the Second Prince and the royal uncle respectively, pouring no small effort into securing victory.
The winner would claim greater spoils as the top contributor to the throne race, while the loser would forfeit just as much.
If the royal uncle triumphed, he wouldn’t leave Redbell—the house that supported his rival and obstructed him—untouched.
Redbell’s prestige was too towering for outright extermination, but with the royal family and count house—two of the kingdom’s top three powers—ganging up on the marquessate, the damage would be unimaginable.
And in that scenario, to cling to the enemy and stab Redbell in the back? All because she didn’t want to marry?
‘This, this brainless bitch…!! There’s a limit to immaturity!!’
No matter how thorough and cautious Armin was—in fact, precisely because of that personality—he could never have imagined Claudia pulling a stunt like this.
Sure, she might dodge the immediate crisis.
But what then?
If the Second Prince won, he wouldn’t let Claudia off the hook; if the royal uncle prevailed, her value would plummet just the same.
Rule Redbell through Claudia as a puppet? Would the retainers meekly accept a family traitor?
By Armin’s common sense and knowledge, Claudia’s move was akin to torching the entire house just to rid it of a few bugs.
It might hold up through summer somehow, but come winter, it’d mean freezing to death in short order.
The problem was that Armin was about to get swept up in her self-destructive blaze too.
“Don’t misunderstand, Your Highness! This was Claudia’s solo act! It’s absolutely not some plot orchestrated by our house!”
“You expect me to believe that the mighty Redbell house had no clue one mere lady bolted from the territory to cozy up to the royal uncle? You’re not seriously claiming you left a political marriage pawn unsupervised, are you!?”
“That’s…”
Armin ground his teeth.
He had indeed ordered his subordinates to monitor Claudia, but not a single one had reported any such incident—or even the slightest movement from her.
It was proof that even the most airtight plan from above amounted to nothing if the field didn’t follow through.
Of course, his subordinates had their excuses.
Was it their fault that Claudia’s hired servant turned out to be a master capable of illusion magic?
“And even if this was all that wench’s doing, it’s still a problem!! It doesn’t change that Redbell stabbed me in the back!!”
In a world where guilt by association was taken for granted,
whether Claudia’s actions were independent or not, the fact remained she bore Redbell blood—and Armin Redbell couldn’t evade the blame.
He’d become the team leader for this insidious group project bound by bloodlines.
No, the real leader was too big a fish for anyone to touch, leaving the relatively easier mark Armin to take the heat as deputy—a fate even more miserable in its own way.
As he frantically soothed the rampaging Second Prince, Armin seethed inwardly.
‘Claudia, I’ll make you pay for this humiliation…!!’
“Hahaha! That kid’s face turning red then pale was the best show I’ve seen lately!”
A silver-haired elder man with streaks of white here and there burst into laughter, his platinum locks striking an impressive figure.
Birka Kingdom’s royal uncle—and Claudia’s little uncle.
Claudia smiled at Grand Duke Bartholomew.
“I’m glad if it helped Your Highness.”
“Drop the stiff ‘Your Highness’ stuff. Just call me Little Uncle.”
“Alright then, Little Uncle it is.”
“Heh, most would humbly insist they couldn’t, but you gobble it right up?”
“I’m pretty straightforward like that.”
“Hahaha! Good, very good! You don’t take after that sly Marquess Redbell at all—such a relief!”
Claudia’s speech and demeanor were utterly bold.
Even for her unbridled self, she didn’t go full informal with royalty and family like the royal uncle, sticking to minimal honorifics—but just that.
Yet the royal uncle seemed to love it, beaming with delight nonstop.
“When my brother decided to marry your mother—my niece—to that marquess, I had my reservations. Handing a young girl like her to a man not much older than me as his second wife? And she was frail to boot.”
“Political marriages are a huge hassle for the ones getting hitched.”
“Rest easy. I won’t let you suffer your mother’s fate. Unlike that shameless cur trying to peddle his niece willy-nilly.”
Claudia didn’t take the royal uncle’s bold assurances at face value.
He played the hearty grandfather doting on his long-lost niece, but he was a politician who shunned no intrigue or strife to claim the throne.
Just look at how he’d dragged her around testifying that this mess was the Second Prince’s plot—to hammer him effectively.
Right now, she was useful, so he acted chummy; whether that held once her value waned remained to be seen.
‘Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m using him too, after all.’
Armin might be cursing her as idiotic, but Claudia saw it differently.
Even if she jumped ship to the royal uncle’s side, Redbell and the Second Prince’s faction wouldn’t crumble easily.
Redbell Marquess had already reaped substantial gains.
It’d be a protracted stalemate for a while, and her utility fading would take considerable time.
And as long as she had ‘time,’ she was confident she could transcend mere utility and become a powerhouse decisive in the throne race itself.
The upgraded secret art Cedric had gifted her was that outrageously potent.
Even if she abandoned all of Redbell, a little leeway would let her build a rival force anew.
Of course, no need to toss what she already held.
“Little Uncle, you haven’t forgotten, right? The mastermind here was solely the eldest son Armin colluding with the Second Prince in overstepping his bounds—Redbell as a house had no part in it.”
“Hmm, now that we’ve got good leverage, why not swing at them together? Especially since the Sarno counts are clamoring to seize this chance.”
“Which wounds deeper: a precise stab with the sword tip, or a broad swipe with the flat? Spreading your force across multiple targets just dilutes it.”
“Haha, you’ve got a silver tongue packaging ‘carve out the obstructing eldest and leave the rest for you to devour’! True, targeting ‘Armin Redbell’ the man, not ‘Redbell,’ would draw less backlash from the retainers.”
“And if that nets Little Uncle a new backer, isn’t that great for you? If it’s just the Sarnos propping you up, you’d have to defer to them on the throne—but split between me and them, you can pit us against each other to your liking.”
“Hmmm.”
At Claudia’s words, the royal uncle’s eyebrow twitched.
A smile still played on his lips, but the emotion behind it had shifted markedly.
“Guess I’ll take back what I said earlier. You may look like your aunt, but inside, that marquess’s blood runs true.”
“...Take that back.”
Claudia’s face soured instantly.
At her frank, all-too-human reaction, the royal uncle roared with laughter once more.
In the corner of the room where the two conversed,
standing shadow-like among the other servants, Cedric’s face bore a satisfied glow.
He had laid out the broad strategy, but Claudia had filled in the details and improvised brilliantly on the spot.
The spoiled noble lady once dismissed as a wastrel even by her own mansion’s staff had grown into someone who could discuss the future with a throne contender.
This was one week before Cedric’s contract ended.