The Black Prince's Exile
My name is Gerhart van Trensilbania—ruler of the Western Continent, master of vast lands, and imperial blood of the Trensilbania Empire.
His Majesty... no, my father, had two children under his wing, including me. One was the eldest son born to the consort, Octavia van Trensilbania—the First Prince, Yulicias van Trensilbania. I was born the First Imperial Princess to the Empress, Evangelin van Trensilbania.
We siblings shone in our respective fields as we grew up. Mine was martial prowess; my brother Yulicias's was administration. The Western Continent reveres honor and chivalry, idolizing martial might. Across its expansive plains, knights and noble houses still wage war today for glory and renown—a time-honored tradition stretching back to antiquity.
But as eras passed, that ancient custom faded. With the rise of the Trensilbania Empire as the continent's hegemon, wars naturally dwindled. This shift meant the world no longer prized raw strength alone; it evolved toward systematic civilization, emphasizing efficient administration.
Times changed. Long-distance trade boomed, bringing knowledge of other continents' affairs, cultures, ideologies, and technologies. Old perceptions gradually transformed... Even as the daughter of the Empress with exceptional martial talent, it was inevitable that qualms grew about a woman ascending the throne.
I had no interest in the imperial seat anyway—my goal was pursuing the pinnacle of the sword. But regardless of my feelings, the palace power struggles intensified. My mother and uncle, Duke Bartolio, wanted me on the throne. Opposing them was Duke Galitos, leader of the faction backing the consort who desired her son Yulicias as emperor.
The empire split into two factions, teetering on the brink of civil war.
"Ruler of Trensilbania, master of this land! Grant us your decision, please! How long will you delay naming the imperial heir?!"
"Indeed, Your Majesty! Your resolve must end the empire's internal strife once and for all!"
"...Your Majesty!"
"Hmph... I ask the two dukes: Was this seat so desirable?"
!!!
"As long as I live, I will not hastily name an imperial successor or crown prince. Stand down!"
"Your Majesty!"
"Enough! The throne is mine to decide as emperor—not something I choose under your nagging! I declare to all here: Any who meddle in the succession will be branded traitors, and I myself will lead armies to eradicate their houses!"
-!
Father wanted no meddling from in-laws or nobles in the succession. He desired a fair, honorable competition between my brother and me to prove our worth. Though not bound by blood, we resolved to excel in our domains and compete as per his will.
But that fragile peace didn't last.
...
"Princess! Disaster! His Majesty has passed!"
"What?! Uncle, what do you mean? Father was hale and hearty just yesterday..."
"This dawn, he suddenly vomited blood and collapsed on the spot..."
"Gerhart! This is surely poisoning! That vile Galitos must have done it! Uncle Bartolio! Launch the civil war at once!"
"Yes, Your Imperial Highness! Right away..."
Thud! Thud! Thud!
BOOM!!!
"Seize Duke Bartolio, assassin of His Imperial Majesty!"
Roooar!!
"What nonsense is this?! How dare you accuse me of killing His Majesty?!"
"Silence! Duke Bartolio! We know you and Princess Gerhart were the last to leave His Majesty's chambers last night. We have testimonies from the maids and evidence. To think you'd stoop to such filthy schemes!"
"Don't make me laugh! Galitos, you treacherous rat! I've lived honorably as a knight without a shred of shame—unlike a backstabbing vermin like you!"
"Hmph! Honor? From an assassin? Ridiculous! What are you waiting for?! Arrest the traitor Duke Bartolio, the Empress, and Princess Gerhart for slandering His Majesty!"
Clank! Clank! Clank!
"You bastards... How dare you to Father... Faaather!!!"
Whoooosh!
"Aura Blade?! At her age?!"
"B-block her! Stop the princess!"
"Raaaaagh!!!"
Slash! Slash! Shhhwick! Slash!
Who assassinated Father? Was it Duke Galitos, as Uncle claimed? Or Uncle's own scheme? One fact was clear: Uncle and I were the last to leave Father's bedchambers.
That night, I'd visited to boast of crossing the Sword Master threshold. It became Father's final night. Enraged and losing reason, I pushed my body to the limit to protect Mother and Uncle, cutting down the Imperial Guard. Loyal nobles arrived with armies just in time, saving our lives.
From that day, the empire fractured into civil war. Our back-and-forth stalemate gradually turned in our favor through Uncle's and my exploits. Victory—and vengeance—seemed near.
But Duke Galitos struck vilely again. The Holy Kingdom—once a native faith worshiping the God Who Leads Valiant Warriors, now faded but lingering in traditions—offered him massive aid from the Central Continent's Holy Kingdom in exchange for temple construction and missionary rights.
Tens of thousands of Holy Kingdom soldiers, thousands of holy knights and priests. Bolstered by divine blessings, Galitos's cornered forces reversed fortunes overnight. We lost the war, fleeing north with remnants of soldiers and nobles.
We lost everything: Father, the empire, our native faith, our homeland...
Twelve years in northern exile. Branded failed rebels by Galitos's lies, that infamy ironically became our fame here, drawing powerhouses to our banner. In this forsaken land, we built a new force: Western Continent rebels, the Black Prince, Gerhart's Family.
**
"...So? Your family actually claims to be the legitimate heirs of Trensilbania?"
"Y-yes. That's right..."
"Your arrogant tone in the meeting hall is a total one-eighty. Kinda awkward."
"I-I can't help it... Uncle and Mother trained me in imperial speech to maintain authority as emperor..."
"Tsk tsk tsk... Tough life. That's why you stayed quiet, huh? Got it. So why the male disguise? Seems like your family and vassals all know your real gender."
"Well... Raised as a boy on Mother's orders during heir training, most think I'm male. Only my guards and nobles know the truth."
'What a soap opera. Male-dominated society here too? Wait, medieval Europe was like that!'
Her uncle's blood gave her a natural muscle-building physique, making the disguise easy, apparently. In the meeting hall, clad in black plate armor, she didn't scream "woman." Over 180cm tall, broad-shouldered, muscular build.
"You trained hard, huh? Well-honed body. True Sword Master!"
"...Isn't it unseemly for a woman like this?"
She turned, flexing her massive bicep repeatedly. Up close, her armor-hid physique could fool anyone. Among women I'd seen—excluding Rina (ogre-changed), Mira, and Shera—Gerhart had the biggest muscles. Those three were transformed; hers was pure effort.
"Our family women train hard and obsess over fitness anyway. And compared to Rina's monster muscles earlier? This is tame~"
"Really? Fascinating... you."
"I've been through my share too."
Power, huh? What makes it worth this? Caught in in-law power grabs, prince and princess lost everything, empire crumbled. Gerhart would do anything to reclaim the throne westward—including contracting a fear demon, per Uncle, to counter the Holy Kingdom. Relentless training built her stamina and swordsmanship; at 27, she reached Sword Master.
"Whew~ Alright, I'm off. Your secret's safe."
"W-wait! Y-you won't tell?!"
"Why bother? Blackmail you? After you lost to Rina, too much hassle. We crush with strength, done."
"Ugh!- B-but..."
"Just get along from now on. As family boss—er, legitimate heir—tone down the temper. Let's keep it friendly~ I'm a pacifist~"
...
"What? Why the skeptical glare?"
"How can I trust that face?! Black smoke blob with no expressions!"
...
"Hmm~ Fair point?"
My look doesn't inspire trust. I've nearly screamed at my mirror reflection myself.
'But how do my kids read me so well? No mind-reading skills!'
"Oh right! Real reason I came. Gerhart! Favor!"
"What?"
"You and Rina trashed Big Daddy's mansion fighting. Split the bill 5:5, joint liability!"
...
[What kind of guy is this?] Her icy glare said it all. But that's my business—what can I do? 3,000 gold is years of debt for us! Half it is.
After begging, she agreed to cover half the repairs there.
**
"What an odd guy. North Face's boss..."
Recalling the Holy Kingdom envoy's attitude in the hall—and Galitos's past backing—she'd risen to kill, only for North Face's leader to intervene. He saw through her disguise, yet accepted her as-is. First outsider to do so, beyond family and guards.
'Tone down the temper. Let's keep it friendly~ I'm a pacifist~'
"Pfft! Pacifist? Who scratches tempers like that?"
...
"Still... why does it feel so refreshing?"
Her stifled chest suddenly cleared. Long years in disguise? First true acceptance outside kin. Plus his quirky endnote.
"Reparations... Uncle and vassals might rage. But if we harness him and North Face's power..."
Maybe reclaim the lost throne. For now, maintain good relations, as he said.