Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: The Empire's Envoy (3)
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“Hahaha! A masterpiece, a masterpiece indeed! You!”
No sooner had Fernandez finished speaking than Robert slapped his knee and burst into laughter. He guffawed for a good while before wiping a tear from his eye and turning to Rene.
“Lady Carbellier, what are your thoughts?”
Rene, by contrast, was frozen stiff. A storm raged in her mind.
‘Kingmaker? Creating a great tribal chief? Propping up King Vicente? What is this? Founding hero of two kingdoms, plus a Round Table Knight? Inquisitor and archbishop-level priest? Isn’t this man about my age? Why is he such a big shot……?’
She had thought him tougher than he appeared, like a rock of a man. Or perhaps granite studded with jade. That was why she had felt the urge to polish him until he shone.
Rene quelled her confusion and looked at Robert with trembling eyes. The man before her was someone she needed to guard against most. The head of Ironside—shadows of the emperor who handled assassinations, intelligence gathering, sabotage, and other special operations right at his side.
They claimed to be at odds with the emperor, but who could say that wasn’t a trap laid by the emperor himself? She forced her expression to soften and spoke.
“Overreaching words from a narrow-minded foreigner.”
It felt like walking a knife’s edge. Like the shadow of the guillotine loomed over her neck. But Robert merely chuckled and said,
“Don’t say what you don’t mean, my lady. I told you, neither of us likes wasting time. Fine, if you’re that scared, I won’t press you. Lord Cerned, why do you think that?”
“He has no interest in the throne, Angel.”
Fernandez replied without the slightest hesitation. Robert shrugged.
“And the reason?”
“The easiest way for an imperial scion who commands Ironside to become emperor isn’t to bow his head to some disgruntled elector count.”
“Hmm…… Is that so? Then what other paths are there? I was quite confident in this gambit of mine.”
“Support the elector counts’ rebellion, provoke the emperor, sow discord among the electors, assassinate key figures at the decisive moment to fake victories, build fame to become a hero, and finally kill the emperor and the imperial princess.”
A chill ran down her spine.
Rene shuddered at that matter-of-fact tone. If the one who perfectly commanded Ironside held the dagger…… If the empire’s premier intelligence and assassination experts lurked in the war’s shadows……
From that moment, the war would be mere theater, an extension of the scheme. No army, however mighty, could win if its command was wiped out in an ambush at the critical juncture.
Thus, a hero is born. He crushes the empire’s rebels. He sows discord among the electors and ruthlessly cuts down any who deviate from the plan. Puppet governments are installed in each elector state. And at the final moment…… He kills the emperor and princess, claiming the Tremule court chamberlaincy.
After that, the electors convene. He ascends the throne legally. From then on, the empire enters the era of hereditary imperial rule.
“That method is certainly appealing. But shouldn’t we consider why no previous emperor attempted it?”
“Legitimacy.”
Other emperors had Ironside too. And they all desired their power to pass eternally to their houses.
So why didn’t they execute that scheme? The answer was simple: legitimacy. No conspiracy in this world could hide an operation of that scale. Someone, inevitably, would find out during execution.
The Inquisition, perhaps. Or Saxisi, the Inner Circle, Fairn’s royal intelligence bureau. Or traitors within Ironside itself. Variables always existed.
That plan only worked if not a single variable arose in any event. Otherwise, it wouldn’t end with the emperor’s deposition and house’s ruin. The empire itself would fall.
“A legitimacy that holds even if the plot unravels midway and leaks.”
A safeguard against his house’s destruction, the fall of an ancient elector lineage. Legitimacy. The most powerful force driving nobles.
“What would my legitimacy be?”
“The emperor’s corruption.”
……The Inquisition foresaw even that?
This time, Robert’s expression hardened. If one assumed the imperial family was behind the Libye incident, predicting that corruption wasn’t hard.
But the young man before him had been dispatched before that incident surfaced. The operation’s starting point predated the emperor’s—and Robert’s—scheme. He’d been preempted. As head of an intelligence agency, Robert suddenly felt a chill.
“Fine, say I have no interest in the throne…… Whatever. No one would believe a prince toppling a corrupt emperor anyway. Good, that’s solid enough. But then why Lady Carbellier?”
Fernandez looked at Rene upon hearing that. Her trembling eyes met his. Clever and resilient, but still young. Too pure.
No matter how perfect the foundation. Even if, in his past life, Libye and Duke Carbellier outranked Tremule.
Could this woman have overcome the beast before her and seized the throne through political maneuvering alone? No, she couldn’t have.
It wasn’t deduction. Simple elimination.
-Political maneuvering alone to best all the electors and defeat this man for the throne? Near impossible.
‘Even I couldn’t do it.’
-Therefore, Rene became emperor because this man wanted it……
‘A man who could usurp the throne anytime personally visited Libye.’
Elimination by one who knew the truth and the future.
“Your personal visit to this barony is answer enough.”
“Me?”
“As I said, you hold legitimacy, power, and information. Yet you didn’t use them. Coming here in person proves you won’t in the future either. It’s safer operating right under the imperial family. You don’t want the throne.”
“……So?”
Rene’s trembling eyes and Robert’s intrigued gaze converged on Fernandez.
-In his past life, at this time, that man struck some deal with Duke Carbellier or Rene Philippé.
‘Supporting the throne in exchange for some kind of concession.’
-Ironside, most likely.
Not deduction, but certainty. Unless every elector was crushed by force—which was impossible—the throne would always be elective. It couldn’t become hereditary across generations. And subduing all electors by force would consume vast blood and legitimacy.
The empire’s chaos would invite foreign gains. The sultan wouldn’t sit idly by, and the eastern kingdoms were no weak vassals to ignore.
Thus, the current emperor’s scheme carried immense risk. But if there was another way……
Another way. One allowing eternal hereditary rule, free of others’ scrutiny, without damaging imperial strength…… A way to swallow the intact empire whole.
Position oneself to slip a leash on whoever ascended the throne.
The Tremule court chamberlain was, after all, ‘court’ chamberlain. He oversaw all palace affairs as head of the palace bureau. And Ironside mastered intelligence, espionage, assassination, and sabotage. Their combination made it feasible.
Tremule’s authority, Gurre’s capital and connections, command of Ironside…… Becoming the emperor’s shadow would be effortless.
Impossible for others. Such intrigue bordered on art. But this man before him. This youth might pull it off. Intellect bordering on madness, beyond force and strategy.
“A man who could become emperor doesn’t want the throne, and a man who could install one visits an elector. Duke Carbellier? Possible, but insufficient. To lead the charge on the emperor’s corruption, something better is needed. The propaganda centers on ‘the emergence of a charismatic new hero everyone admires.’”
“A new hero?”
“A monarch who embraces the people. Beautiful features and unyielding spirit. A young, splendid hero to sweep away the old guard. The perfect political figurehead.”
Robert stroked his chin in silence. Beneath the garden shrubs, in the thick shadows filtering even moonlight, only his blue eyes gleamed.
“I’ll have to discipline my subordinates the moment I return to the palace.”
After a brief silence, Robert spoke. His voice was brighter, lighter now.
“Kingmaker? Ridiculous. Truth be told, the title was more mockery. Astonishing feats, yes—but were they truly his own? His personal prowess was proven as a Round Table Knight, but could that man truly orchestrate all those events? Possible? Or mere coincidence?”
“…….”
“Not coincidence, then. My intelligence outfit’s been too dull. Never dreamed the Inquisition had burrowed so deep into imperial affairs. The Church’s intel is far more meticulous than imagined.”
Robert laughed brightly and extended his hand. Fernandez gazed at it steadily. Calluses thick as armor—hands no pampered imperial prince could have.
“Pleased to meet a new hero, Lord Cerned.”
“The pleasure’s mine.”
After clasping Fernandez’s hand in a light shake, Robert added casually,
“One thing you got wrong, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Hereditary throne, father’s corruption, imperial family stoking division while electors fracture as planned…… That wasn’t my legitimacy.”
Robert looked at Rene.
“It’s unjust. The emperor thirsting for the people’s blood is unjust. If war must sustain the empire, that’s unjust. And someone must answer for the blood already spilled.”
“An idealist, are you.”
“Aren’t you?”
He had plunged into eastern politics, risking life to halt the alliance’s fracture. Then united the western tribal league and fought on the front lines.
Pure schemers never take the field. An ‘acting schemer’ was a fantasy monster. From Robert and Ironside’s perspective, Fernandez was a ‘lucky idealist.’
But no. Not lucky—a clever idealist. With firm ideals, the ability to realize them, and plans he crafted himself.
A fantasy monster. And fantasies always inspire longing. Robert’s gaze wasn’t wary, but admiring of a hero.
Perhaps that path altered his ambitions. Perhaps he’d become a monster lurking behind the throne, craving hereditary absolute power. Possible.
“I like idealists, Lord Cerned.”
“Same here, Angel.”
Watching their exchanged glances, Rene said awkwardly,
“Why does it feel like no one cares what I want?”
“Speak.”
“Am I just supposed to be a puppet? You think I’d accept that gladly?”
“No, no. Lady Carbellier, what are you saying?”
Robert chuckled. He bowed politely to her.
“I’m a man destined to stain my hands with blood, and the electors are pigs who’d do it without hesitation. An emperor who doesn’t crave the people’s blood. One who makes their sorrows his own. Who grieves their griefs, joys in their joys, yet never loses his center.”
“…….”
“Wise enough, thoughtful enough, yet…… pure enough. A great emperor. You could be that.”
“How can you rate me so highly when you’ve barely seen me, Prince Robert?”
“Three years ago, in Gurre, I saw you help an old woman who’d fallen.”
War raged in the empire then, but Gurre hosted a social gathering. Far from Libye, untouched by war’s horrors.
Fifty years of war kept the duke busy; he’d once sent his daughter as proxy elector. Too much for a fifteen-year-old, but he trusted her.
And she succeeded brilliantly. Cleverly, wisely.
Robert had watched from afar. The electors’ procession through market alleys, narrow lanes. A noble girl steadying a collapsed, gasping crone.
Learning she was the proxy elector, Libye’s lady, untouched by even a drop of water her whole life.
And that sheltered maiden handling the elector’s role flawlessly.
Robert knew instinctively: hero material. She needn’t be emperor. But even with perfect alternatives, no reason she shouldn’t.
The emperor schemed against Libye and Duke Carbellier—and purged Ironside traitors.
To stage a hero rising amid the duke’s death and Libye’s fall, dashing toward light.
Hearing the plan had gone awry, he volunteered as envoy. To confirm her potential.
Not the outcome he’d hoped, but satisfied. The inquisitor’s meddling was unexpected, but no setback. Better this way.
Slowly, he extended his hand. A knight’s bow to his sovereign.
“May the Holy Levintear Empire flourish forever. Long live His Imperial Majesty.”