The Hero Has an Audience with the Emperor
“Ugh, no helping it. Marian, you at least escort the hero to the palace.”
In the end, the high priest caught on to my intent and said that to Marian. He must've realized that insisting on tagging along wouldn't fly and would just earn him more insults from me.
“I-is that really okay?”
“...Yeah. Well, if the man himself says he's uncomfortable, what choice is there?”
The high priest eyed the surprised Marian with clear displeasure as he replied. I knew exactly why he was so eager to drag me into the palace alongside him. The current emperor was every bit as deranged as Aaron, and he had a keen interest in this so-called hero. Old man Thomas—or Tomato, whatever—planned to parade me before him like some exotic beast for his amusement. And in the first round, I'd fallen right into that trap.
Still, Thomas handing the job off to Marian now was likely because he'd already gone around blabbing that he'd bring me himself.
“Th-then, I'll do my very best without any slip-ups.”
Marian beamed at the high priest's words. She was always hyper-aware of her political standing, so this must've seemed like a golden opportunity. Watching her light up over something so trivial stirred a twinge of pity in me—not for her circumstances, but for the shitstorm about to unfold.
If I end up as the zoo monkey again, better to just bash my head in and die.
Two rounds in, I had zero interest in being the emperor's sideshow.
“The hero has arrived!”
A soldier guarding the throne room entrance bolted inside, shouting at the top of his lungs. I stared calmly at the doors, but the saintess Marian was a wreck.
“You know, right? Absolutely no unnecessary chatter.”
“I got it.”
“Please, I'm begging you. This is the emperor of the Lorraine Empire we're talking about.”
Marian kept repeating herself, her face etched with anxiety. Fair enough—ever since we'd hit the capital Lidea, I'd been stirring up nonstop chaos, so her nerves weren't unfounded.
“Sigh, I said I know, so quit it. Keep yapping, and I'll ram my staff up the emperor's ass the second I lay eyes on him.”
“S-sorry!”
Understanding her was one thing; the irritation was another. Her bubbly excitement over meeting the emperor was seriously grinding my gears.
“The hero, enter!”
“Let the hero into the throne room!”
Voices boomed from within, and the soldiers blocking my path stepped aside. The grand doors swung open. I strode forward with confident steps, right up to the emperor.
A lavish throne sat atop tiered stairs, and perched upon it was a wretched old man in a gleaming crown, gazing down at me. One who didn't match the opulence at all.
Patrick Reister. That frail, pitiful geezer was the absolute ruler of the Lorraine Empire.
“So you're the hero?”
I bowed slowly before the emperor, whose eyes gleamed with an eerie light.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
My response drew shocked looks not just from the emperor, but from all the nobles gathered to gawk at the hero. No surprise there—a backwater hero like me had answered his question with flawless imperial etiquette. And the most stunned of all? Marian, naturally.
“You know your etiquette well enough.”
“The goddess made thorough arrangements.”
I chalked up my knowledge of imperial manners to the goddess. Arrangements? Bullshit. She'd tossed me one immortality gimmick and told me to go slay the Demon King, leaving me to endure every humiliation under the sun—including chit-chat with nobles.
I'd known jack shit about etiquette beyond “Ghetto eats first at meals.” To them, I was a total barbarian. But people learn fast when they're constantly shit on. I'd weathered their sneers and mockery until I could mimic imperial protocol pretty convincingly.
Of course, it still gave me goosebumps every damn time.
“I see. Thanks to the goddess, conversing with you is quite enjoyable.”
Emperor Patrick wrinkled his face into what passed for a smile as he spoke to me. As his words betrayed, the empire's ruler held no real reverence for the goddess. He just tolerated her because so many subjects bought into the faith.
I glanced at Marian, but even she offered no rebuttal to his arrogant tone. Hell, the pope himself would've stayed silent in her shoes.
“So, an immortal body, eh?”
He tossed the question at me like he was asking if the zoo monkey could ride a bicycle. The nobles around him stared with naked curiosity. Sure, the goddess had foreseen the Demon King's army and issued an oracle about the hero, but the emperor and his court couldn't care less.
The Lorraine Empire had dominated the continent for over a century. They could've swallowed the whole damn thing if they wanted, but they saw no need—like a sleeping giant. A Demon King army? Pfft, the empire's might could handle it. To most nobles, I was just a convenient pawn.
That's why I'm playing nice.
Their confidence wasn't entirely hollow. The empire's legions were vast beyond counting, every one a battle-hardened elite. Demon army wouldn't roll over easy, but to dodge endless hassles, I needed their muscle.
“Yes. The goddess graciously bestowed such a blessing upon me. Thanks to it, I possess a sturdy frame that defies death from any wound.”
“Hoo.”
The emperor nodded, pleased—or so it seemed. But between the withered skin like old tree bark, I caught a flicker in his eyes: greed, blooming and vanishing in an instant.
The old me would've been too terrified to notice, frozen just at the sight of him. But I wasn't some bumpkin hick anymore.
Greed, huh...
Only then did I vaguely grasp why the emperor was so keen to see me. And why Karen Cross, heir to the Magic Tower, had been so obsessed with my body.
Seventy-eight years old. He'd gorged on the world's finest elixirs, relied on the tower mages' life-support contraptions, and basked in high priest blessings whenever he felt like it. But even he couldn't outrun time.
The man with near-godly power on earth still dreaded aging and death. Gazing at my immortality, he must've wondered if there was a way out for him too. Maybe he'd leaned on genius mage Karen to crack that secret.
“Then, might you show me that rare spectacle as well?”
He wiped away the slip of emotion and posed the question. Same words as before.
Back then, I played the idiot monkey without hesitation.
The wandering-village hero couldn't defy the emperor's command. I'd put on a self-mutilation show, carving into my own flesh. The wounds healed fast, but the pain had me writhing—while he clapped like a kid at the circus.
Thinking back, it wasn't the emperor who was the villain; it was me, slashing myself without a second thought.
Hah, not this time.
“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the hero feels pain too. I've verified his ability myself—you can trust me on that.”
Just as I stepped forward, an unexpected voice cut in from the side. Marian, who'd been tense and obsequious before the emperor, had spoken up.
What the hell?
I shot her a puzzled look. The emperor did the same. No, he who yearned to witness a miracle against his own death openly bristled.
“Saintess! I didn't ask you!”
Aaron, sharpest at reading the emperor's mood, bellowed at her in fury.
Marian flinched and shrank back. Amusing, considering those two would click so well later—this was a rocky start. But more surprising was Marian's move. I'd never dreamed she'd stick her neck out for me.
“S-sorry. But the hero is human too...”
The saintess Marian trembled but held her ground. I couldn't help but smirk.
Sure enough, she wasn't doing it for me. She fretted over the emperor and prince's reactions while sneaking glances my way. Purely to preempt whatever lunatic stunt I might pull.
Her motives were transparent, but I backed her play, taking a step toward the throne.
“Just watching would be dull, no? Curious about my swordsmanship, Your Majesty?”
At my words, the emperor's and crown prince's eyebrows twitched in unison. Father and son despised each other, but their shared blood was unmistakable.