Emperor Carvelius III (Part 2)
“……”
Jerome gave no answer.
Reading the commander’s silence, the Emperor pressed on with unflinching resolve.
“Adrian is the only legitimate successor. I will see that child seated upon the imperial throne, no matter what it takes.”
At the mention of First Prince Adrian, Jerome swallowed a grim groan. The Emperor did not miss the reaction, his eyes narrowing sharply.
“Do you think I am blind to the real reason you refuse to back the First Prince?”
“…Your Majesty knows all too well how frail Prince Adrian’s constitution is,” Jerome replied, his expression heavily clouded.
The Emperor snorted with derision. “Because his days will be short, he cannot rule? Does that not apply equally to me?”
“Your Majesty!”
“Go ahead, tell me I am unfit to be Emperor as well!”
“I meant nothing of the sort!”
The Emperor scoffed openly at the realm’s strongest knight standing before him.
“Hmph. In the end, you are merely a petty man who cherishes flesh and blood over the Empire.”
“…I will not deny it.”
Jerome’s immediate concession rendered the Emperor briefly speechless. Yet it was the Emperor who broke the silence once more.
“I cannot fathom it. After all, is he even truly your own blood?”
The barb struck dead center at the Duke’s past—words only the Emperor dared utter to his face. Yet Jerome merely bowed his head in quiet composure, giving no sign of distress.
“Yes, you were always a soft-hearted man,” the Emperor clicked his tongue, watching him. “Unlike me.”
The Emperor tapped his fingers rhythmically against the balustrade.
“I know full well that Adrian is hardly cut out to be an emperor.”
The First Prince was clever, but lacked cunning; benevolent, but incapable of cruelty. Crucially, his innate constitution was dreadfully fragile. No matter how many rare medicinal herbs or nourishing delicacies were lavished upon him, his frail health showed not the slightest sign of improvement. Even so, Adrian had to become emperor.
“The only power capable of checking the Radcliffe Marquessate is the Ducal House of Crowner,” the Emperor declared. “And the only prince who carries Crowner blood is Adrian.”
For decades, the Radcliffe Marquessate had encroached upon the authority of the imperial throne. Their sole rival was the Crowner Dukedom. Jerome was far from ignorant of this truth.
“The countless nobles allied with your ducal house support Adrian as well,” the Emperor continued. “He is the only banner under which they will march without condition.”
At the Emperor’s words, Jerome recalled the face of his only nephew—calm, delicate features inherited from his sister, and a kind, gentle disposition that resembled neither of his parents. Thinking of the boy’s frail, faint smile caused an ache deep in Jerome’s chest.
“Yet you still coddle him, all because of that bleeding heart of yours.” The Emperor’s tone took on an ominous edge as he stepped closer. “Jerome, do you remember the vow you made to me?”
Carvelius III closed the distance slowly between them.
“I helped you stand where you are today. And I have never forgotten the price I am owed.”
“…Neither have I forgotten, Your Majesty,” Jerome answered, his gaze fixed steadily downward.
“Even if it costs me my life, the Radcliffe Marquessate will never seize true power over this empire.”
“Indeed. And you must also ensure that no powerless fool ascends to the throne.” The Emperor rested a heavy hand on Jerome’s shoulder. “Only one who can bear the weight of the crown should sit upon that seat. You know this better than anyone.”
Jerome bowed his head even deeper.
“Only Adrian can preserve the Empire,” the Emperor murmured. “And only you can protect Adrian.”
“How can you speak so when Your Majesty still reigns?”
“I do not have much time left to live. You know that as well as anyone,” the Emperor muttered in self-derision.
Jerome’s face drained of color in an instant. “Your Majesty!”
“Stop making a fuss. Anyone with eyes already knows,” the Emperor waved a hand dismissively, sounding weary of the subject. “Just keep your promise. In this palace, you are the only one I can truly trust.”
“…I will engrave it upon my heart.”
Jerome recalled the solemn covenant he had forged with Carvelius III so long ago. Back when not a single soul recognized his right to inherit the ducal seat, the Emperor had exercised his absolute imperial authority to install Jerome as the head of House Crowner.
The day they ceased being old friends and bound themselves as master and servant, the Emperor had handed him the blade of vengeance he had honed for years. At times, Jerome harbored bitter resentment toward the Emperor for saddling him with such an agonizing burden.
‘Yet I brought this upon myself.’
In the end, it was Jerome who had accepted the covenant that day. Even if he were cast back into the past, he would make the exact same choice—for he, too, had things he had to protect.
“So keep your defiance within reason. Now, I shall take my leave.”
“Your Majesty.”
Jerome called out once more to the Emperor, who had turned toward the doorway.
“What is it?”
“May I make one request?”
“Speak.”
“…I intend to keep Prince Edwin in our training for the next three months. It is a promise I made.”
Jerome Crowner was never a man to waste breath on trivialities. When the Duke drew out his words like this, the Emperor fixed him with an unblinking stare. A mysterious resolve burned within the Duke’s eyes, and the Emperor seemed to grasp his underlying thoughts immediately.
“…I cannot understand you. Why go so far?”
Glancing out the window, the Emperor scowled. Down in the courtyard, Third Prince Edwin was lagging farther and farther behind the pack of knights. Though he looked no larger than a speck from this height, the boy’s exhaustion was plain to see.
“Surely you don’t think that child could ever serve as Adrian’s replacement?” The Emperor’s brow furrowed in distaste. “If so, I am deeply disappointed. I never imagined your judgment could be so poor.”
There had been a time when the Emperor had entertained hopes for the Third Prince. But those expectations had shattered to dust long ago. To him, the boy was nothing more than a timid, incompetent, fragile twelve-year-old.
“At the very least, he could become Prince Adrian’s ally,” Jerome replied.
The Emperor’s scowl deepened. “…Clinging to pointless stubbornness to the bitter end, are we?”
“Is it not better to hold more cards in hand, Your Majesty?”
“Useless cards only cause headaches.”
“Then I shall mold him into a card worth playing.”
He never yields a single word, does he?
The Emperor glared at the Duke in displeasure before abruptly turning his head away. “Fine. Do as you please. This time, I mean it.”
“Safe travels, Your Majesty.”
Jerome bowed silently toward the Emperor’s retreating back. As the door swung shut, the Duke raised his head, a resolute determination etched clearly across his face.
“Halt.”
I had infiltrated this wing using my Stealth Technique, hoping to glean some useful intelligence from Jerome’s office. That had been my mistake. Not only had I learned things I had no desire to know, but now I had run headfirst into the Emperor himself.
“What are you doing here? As far as I know, no maids are stationed inside these quarters.”
Having inadvertently eavesdropped on the conversation between the Emperor and the knight commander, I had hurried to slip down the stairs. But the Emperor was an excessively curious man.
Damn it all. I never should have deactivated my stealth.
He went out of his way to call out and stop me mid-descent.
“Why do you not answer?”
Pressed by his demand, I had no choice but to turn around.
“You are…” The Emperor’s brow furrowed as he looked me over. “The Third Prince’s nanny.”
I offered as polite and respectful a courtesy as I could muster.
“I greet the Sun of the Empire. I am Rachel Brown, nanny to His Highness, the Third Prince.”
Hearing my introduction, the Emperor narrowed his eyes, a distinctly unfriendly gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.
“I hear you made a pointless request of Duke Crowner?”
“…With all due respect, Your Majesty, I have never made any pointless requests of the Duke.”
“What?”
Perhaps that sounded rather presumptuous. The Emperor’s brow creased deeply at my prompt rebuttal.
“I merely considered it my duty to help Prince Edwin achieve what he desires.”
Upon hearing my reply, the Emperor stood in silence for a long time. Then, as if utterly dumbfounded, he let out a scoffing laugh.
“Achieve what he desires? You helped him with that?” A clear sneer twisted across his lips. “Such grand ambition for a mere nanny.”
Yet strangely enough, he did not appear genuinely displeased.
“Are you claiming Edwin actually asked you to insert him into the knight order’s training? Your lies ought to know some moderation—”
“Yes, he did.”
Granted, I had brought up the proposal and Edwin had merely accepted it half-coerced, but I still dared to meet the Emperor’s gaze head-on.
“Prince Edwin clearly told me that he wishes to grow stronger.”
“…Stronger?”
His expression was quite a spectacle.
Without wavering under his glare, I answered firmly, “Yes. Those were his exact words.”
Again, he lapsed into a heavy silence. Looking down at me from atop the staircase, his piercing gaze pinned itself to my face.
“…That, too, is unexpected.”
His answer was curt and ambiguous—and his expression was just as inscrutable. Unable to hold back, I parted my lips once more.
“If I may, there is a favor I wish to ask of Your Majesty—”
“Silence.”
A voice as cold as ice struck the crown of my head. The Emperor raised one hand, glaring down at me with lethal intent.
“For a lowly nanny to dare utter the word request twice in the Emperor’s presence. Do you take Us lightly simply because We indulged you once in the garden?”