Chapter 531: The Power of Choice
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 531: The Power of Choice
Muen looked at the First Prince, feeling as though he could truly see the immeasurable weight hidden beneath that calm exterior.
Indeed, just as Celicia had said, one’s status brought not only power and honor, but also a corresponding amount of pressure, responsibility, and the loss of personal freedom.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Yet, the First Prince didn't even have the right to refuse it. From the moment he woke and regained his status as the primary heir under the First Inheritance Law, neither his enemies nor his friends would ever allow him to take a single step back.
"So, Your Highness still chooses to fight?"
"I have no choice but to fight."
"But you don't look like someone who intends to fight. It’s been some time since your brain ailment was cured, yet at this critical juncture, you’ve been squandering your greatest advantage. You haven't made a single move."
Muen tapped the table. "That isn't how a clever man acts."
"I know. I woke up too late, and time is my most precious resource. But... regarding that point, I wasn't lying."
Albert picked up the silver cane he usually used, braced himself, and stood up. He took two agonizing steps.
It was only two steps, yet his limbs moved as if they were completely uncoordinated. His entire body trembled with every movement. One could only imagine that at the previous ball, had his maid not been there to support him, he would have made a fool of himself even without Andrew’s interference.
"The reason I haven't left my room is truly because of my physical condition."
Albert gave a helpless, bitter smile.
"My body is also one of the few chips I have left. A First Prince so sickly that he looks like he might drop dead at any moment isn't exactly going to attract many followers."
"...I see."
Muen’s eyes flickered as he let out a soft breath.
"Then when will your body recover? Or is it... permanent?"
"You can rest easy on that front. The physical issues are only temporary, I assure you."
Albert sat back down.
"Besides, I can already see that my brother is losing his patience with me. I suspect he’ll move against me soon, so naturally, I cannot simply sit and wait for death."
"What do you have planned?"
"A week from now, there will be a large-scale charity event in the Lower District. I intend to attend."
"A charity event?"
Muen raised an eyebrow.
"Heh, yes. A charity event. I haven't exactly been rotting in this room the whole time, have I?"
Albert flicked a business card toward Muen.
Muen’s gaze fell upon it. The words "Charity Fundraising Gala" written in gold lettering were extremely prominent, followed by the location and the host.
The signature read: Marquis Angus.
"Marquis Angus..."
For the first time, Muen looked genuinely surprised. Marquis Angus was no simple figure.
As the Empire’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Marquis Angus had no obvious factional leanings. He spent most of the year traveling between various nations, single-handedly managing the Empire’s diplomatic affairs. In terms of connections and influence in certain spheres, he arguably surpassed even the House of Campbell.
And most importantly, before Muen’s mother had married into the Duke’s estate, her full name was... Noyce Angus.
Which meant the Marquis was...
"Uncle..." Muen murmured in a voice so low it was almost imperceptible.
A blurry figure surfaced in his mind, though the memory was faint.
It had been too long. Muen’s last memory of seeing his uncle, the Marquis, was from several years ago.
...It couldn't be helped. Marquis Angus was always incredibly busy, constantly rushing between countries. It was said that he had only made a brief appearance at his sister’s wedding before rushing off again, a slight that his mother had grumbled about for a long time.
"Your Highness has already managed to bring Marquis Angus to your side?"
"He hasn't 'sided' with anyone. I merely asked the Marquis for a favor."
"A favor... but his willingness to help is a statement in itself, isn't it?"
Muen pondered for a moment, then stared into Albert’s eyes. "So, you plan to use that charity gala to announce the return of the First Prince?"
"It is an excellent opportunity."
"It’s also dangerous. No one can touch you here in the Imperial Palace, but in a place like the Lower District..." Muen paused. "I don't think Prince Andrew will let such an opportunity pass."
"Indeed, it is dangerous. That is why I was troubled by it before."
Albert stood up unsteadily once more, leaning on his silver cane as he walked over to an exquisite cabinet.
After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulled out a delicate small jar.
"I believe you only saw tea here earlier. Actually, I have some quite decent coffee as well."
After a series of practiced movements, Albert personally placed a cup of fragrant, steaming coffee in front of Muen.
"Please."
"I never expected that one day I would drink coffee brewed by the First Prince’s own hands."
"Heh, I don't think there's anything particularly special about my coffee."
"At the very least, in terms of vanity, it’s enough to make one... hiss, it’s good."
Taking a small sip, the tension in Muen’s brow relaxed. A rich aroma filled his senses; the bitterness and the aftertaste were perfectly balanced. It was coffee, yet Muen could clearly feel that this cup brewed by Prince Albert was several levels above the one he had made for himself earlier.
It wasn't just the difference in beans. Albert’s brewing technique and temperature control significantly elevated the quality. One could not produce such a cup without having brewed it personally countless times.
"Treating me to such delicious coffee... Your Highness, does this mean you want us to help you?"
Muen sighed, steam slowly escaping his lips.
"Since I must fight, I must use every means at my disposal, mustn't I? In truth, even if you hadn't come to contact me, I would have found a way to reach out to the House of Campbell."
Albert smiled warmly.
"After all, even I have heard that the young master of the Campbells seems to have some minor friction with Andrew’s current supporters. Regardless of the circumstances, the enemy of my enemy is someone I must strive to win over, is it not?"
"Your Highness means..." Muen narrowed his eyes. "You want to force the House of Campbell, and perhaps even the entire Royalist Faction, to stand with you?"
"Heh, the Royalist Faction is a stretch. Having the word 'Royal' over their heads means their stance is easily swayed by my father’s will. I wouldn't dare try to win them over openly. But the House of Campbell behind you... that is something I wish to strive for."
"Of course, of course... this isn't coercion."
Albert pointed to the coffee in Muen’s hand. "Earlier, when you brewed tea for me, I had to drink it. I had no choice."
"But you... and the House of Campbell behind you, are different. The transcendent status the Campbells have accumulated over generations, combined with the Border Burden Duke Campbell currently shoulders, means you still have the ability to extricate yourselves from the storm. It would simply require paying a certain price."
"Therefore... whether to drink this coffee or not, the power of choice actually lies with you... with all of you."
"I am merely the one who brewed the coffee."