Chapter 584: The Symbol
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 584: The Symbol
"We must leave here at once!"
Marquis Angus rose abruptly, his voice a low, urgent bark directed at the others.
The sudden return of their mana meant only one thing: the Forbidden Spell enshrouding the Imperial Palace had been temporarily deactivated.
That spell was a masterpiece designed specifically to guard the heart of the empire. It was said that the emperor who commissioned its construction had spent a fortune—wealth enough to purchase an entire small nation. For centuries, the barrier had functioned exactly as intended, nipping countless potential uprisings in the bud.
After all, if one could not use mana or fighting spirit—if even transcendent miracles were suppressed—then no matter how powerful an enemy was, they could never hope to cause chaos. Not when faced with a fully armed knight order, a "specially pardoned" Royal Mage Corps, and an Emperor who remained unaffected by the barrier, making him the equivalent of a powerful Crowned within these walls.
The fact that the fanatical attack by the Silent Moon years ago hadn't even caused a ripple was ironclad proof of its efficacy.
But now... with the Emperor critically ill, the Forbidden Spell had suddenly shut down. This meant someone had breached the defenses from the inside to obtain the two "keys" required to deactivate it. If that were the case, the Royal Knight Order and the Royal Mage Corps could no longer be trusted. Combined with the fact that the Empire’s most high-ranking officials had been gathered here in one place, the enemy's motive...
It was as clear as day.
Angus’s aged frame couldn't help but shudder.
Outside the window, the remains of a small insect were swept into the endless darkness by a light breeze. If they didn't move fast, the fate of these ministers—the very pillars of the Empire—would be no different from that of the fragile, lowly bug.
"Quickly! Everyone, move!"
Under Marquis Angus’s urging, the other ministers didn't dare dally. They, too, had sensed the shift in the air. Together, they moved rapidly toward the exit of the hall.
But when the doors swung open, everyone froze. Not a single person took another step forward.
Someone was blocking the way.
"My lords, it is so late. Where do you all intend to go?"
Outside the door stood a smiling face.
Young, handsome, calm, and approachable—nearly every word used to praise a man’s character could be applied to the person before them. Of course, compared to those ethereal qualities of appearance and temperament, the title he held was far more awe-inspiring.
"First Prince... Albert."
After a brief moment of shock, Marquis Angus quickly regained his composure. He pressed a hand to his chest in a formal salute and asked point-blank:
"This is your doing, isn't it?"
"To what is the Marquis referring?" Albert asked, looking slightly puzzled.
"Gathering us here—or rather, intending to imprison us all here."
"Ah... that."
Albert nodded, his smile unabashed. "Yes, it was me."
"Please allow us to leave."
Marquis Angus stared intently into Albert’s eyes. "We all have vital imperial matters to attend to. We cannot waste time here. If this is a prank, we can consider our participation in your game finished. But since the game is over, please—"
"I’m afraid not."
Albert interrupted Angus.
"You cannot leave. The palace has come under attack by insurgents. We are currently under martial law for a thorough investigation. For your own safety, I must ask you to remain here peacefully for the night."
His tone remained as gentle as a warm spring breeze, but behind that calm exterior lay an unquestionable, iron-clad firmness.
"Under attack by insurgents? Heh, Your Highness, do you really expect us to believe that?"
Marquis Angus felt his worst suspicions being confirmed. His face darkened like stagnant water.
"Seizing control of the palace, imprisoning the ministers... if I am not mistaken, Your Highness, you are staging a coup."
"..."
Albert’s eyes narrowed slightly. He thought to himself that these old foxes of the Empire were indeed sharp.
Usurping the throne. Staging a coup.
These were heavy labels. Throughout history, many had been crushed to death by the weight of such accusations.
Such things could be whispered in private, but they could never be brought into the light of day.
The Empire was not some crumbling, decadent ruin; its rules had been in operation for over a thousand years and were nearly impossible to change. Anyone wishing to ascend that throne needed the most important thing of all: legitimacy.
Fortunately, he currently held the greatest claim to that legitimacy.
"You misunderstand, my lords. How could I harbor such irreverent thoughts?"
With his hands tucked behind his back, Albert took step after step, forcing the group back into the conference hall.
He looked up, admiring the heroic poses of the ancestral statues. After a moment of sincere reflection, he looked back down at the crowd.
"I am the First Prince, the first in the line of succession. It is only natural and right for me to inherit that seat. How can it be called a coup?"
"But His Majesty has not yet abdicated to you!"
"Soon."
Albert took a seat at the head of the table, in the very chair the Emperor once occupied. He crossed his fingers and rested his chin on his hands.
"His Majesty’s health declines by the day, yet the throne cannot remain vacant for long. Under these circumstances, who else is more qualified than I to inherit the position? You are all being far too rigid. Or perhaps you have a better suggestion? By all means, let us hear it."
"You..."
Angus’s gaze suddenly sharpened. He asked in a low voice, "Where is His Majesty? Where is the Emperor?"
"His Majesty... Father is, of course, in a safe place. As his son, I will naturally ensure he is well-protected. You need not worry about that." A slight smirk played at the corners of Albert’s mouth.
"Protected..."
Marquis Angus trembled with rage, and the ministers around him looked equally grim.
Everyone knew exactly what that "protection" implied.
However...
Angus glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw shadows shifting outside the hall. A terrifying aura had completely locked onto the room. If they made even the slightest move, they would likely be crushed like insects.
These high-ranking ministers, who usually influenced the very direction of the Empire, were ultimately just a group of old men who hadn't raised a hand in combat for thirty or fifty years. Attempting a violent breakout had been an impossible option from the very start.
These old men were smart; none chose to act rashly. They were all waiting for an opportunity.
Or, at a critical moment, they might simply choose to...
Angus’s mind raced, realizing with increasing clarity how dire their situation was.
It was too sudden.
The Empire had enjoyed peace for so long that no one had expected someone would actually dare to take a path from which there was no return.
Even more unexpected was how easily the First Prince had seized control of the entire palace.
Was it because the palace itself had some hidden flaw? Or was it because the Emperor’s authority had been too overwhelming, suppressing certain people for so long that it had finally invited this backlash?
Regardless, the man before them was only one step away from success.
"It’s all up to you now, Your Highness," Angus thought.
With no other options, the Marquis could only close his eyes in dejection and whisper under his breath:
"And my worthless grandson... I hope you two can find a way to break this deadlock."
*
"How many steps do you think it takes for my dear brother to usurp the throne?"
Celicia tilted her head back, gazing at the Imperial Palace in the night.
The magnificent palace walls separated the inside from the out. The city districts beyond were currently deep in slumber, but the vast palace remained brightly lit.
The brilliant radiance cast gargantuan shadows upon the earth.
"Usurp the throne?"
Muen crouched beside Celicia, his head tilted as if he were also studying the luxurious architecture. However, as the night breeze fluttered, a glimpse of a white hem and the lustrous sheen of black stockings kept catching his eye.
"Ahem... sounds like it wouldn't be easy."
Under Celicia’s cold, murderous gaze, Muen casually shifted his eyes away.
"The throne isn't that easy to steal, right?"
"It isn't. Normally, the chance of success is zero."
Celicia brushed a strand of hair back. "But for my brother, who is currently the first in line for the succession, he only needs to do two things to usurp the throne."
"First, he must bring the entire palace—the administrative heart of the Empire—under his control."
"Second, he must announce his legitimacy to the world and gain their recognition."
"...Sounds like the old joke about how to put an elephant in a fridge," Muen remarked.
Step one: Open the fridge.
Step two: Put the elephant inside.
It sounded simple, but it was never actually that easy.
"Fridge?"
Celicia tilted her head slightly, a look of adorable confusion appearing on her cold, beautiful face.
"Ahem... just talking to myself. Don't mind me."
Celicia’s icy gaze swept over him again, but seeing Muen’s "playing dumb" act, she ultimately said nothing, merely letting out a sigh of exasperation.
"In any case, looking at the current situation, he has likely succeeded in the first step."
While she was speaking with Muen, white pigeons had been landing from the direction of the palace, continuously bringing Celicia the latest news. Although Muen didn't know where this information was coming from, judging by how seriously Celicia took it, the credibility was likely beyond doubt.
Which meant...
"His Majesty and those ministers are in danger right now?"
Muen frowned, feeling a pang of worry.
The Emperor was his future father-in-law, of course, but more importantly, according to previous reports, his own grandfather—Marquis Angus—was also in the palace. It seemed he had already fallen into Albert’s hands.
"Probably not," Celicia said. "If Albert actually killed all those ministers, the Empire would fall into chaos. I doubt he wants to see that; there would be too many variables. As for Father... I don't think we need to worry about him for the time being."
"Why?"
"Because to complete the second step, Albert must obtain the Sword of the King before Father explicitly passes the title to him. That sword is the symbol of the Empire’s imperial power."
"A sword... can represent the legitimacy of the throne?"
"I told you, it is a symbol."
Celicia’s long eyelashes fluttered as she partially closed her eyes.
"An ethereal symbol is sometimes the most trivial thing, and sometimes the most important. At least for the current Albert, it is vital."