Dragonai's Advance: The Crown Prince's Resolve
Everyone surged toward her with palpable intent. A handful of vagrants actually charged her carriage, only to be skewered by the heavy cavalry's blades and left writhing in their death throes. Her popularity was so extreme that it left corpses scattered along the roadside. Even then, the onlookers paid no mind to the risk of losing their own lives; they kept pressing closer, desperate for even a fleeting glimpse at her feet.
The crown prince made his decision. If it meant saving his beautiful, pitiful younger sister, he would do anything. "Forgive me, Father..." he muttered, then sprinted ahead to block the head of the procession and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Halt! I am the Crown Prince of the Lusa Empire!"
The musicians stopped playing at once. The women scattering flower petals from the ramparts froze mid-motion. The entire atmosphere turned deathly silent. Then the unexpected happened. The crowd suddenly began hurling vegetables and fruit at him, shouting in fury.
"Boo! Get lost, you worthless crown prince!"
…What kind of reaction was this?!
"But Father—His Majesty Obern—has done so much good for the people…" The crown prince had traveled incognito as a knight and personally visited the displaced citizens of the central provinces. Every single one of them had praised Emperor Obern's reign and called him a sage king. Yet here in the north…
"Boo! Get out of here, you rotten crown prince!"
"If you're the crown prince, then I'm the pope!"
It was as if every citizen here was ready to rebel against the imperial family. At that moment, the commander leading thousands of soldiers bellowed at him.
"You insolent wretch! Don't you know that impersonating the imperial family is tantamount to treason?!"
The crown prince had expected this. He raised the golden citrine badge he always carried during his secret inspections—the proof of his identity as crown prince.
"I told you to stop!"
Only then did the crowd begin to stir as he had hoped.
"Good heavens! Is he really the crown prince?"
"My word… to see the crown prince in the flesh."
"Oh my~! Our crown prince is so handsome!"
"Look at that badge. A single gem that size is worth an entire house in the capital district. They really make the whole thing out of it?"
The women were the first to change their attitude. The matrons and young ladies of the city gazed at the crown prince—who looked as though he had stepped straight out of a myth, resembling a hero or a god—and fell for him instantly. Some even showed open interest in the dazzling badge he held aloft. The street vendors grew excited as well.
"Oh! To think I'd live to throw an onion at the crown prince!"
"I threw a carrot earlier!"
"Perfect. This time I'm going with a pumpkin!"
Still, most of the crowd refused to believe his identity. There was a reason their attitude had flipped so quickly over a single badge. Medieval kings suffered from a kind of identity-proof obsession whenever they went on progress. What if they returned to the palace only to find an impostor already seated on the throne, claiming to be the emperor? That was precisely why outsiders were strictly controlled and why so many gatekeepers existed. Even inside the palace, proving one's identity was difficult enough—outside the capital, it was nearly impossible. That was why rulers always traveled with trusted attendants or hundreds of retainers who loudly proclaimed their presence.
Yet this so-called crown prince stood alone, without a single attendant, wearing nothing but a loose tunic shirt and a hard-leather breastplate—the garb of a common soldier. No one here could possibly believe him. At best, they saw him as a shameless swindler willing to risk his life to impersonate the crown prince and steal Seira away.
History had shown that the story of identity verification was also the story of forgery and alteration. Travelers and pilgrims crossing borders carried bundles of recommendation letters, certificates, and lodging records, frequently using false names or bribing officials. Among them were high-class con artists pretending to be princes—just as the crowd had suspected—and even spies disguised as diplomats. Identity policies changed constantly, yet none had ever been truly effective.
The Lusa Empire had tried to solve this problem by using precious materials. The imperial family's identity badges were made entirely of gemstones. High nobles and royalty used gold. Ordinary nobles used silver. Baronets and knights used copper. Commoners, however, were so numerous that the badge system was practically meaningless for them, so they carried none.
The advantage of this tiered system was that forgery was extremely difficult. The cost of forging a single royal badge was enough to buy eighteen serf houses. Few swindlers had the confidence—or the funds—to attempt it. Because the imperial gem badges were so rare, any forgery would quickly be noticed and traced.
Just as the incident seemed about to end as a minor disturbance, it grew more complicated. The commander stared blankly at the brilliantly shining golden citrine badge.
"T-This man… the badge he's holding… i-it's the real thing?!"
The man before him held a citrine badge the size of which easily exceeded 300 grams. If an ordinary serf's house was worth around 600 shillings and a respectable multi-story house in the capital district around 14,500 shillings, then this citrine badge was worth a staggering 90,000 shillings.
"Everyone, kneel!"
At that moment, twenty-odd members of the Imperial Knight Order who had been secretly following the crown prince appeared in an instant and issued a warning. They wore pristine white hard-leather armor and carried brilliantly decorated swords adorned with gold fittings.
"H-Huh…?!"
But "Muzata," one of the ten commanders of the Black Star Knights leading the procession, merely smirked and ordered their arrest. The crown prince's adjutant flared up in anger.
The crown prince joined in. "You insolent fools! The imperial law is absolute—do you not fear it?!"
"Commander! I really am the crown prince!"
"Ah, yes, yes. Your Highness the Crown Prince. We'll escort you safely to prison. The Grand Duke will give you a most splendid welcome once you arrive. And that expensive-looking badge—I'll be confiscating it for the time being."
"Hahahahaha!"
The soldiers burst into raucous laughter.
"Right then, let's move!"
The commotion ended, and the musicians resumed their performance as if nothing had happened. The crown prince and his adjutant stared blankly at the handcuffs now binding their wrists. Their gazes eventually drifted toward Seira, who had witnessed the entire scene. She looked back at them with pity.
'My beautiful younger sister…'
Even as he was being taken away, the crown prince resolved once more that he would definitely save her. Meanwhile, Fuyor trembled violently, as though struck by a severe fever.
"What do we do, what do we do?! Could those people have been the knights His Majesty sent? Our Seira… what now? Even the crown prince has been captured… Is there really no one left who can save our Seira? Sob, sob, sob."
In Fuyor's eyes, the distant Black Castle—gazing down upon them with endless contempt—looked more terrifying than ever, like the fortress of a demon king.