“Your Highness, it’s almost time for the meeting.”

At the chief attendant’s words, Crown Prince Edsen lifted his head and glanced at the clock, his brow faintly knitting. I picked the wrong time.

“And those people?”

“They’ve all arrived.”

“Hardworking, aren’t they. How is it they don’t miss even a single day?”

With his displeasure on full display, the chief attendant bowed even deeper, as if apologizing.

“I’m sorry, but could you wait a moment? I’ll wrap this up and come right back.”

“No, it’s fine. I have something to take care of too. I’ll finish this tea and be on my way.”

“...You’re leaving right away?”

A flicker of puzzlement settled into Crown Prince Edsen’s eyes. She couldn’t have asked to see me just to drink tea.

Whatever the reason, the fact that she was about to leave like this after they’d finally met again left him, unlike himself, feeling deeply reluctant.

“Then I’ll see you next time.”

Unable to keep watching the chief attendant fidget in agitation, he finally rose slowly from his seat.

Edsen knew exactly why the chief attendant was acting that way. If he delayed any longer, it would only become troublesome for him.

Wasn’t the meeting hall packed with people just waiting to seize on it and start questioning whether the crown prince had any sense of responsibility or qualifications?

“There really isn’t a single day that’s qui—”

“Your Highness.”

“Hm?”

“I brought you a gift.”

“A gift?”

Edsen’s gaze returned to Camilla. At some point, a small wooden box had appeared in her hands.

A gift, out of nowhere?

“I hope you like it.”

Without offering any explanation, Camilla held the box out closer to him.

When the chief attendant tried to take it instead, she shook her head, and in the end Edsen took it himself. For its size, it was surprisingly heavy.

Edsen’s brow slowly furrowed as he opened the lid and checked what was inside.

“What is this?”

“Something you need, Your Highness. Right now.”

“Right now... me?”

He lifted his head to look at Camilla, then, at the look in her eyes urging him to examine it more closely, dropped his gaze back to the box.

“...Wait.”

A moment later, Crown Prince Edsen’s eyes widened rapidly.

“Don’t tell me this is...!”

“Y-Your Highness!”

The chief attendant, watching from the side, seemed to recognize what the gift was as well, and went wide-eyed.

Both of their gazes swung to Camilla at the same time.

“Th-this... is it what I think it is?”

Camilla nodded slowly, as if it were obvious.

At the two of them, no longer merely surprised but openly aghast, Camilla °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° beamed a bright smile.

Then she added one last line.

“Go and stir things up as much as you want.”

*****

“What do you all think?”

“Well...”

“Ahem.”

The nobles gathered in the conference room wore troubled expressions. No one could properly meet the sharp gaze of Marquess Duriel, the one who had posed the question.

“Handing the next throne to the son of the leader of Eva Faith—does that really not bother any of you? Even if it comes to that, you truly don’t mind?”

To the outside world, it was said the imperial family was rapidly regaining stability, but in truth, they were still in an uproar over one problem.

“Marquess Duriel, you’ve gone too far!”

“Watch your words! The leader’s son—!”

People on Crown Prince Edsen’s side ground their teeth at those words.

With such an enormous blemish caught in their opponent’s grasp, these days it was frightening enough just to step into the meeting hall.

But they couldn’t simply sit there, helpless, either.

“Did I say anything wrong?”

“If you put it that way, then Prince Avihiel is also the leader’s son!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“...!”

At one noble’s cutting question, Marquess Duriel nodded without even a hint of hesitation.

Everyone stared, unable to contain their shock. Even those who followed Marquess Duriel looked the same.

No matter that he was dead, to admit his own grandson as the leader’s son without pause...

“He was only an emperor in shell. Do you truly believe princes born from that body are legitimate successors?”

“Well, that...”

“Ghn.”

Marquess Duriel argued that Crown Prince Edsen, born from the body inhabited by the leader’s soul, could not be recognized as a rightful successor to the throne.

How could they possibly entrust the empire to someone born from a false emperor’s body? He endlessly incited the others with that line.

“You all know well about the Imperial Seal theft incident from long ago.”

It had happened centuries ago, but there wasn’t a single noble who didn’t know of it.

Because it wasn’t just anything that had been lost—it was the only means by which an emperor could prove himself.

“An unprecedented event in the empire’s history.”

It was an incident recorded in the history books. And no wonder—the imperial seal that had been stolen wasn’t an ordinary stamp.

It was a strange treasure said to have been made from the bones of the Black Dragon, the one once called an evil god, after the First Emperor slew it.

An object tied to the empire’s founding myth, and at the same time a treasure symbolizing the beginning of the Fable imperial line.

“The one who lost that seal was Emperor Alberto.”

Emperor Alberto was presumed to be the first imperial to have their body stolen by the leader of Eva Faith, and to Marquess Duriel, that made him the perfect pretext—an excuse to grant legitimacy to the one Duriel wanted raised as emperor.

“The timing of the disappearance of a treasure that was practically the symbol of the Fable imperial line, and the timing of the leader of Eva Faith committing unforgivable acts. Isn’t it exquisitely coincidental?”

Perhaps it had all been the will of heaven. If so, shouldn’t they trace it back further?

“What are you—!”

“Are you saying the seal left on its own? There’s a limit to how absurd you can be!”

“Now, now. Calm yourselves. It’s not as if Marquess Duriel is telling a story out of thin air.”

“Exactly. With the Sword of Protection and the Sword of Judgment not enough, and even the Mirror of Truth showing itself in the world again—what’s so shocking about the idea that, in the past, a sacred imperial seal rejected a false master and sprang away to somewhere else?”

It was an outrageous stretch, but in this situation—where everything was uncertain—no one could easily refute it.

“Heaven... or perhaps the First Emperor himself, may have meant that he would not acknowledge that man as the emperor of the empire he built.”

At those words, everyone’s eyes wavered as if they had nowhere to settle.

It was the same for those who followed Crown Prince Edsen. They didn’t want to admit it, but they couldn’t help the discomfort that rose inside them.

If what Marquess Duriel said was true, could they really keep following a being born from that horrific monster that only wore the shell of an emperor?

“So what is it you’re trying to say, Marquess Duriel?”

“Do you believe Grand Duke Biyoson is more suited as the next successor to the throne than Crown Prince Edsen?”

Grand Duke Biyoson. The ruler of a grand duchy at the far northern edge of the Fable Empire.

As the title of grand duke implied, it was certain he was one of the First Emperor’s descendants—but at this point, it was an old, stale story.

Weren’t they the very people who had never even dared to utter the word “marriage” toward the imperial family, afraid of drawing the emperor’s suspicion?

Now, to call it blood relation was almost embarrassing. In ordinary times, it would have been too shallow a connection to even mention.

Yet despite making faces that said it was absurd to claim the right of succession on that threadbare link, the momentum of Crown Prince Edsen’s faction ebbed. It was true that blood had mixed, so it was awkward to outright dismiss.

Having seized the atmosphere, Marquess Duriel curled his lips into a greasy smile.

Yes, even faint was fine. It was an undeniable fact that Grand Duke Biyoson was a descendant of the First Emperor.

If my daughter and my grandson couldn’t have it...!

Then Edsen couldn’t have this empire either! Marquess Duriel clenched his fist tight.

Even now, the circumstances of his daughter’s death rose vividly before his eyes. The body that had rotted away rapidly in his arms...

When he heard the news that the emperor had died and the throne had passed to his own grandson, he’d felt as if he owned the world.

And yet hadn’t that grandson’s body been stolen by an Eva Faith believer too—his throat cut, dead?

How could that grief ever be fully explained in words?

There was only one way to soothe it. To have this empire for himself.

If he pushed Grand Duke Biyoson as emperor and raised him up, then his family would enjoy glory no less than the three dukes’ houses.

And he won’t be a problem, either.

Grand Duke Biyoson. Young, and someone who knew nothing about politics. The perfect figure to grasp and shake at will.

In other words, the moment he became emperor, it would be no different than Marquess Duriel becoming the master of the empire himself.

“Think carefully, all of you.”

At Marquess Duriel’s resolute gaze, the people chose silence again.

If they sided with Marquess Duriel, they feared Crown Prince Edsen.

But if they raised Crown Prince Edsen to the throne, Eva Faith’s leader came to mind, and it sat wrong in their stomachs.

CLICK.

“...!”

Just then, the conference room door opened, and someone stepped inside.

“Looks like I’m quite late.”

A man who smiled gently and offered the people a light greeting with his eyes.

It was Crown Prince Edsen.

With his appearance, the air in the conference room sank even heavier.

Edsen swept his gaze lightly over them, and an even deeper smile spread across his face.