There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game-Chapter 762 - 650: The Wind Rises and the Clouds Gather

Chapter 762: Chapter 650: The Wind Rises and the Clouds Gather

Saint Vlaro Empire, Royal Capital.

The Constantinople Hall of the Traveling Palace.

In the great hall, a middle-aged man around forty, dressed in lavish attire, was drinking tea uncomfortably, as if sitting on pins and needles.

He was His Highness, Crown Prince Simon Wald.

At the head of the hall, draped in a red cape with gold embroidery, the King of Saint Vlaro was reclining on his throne with no regard for image. In his hand, he held a piece of parchment, his demeanor casual and indifferent.

Yet, the entire hall was silent, an inexplicable sense of oppression filled the air.

Suddenly, the King at the head seat let out a snort of laughter.

His Highness Simon, who was just about to drink, trembled and almost spilled the tea. He hurriedly placed it back on the table.

Then, the King spoke languidly, “The Pope of Light will soon set off for the Royal Capital to crown you, Simon. You must prepare yourself.”

Upon hearing this, His Highness Simon was suddenly glad he had set his tea down, for the fine Jade Cup from the far north would have surely shattered on the floor.

With trepidation, he replied, “Your Majesty, I might not yet be ready to take on the position of King of Saint Vlaro. You are in good health and surely can continue…”

“Do you know what I told the Holy Court?” the King interrupted him.

His Highness Simon looked up, puzzled.

The King said with a smirk, “I told the Holy Court that I am gravely ill, on the verge of death, so I must pass the throne to you, and have their esteemed Pope come personally to crown you. Simon, this is an honor I have secured for you.”

However, after hearing these words, His Highness Simon’s sweat poured down profusely.

He was struck with shock and fear, and even more bewildered.

Today was supposed to be a day like any other.

His Highness Simon had spent the morning reading with his beloved Queen Consort, then went out to revel in horse racing with friends. Upon returning in the afternoon and about to relax in the grand bath—his father, the King of Saint Vlaro, had suddenly summoned him to the palace.

After a brief greeting, before His Highness Simon could ponder the reasons for the summoning, his inscrutable father announced he was handing over the Empire of Saint Vlaro to him.

His Highness Simon was dumbfounded.

He just sat outside the council hall in a daze, sitting there for a good part of the day until a maid came to replace the now cold tea, snapping him out of it.

After thorough reflection, His Highness Simon thought this must be a test from his father.

After all, he had been a prince for thirty or forty years. An ordinary person might resent the King for not abdicating, but His Highness Simon was actually quite fond of his current life.

Why bother with Constantinople’s finances or the Empire’s politics when one could eat, drink, and be merry?

Furthermore, compared to him, there were several other princes who were more suited to be King.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.

So, he reckoned that today’s conversation was likely nothing more than a test.

His Highness Simon had already thought of an excuse to decline, but his ever-incomprehensible father now seemed even more baffling, and a sense of unprovoked fear, sharp as needles, gripped him.

This wasn’t the fear of a father.

It was the fear of a King.

…

It wasn’t until the King stated, “The Pope himself is coming to the Royal Capital to crown you,” that His Highness Simon truly shuddered, convinced his father had gone mad.

If he wasn’t mad, who would entertain such wildly reckless and delusional ideas?

Offensively put, the Varo Royal Family truly didn’t have the stature to have the Pope of Light come all the way to the Royal Capital just to crown a King.

Even if the King were on his deathbed, seeking aid would mean crawling all the way to the City of Light.

The sacredness and nobility of the Papal are acknowledged even by members of the royal family; such is the corruption of the Empire by the Holy See’s clerical authority.

But seeing the half-smiling expression on the King’s face, His Highness Simon suddenly felt that if the King had gone mad, he must have gone completely insane.

So this matter was real.

He had actually summoned the Pope…

His Highness Simon didn’t know how he managed to leave the council hall or how he made it back to the palace.

All he registered was the Queen Consort’s voice suddenly asking, “Simon, what’s wrong with you? You look so distraught. What did His Majesty say to you?”

His Highness Simon came back to his senses, looking at his wife within arm’s reach, and uttered with a quiver in his voice, “Father has gone mad.”

The brilliant sunlight fell upon him, but he only felt a chill all over.

If the Pope of Light hadn’t agreed to come to the Royal Capital, this situation would probably have ended with the King making a penitential visit to the City of Light. But now that the Holy Court had also unprecedentedly consented to this ludicrous request,

it meant that the deeds of Wald XIII were about to repeat themselves.

—War.

Centuries ago, the reason for Wald XIII’s penitential journey was the King’s attempt to overthrow the Holy Court’s clerical authority in the Royal Capital.

Yet this laughable action failed to close even the doors of the royal capital’s cathedral for a single day; it ended with the King traveling the distance to the City of Light and kneeling outside the Holy See of Light for three days as punishment.

His Highness Simon didn’t know what preparations his father had made, but if there was truly to be a confrontation with the Holy Court,

the inevitable result was war.

He was no fool; he knew he had been thrust onto the frontline by his father, turning into the catalyst to lure the Pope to the Royal Capital, into the spark that would ignite a war.

Regardless of the outcome of this standoff, he was destined to be branded with infamy for eternity, nailed to the column of shame to endure scorn from future generations.

Simon clutched his face tightly.