Chapter 127
The Emperor, watching the two bicker as usual, looked as if he had aged ten years in that short time.
While listening to the Finance Minister’s shield-like “There is none” that nothing could penetrate, the Emperor turned to the Duke of Bolshevik, who had been sitting in silence, and asked:
“What do you think, Duke? About the results of this test.”
“Since nothing worthy of being called a result has emerged, it’s difficult to say.”
At the Duke’s coldly frank assessment without even a layer of diplomacy, the Emperor pressed his throbbing temples firmly.
“Isn’t that right? The only thing salvaged was that business about the suspicious activities of those groups from foreign countries, brought up by the Second Prince regarding commission issues.”
He tapped the impeccably organized documents that had just arrived and continued:
“Your successor brought the most crucial information for the imperial citizens. When they first announced their engagement, I wondered what wind had blown to create such a combination.”
The Duke of Bolshevik’s razor-sharp voice pierced the Emperor’s ears as he gazed with a distant look.
“It’s merely an engagement, nothing more.”
“Of course. Merely an engagement.”
The Emperor nodded smoothly and immediately changed the subject.
“Anyway, those I thought would apply themselves with all their heart and soul to this test and produce results have been utterly disappointing.”
“This is hardly surprising, Your Majesty, since you didn’t expect much from them to begin with.”
The Finance Minister, who had stopped bickering, retorted bluntly, and the General in charge of defense chimed in as if they had never argued.
“Indeed. Even though you called it a test, you clearly anticipated finding them all inadequate.”
At their unanimous response, the Emperor smiled faintly and said:
“If it’s confirmed that the epidemic is not an epidemic but poison being distributed, the borders will become quite noisy. So we’ll need time and budget, right?”
“Absolutely! Isn’t there a saying that if you want peace, prepare for war!”
“Until you properly explain where and how the already allocated budget is insufficient, there is no budget to give.”
Having simply sparked the second war between the Defense and Finance Ministers, the Emperor turned his attention back to the Duke of Bolshevik.
“Not one of my sons is worthy to inherit my position. It’s troubling, truly troubling. In that sense, you’re truly blessed, Duke.”
“Even if you covet it so, unless my daughter wishes it, she will not set foot in the imperial household.”
“It was a pure expression of envy.”
The Emperor smoothly sidestepped the Duke of Bolshevik’s stern reaction like a snake slithering over a wall, then shook his head.
“The first one, only God knows what he realized in his brush with death…”
The First Prince, who had at least shown enthusiasm for the throne and seemed capable of maintaining the empire adequately before passing it to the next generation, had his momentum thoroughly broken after nearly dying at the hunting competition.
There had been a few complaints from his supporters, and now they were reportedly visiting him day and night, tearfully trying to return him to his former self.
The next strongest candidate, the Third Prince…
“The third one isn’t even worth mentioning.”
Having immediately dismissed Smith as not worth thinking about either, the Emperor’s worries deepened, and the Duke dryly enumerated the remaining princes.
“What about the Second Prince?”
“If that fellow had even the slightest interest, I would have named him Crown Prince without hesitation. The problem is that he doesn’t have a speck of interest in this position. If forced to sit there, he’d grab the first person he sees at the coronation ceremony and hand over the crown right then and there.”
Shaking his head repeatedly, the Emperor whispered with a subtle expression:
“But you know, as I mentioned earlier, your daughter and that fellow are engaged. Perhaps he’s developed some interest?”
“As I said before, everything will be as my daughter wishes.”
His demeanor suggested that if the Emperor said another word, he might strike him, regardless of his status, as a childhood friend and strongest ally.
The Emperor half-closed his eyes at the Duke of Bolshevik, who asserted with more rigidity than a steel wall that his daughter came first, even amid discussions about the empire’s next emperor.
“You really are…”
The Emperor kept to himself the observation that the Duke was an incredible daughter-doting fool who couldn’t express it at all, and nodded compliantly out of courtesy to his friend.
“Of course. After the second, let’s skip the fourth too. How could a fellow who never leaves his room manage to be an emperor?”
Clicking his tongue, the Emperor brought up the final candidate.
“Only the youngest is left. That child is truly a pity.”
The Emperor smacked his lips regretfully.
“If only his body weren’t so weak, he would have been worth properly raising.”
The Emperor’s assessment of the Youngest Prince, who seemed born with a predetermined death date, was very generous.
“Despite the Youngest Prince never having officially done any work?”
“That’s right. I had no expectations for that child, but he quite acerbically evaluates reality as it is and understands people’s inner thoughts better than expected. Aren’t both extremely necessary virtues for an emperor?”
Having recalled this much, the Duke realized that the Emperor’s assessment of the Youngest Prince wasn’t generous but accurate.
But now, there was something more important.
The Duke of Bolshevik naturally blocked Riina’s view of Einar completely.
A moment later, Einar tilted his head with a troubled, ambiguous expression.
“Hmm… Duke? My cheek is hurting quite a bit. I think the tar… I mean, anyway, isn’t the target wrong?”
Einar called out to the Duke of Bolshevik, trying to confirm if the killing intent currently clawing at his right cheek, almost tearing it apart, was real.
“It is correct.”
But at the Duke’s utterly firm answer, Einar felt the thought that had flashed and disappeared return.
Surely the Duke of Bolshevik wouldn’t behave so childishly.
Surely he wouldn’t emit killing intent just because he exchanged a few glances with his daughter, and surely the Duke of Bolshevik wouldn’t deliberately block his way and wedge between him and his daughter just because he was standing in front of her.
After all, he is the Duke of Bolshevik.
The premise itself was excellent, but Einar quickly cycled through this clumsy and awkward syllogism, moistened his dry lips, and asked:
“Are you directing killing intent at me right now?”
There was no answer, but the Duke’s blue eyes seemed to have formed another layer of thin ice compared to before, so Einar didn’t ask further.
Instinctively sensing danger, he threw aside Smith’s arm, which he had been holding, and strode toward Riina.
No, he tried to.
Because the Duke of Bolshevik stood in his way like an unmoving mountain, he could no longer approach her.
“Duke.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Are you blocking me right now?”
To this, the Duke answered as if he had been waiting:
“Your Highness should go to the Youngest Prince. There’s no particular reason for you to be near my daughter.”
With that expressionless face that seemed like it wouldn’t bleed a drop even if stabbed with a knife, the Duke of Bolshevik pushed Einar toward Sierre.
Though it ended up looking like he was embracing Sierre unexpectedly, since Einar had originally intended to protect both Riina and Sierre, he set aside his bewilderment for the moment and asked Sierre:
“You don’t seem to be hurt, but your ears must be sore from hearing unnecessary words.”
To Einar, who dismissed Smith’s rambling as nonsense, Sierre nodded with a bright smile.
“Yes. My ears got a bit dirty, but nothing hurts. I’ve never felt as refreshed as I do today!”
Excitedly tapping the floor with his cane, Sierre glanced at Riina and the Duke of Bolshevik before whispering to Einar:
“Even I can see that the Duke of Bolshevik cherishes his lady so tremendously that he’s not just checking you but is certainly trying to kill you.”
At this unfailingly accurate and unvarnished assessment of reality, Einar couldn’t help but smile bitterly.
He had suspected as much, and sure enough…
Though Sierre had whispered in his own way, he hadn’t whispered directly into Einar’s ear, so Riina, who was still holding hands and standing close by, heard the child’s words perfectly.
And Riina’s cheeks had turned bright red.
Einar could easily predict why her face was flushed without having to ask.
She had originally wanted to leave everything behind because she didn’t want to burden her family any more due to her misfortune.
Yet she loved her family enough to say she would stay until the capabilities of the person she was leaving behind were stable.
Naturally, “Bolshevik,” which she loved so dearly, would include the Duke, who was both the family head and her father.
Knowing her as he did, how could he insert himself between father and daughter?
Einar’s thoughts were largely accurate, but slightly insufficient.
Riina’s burning cheeks were partly due to her father’s doting behavior, but also partly because of Einar.
In truth, before her regression, no matter how much she had been with Smith, her father had never been wary of him like this.
Did it mean that, in her father’s eyes, her relationship with Einar appeared to be more than a simple strategic engagement, warranting such open vigilance?
If Einar had been able to read Riina’s current thoughts, who knows how the situation might have unfolded.
