Chapter 142
Sierre nodded emphatically without a moment’s hesitation, his face brightening with an enormous smile.
“Of course! Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen!”
“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking.”
“It’s a request from you, brother.”
Then Sierre leaned in and whispered just loud enough for Einar to hear.
“Though I draw the line at treason. Even for you, brother, that would be hopeless. If the Emperor were our only concern, perhaps we could manage something, but with Duke Bolshevik standing in the way…”
Einar gazed down at his youngest brother with a complicated expression, watching as the boy delivered these terrifying words with a bright, innocent smile. He flicked Sierre’s round forehead—gently enough not to hurt.
“I never even considered such a thing.”
“True. You’d find it too troublesome.”
Einar let out a hollow laugh at Sierre’s blunt assessment and shook his head.
“Anyway, it’s nothing so grandiose.”
“No?”
Sierre’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, clearly eager to hear more. Einar decided not to keep him waiting any longer.
“I need you to leak information to Smith that I’m heading to the border.”
“As if by accident?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll handle it.”
After nodding decisively, Sierre tilted his head thoughtfully before bluntly asking, “What crime is the Third Prince trying to pin on you?”
Einar was taken aback by the unexpected question—something Sierre should have no way of knowing.
“How did you figure that out?”
“Well, you’re deliberately asking me to inform the Third Prince that you’ll be away from the palace. Since he can’t directly use force against you, he must be planning to frame you for something while you’re gone. You’ve recognized his scheme and are intentionally giving him the opening.”
Having deduced the entire situation from Einar’s brief request, Sierre continued.
“The Third Prince wants you eliminated completely, so the charge would have to be treason. But he lacks the capacity to orchestrate such an elaborate conspiracy, which means…”
Sierre concluded with the innocent smile of a child proudly announcing the correct answer:
“It’s the assassination of His Imperial Majesty.”
It was the precise conclusion, reached in mere minutes.
Einar swallowed what might have been admiration, a sigh, or perhaps both, as he looked down at Sierre’s animated face—his cheeks slightly fuller and rosier than before.
From birth, the boy had been labeled frail, given a death sentence that had kept him confined indoors, completely isolated from the outside world.
Naturally, without any faction supporting him, he would have had no proper channels for gathering information. Yet here he was, accurately piecing together the entire situation from just a few words.
His insight was terrifying.
If he were to receive proper training as a prince, the title of “genius of the century” would surely transfer from himself to this innocent-smiling boy before him.
Unlike himself, a “genius” manufactured by “luck,” Sierre was a “real” genius.
And this child would likely become the next Emperor, leading the Empire.
Though His Majesty had constantly lamented his failure in raising his children, that wasn’t entirely true.
“Brother?”
Sierre tilted his head curiously as Einar silently stared at him.
Kneeling on one knee to meet the boy at eye level, Einar placed his hand on the thin, underdeveloped shoulder that fit easily in his palm with room to spare.
“I’m counting on you.”
Those words meant more than just the current favor or the Second Prince duties Sierre would assume during Einar’s absence.
They encompassed something much more distant in the future.
Though Einar offered no further explanation, Sierre understood his intent perfectly and replied:
“I can’t confidently say ‘of course’ just yet, but…”
The child’s face maintained its innocent smile, but his eyes shone brighter than the midday sun.
“Leave it to me.”
Sierre headed toward Smith’s palace with energetic strides, swinging both arms vigorously without the aid of his walking stick.
He didn’t want to delay his brother’s request, especially since Einar’s departure for the border was happening much sooner than expected.
“I’d like to see my third brother.”
Having arrived unannounced, he addressed the first servant he spotted in the Third Prince’s residence.
The servant’s eyes widened briefly at the sight of the youngest prince—whom they had only heard about in rumors—standing firmly on his own legs without support or assistance, speaking with remarkable clarity. The servant quickly bowed and replied:
“I’ll inform His Highness immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Guided by another servant to the reception room, Sierre sat on the sofa, swinging his legs idly. He had no doubt that the Third Prince would see him.
After all, Smith was the one most desperate at the moment.
Besides, the Third Prince must still be unsettled by the recent incident at Sierre’s palace.
Given his personality, Smith would certainly seek Sierre out at the first opportunity to vent his frustration.
—BANG!
Sierre’s prediction proved entirely accurate as the door flew open without so much as a knock, and Smith strode in with purposeful steps.
“So the rumors of your miraculous recovery were true after all.”
As expected, Smith had abandoned even the pretense of brotherly concern he’d previously displayed in public, immediately resorting to biting sarcasm.
Sierre, undeterred by this attitude, beamed cheerfully and offered a greeting.
“Have you been well? Judging by your fully-healed arm, I’d say you’ve been doing splendidly.”
Smith, momentarily thrown off by Sierre’s seemingly innocent smile, stood towering over the child with his mouth shut.
Sierre looked up at Smith, then rose from his seat.
“You expressed such concern for my well-being, so I came to show you how much I’ve improved and to check on you as well. As you can see, I can now take walks just like a normal person.”
Only then did Smith realize that Sierre’s entire statement was laced with thorns, causing his face to flush crimson.
“You insolent—”
But before Smith could finish his tirade, what Sierre casually mentioned next left him frozen with his mouth agape.
“I won’t be able to visit like this anymore anyway. Since my second brother is leaving for the border…”
Before Sierre could finish his sentence, Smith lunged forward in a single bound and seized the boy’s shoulders.
Unlike Einar’s considerate touch, Smith deliberately gripped Sierre’s shoulders roughly enough to cause pain.
“What did you just say?”
Smith leaned forward with bulging eyes, glaring at Sierre with murderous intensity.
“Pardon?”
But Sierre merely tilted his head in apparent confusion, frustrating Smith who contorted his face and repeated each syllable with exaggerated precision.
“What. Did. You. Just. Say. About. Einar?”
Still, Sierre only blinked, not opening his mouth.
Smith tightened his grip even further on the boy’s shoulders—noticeably less bony than before, though still thin—squeezing hard enough to leave bruises as his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Speak! What did you say about Einar going to the border?!”
“Oh!”
Only then did Sierre let out an exclamation as if realizing his mistake, belatedly trying to conceal his discomfort.
But Smith wouldn’t allow Sierre to close his mouth.
“Didn’t you just say Einar is going to the border?!”
Despite the pain radiating from his shoulders—enough to make anyone cry out—Sierre, who had endured suffering his entire life until his nurse disappeared, merely blinked, unfazed.
Smith, frustrated by Sierre’s unresponsiveness, was about to strike him when he suddenly paused.
The seemingly tight-lipped Sierre had finally drooped his mouth and sullenly provided the answer Smith wanted.
“My second brother has to go to the border, so I’m taking over his duties. This is confidential, though.”
As if realizing his mistake, Sierre’s voice grew progressively quieter while his eyebrows drooped and his eyes darted around.
Though the child fell silent, Smith’s mouth opened wider than before.
He’s going to the border? That means he’ll be away from the Imperial Palace!
This is my chance. A chance I absolutely cannot miss.
Smith instinctively realized this was the best opportunity he would ever get.
Which made him all the more impatient.
He had no time to deal with this youngest brother who had just begun to climb the ladder.
Of course, it irked him tremendously that the duties of that accursed Einar were being handed to this stupid, half-witted brat who carelessly leaked confidential information, but there were far more important matters to attend to now.
“Didn’t you say you were busy? You may go.”
Though Smith pretended he wasn’t the one in a hurry, Sierre didn’t point this out as he had before and withdrew compliantly.
The moment the child’s small figure disappeared, Smith shouted:
“Aide!”
As if he had been waiting, the aide appeared instantly and bowed deeply.
Unlike his usual habit of leaving the aide in that uncomfortable position for a long time, Smith spoke quickly.
“There’s something I must do immediately.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’m writing a letter that must be delivered in absolute secrecy.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Smith, convinced he had complete control over his aide through terror cultivated by violence, wrote a letter in front of him demanding the tools to poison Jane.
“To Bolshevik Duchy, right away!”
