Chapter 215. Beggar Siblings – Mother’s Necklace
– Clang! Dang- Clang!
The capital Rutina greeted a morning different from usual.
With dawn breaking in the east, the sound of the church bell rang faintly, and soldiers dressed in neat uniforms rather than armor were gauging their positions at every intersection.
It was definitely a different day than usual.
The streets were clean, and the early morning passersby were dressed neatly with nothing to point out. If anyone was caught not dressing properly, the soldiers would run up to admonish them. They did not impose fines.
It was the day of preparation for Akinén.
With just a week to go until the reign of the Conrad Kingdom’s ruler changed, the citizens of Rutina were doing their utmost to welcome their new ruler. They tried on newly purchased clothes, fixed broken roofs, and repainted walls.
While the efforts of mere citizens were commendable, the palace was even more diligent.
The royal palace, which began preparations ahead of the citizens, showed no trace of flaws. Servants repaired floors cracked by time. Maids replaced all the candles in the palace candelabras, and it had been a long time since they had filled every lantern with expensive whale oil.
All of this was for one person, Prince Eric de Yeriel.
Nobles gathered in groups at the royal palace. While they, under the guidance of the royal stewards, coordinated the ceremony’s schedule for the next week, the centerpiece of Akinén, Prince Eric de Yeriel, was also checking his movements.
The splendid king’s attire. The garments, tailored thinly for the summer, were densely embroidered with gold. The red cloak draped over his shoulders, several meters long, smoothly swept the spotless floor with each step he took, with the guidance of the court etiquette officer, Prince Eric walked towards the king’s private chambers, accompanied by Bishop Berg, maids holding his cloak, and a few guards.
It was a route in accordance with the Archean Empire’s etiquette. If the king was bedridden and unable to attend Akinén, the successor had to have an audience with the king alongside a representative of the Cross Church. This process confirmed the king’s incapability to govern, acknowledging the successor.
This process, rare in the long history of the Archean Empire, was traditionally presided over by a saint, but with the continent divided into seven kingdoms, a Bishop was to deputized.
– Step, step.
However, the group of twelve continued past several halls, climbed stairs, then passed through more halls and ascended more stairs.
Though it was a procedure to be strictly followed, today was merely a rehearsal day in preparation for Akinén. Thus, originally, the nobles would have followed in droves, but the prince showed magnanimity.
The king’s private chambers were on the fourth floor, the highest point of the palace, whose floors were exceptionally tall. It was too high for the elderly heads of households to ascend just for a rehearsal. Therefore, the schedule for today was kept brief and preliminary, with a modest banquet to follow.
The nobles decided to wait for the prince to return at the banquet hall on the first floor.
In the silence where not a single word was exchanged, they eventually reached the 4th floor. There, where the scent of beneficial incense filled the air, was the bedroom of Kaderic de Yeriel, the king (王) of the Conrad Kingdom, who had been bedridden for over ten years.
“May God bless. I hope the king regains consciousness next week, but if he does not, Prince, you will have to proceed. First, you should come here, near the bed, and pray for the king’s recovery…”
The etiquette officer chattered on about the customs of the Archean Empire. However, Prince Eric didn’t seem to be listening attentively.
Honestly, everyone knew the king would not wake up. His complexion had turned black and emitted a rotten odor for more than ten years; it was ridiculous to believe he could wake up now.
The king was merely hanging on to life by the immense blessings poured by Bishop Berg.
“Afterwards, the Bishop must verify the king’s condition. Of course, next week, the Bishop will make a judgment, but if it seems the king can’t handle state affairs, he must inform the gathered nobles…”
Bishop Berg didn’t dismiss the etiquette officer’s redundant and dogmatic chatter. Regardless of who would become king, it was his duty, so he meticulously remembered the procedure and occasionally glanced at Prince Eric de Yeriel.
“Next, it’s time to pay respects to the late queen. An altar has been prepared in the room of Queen Ainas de Yeriel. Now, that way…”
“That’s enough.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re saying I need to burn incense, right? I’m capable of that, and I’ve done it many times, so no more rehearsals are needed.”
“But Prince, the rituals performed by the successor of Akinén differ from the etiquette you’ve observed for the queen in daily practice. As the legitimate successor of the House of Yeriel, you must now regard her as your mother…”
“As the legitimate successor? Now?”
Prince Eric de Yeriel glared sharply at the etiquette officer.
Oops.
The officer realized he had phrased his words poorly and shrank back. Prince Eric eyed him menacingly and then spoke.
“Leave. I’ll change my clothes and go, so inform the nobles the banquet will begin soon.”
“Ah, understood.”
The hideous etiquette officer hastily left. Prince Eric de Yeriel forced a smile towards another unwelcome presence, the Bishop Berg, an agent of the detestable god.
“Bishop Berg, you’ve gone through a lot of trouble. You could have come alone, but you brought many priests and templars.”
“Yes. It’s the day to welcome the new ruler of the kingdom; the church must show its sincerity as well. I shall take my leave now.”
Bishop Berg swiftly turned and left.
Prince Eric, who just intended to exchange a few polite words before sending him back, stood dumbfounded for a moment and then let out a sigh. He couldn’t understand why that money-grubber was leaving so quietly. Normally, he would have made a fuss about the king’s medical expenses, trying to extort every last penny…
Although he didn’t want to cure his father, he couldn’t outright say “Then stop the treatment” for the sake of appearance, making the man truly annoying.
But is it because I am now ascending the throne that he’s being cautious?
Heh. Prince Eric snorted and left his chamber without even glancing at his father, who was writhing in pain from his deteriorating wounds. Returning to his room on the third floor, he had his maid remove his cumbersome cloak and changed into his banquet attire. Looking back at the neatly arranged royal garments on the bed, he finally felt much better and smiled.
Finally, I am becoming the king.
It was a sweet fruit borne out of years of effort, not something handed down because of sheer bloodline.
Some may say it was thanks to the ambition of Duke Tertan, my maternal grandfather, that I was able to oust Prince Leo and Princess Lena, who were ahead in the line of succession. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Few nobles were as free of ambition as my grandfather, Raphael Tartan. It took all my accumulated divine power to keep his fascination intact, and it was no easy task to gather offerings for Lord Oriax as a prince.
When I had that ‘gem,’ I didn’t need to sleep, so I sneaked out every night to find offerings for over ten years. Days sacrificed solely to become a king.
“Hahahaha.”
Prince Eric broke into laughter, not caring whether the maids could hear him or not.
Lord Oriax said that once I ascend the throne, I wouldn’t need to search for offerings anymore. As the ruler of this land and all its people, divine power would flow from all that decays, and he wished for me to reign as king for fifty years.
Wouldn’t that be great.
It was a most thankful proposal. As a young boy, I accepted that proposal and came this far because of it. Recently, Lord Oriax had urged me to ascend the throne quickly, pushing the schedule forward.
At that moment, Prince Eric’s laughter stopped abruptly.
Heading towards the window with the intention of enjoying a clear view of the eastern and southern districts of Rutina, he noticed his mother’s necklace displayed by the window.
With somewhat clearer eyes, Prince Eric stood staring at the necklace for a while before taking it from the display. Like a crestfallen boy, he fiddled with it and then put it around his neck.
There was no particular reason. Just… he felt like doing it.
“Let’s go.”
Unconsciously letting out a sigh, the prince turned around. He dismissed the maids and, accompanied by the royal guards, headed to the banquet hall on the first floor where the nobles awaited. Somehow, the banquet hall was enveloped in eerie silence.
No matter how long they were waiting for the prince to arrive, having more than a hundred gathered nobles remain silent was no small feat.
Eric de Yeriel found this strange, yet at the same time, he felt a slight sense of anticipation as he descended the stairs. The banquet hall could also be accessed via a staircase on the second floor, a place usually where the king would make a grand entrance to the sound of fanfare.
Perhaps the nobles were being quiet to give him a grand reception. ─ He opened the heavy door to the stairs with this hope.
And there, to his surprise, were nobles looking up in amazement. Though knights were also prepped and lined up to look upwards, their gazes were not solely fixed on him.
Revolting blonde hair.
He could see the tops of the heads of a young man and lady with golden eyes. When they turned their heads up to look, Eric de Yeriel froze.
“…Damn it.”
“Brother, it’s been a long time. Though I don’t remember you.”
A dazzlingly beautiful lady. A woman who had inherited the blood of the House of Isadora, whom Eric de Yeriel had long dreamt of due to his inferiority about his mother’s rank, but with whom he could never be united.
Princess Lena de Yeriel, his half-sister.
Despite being a woman, she preceded him in the line of succession. She bowed gracefully and smiled, while the young man beside her cast a complicated glance backward.
In truth, it wasn’t the princess that made Eric de Yeriel utter curses.
The queen’s first son. With blonde hair and golden eyes, symbolizing the Archean Empire’s royalty, and even streaks of blue representing the Yeriel royal family, his appearance alone made him a fitting heir to the throne.
Young Eric, before steeling his heart, had no idea how much he had despised his own hair and eye color. The hated figure, the first in line for the throne, stood before him. And on the very day of the Akinen, of all days.
Eric de Yeriel was about to scream to have this man dragged away immediately. But Leo de Yeriel pointed a finger at him and commanded first.
“Knights, seize that treacherous prince and have him kneel before me.”
“What, what?!”
– Swish.
Over two hundred royal knights, even the royal guards, drew their swords. The tips of all their blades were pointing straight at Prince Eric, leaving him dumbfounded.
None of the nobles stepped in to stop this.
Many faces bore mockery, barely restrained but hard to conceal. The remaining nobles, who should have supported him, were either stunned by the knights’ actions or remained silent because they knew it would be difficult to overturn the situation.
“Prince Eric! Kneel!”
The hill of blades. But the weapons were not only at the bottom of the stairs.
Above the stairs, even the royal guards who were supposed to protect Prince Eric were pointing their swords at his back. It seemed odd that those not typically loyal to him were standing guard today… This implied that even the captain of the royal guard was siding with them.
“Kahahahahahaha!!”
Eric laughed.
In this situation, people wouldn’t call him a prince anymore. However,
“What’s so great about being born of the queen! Fine. Truly splendid, my brother! Yet I shall reveal who the successor chosen by the divine is…”
“Kneel immediately…!!”
“O Lord Oriax!”
Prince Eric raised his arms high.
A red glow flashed from his eyes, and a massive hole was blasted into the ceiling of the banquet hall. The royal guards who had pointed their swords at Eric were flung down the stairs, and everyone present stood aghast, staring up at the ceiling.
The only ones taking action among them were Leo, who shielded his sister’s eyes as he embraced her, and the elderly white-haired Bishop Berg, who raised his sword high.
“O Holy God of Rachar!”
In the center of the banquet hall, Bishop Berg performed a sword dance, scattering the pure energy of the main deity in all directions.
