Chapter 55
Voices filled with unease and complaints erupted from all directions.
“Your Majesty, are you saying you’re going to send Grand Duke Cardinand to the front lines?”
“Your Majesty, if the Grand Duke is dispatched to the western borders, the center of the capital will be left empty!”
It was hard to tell whether the voices were motivated by concern or dissatisfaction, but they poured out in succession, causing the meeting room to grow increasingly chaotic.
Just as the peak of the uproar was about to hit, Pierre, who had remained silent all this time, finally opened his mouth quietly.
“Enough.”
Just one word. Low and calm, yet imbued with unmistakable authority.
The commotion in the room quieted at once, as if doused with cold water.
“His Majesty is still speaking,” Pierre said.
At that, the nobles fell silent, unable to retort.
When he cast his gaze forward, some of them lowered their eyes as though unable to withstand his presence.
The heavy atmosphere, pressed down by that energy, froze solid.
The emperor smiled leisurely, seemingly pleased by the tension in the air.
Wiggling his fingers as if amused, he continued speaking.
“It’s not that I don’t understand your concerns. But given the current situation, we desperately need the Grand Duke’s power. Someone with decisiveness and prudence to command the field. I can think of no one but the Grand Duke.”
On the surface, it sounded like high praise filled with trust and affection.
But once the words ended, all the nobles’ expressions stiffened.
They knew better than anyone what was truly hidden beneath that superficial support.
The emperor did not favor Pierre.
Rather, Pierre’s very existence was a nuisance.
The power of a ducal house equal to the imperial family, his royal bloodline, and the overwhelming support of the people—
Everything about Pierre posed a threat to the young crown prince.
Thus, he was being sent to the front.
Under the pretense of guarding the empire’s borders, it was a means to remove him from the capital and temporarily strip him of real power.
Even the nobles, normally slow to catch on, could see right through the emperor’s intentions.
Yet no one could easily oppose it.
To speak out against the decision now would mean not only losing their positions, but potentially facing purges.
Only one person could overturn this situation.
Grand Duke Cardinand, Pierre.
But he sat quietly, revealing nothing.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to speak.
The silence he created weighed heavily upon the room.
Then, the emperor, with a bitter smile, turned to Pierre.
“Grand Duke, can I trust that you understand my intentions?”
At first glance, it sounded like a gentle request, but in truth, it was a soft form of coercion. There was never any room for “choice”—the answer had been decided from the beginning.
Pierre, who had been staring down at the table, slowly raised his gaze.
His eyes were cold and expressionless, his face calm and unreadable.
He looked directly at the emperor and replied briefly,
“I accept your command.”
The emperor’s lips curled up in satisfaction.
“Good. Then the Grand Duke shall concurrently serve as Marquis of the Western Border. And to prepare for war, we’ll need someone to oversee arms procurement and supply. Bring him in.”
At the emperor’s signal, one of the ministers quietly bowed and left the meeting room.
Pierre’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
As though he had anticipated what would happen next, his gaze turned cold.
“I haven’t yet had a chance to inform you all,” the emperor said smoothly, “but given the gravity of this situation, I have personally granted a title. I trust you’ll all understand.”
At that moment, the doors opened. All eyes turned toward the entrance.
Click, click.
A blond man walked in, dressed immaculately in a green-toned suit.
It was Baldir Richmond, head of the Richmond Merchant Guild.
Wearing a calm smile, he bowed politely before the nobles.
Even the gesture of placing a hand over his chest was overly smooth—calculated, even.
“He was originally a baron, but I found him fitting for the important role of arms procurement and thus granted him the title of viscount. Viscount Baldir Richmond. You’ll assist the Grand Duke in preparing for war.”
Baldir bowed, positioning himself between the emperor and the Grand Duke.
“It’s an honor, Your Majesty, and Grand Duke Cardinand.”
In that moment, the atmosphere in the room twisted again.
In the air, Pierre’s and Baldir’s gazes collided sharply.
Like the eye of a storm, an intense undercurrent swirled quietly between them.
* * *
“Haha! I’m relieved everything went smoothly. Wouldn’t you say so?”
That evening, the emperor, pleased with the success of the noble council, invited Pierre to a private dinner.
At the emperor’s request to “speak comfortably, just the two of us,” all the attendants were dismissed, leaving only the two men alone in a vast banquet hall.
The emperor seemed quite elated. Dissatisfied with mere wine, he brought out a rare liquor that had been aged for a long time and generously poured it into Pierre’s glass.
As time passed and bottles were drained—four of them in total—the emperor grew tipsy and shed his formal tone.
“Pierre, thanks to you, everything went off without a hitch. I thought there’d be an uproar.”
“I’m simply glad Your Majesty is pleased.”
“Yes, yes. Now just focus on handling things well at the front.”
The emperor downed the amber liquor in his glass in a single gulp. Pierre also raised his glass, barely wetting his lips before setting it down.
The alcohol was said to be a new creation by a master brewer—and it was quite potent.
Pierre, pouring more into the emperor’s empty glass, quietly spoke.
“Sitting across from Your Majesty like this brings back memories of my childhood.”
“Oh?”
“When I was young, Your Majesty often shared meals with me. Having lost my parents early and never knowing affection, your presence then was the first warmth I felt—like the warmth of a family.”
The emperor blinked, silent for a moment. Then he looked at Pierre and let out a chuckle.
“So it was. You’ve grown sentimental with age, Pierre.”
Pierre’s gaze settled.
“Your Majesty used to say I resembled my parents in wit. Do you still think I resemble them now?”
“Interesting. You never used to bring up your parents before.”
“I suppose I’ve grown older, too, Your Majesty.”
The emperor looked up at Pierre with bleary eyes. A vague smile slowly bloomed across his face.
“Yes, you resemble them. The older you get, the more alike you seem. The former Grand Duke Cardinand was a man of both exceptional appearance and brilliance. Almost too brilliant, in fact.”
Something passed briefly across the emperor’s face at the end of that sentence.
A flash of contempt—whether subconscious or alcohol-fueled—slipped out.
Pierre gently set his glass down.
“Having capable people only proves Your Majesty is an excellent leader.”
“Indeed. But those who are too clever always seem to cause problems. Useful, yes—but not someone I’d want too close for too long.”
Pierre’s eyes darkened gradually.
“…Still, my parents served Your Majesty with absolute loyalty.”
He refilled the emperor’s glass and asked softly.
The emperor took the glass and muttered under his breath.
“Yes, they did. Even in death, they remained loyal….”
The emperor slowly drank his final glass and set it down.
Perhaps the alcohol had reached its limit—his eyes began to flutter drowsily.
After a short silence, Pierre asked again.
“Your Majesty.”
“Mmm.”
The emperor responded in a half-asleep mumble.
“Do you remember the Temperia?”
“Temperia… Temperia… What was that again?”
“Roughly 20 years ago. It was on Your Majesty’s orders.”
The emperor blinked slowly. He remained silent, thinking, before a small laugh escaped him.
“Ah, that… Yes, that was a hard decision.”
“…What did you decide, exactly?”
“That ship… Yes… I decided to… sink it….”
The emperor turned his head slowly. His eyelids were growing heavier.
“Do you know who was on that ship?”
Thud.
The emperor’s glass tilted, spilling liquor onto the floor.
“…Of course I knew. Losing him was painful… But I had no choice. If he lived… one day… he would have surely… become a poison….”
And with that final slurred sentence, the emperor’s head dropped.
His breath, which had been ragged, grew quiet—as if he had fallen asleep.
Pierre looked down at the drunken, collapsed emperor with an unreadable expression.
His lips twisted slightly as he opened them.
“For something like that…?”
He let out a bitter laugh.
“Did you take me in simply because you needed a chess piece you could better control?”
He said no more.
Only his tightly shut eyes revealed the emotions he was swallowing back.
Pierre slowly stood and turned away in silence.
His footsteps, steady and unwavering, quietly faded into the stillness.
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