Chapter 125
Lorant walked over to Cassius, who was leaning on the bed, exhaling labored breaths.
“…Of course. Naturally. You’ve always done your best. I can personally attest that you’ve given your all at every moment.”
Lorant’s tone softened immediately, and he curved his lips into a gentle smile. Yet, despite this, the concern for Cassius in his ashen-gray eyes couldn’t be fully hidden.
“And how are things… going according to plan?”
At those words, Cassius slowly opened his eyes and looked at Lorant with a face that finally showed a hint of relief.
“Ah… it seems you’re even beginning to doubt my loyalty now.”
Lorant, always so composed, shrugged lightly as if echoing the Empress’s earlier words.
“You really are impossible,” Cassius muttered with a faint, dry smile, shaking his head.
Lorant, standing beside him, spoke carefully.
“The nobles’ complaints are growing louder; a council meeting should be held soon. Even without the Emperor’s approval, an emergency resolution is possible.”
“I expected as much. The real question is what comes after,” Cassius said, and Lorant nodded gravely in agreement.
“It seems you’ve located Duke Hilroa,” Lorant revealed the true reason for his secret visit.
“…What? Is that true? Who is he exactly? Surely he hasn’t already aligned himself with the Empress?”
Cassius’s eyes widened in surprise. He lifted his back from the bed abruptly and fired off questions in a rush.
“Calm yourself. I can assure you, he hasn’t contacted anyone yet.”
Lorant pressed lightly on Cassius’s shoulder to comfort him and guided him back to lean against the bed.
“…Hmm.”
Still, Cassius sensed something off in Lorant’s words. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he probed further.
“The problem is… we can’t contact him either,” Lorant said with a faint smile, as if it were nothing—but it was anything but trivial.
“What do you mean by that?”
Cassius’s brow furrowed deeply as he urged Lorant for an explanation.
“Duke Hilroa’s house certainly still exists. We even discovered his most recent location—a village called Silio.”
“Then why can’t we make contact?”
“No one in that village knows the Duke. In fact, they seemed genuinely surprised. Who would expect a Duke to live in such a small village?”
“…I see.”
From the investigation, Hilroa’s fortune was extraordinary. Someone of such wealth would surely stand out, even in a small village.
“Could he be disguising himself as a commoner? That’s possible, isn’t it?”
Cassius pondered the possibility, but Lorant shook his head.
“You know how small villages operate. People there know everything—even how many knives their neighbors own. The only outsiders are herb traders or visitors from the Artis Guild for deliveries.”
With that level of wealth, a Duke wouldn’t personally sell herbs or conduct business.
“So, we’re back to square one…”
Cassius pressed his palm to his forehead, frustrated by the dead end.
“No, at least we know the Duke exists and where he was last seen. Good news will come eventually,” Lorant said brightly, patting Cassius reassuringly.
“How’s your health, by the way?”
Lorant’s eyes flicked to the handkerchief on the nightstand, stained with blood, before asking sincerely.
“As you can see… I’m holding up well,” Cassius replied.
“You always were tough, even as a child. You’d be nothing but a corpse without that resilience.”
“Not just resilience. I may have lost to you in some things, but I’ve never been completely outdone,” Cassius said, tapping his head with his index finger with a small click of his tongue.
Lorant responded playfully, pretending to be serious.
“Do you remember throwing a drunken tantrum, begging me to let you win first place just once? The people of the Empire would never forgive such behavior if they knew.”
“I think if you just keep your mouth shut, there’s nothing to worry about,” Cassius said with a crooked glance, then laughed softly. The old memories eased the tension in his chest.
“…Once everything settles, shall we finally take that journey you’ve been talking about?” Cassius asked casually.
A journey. As crown prince, Cassius had never once left the palace freely. His knowledge of travel came only from the experiences of other noble friends or from books.
Even as Emperor, the risks of a free journey were enormous, with threats to his life still looming.
“If I’m not going, I’d like to know who you planned to go with instead,” Lorant replied, joining Cassius in imagining the conclusion they both wished for.
At last, under pressure from the nobles’ complaints and the Empress’s insistence, an emergency council meeting was convened.
The Emperor did not attend, nor did the Empress, who claimed she would follow public opinion. Naturally, the Empress’s supporters filled the meeting room, baring their teeth in defiance.
“Let’s be quick and finish after the vote. Everyone is busy, after all,” Duke Morrison said, his red eyes gleaming greedily, subtly nudging the others.
“Then, I propose the emergency agenda,” Count Ein announced, rising promptly.
The meeting moderator rotated among the nobles below the rank of Duke. By chance—or design—this meeting’s moderator was Count Ein, effectively a subordinate of Duke Morrison.
“I believe no one here is unaware of the circulating facts. To prevent chaos, the coronation of His Highness the Crown Prince must occur as soon as possible.”
Everyone knew the “facts” referred to the Emperor’s precarious health. Count Ein smiled proudly as he surveyed the assembly.
“Of course, as tradition dictates, a competitive coronation is ideal. But a third contest seems unlikely, so perhaps it’s our duty to intervene—for the Empire of Montania and the role of us, its nobles.”
The statement was unarguable, and the crowd nodded. Count Ein’s gaze flicked to Duke Morrison before moving on. Clearing his throat, he continued.
“Fortunately, the results of the contests between First Prince Felix and Second Prince Terhan are currently tied. Prince Felix has stated he will trust your judgment and accept the outcome, whatever it may be.”
Although there were two candidates, only Felix’s opinion had been conveyed. Count Ein’s eyes swept over the participants, subtly reminding them of their duties.
“Please make an objective judgment on who is better suited to lead the Empire in the future,” he said, lifting his chin with a shameless smile, as if seeking praise.
Some attendees frowned at his brazen attitude.
“Count Ein, conduct the meeting as a proper moderator. I worry your chatter may one day cause more trouble,” Lorant gently reprimanded. A few stifled laughs echoed around the room.
“Ahem! Ahem!” Count Ein’s face flushed crimson as he cleared his throat.
“Now, let’s proceed with the vote quickly,” he stammered. Ballots were handed out in a flurry.
“Please select the one best suited to lead the Montania Empire,” Count Ein instructed, then swiftly marked his own ballot and placed it in the box.
Most attendees had likely already decided, leaving only a few hesitant nobles still deliberating.
Lorant finished voting with a contemplative expression, clenching his fist under the desk. Though outwardly calm, he couldn’t fully hide his anxiety.
About thirty nobles had gathered. Only Counts and above could attend the council, and an emergency meeting such as this naturally had fewer attendees than usual.
Voting rights were allocated as follows: Dukes, three votes; Counts, two votes; Viscounts, one vote. A quick glance suggested the Empress’s supporters had the majority.
Lorant had worked behind the scenes to sway as many nobles as possible to Terhan’s side, yet the results were still uncertain.
He had even sent an invitation to Duke Hilroa via the Artis Guild, but it was no use. Not even Viscount Werner or Count Leopold appeared.
Lorant closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed by the bleakness.
“Now that everyone has voted, let’s begin the count,” Count Ein said, stepping forward with enthusiasm.
Two clerks present to ensure fairness opened the ballot box at his signal.
“Prince Felix Presto, First Prince,” one clerk announced the first ballot. The other clerk verified the count.
“Prince Felix Presto, First Prince.”
“Prince Terhan Presto, Second Prince.”
Lorant focused entirely on the clerks’ lips, sweating when Felix’s name was called and nodding when Terhan’s appeared.
The tension in the hall was suffocating. Only the rustle of paper and the clerks’ neutral voices punctuated the silence.
As each name was called, Duke Morrison’s wrinkled mouth stretched further in a grim smile. Lorant, though outwardly neutral, gritted his teeth to maintain composure.
“This… won’t be easy,” whispered Count Dexo beside him.
Dexo, leader of the noble faction, had aligned with Terhan purely on the basis of his suitability as Crown Prince.
Lorant said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed solely on the proceedings.
