FEFR 22

Chapter 22

Ranze was pleased with Lennart’s change, but it also felt somewhat abrupt. Even if he was someone who only moved when pushed, as he himself had said in the beginning, a civil war was a serious matter.

It was common for parties with intertwined interests to support each other. However, Lennart was a complete outsider, and stepping directly into battle like this was an absurd decision by any standard.

‘Well, the same goes for me.’

But Ranze was in a relatively free position to move, and he had personal reasons as well.

“You sure took your time asking.”

As Lennart compared maps and the field of view to set the attack route, he let out a sigh and replied.

“Besides, I thought I already answered yesterday.”

Ranze glanced up slightly at Lennart, who masked his true feelings with a detached demeanor. Perhaps it really was difficult just to watch from the sidelines. It was certainly a fitting reason.

“Then, aren’t you scared?”

Even as she asked, Ranze chuckled softly at herself. Lennart responded seriously, maintaining a faint smile.

“If I were scared, I would’ve given up before we even left. It’s too late to turn back now.”

Ranze nodded and pointed the tip of her spear at the city below. The target was confirmed on the map in her mind, and it was marked in a vivid blue.

Just as Lennart could easily subdue a civilian, magical defense was hardly considered in this era.

After a long period of peace, only old fortresses or ancient manors still maintained even the most basic protective spells. A criminal organization that had grown through smuggling and the illegal drug trade surely wouldn’t have any anti-air defenses.

“Relax your shoulders. Cut your output to half. No need to waste energy. Just hit the impact zone…”

“Yes, yes, got it. I’ll follow the kind advice of my senior… <Light of Hartsha!>”

A flash sparkled from the tip of the spear.

A bullet formed from mana fell toward Farell with a long tail, then split into several strands mid-air.

Lennart grabbed Ranze’s arm confidently and observed the trajectory. In truth, he didn’t think it would fail either.

＊＊＊

A thousand years ago. Facing death, the Empress of Edin worried over her children’s disputes.

As a mother, all of them were dear to her. But the inheritance they coveted was a vast empire—something she had spent her life constructing and unifying. If left to fight over it, the result would be nothing but devastation.

So, the Empress entrusted her seven most loyal vassals with a great responsibility, naming them Electors.

—“The throne must go to one of my blood, but it must not be decided through violence. The Electors shall determine the emperor.”

Since any human agreement could be betrayed or eroded over time, the Empress offered the heart of a dragon and bound the agreement with magic.

First, the throne would be granted to the royal blood who secured the support of the majority of the Electors.

Second, war or physical force was strictly prohibited during this process. From the emperor’s death until the next ruler was decided, no harm could be done between candidates or Electors involved in the election.

Third, if five or more Electors agreed that the new emperor was fatally flawed, another election could be held.

The Empress’s children and the seven Electors signed this pact, which also detailed the rights to succession and qualifications of Electors.

This pact was guaranteed by the Golden Seal crafted by the Empress herself, and the Empire upheld this system for a thousand years.

It might seem the contract favored the Electors, but the Emperor had checks in place as well.

A prime example was the decade-long succession dispute in Simone.

While Electors could choose the emperor, the emperor also had the authority to convene a council to designate a new Elector in emergencies. In the case of the previous Count Simone’s sudden death, without naming a successor, the council was to select a suitable heir from eligible candidates.

However, the current emperor had delayed the council, citing “too many candidates,” which was effectively a declaration for the Simone family to resolve their fight by leaving only one standing.

The peace guaranteed by the Golden Seal applied only during the election period after the emperor’s death. The emperor’s choice to delay and stand idle had plunged the western region into chaos.

But even chaos eventually comes to an end.

Notified that the council would convene, Duke Serin headed to the imperial palace without delay.

‘Finally, the seat will be filled.’

Although privately displeased with how his son-in-law, the emperor, had handled things, Serin had remained silent alongside the others. There hadn’t been any clear way to act if the emperor refused to convene the council.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one welcoming the meeting. In the roundtable room designated for the council, everyone except Count Baden and the emperor had already gathered.

As always, Duke Lumiere wandered the room restlessly, eyes scanning for potential provocations.

In contrast, Countess Swanhilde looked uncharacteristically pale. She seemed deep in worry, maybe even anxious. The one she was watching was undoubtedly Marquess Morrigen.

The Marquess looked unchanged—straight posture, stoic face that seemed never to have smiled or known joy, unmoved by age.

Not wanting to get too close to any of them, Duke Serin gave brief greetings and seated himself beside Grand Duke Par—Adessa.

“Pardon me.”

“Of course.”

Now thirty, the Grand Duke—despite being the youngest among them, even after Simone’s succession—greeted Serin with a radiant smile. It wasn’t that she was truly glad to see the old man. Smiling was simply her nature.

“Have you been well?”

“I’ve enjoyed peace, thanks to your concern. You look healthy, Miss Miseria. You grow more like your father with time.”

The Grand Duke maintained her smile and replied,

“I’ve been hearing that since I was little.”

Serin had said it out of curiosity, and now he felt a bit uncomfortable.

Though she looked like a gentle noblewoman, ten years ago, Miseria had sided with Agreta—the current emperor—over her half-brother, Prince Lennart. Whether the emperor promised her something in return, or she had personal reasons or grudges, remained unclear.

What was known was that she had a strained relationship with her father and was cold even to her much younger half-brother.

That Serin brought up such matters the moment he sat down showed that he wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

Marquess Morrigen audibly clicked her tongue. No one knew exactly why, but everyone assumed it was directed at them.

The tense atmosphere only lifted once Count Baden entered.

Traditionally in charge of conducting meetings, his arrival signaled that the emperor was ready.

Soon, the heavy door opened, and the emperor appeared.

“Let’s skip formalities. The agenda isn’t complicated.”

His cold words cut off greetings the moment he entered.

For someone who had ignored the matter for ten years, he now seemed in quite a hurry.

Though the Electors were suspicious or discontent, none of them wanted a long meeting, so they returned to their seats.

The emperor frowned slightly. He hadn’t meant for them to be quite so rude.

Still, among the Electors’ various privileges was the right to sit before the emperor gave permission. He turned toward Count Baden.

“Then, let us begin. As you all know, the Simone dispute has been completely resolved. The second child of the late count has permanently forfeited succession due to worsening illness, and the retainers have pledged their support to the eldest daughter…”

Everyone seated around the roundtable held back their cynicism. Everyone knew the Simone conflict that ended two weeks ago had practically been a civil war.

A young second heir forfeiting the title due to illness? A flimsy excuse. Most assumed he lost to his sister and was now imprisoned under the guise of convalescence.

Rumors that Petra Simone had hired a mysterious mercenary mage weren’t brought up here.

Once the explanation ended, the chairman moved on.

“His Majesty wishes to recognize Petra Simone as the rightful heir to the title. Any objections…? No? Very well.”

Even the approval was pushed through with haste. Marquess Morrigen clicked her tongue again, and Duke Lumiere frowned in displeasure.

But neither truly intended to object.

“Well, with agreement secured, this meeting’s done. Let’s adjourn.”

The emperor made it clear how little he cared about the council. As soon as he declared it over, he was the first to leave the room.

“How long did that take? Coming to the palace feels like a waste for this.”

Duke Lumiere grumbled, checking his pocket watch.

Even those who disliked him agreed with the sentiment.

Despite the emperor’s heavy responsibility in the succession dispute, the matter had ended anticlimactically.

Today’s weariness included that bitter sense of futility, and everyone was eager to leave.