No Regression for the Victor - Chapter 50

Before he knew it, Marcel felt a strange pang of regret at the firm, grown-up tone that seemed so much more mature than a year ago. Where had the innocent, childlike thunderbolt of a prince gone? In his place stood a man who looked every bit the ‘hero’. When Marcel had first been assigned to the prince, he’d entertained the ridiculous wish that this boy, at least, might never grow up and remain forever the pure youngest prince.

It was no wonder. The kind, gentle, and beautiful prince had always been so unfitting for the rigid etiquette of the Imperial Family. Anyone who wasn’t twisted to the core could not help but like him. And so Marcel had dared to wish the prince would remain forever untouched by politics and war and simply be happy.

Now, knowing how foolish that wish had been, Marcel swallowed a self-deprecating smile. Before him was a man of the Imperial Family, a true hero who could throw himself into danger for the sake of what was right, without drawing lines between ally and foe. If someone must rule the world, then such a person was worthy of the throne. Marcel no longer needed to ask what Mikhail would do once he returned to the Imperial Palace.

‘I never thought I’d live long enough to end up as a kingmaker.’

At this rate, wouldn’t his own peaceful wedding be delayed by another ten years? With that wry, self-deprecating thought, Marcel stepped into the palace, and Mikhail immediately requested an audience with his father.

The Imperial Palace was soon thrown into chaos. Anyone could guess why the battered, half-dead prince—looking as though he had barely survived a disastrous battle against monsters—was asking to see the Emperor. The Crown Prince, fully prepared for the inevitable, declared that he would gladly sit by His Majesty’s side.

“My precious youngest… what business have you to summon us at this late hour?”

Facing the Emperor’s cold, set face, Mikhail spoke without hesitation.

“I’m five years younger than my brother. That means I was already born a legitimate member of the Imperial Family before my brother was appointed Crown Prince, correct?”

At that, the Emperor let out a long sigh with closed eyes before answering.

“That is so.”

Having secured the answer he sought, Mikhail spat onto the palm of his gloved left hand, unfastened the wrist buttons, bit the glove’s end with his teeth, and pulled his hand free. Then he threw the discarded glove at the Crown Prince’s feet. The moment the tattered glove hit the floor, everyone in the audience chamber held their breath.

“In that case, I reclaim my rights as a prince.”

The Crown Prince’s face was a picture as he struggled not to glance at the glove lying at his feet. While the spectators stood frozen at the unprecedented scene, Mikhail, undaunted by the crushing tension, spoke on.

“I am also of Osbrandt’s blood. I request permission to contend with my brother for the position of Crown Prince.”

This was the first moment Mikhail’s fate shifted because of ‘that man’.

* * *

After the Second Prince brought a storm to the Imperial Palace, the capital was thrown into turmoil. Most nobles of the capital, as before, naturally supported the Crown Prince. But out in the provinces, things were different.

Of course, for the sake of stability, it would be better for the current Crown Prince to ascend the throne. After all, he was the one who had long used the fact that there had been no other choice to cement his base.

Whether he squandered the imperial treasury like water, or drove his attendants and ladies-in-waiting like cattle and pigs with whips and shouts, that was no business of the highborn. What mattered to them was simply having an Emperor who would keep their wealth safe.

The current Crown Prince, Edwin Onegin Osbrandt, was vicious-tempered and mean to the extreme, but he had the solid backing of the Empress. And who was the Empress? The eldest daughter of the Marquisate of Onegin, an old and prestigious noble house of the capital, and the very woman who, despite bearing four sons, had left the imperial line scarce of heirs.

She was someone who spared no means to achieve her goals and felt not the faintest trace of guilt for the countless lives she’d taken with her own hands.