No Regression for the Victor - Chapter 57

Mikhail could not bring himself to look the Duke in the face. The Duke must have wrestled with his own thoughts before finally asking him to stay behind in exile.

To reject such a hard-won request… He could only resign himself to the fact that he might earn the Duke’s resentment.

Even so, desperate to make clear that his refusal wasn’t because he truly disliked him but because of reasons he could not explain, Mikhail hastily added on.

“I mean it. No matter what happens, I won’t forget.”

After promising this over and over, Misha finally released the Duke from his arms. He knew the affection the Duke held for him was not the same as the yearning he himself carried.

‘If one day I truly defeat my brother and become crown prince, if I can find the miracle that will break your terrible curse and save you…’

Then, and only then, Mikhail vowed, would he confess this clumsy desire.

With that resolve, he went downstairs to call the caretakers.

Soon, the startled caretakers arrived, bringing a thin rice porridge to soothe the stomach. Mikhail and Marcel stayed by the Duke’s side, watching as he sat up, managed a few small spoonfuls, and then drifted back into sleep.

The next day, before dawn broke, they mounted their horses and hurried back to the Imperial Palace. Having thrown down the gauntlet and challenged for the title of crown prince, Mikhail could no longer live as he pleased like some cast-off child of the Imperial Family.

* * *

Mikhail quickly grew accustomed to attendants dressing him in ceremonial robes and learned how to carry himself with imperial dignity. He had always been well-built and striking, but now, under the meticulous hands of palace experts, he was refined into a young noble so splendid and commanding in appearance that anyone would gape at the sight.

Though Mikhail privately grumbled that the new clothes felt unnatural and ill-fitting when no one else could hear, Marcel, who had watched him closer than anyone, thought differently.

‘Looking at him now… it’s hard to believe he was ever like some wild beast rolling in the fields alongside mercenaries.’

Compared to his elder brother—whose face, though a mirror image of their mother’s, was forever twisted into an unlikeable scowl—Mikhail’s transformation was striking. His fine down was groomed away, his golden hair polished to a silk-like sheen. Soon, nobles across the empire scrambled to imitate the young prince’s elegant looks, and his clothing and hairstyle set fashion trends among the aristocracy.

Gone was the wild child who would sleep wherever he could lay his back and eat whatever wouldn’t kill him. In his place stood a fearsome beauty. Upright, kind-hearted, and brilliant like the sun itself, effortlessly stealing people’s admiration.

By the time Mikhail had fully taken on the presence of a true prince, the Emperor at last, after long deliberation, announced the first trial.

The first test was this: find a way to resolve the drought afflicting Ronica, where a long absence of rain had brought severe drinking water shortages.

To investigate the problem, Mikhail embarked on a long journey to the desert city at the far southwestern edge of the south. He even remembered to write letters in advance to send to the place of exile, entrusting them to one of Marcel’s contacts.

The road to Ronica was long, and after extensive exploration, Mikhail discovered that a water vein at the mountaintop was being sealed off by something solid. It was an ancient sealing stone, apparently placed there centuries ago to block a demonic lair.

The Crown Prince proposed solving the water shortage by using convicts to desalinate the sea connected to the desert’s edge for drinking water. Mikhail, however, suggested breaking the sealing stone and personally subjugating the demonic lair to restore the water flow.

Having crossed Ronica’s desert himself, Mikhail opposed the Crown Prince’s plan, insisting that no one born and raised outside Ronica could endure such labor in that climate. The Crown Prince countered that according to his report, if one avoided the peak of the hot season, the heat was no worse than the central regions, and thus using convicts was safer than attempting a dangerous subjugation.

Because of the potential danger if the subjugation failed, the Emperor sided with the Crown Prince in this first trial. To prove the Crown Prince’s method workable, some of the capital’s death-row convicts were sent to the coastal region of Ronica.

Within a single month, every man dispatched succumbed to fever and died.