TOPWL 128

At Khalid’s scathing remark, Diego bit his lip, wounded pride flashing in his eyes.

“We have little to our name. Wouldn’t that mean we fall easily even to the smallest breeze?”

“That all you have to say?”

“Whatever you ask of us, we will do our best as free people.”

As a disciple of Aldrich, it was the best answer he could give. Khalid, no longer interested in wordplay, finally spoke.

“I’ll give you ships. Not ones that will sink before reaching the Empire’s edge, but vessels strong enough to cross the continent.”

“…”

“There’s an island near the Beryl Sea that I own. Send everyone off by ship, and those unfit to sail can stay there. With so many people, they’ll have to farm just to survive, but if they harvest well, they’ll make it through the year comfortably.”

Diego looked slightly surprised, perhaps not expecting Khalid to go so far. But the expression vanished quickly.

“You’ll need at least thirty on board to manage the crossing. I’ll send a few who know their way around ships, but it won’t be easy. Send only those who can fend for themselves—and who are clever.”

“And when we get there, what is it you want us to do?”

“Supplies for the war.”

At Khalid’s answer, Diego’s face stiffened.

“You’re from the backstreets yourself. You must’ve known— the Emperor will soon start a war.”

The Emperor was old and frail. But he had a wife and a son he cherished beyond anything. He loved Reginald and Hiore too, but in the end, it was the youngest—the one who could not live without him—that he loved more than the grown sons waiting to take his place. Considering the Emperor’s age and physical state, Azil would likely be his last child. The Emperor knew it too.

Looking at his lastborn, fear crept into the Emperor’s heart. What will happen to Azil and Aisa when I die? Will they even survive?

He began eliminating enemies, gathering allies. He used the Princes and the competition to develop the capital, and beneath it all, he quietly amassed weapons and firepower. So the third competition would be war. The Emperor planned to eliminate all seeds of chaos before his death.

Azil would be sent somewhere safe. The other princes would be pushed into danger. And most of them—would likely die. The Emperor would send assassins. He’d strip his own sons of their bodies, their wealth, use their blood as fertilizer to build a safer nation—then crown Azil. That was the Emperor’s plan.

Those who lived off rumors in the back alleys may not have known the full scope, but they knew enough: the Emperor was preparing for war.

“Food, weapons, people—it doesn’t matter. I’ll pay you well. Just bring anything that’ll be of use in the coming war.”

“You could find all of that within the Empire, couldn’t you, Your Grace?”

“The more cards in hand, the better. Especially ones no one else knows I have.”

Khalid sipped from his now lukewarm tea.

“I understand. What else would you have us do?”

“Become Yudit’s people.”

Diego blinked.

“If you return safely, you’ll be granted citizenship. I’ll make it happen. Live freely—freely, but as someone who’ll gladly return to extend a hand when Yudit calls.”

“You’re offering us salvation with your money, and asking us to swear ourselves to the Prince in return.”

“Yes. I’m not naive enough to think you proud lot will become mine just because I saved your lives. But becoming Yudit’s—that barrier’s a little lower, isn’t it?”

“…It wouldn’t be hard for me. But I’ll need the others’ agreement. I’ll give you my answer after I’ve heard theirs.”

“Good. I hope you’ll answer quickly—for your sake.”

Having drained the last of his tepid tea, Khalid poured himself another. Steam still rose faintly from the teapot, wrapped in its insulating sleeve. Diego stared at his untouched cup.

“How deeply do you love Yuli?”

Khalid recognized this as a question asked man to man. And no matter the answer, he knew he would come out on top.

“In my grey world, he’s the only one who shines gold.”

Khalid turned his eyes toward the overcast skies beyond the window.

“That’s why I look forward to the day he becomes Emperor—when he’ll paint my entire world in gold.”

He no longer intended to make Yudit a puppet Emperor. There were days he wanted to abandon everything, whisk Yudit away to an island in the southern part of another continent and spend their lives indulging in sweetness and peace.

But unlike Khalid, Yudit was not someone who could abandon the Empire. So Khalid would let him carry out his ideals—in the place he belonged. And Khalid was someone who could make that happen.

Diego lowered his gaze, his expression one of quiet defeat. Slowly rising from his seat, Khalid spoke.

“Forgive me, I have another appointment.”

“…Thank you for sparing your precious time.”

Outside the reception room, two Royal Guards were waiting to escort Diego once more. Perhaps because of Khalid’s presence, they did not cuff him. Diego followed without resistance.

Two carriages stood ready—one for Diego’s escort, the other for Khalid. Different carriages, but the destination was the same: the Imperial Palace.

Facing the Emperor always drained one’s strength. It had been even worse when Khalid was younger. He had killed and killed again to stay alive, but the knowledge that there existed a man who could end his life in an instant—yet whom he himself could never kill—was a source of unbearable stress.

But now, Khalid was in his prime, and the Emperor was a setting sun. From afar, he could see the Emperor walking toward him. The heavy makeup barely masked his failing vitality. The Imperial Palace did not let the weak live long—especially those who had once been strong but were now fading.

The moment Khalid saw him, he realized the Emperor was fighting a lonely battle. To protect Aisa and Azil. And in the end, to protect himself. Though the Emperor fought tooth and nail to protect those two, it would be he who would crumble first if they were taken away.

A man like the Emperor lived by clinging to justifications. A reason to defend the nation from foreign powers. A reason to strengthen the court. A reason to protect those he loved. He had fulfilled each of those one by one—and in the blink of an eye, had grown old. And now, the time had come to hand his place to one of his children. But he didn’t want to. So he created a new justification: two people he cherished and had to protect.

“I greet the sun of the Empire.”

“What brings the son of Opold here?”

The Emperor’s voice was low and sharp, yet still carried authority—proof that even rotting fish can remain firm.

“I’ve come to report on the status of Prince Yudit.”

“Oh? A duke has come to report on the condition of my son? How curious. Very well, what is it?”

Though he surely already knew about the carriage incident, the Emperor feigned ignorance.

“Prince Yudit was involved in a carriage accident a few days ago.”

“Ah… I see. So that’s what you’ve come to say?”

His indifferent tone held not a shred of affection. Many nobles refused to acknowledge the children born of commoners as their own—and to the Emperor, Yudit was one such child.

“He has yet to awaken. It seems he will need a long period of convalescence.”

“I heard District 3 of Bern had made good progress. Unfortunate. Have they caught the culprit?”

“He was caught at the scene—but had already been killed.”

“…Killed.”

“Yes.”

“So there’s a hand behind it all.”

The Emperor smiled faintly, as if now understanding Khalid’s true reason for coming.

“Yes. We are interrogating the remaining suspects to uncover the one behind it.”

“Attempting to assassinate a royal is a grave offense. I do hope the one responsible is properly punished once revealed.”

“Moreover, Prince Yudit was accompanied by Huyan Kanta di Herut, of the Herut royal family. Attempting to harm royalty of another nation is likewise a severe crime deserving of harsh punishment.”

At Khalid’s words, the Emperor frowned slightly in thought before speaking.

“What would you have me do?”

“When the true culprit is found, I ask that he be punished according to the full weight of Imperial law.”