Chapter 3

The kings of the Allied Nations were no different.

Velasque, a kingdom positioned at the heart of the continent, had been quietly preparing for war. However, the Velasque royal family’s hidden designs collapsed a year earlier beneath their own civil uprising and the intervention of the allied powers.

Headlines proclaiming ‘The Fall of Velasque’ swept across the continent, and now, in the aftermath of the war, the defeated nation and its disgraced royalty faced judgment in Molton, a neutral state chosen for the proceedings.

The age of barbarism, when kingdoms waged war out of greed for one another’s wealth, had faded at last. A new era of upheaval had arrived.Royal houses that failed to grasp the shifting tides of history were toppled one by one by civic revolution, their monarchies dismantled as republics took their place. Still, in the midst of this sweeping transformation, the King of Velasque, blinded by his foolish ambition to unify the central continent under his rule, ignited a war of his own making.

But the royal family, instead of tending to the kingdom’s welfare, poured the heavy taxes they collected into munitions companies, obsessed solely with the production of weapons. 

At last, the people, who were resentful of the royal house, could no longer endure it and rose in rebellion.

Then came the swift intervention of the three nations who had united under the justification that Velasque’s secret war preparations threatened the safety of the entire continent. Assailed from within by uprising and from without by coordinated assault, Velasque collapsed in a hollow, almost anticlimactic fall.

Its downfall was as sudden as it was inevitable.

“Who will govern Velasque from this point forward?”

As the reporters’ questions continued to surge, the presiding chair cleared his throat and spoke with solemn authority.

“Velasque will, for the time being, adopt a provisional parliamentary system composed of a single regent and a council of representatives appointed by the three Allied Nations. Legitimacy of rule will be secured through the marriage of Adeline de Velasque to the appointed regent. Their descendants are henceforth designated as the future rulers of the Velasque Territory.”

The gallery, which had fully expected the princess to be sentenced to imprisonment, stirred in shock once more.

“Then does the princess retain her royal authority?”

“Not in the strictest sense. Princess Adeline is indeed a member of the former royal family, but she has never participated in her nation’s political affairs. Moreover, the resentment of her own people cannot be overlooked. Through this marriage, stability and legitimacy will be secured, and their future heir will receive a unified continental education, preparing them to one day govern the Velasque Territory. Furthermore, we aim to make this union a symbol of peace marking the end of the foolish war.”

In other words, though they cloaked it in the noble rhetoric of ‘peace,’ the message was unmistakable: the princess was to serve, above all, as a vessel for producing an heir. Nothing more.

A soft hem sounded as the King of Neidel cleared his throat, speaking leisurely.

“Then the regent should, naturally, be chosen from our side. As we were the first to enter the war, it is only fitting that Neidel strengthen this union through marriage to one of our own royal blood. I propose the Second Prince of Neidel as a candidate.”

“What nonsense! By that logic, our princes of Nestva are just as qualified!”

The kings, who until moments ago had shown no interest in whether the princess lived, died or rotted in a cell, so long as the spoils of victory were fairly divided, now began to speak up one after another, suddenly eager to stake their claims.

For the Allied Nations, who had united under the noble pretext of saving the continent, the option of executing every member of the defeated royal family, as had been done in darker ages, was never on the table from the beginning.

Velasque, though small and less populated than its neighboring states, possessed vast stretches of undeveloped land, territories rich enough in resources to make it, in practice, a mine of wealth. And once the princess’s beauty entered the equation, each nation was suddenly eager to claim responsibility for her guardianship; even their princes began to voice their preferences openly.

At last, the neutral-state chair offered a proposal to break the mounting contention.

“If we follow the logic of Your Majesties, should the position not go to the one who performed the greatest service?”

At that suggestion, every gaze in the chamber turned at once toward the seat where the key figure sat.

There, in the place where the King of Stein should have been seated, sat a young man instead. The man, who had sat throughout the proceedings with an air of complete disinterest, as though trials such as this barely merited his attention, slowly lifted his eyelids.

As the shadows lifted from his features and his face came fully into view, the women filling the gallery flushed at once.

The ash-gray military uniform, fitted tightly over broad shoulders and a solid frame, lent him an air of danger that clung to him like a second skin. Yet beneath the smooth fall of his dark, well-kept hair, his face was striking enough to silence any dissent.

It was Leon von Rübenhart, the Duke, who served as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces and had swiftly suppressed both the civil rebellion and the war.

“What is the Duke of Rübenhart’s view on this matter?”

His gray-blue eyes, deep and still like rain-filled dark clouds, drifted toward Adeline, who stood alone before the assembled rulers. His gaze brushed over her, lingering for a moment before the well-shaped corner of his mouth slowly curved upward.

“I welcome rewards for merit, but I’ve no intention of embracing a burden that’s not worth a single coin.”

His brazen manner made not only the kings but the assembled officials crease their brows. Even those who had briefly entertained the hope that he might answer differently, tempted, perhaps, by the princess’s beauty, clicked their tongues inwardly.

Of course. How could they expect otherwise?

It was because the Duke of Rübenhart was notorious for his problematic personality.

He hailed from a distinguished family that had produced Supreme Commanders for generations. His brilliance, keen insight, and military prowess were universally acknowledged, though when it came to personal relations, his reputation was far less flattering.

Many spoke of him as a man warped in temperament, someone with whom ordinary human warmth found no foothold.

Even so, he had risen to the position of Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces for one reason alone: his ability made the appointment unquestionable.

“Now, now, ‘rewards for merit,’ you say? Mind your words. There is no place for greed in a matter as grave as rescuing the continent from the catastrophe Velasque nearly unleashed.”

The duke cast a sidelong glance at the posturing monarchs, and with a faint, derisive curl of his lip, continued.