Chapter 178: Alliance
The Imperial Consort bore a son before the Empress did.
If the Consort’s family had been more powerful than the Empress’s, it would have been a misfortune for the Empress. Conversely, if the Empress’s family held greater influence, the misfortune fell upon the Consort.
Lucas’s mother, the First Imperial Consort Grace, came from an unremarkable count’s family—neither lacking nor exceptional, simply ordinary.
This stood in stark contrast to the Empress’s family, the Grant Marquisate, renowned for its wealth and driven by the fierce ambition of the previous marquis, who had secured his daughter’s place as Empress.
The late marquis’s hunger for power as the Emperor’s kin was inherited fully by his son, the current Marquis of Grant.
Thus, for the First Consort to bear the Emperor’s eldest son was a calamity.
“Lucas, listen carefully,” Grace would say, gripping her young son’s shoulders. “You must never accept anything from Her Majesty the Empress. No food, no matter how tempting. No toy, no matter how much you want it. Understood?”
She repeated these warnings time and again. Yet, no matter how cautious they were, the mother and son could not escape the shadows that loomed over them.
Some days, Grace collapsed, coughing up blood. Other days, Lucas writhed in agony from inexplicable stomach pains.
Even after the Empress finally bore the son she so desperately desired, the grudge over losing the position of the eldest heir fueled relentless threats against the First Consort and her son.
Little changed even after Frederick was named Crown Prince.
Though the Emperor favored the Empress’s son by declaring him heir, he left open possibilities for his other children.
“I want to pass the throne to the most worthy and capable of my children,” he once declared. “That’s the only way my late marriage will have been worthwhile.”
In his youth, the Emperor had been a relentless workaholic, shunning romantic entanglements. This was compounded by the fact that he had not ascended to the throne through conventional means.
Originally, the Emperor had forcibly displaced his elder brother, the former Crown Prince, to claim the crown.
He couldn’t tolerate his incompetent, foolish brother being named heir simply for being born first, the legitimate eldest son.
In the end, he seized the throne just before his father could pass it to his brother.
Until he had purged his opponents and solidified his power, he trusted no one and kept everyone at arm’s length. Only when his authority as Emperor was unquestioned did he, belatedly, choose an Empress and a consort.
The Emperor saw no need for multiple children from a single mother. One heir to carry on the next generation was enough.
Knowing this, he did not intervene in the fierce rivalry among his children, fully aware of its intensity.
If a child was too weak to survive, that was their limit. But if they endured with the same tenacity he had, they deserved to claim everything.
The First Consort, well aware of the Emperor’s ruthless nature, did everything in her power to protect Lucas.
She shed tears of blood, even sending her young son alone to foreign lands to shield him from the Empress’s reach. She threw herself entirely into keeping him safe.
Lucas, witnessing his mother’s desperate struggles up close, wandered through foreign nations, striving to survive just as she did. In doing so, he grew disillusioned.
What’s so great about the throne that blood kin would tear each other apart for it?
Perhaps because he had nearly died at birth, Lucas instinctively understood that to survive, he must covet nothing. He had no ambition.
As long as he could live and sustain himself, he was content. He had no desire to become the master of the heavens or the most noble man in the empire.
But his mother, the First Consort, saw things differently.
“Lucas, you must endure,” she urged. “If you prove your worth, His Majesty will acknowledge you. Keep striving, and one day you’ll surpass the Crown Prince. Then we can live in peace, happiness, and abundance.”
She dreamed of Lucas outshining Frederick, catching the Emperor’s eye, and claiming the crown.
As Lucas drifted from one foreign land to another, displaying a knack for diplomacy and slowly accumulating achievements, her pressure intensified.
“Mother, I don’t want to be Emperor,” he told her. “I’ve never coveted that position. I just want to live quietly.”
“Don’t say such foolish things. Do you think the Empress and her side will leave you alone just because you want that?”
“If I keep showing I have no interest in the throne, they’ll come to their senses and stop.”
Lucas genuinely believed this. Even after returning to the empire, he avoided major political moves for that reason.
But the world rarely bent to his wishes.
Though he had no desire for the throne, he wanted to live using his talents—learning new things, making a positive impact, and fully exercising his abilities.
Inevitably, this posed a threat to Frederick.
“His Highness the Crown Prince is more emotional than one might expect,” people whispered. “If those were noble emotions, it’d be one thing, but they aren’t, and that’s concerning.”
“Doesn’t Prince Lucas resemble His Majesty more closely? If he ascends, he’ll surely be a wise ruler.”
“Honestly, if the Crown Prince takes the throne, who knows how arrogant the Empress and the Grant Marquisate will become? It’s worrisome.”
“To prevent chaos in the nation and preserve the imperial family’s discipline, we should support Prince Lucas from now on!”
Even without seeking it, Lucas’s followers grew steadily. The Emperor took notice, while the Empress’s faction viewed him as a thorn in their side.
The tipping point came when Lucas sided with Damian during the debate over his fate. While the Empress was already antagonistic, it was Frederick who grew particularly resentful.
Still, Lucas believed that if he endured and stayed patient, things would settle. He thought patience could bring peace.
He realized how gravely mistaken he was only after those around him began to fall.
The first was the young heir of a count’s family, Lucas’s longest acquaintance. His household suddenly went bankrupt, scattering his family to the winds.
Next was a servant who had worked under Lucas for years, accused of theft, beaten, and exiled after losing a hand.
Then came a noble who fervently supported Lucas, a knight who swore loyalty to him, a maid who always checked his food for poison…
“Your Highness, it’s a disaster! Her Highness the Consort—!”
It wasn’t until his mother was gravely injured in an assassin’s attack that Lucas snapped awake.
He realized he could no longer afford to be naively optimistic or leisurely passive.
He had investigated the mastermind behind everything that had transpired. As a child, he might have suspected the empress, but it wasn’t her.
It was Frederick.
His half-brother, desperate to secure the throne, was trying to cut off the limbs of every rival sibling.
This wasn’t some childish tantrum born of anger because he’d helped Damian.
It was closer to the ruthless slash of a blade aimed at an enemy general’s throat on the battlefield.
“Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but the Crown Prince already considers you an enemy. If you remain passive, it’s only Your Highness’s life that will be at risk.”
His aide knelt, offering earnest counsel. The days of restraint now felt futile, and Lucas let out a hollow laugh before asking,
“…What do you think I should do?”
“Do what Your Highness truly wishes. That will be the right path.”
At those words, Lucas sank into deep thought. If patience yielded such bitter results, there was no reason to keep enduring in silence.
He had wanted peace, not an ending where he lost everything.
To protect what mattered, he would have to fight. Coming to that conclusion, Lucas’s thoughts turned to Damian.
“I want to be Your Highness’s ally. Would you consider forming an alliance with me?”
What would have changed if he’d accepted Damian’s offer back then?
It was a pointless hypothetical. Damian had left for the northern front, and now his wife stood alone in the capital, fighting a solitary battle.
If I could join forces with her now…
Last time, Damian had reached out. This time, it was his turn to make the approach.
In the end, Lucas resolved to confront Frederick head-on. That was why he sought out Aracila.
Aracila, caught off guard, greeted the prince who had arrived so unexpectedly.
“What brings you here?”
“My lady, the truth is, last year Sir Vandemir proposed an alliance to me. I turned him down. Back then, I was afraid of fighting.”
“…I’m sorry?”
Unaware of the context, Aracila stared at him in bewilderment as he launched into this sudden confession.
But seeing the grave sincerity on Lucas’s face, she straightened her posture and began to listen intently.
“But things have come to this, and I’ve realized avoiding conflict isn’t always the answer. So now, I intend to stand against Frederick.”
“Stand against him… how?”
“I’ll take the crown prince’s position. And I’ll succeed my father. To that end, I plan to gather my own forces in earnest.”
Aracila’s eyes widened in surprise. The Lucas she knew was gentle, lacking in ambition, and inclined to believe that harmony was the best approach.
Yet now, his eyes burned with a fierce determination she’d never seen before.
“I believe both Sir Vandemir and you, my lady, are capable people. Having you on my side would be invaluable. And I, in turn, will be someone you can rely on. So, will you join hands with me?”
Lucas extended his hand with unwavering resolve.
Aracila gazed at it in silence for a moment.
She had thought an extra ally would be useful, but what she truly wanted was a trump card.
Someone of imperial blood who could wrest the crown prince’s title from Frederick. That was the only way to tie up all loose ends cleanly.
And since it needed to be someone trustworthy from the imperial family, Lucas had been her first thought.
But knowing his tendency to avoid conflict, she’d given up on the idea. Now, here he was, offering an alliance of his own accord—there was no reason to refuse.
“It’s perfect timing. I was just thinking I’d like to join forces with Your Highness.”
Aracila smiled brightly and clasped Lucas’s hand.
“I’ll lend you all my strength to help you succeed. In return, Your Highness must triumph and restore a peaceful life for me and Damian.”
“I swear on my name. My goal is no different from yours, my lady.”
Lucas placed a hand over his heart as he spoke.
A smile spread across their faces, each having found a trustworthy ally.
After swearing to fight together, Aracila shared the documents Damian had left behind.
Even without much explanation, Lucas’s keen insight allowed him to see through Frederick’s treachery the moment he glanced at the ledger.
“Frederick was planning a rebellion. And judging by the timing of the weapon purchases, it’s highly likely he acted on his own initiative.”
The Grant Marquisate’s first weapon purchase had occurred when Frederick was nineteen.
Since it was after he’d come of age, it was unlikely the empress or anyone else had influenced him.
Despite his gentle appearance, Frederick had always been strong-willed. As a child, he’d been docile, but as he grew, he became increasingly headstrong, difficult even for the empress to control.
“But why would he plan a rebellion?”
Aracila asked, genuinely puzzled.
It had always baffled her. Even with Lucas rising as a contender, rebellion seemed an extreme choice.
Three years ago, when Lucas was barely a rival, Frederick’s position as crown prince had been unassailable. So why had he felt the need to rebel?
“The exact reason only he would know, but I suspect it’s because His Majesty the Emperor isn’t likely to relinquish the throne easily.”
Lucas offered the answer with a light tone. The emperor, nearly a grandfather to them in age, was remarkably vigorous and healthy.
There had once been speculation that he might delegate regency to the crown prince and step down early, but that was wishful thinking.
The emperor still held the throne with an iron grip.
With no heir who fully satisfied him, he’d never abdicate before his death, and Frederick must have seen that clearly.
“He wants to be emperor sooner, but with Father showing no sign of stepping down, he’s grown impatient.”
“Was there a reason to be in such a hurry?”
“Well, an emperor has far more power than a crown prince. And Frederick’s the type to go all out for something he desires.”
Aracila frowned slightly, nodding.
It made sense, yet it didn’t. What could he have wanted so badly three years ago—or even in her prophetic dream—that he’d driven so many to misery?
…It couldn’t be me, could it?
A chilling thought sent shivers down her spine, and she grimaced, shaking it off.
Whatever his reasons, what mattered was that Frederick was a madman.
He was the one at fault—no one else bore any guilt.
“Anyway, since the merchant guild he was using for weapons has collapsed, Frederick must have found a new one.”
Lucas’s serious tone pulled her back into the conversation.
“I’ll look into this new guild.”
“Then I’ll investigate why the Lester Ducal House suddenly allied with the Crown Prince.”
“Good.”
Having swiftly divided their roles, the two exchanged satisfied smiles.
Perhaps because they shared a common enemy, their partnership felt natural from the start.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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