Chapter 130 : Chapter 130

Chapter 130. The Sun Will Rise as Usual

The anger on Marquess Toscana’s face was nearly tangible as he clenched his fists.

“The Eastern Frontier! So it really is them pulling strings from behind the scenes! It seems all the true masterminds are them!”

His voice was thick with suppressed fury, like an enraged lion on the verge of pouncing upon its prey.

Federico raised a hand, cutting off the outburst building inside him.

“Tos,” he said, his voice carrying a profound weariness.

“Calm yourself. Whether it is Bernard or the Eastern Frontier, now... is still not the time.”

He let out a faint sigh, one filled with helplessness and the weight of an immense burden.

“The royal capital has only just gone through a great upheaval. Aiden is still young. What the kingdom needs is stability, time to recover and regain its strength.

Not another purge and another round of internal strife at once.

For now... we must stabilize things first... everything needs time.”

As he spoke those words, he seemed to blank out for a moment.

Leaning back in his chair, his body seemed to hunch a little more, and the lines on his face deepened still further.

The helplessness and calculation contained within all this had nearly exhausted the little strength he had left.

Once, he had returned to the royal capital bearing the fury of vengeance for his daughter, intent on purging everything with iron and blood.

Yet when he had truly taken this seat, when supreme authority had fallen into his hands, he had discovered that the greatest enemy was often not the swords and spears of the battlefield, but the tangled mire of politics and the endless compromise of checks and balances.

That transformation was filled with irony and hardship.

La Roche.... blood for blood.... tooth for tooth... what a naïve creed that truly was.

If only everything in this world were really so simple and direct.

More than once, he had even thought of throwing aside all these sickening schemes and power struggles,

and returning to the Western Frontier, returning to the land he had spent half his life building.

There, he had his most trusted brother, and the mountains and rivers he knew so well.

But each time that thought arose, before his eyes would flash the face of his dead daughter

and his grandson, Aiden...

For their sake, he could not retreat.

Federico let out a very low, self-mocking chuckle, breaking the heavy silence in the office.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across his three loyal old subordinates.

His tone grew firm again, as though he were convincing them, and perhaps also convincing himself:

“Rest assured, gentlemen. The Kingdom of Orlando still stands, and the sun will still rise as usual.

I will handle all of this...”

His gaze moved past the three men and settled upon the massive blazing-sun emblem of Orlando mounted high upon the office wall, wrought in gold and set with gemstones.

At that moment, sunlight passed through the high windows and fell directly upon the emblem, reflecting a dazzling yet cold light.

Federico stared at that blazing sun, symbol of royal authority, and murmured to himself,

“I will not let this sun... set in my hands...”

The three marquesses remained silent. Looking at the old man behind the desk, who seemed to be aging by the day, their hearts were filled with mixed emotions.

There was respect, there was worry, and there was also an indescribable sorrow.

They said nothing more. They merely struck their chests once again with their right fists, bowed solemnly, and quietly withdrew from the office.

The heavy oak door slowly closed, sealing the inside and outside into two separate worlds.

Once outside the palace, the afternoon sunlight fell across them, yet it did nothing to dispel the gloom lingering between their brows.

Marquess Toscana was the one who broke the silence. He let out a heavy sigh, his tone weighed down.

“Ah... you saw it too, no doubt. His Grace the Duke is probably... ah...”

He shook his head and did not continue, but the worry in his unfinished words was obvious enough.

Federico’s physical and mental state had frightened and unsettled these old subordinates of his.

“I still have some military matters to take care of at the constabulary office. Later, I’ll come find you both for a drink.”

Toscana spoke to Marcus and Claude. At this moment, perhaps only alcohol could slightly ease the knot in their hearts.

Marcus and Claude nodded heavily as well and departed in different directions.

The complicated situation in the royal capital, along with the Duke’s condition, had thoroughly shattered the joy they had felt upon first arriving.

...

Meanwhile, at the other end of the royal palace, inside the bedchamber of King Aiden I,

The atmosphere was utterly different from the heaviness outside. A suffocating mood was spreading through the room.

Aiden Aurora, the nine-year-old king, sat in a broad chair.

His small body was almost swallowed by the ornate backrest.

His face was pale, his eyes hollow, yet from time to time they flashed with a rage wholly unsuited to his age.

His father’s sudden death, his grandfather’s increasingly severe restraint, and the upheaval in his status

had all forced unimaginable pressure upon the child’s heart, and it was beginning to spill out in an unhealthy fashion.

Minister of Intelligence Bernard stood respectfully to one side, slightly bent at the waist, his face wearing precisely the right amount of concern.

“Your Majesty Aiden, I told you before, you are the King, the supreme ruler of Orlando.”

Bernard’s voice was gentle, yet deeply beguiling.

“You may do whatever you wish. This is your birthright. No one can take it from you.”

Aiden suddenly lifted his head, and a flicker of light passed through his eyes.

“Whatever I want... yes! I am the King!”

“Except...” A look of hesitation and difficulty appeared on Bernard’s face.

“Except?” Aiden’s brow instantly furrowed, his voice rising sharply with offense.

“Except what? I am the King!”

As if he had made a great decision, Bernard finally spoke with difficulty.

“Naturally... except for your grandfather, Lord Regent Federico.”

He carefully observed Aiden’s expression and continued.

“He is, after all, your elder, and he is the Regent, presiding over all affairs of state. His opinion is something you cannot simply ignore...”

Aiden’s face stiffened at once, and he instinctively argued back.

“Grandfather... Grandfather is only doing this for my own good! He is doing it for the kingdom!”

“For your own good?” Bernard’s face took on an expression of mournful pity.

“Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but since your accession, have you personally handled a single matter of state?

Have you ever truly presided over a single royal council meeting and listened to the opinions of your ministers?

You can do nothing... all authority, every decision, rests in the hands of His Excellency the Regent.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice further.

“Your Majesty, do you know how they speak in private now throughout the royal capital?

They all say... that you are nothing more than... a puppet king sitting on the throne.

That His Excellency the Regent is Orlando’s true... ruler.”

“A puppet king?!” Aiden suddenly sprang from the chair, his little face flushed scarlet with overwhelming fury.

He shrieked, “Who said that?! Who dares say such a thing?!

I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all! Hang every one of them from the city walls!”

Watching Aiden lose control, a deeply hidden satisfaction flashed through Bernard’s eyes, but his face was full of pain and sympathy.

“Your Majesty, from this alone, perhaps one can see that in the Regent’s heart...

perhaps he has never truly believed that Your Majesty is a king capable of standing on his own.

Perhaps, deep in his heart, another heir who carries both the blood of Aurora and La Roche is the one he truly...”

“Another one?” Aiden’s shrill voice stopped short. He froze where he stood, and in an instant his sister Lynn’s figure flashed through his mind.

Along with the disappointed and severe look his grandfather occasionally gave him, unable to conceal it.

A vast panic and sense of abandonment seized him.

“Lynn? No! No! I’m the King! I am! I am... the King!”

He clutched his head in agony and curled up, his voice turning choked and chaotic.

Bernard’s face was equally full of grief. He fell silent for a while, allowing the poison of fear and suspicion to spread fully through that young heart.

Then he glanced at the sky outside the window.

“Your Majesty Aiden, the time is about right. Lord Federico’s protection and supervision of you are too severe.

In the future... I may not be able to come and see you as often as this, or help ease your worries and confusion.”

With that, he bowed deeply, as though preparing to turn and leave.

“No! Bernard! Don’t go!” Like a drowning person clutching at his last straw, Aiden lunged forward.

He grabbed Bernard’s sleeve, his face full of panic and pleading.

“Help me! Help me! You said before that you would help me! You’re the only one willing to tell me the truth!”

Bernard stopped and slowly turned around.

Looking at Aiden’s fear-filled, dependent eyes, the corners of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly.

He dropped to one knee, took Aiden’s little hand in his own, and spoke in a solemn voice.

“Yes. Your will is my mission. Bernard... shall obey Your Majesty’s command.”

...

Several days passed quietly beneath an atmosphere that seemed calm on the surface, yet concealed dangerous undercurrents within.

The day of the Great Council, when the coronation ceremony of King Aiden I would formally be held, drew closer and closer.

Delegations from all the frontiers had already arrived in the royal capital, Orlandia.

Yet a highly unusual and deeply troubling phenomenon had emerged.

Whether it was Duke Winston Olaf of the Northern Frontier, Duke Ferens Russell of the Eastern Frontier,

or Duke Hackson Medici of the Southern Frontier, each of them put forward one grand-sounding excuse or another.

Some claimed the borderlands were unstable. Some claimed illness. Others claimed that affairs within their frontier left them unable to depart.

One after another, they all declined to personally attend this vitally important Great Council.

They only sent important members of their respective families to lead the nobles of their frontiers to the capital.

Such obvious contempt and neglect fell like a basin of cold water upon everyone who had hoped for unity and stability within the kingdom.

Federico and Prime Minister Marquess Rhein were filled with fury over this, yet there was nothing they could do.

The kingdom’s fate hung by a thread, and they had to proceed with the utmost caution, as though walking on thin ice.

They were already struggling to keep afloat this vast ship, long since riddled with holes and lurching in storm winds.

At such a time, they could not afford to completely tear their relations apart with the mighty grand dukes of the other frontiers.

As a result, the atmosphere in the royal capital grew even more delicate and unpredictable, like the dead stillness before a storm.

Though the citizens of Orlandia did not understand the inner truth, they keenly sensed that unusual oppression in the air and consciously began going out less and less.

It was as though the entire city had been enveloped by an invisible net.

Everyone was waiting in silence...

waiting for that Great Council that would soon convene, and was fated not to pass peacefully.

Waiting for the arrival of an unknown destiny.