215. Beggar Siblings – Mother’s Necklace

– Clang! Ding- clang!

The capital, Rutina, welcomed a morning different from usual.

As the sun rose in the east, the church bells echoed faintly, and soldiers dressed in neat uniforms—not armor—were assessing their positions at every crossing.

It was indeed a day unlike any other.

The streets were clean, and the attire of early morning pedestrians was tidy, leaving no room for complaint. If anyone was found improperly dressed, the soldiers rushed over to admonish them without issuing any fines.

Today was the day of advance preparations for Akinin.

With only a week left until a change of ownership in the Kingdom of Conrad, the citizens of Rutina were doing their best to welcome their new master. They tried on new clothes, repaired their damaged roofs, and repainted their walls.

If the efforts of ordinary citizens were commendable, one could only imagine how much more the royal palace had prepared.

The royal residence, which began its preparations ahead of the citizens, was flawless to the tiniest detail. Cracked floors were repaired by the servants. Handmaidens had placed new candles in every candlestick of the palace, and it had long been filled with expensive whale oil in every lantern.

All of this was for one person, Prince Eric de Yeriel.

Nobles gathered in groups at the royal castle. As they organized the schedule for the upcoming ceremony under the guidance of the royal chamberlain, the main character of Akinin, Prince Eric de Yeriel, was also checking his own movements.

He was adorned in the magnificent attire of a king. The light summer garment was embroidered with gold, and the red cloak draped over his shoulders, measuring several meters, swept across the spotless floor with each step he took. Following the etiquette officer, a few royal knights accompanied the prince as they moved toward the royal chamber.

This was the movement according to the customs of the Acaian Empire. If the king was incapacitated and unable to attend Akinin, the heir was required to present himself to the representative of the Cross Church. This was the process to confirm that the king was unable to carry out state affairs and to recognize the heir.

Such a process was rare in the long history of the Acaian Empire; it was originally to be led by a holy woman, but in a situation where the continent was divided into seven kingdoms, the cardinal had no choice but to represent it.

– Tap, tap

However, the twelve of them, climbing stairs and passing through multiple halls, made up the entire party.

It was a sequence that had to be strictly followed, but today was merely a rehearsal for preparing Akinin. Therefore, while the nobles were to follow along, the prince decided to show lenience.

The royal chamber was on the fourth floor. As each floor led up to the top of the towering palace, it was too high for the elder nobles to climb just for a rehearsal. So today, they planned to keep it as informal as possible and scheduled only a brief reunion after matching the general order.

The nobles decided to wait in the banquet hall on the first floor for the prince’s return.

In the heavy silence where not a word was exchanged, they finally reached the fourth floor. In a space filled with the pleasant scent of good incense, there lay King Kaderik de Yeriel’s sickroom, where he had been bedridden for over ten years.

“May the blessing of God be upon you. I pray that the king regains his senses next week, but if he cannot, then your highness must proceed with the ceremony. First, come this way; you should pray for the king’s recovery by the bedside…”

The etiquette officer recited the customs of the Acaian Empire. However, Prince Eric seemed to pay little attention.

Honestly, everyone knew the king would not wake up. With his complexion as dark as ever and a rotten stench lingering for over ten years, it was truly foolish to believe he could awaken now.

The king was just barely clinging to life thanks to the immense blessings poured out by Cardinal Berg.

“After that, the cardinal must confirm the king’s condition. Of course, the cardinal will determine this next week, but if it seems the king cannot carry out state affairs, that fact must be conveyed to the nobles gathered here…”

Cardinal Berg did not listen to the etiquette officer prattling on endlessly. Regardless of who became king, this was his duty, so he meticulously remembered the order and glanced at Prince Eric de Yeriel for a moment.

“Next, it will be time to pay our respects to the late queen. A sacrificial altar has been prepared in the room of Queen Ainass de Yeriel. Now, let us go there…”

“That’s enough.”

“Pardon?”

“Isn’t it enough to just go light the incense? I know how to do that, and I’ve done it many times, so I mean that this rehearsal is over.”

“However, your highness. The etiquette for an heir conducting Akinin is different from the etiquette you normally offered to the queen. As the rightful heir of the Yeriel House, you must now regard her as your mother…”

“The rightful heir? Now?”

Prince Eric de Yeriel shot a fierce glare at the etiquette officer.

Ah, he realized he had misphrased his words and shrank back. Prince Eric stared at him with piercing eyes before speaking.

“Go downstairs. I will change my clothes, so let the nobles know that the banquet will begin soon.”

“Ah, understood.”

The etiquette officer, whom he could hardly stand to see, hurriedly vacated the space. Prince Eric de Yeriel forced a smile toward Cardinal Berg, whom he found equally distasteful.

“Cardinal Berg, I appreciate your efforts. You could have come alone, but you brought along so many priests and holy knights.”

“Yes. It’s the day we welcome the new lord of the kingdom. The church must show comparable sincerity, after all. I shall take my leave now.”

Cardinal Berg turned on his heel.

Prince Eric found himself momentarily dumbfounded, wondering why that money-grubbing cardinal was leaving so easily.

Generally, he would have bemoaned the king’s medical bills, trying to extort even a penny more…

Although he had no desire to treat his father, he certainly couldn’t tell him to just stop treatment outright. What an infuriating man he was.

But now that I am ascending the throne, is he trying to be more cautious?

Hmph. Eric scoffed and, without looking back at his father, who was writhing in agony, left the royal chamber. He returned to the prince’s room on the third floor and had a handmaiden help him remove the cumbersome cloak and change into his banquet attire. Looking at the king’s finely laid clothes on the bed, he finally felt a lift in his mood and smiled.

Finally, I shall become king.

It was the sweet fruit of years of effort. Not a result of a birthright handed to him on a silver platter.

Some might say he was able to push aside Prince Leo and Princess Lena from the line of succession due to the power ambitions of his maternal grandfather, Duke Rupert Tertan, but the reality was far from it.

There were few nobles as uninterested in power as his grandfather, Duke Lachar Tertan. To maintain his allure, he had to pour all his accumulated divine power into him, and it was not an easy task to prepare offerings to present to Lord Oriax in the body of a prince.

When that “gem” was at hand, there was no need for sleep, so he stealthily left the palace every night for over ten years, seeking offerings. Days sacrificed solely for the sake of becoming king.

“Hahaha.”

Prince Eric burst into laughter, regardless of whether the handmaidens were listening.

Lord Oriax had said that once he ascended the throne, there was no need to go treasure hunting for offerings anymore. As the owner of this land and its people, divine power would flow from everything that rotted away, and he wished for him to reign for fifty years.

What could be bad about that?

It was a most gracious proposal. When I was a boy, I accepted that offer, and it allowed me to reach this point. Recently, Lord Oriax had urged me to ascend the throne quickly for unknown reasons, which hastened the schedule.

At that moment, Prince Eric’s jovial laughter abruptly cut off.

Approaching the window, which offered a refreshing view of the eastern and southern districts of Rutina, he noticed the necklace of his mother placed on the display there.

With eyes slightly brighter than before, Prince Eric gazed at the necklace for a moment, then took it from the display. He fiddled with it like a dejected boy before putting it around his neck.

There was no particular reason—he simply wanted to.

“Let’s go.”

Unconsciously letting out a faint sigh, the prince turned around. He sent the handmaidens away and headed down to the banquet hall on the first floor, where the nobles waited. However, the banquet hall felt engulfed in an eerie silence.

No matter how much they awaited the prince’s return, it was a peculiar thing for over a hundred gathered nobles to be this quiet.

Puzzled and somewhat anticipating something, Eric de Yeriel descended the stairs. The banquet hall could also be accessed from the second floor stairs, where typically, the king would make a grand entrance with a flourish and fanfare.

Perhaps the nobles were being quiet to greet me with a grand reception? — Eric thought as he opened the heavy double doors at the landing.

And there stood nobles, astonishingly looking up. A line of knights had gathered, gazing upwards as well, yet their attention was not solely on him.

That nauseating blonde hair.

The golden-eyed youth and a lady’s crown seemed to be seen. When they looked back at him, Eric de Yeriel froze.

“…What the hell.”

“Brother, it’s been a while. I don’t remember you, though.”

The dazzlingly beautiful lady was the woman Eric had long dreamed of, the one with blood from the House of Isadora, who could never be his due to his mother’s status.

His half-sister who, despite being female, ranked higher than him in the line of succession.

Princess Lena de Yeriel.

With a graceful nod and a charming smile, the princess was accompanied by the young man, who looked both confused and despondent.

In fact, it was this young man who made Eric de Yeriel want to curse.

The firstborn of the queen. Born with both the emblem of the Acaian Empire—golden hair and golden eyes—and the blue tinge that symbolized the Yeriel line, he was naturally a fitting heir to the throne by mere appearance.

Eric, a young prince, could not know how much he had resented his own hair and eye color in his childhood. That loathsome boy who held the number one seat in the line of succession was now right before him, on the very day of Akinin.

Prince Eric de Yeriel nearly shouted to have this brat dragged away immediately. However, Leo de Yeriel pointed at him first and commanded:

“Knights, seize that shameless prince and make him kneel before me.”

“What, what?!”

– Swoosh.

More than two hundred knights of the kingdom, even the royal guards, drew their swords. Their blades were all aimed at Prince Eric, leaving him in a daze.

No noble stepped forward to stop this.

Many of their faces bore smiles that were difficult to conceal, even as they tried to suppress their laughter. The rest, the nobles who ought to have supported him, either seemed shocked by the knights’ actions or realized it was too late to turn the tide, remaining silent.

“Prince Eric! Kneel!”

A mountain of blades. But the point wasn’t just at the bottom of the stairs.

The royal guards who had been flanking Prince Eric were also pressing swords against his back. It seemed that those who normally hadn’t followed him had joined with others… this meant that even the captain of the royal knights had sided with that brat.

“Hahaha!!!”

Eric laughed.

At this point, I can no longer even be called a prince. But—

“What does it matter that I was born of a queen! Good! Truly amazing, my little brother! But allow me to show you who is the chosen heir by God…”

“Immediately kneel…!!”

“Oh Lord Oriax!”

Prince Eric raised his arm high.

A red glow flickered in his eyes, creating a massive hole in the banquet hall’s ceiling. The royal guards who had aimed blades at him were sent tumbling down the stairs, and everyone present gasped, staring up at the ceiling.

The only ones moving among them were Leo, shielding his sister’s eyes, and Cardinal Berg, who brandished a sword aloft.

“Oh, Lord Lachar!”

In the middle of the banquet hall, Cardinal Berg began a sword dance. The pure white divine power of the holy deity scattered in every direction.