Chapter 67

In an instant, the prince lost all his support base thanks to Daniel Steiner and had no choice but to surrender under duress.

Because the prince had given up on the succession struggle, Selvia was able to exert her influence over the system and the Imperial Palace without any issues.

About a month later, Emperor Berthelm, who had been watching all of this from afar, decided that waiting any longer was pointless and summoned the key figures of the empire to the grand hall of the palace under the pretext of selecting a successor.

Naturally, Captain Daniel Steiner was also included among these ‘key figures.’

Being invited to the palace during such a momentous decision for the state was an incredible honor, but Daniel was just plain uncomfortable sitting there.

‘I’d rather be back at my quarters sipping coffee and reading a book or something…’

What exactly is the point of wasting a golden weekend like this?

Sighing quietly to himself, Daniel glanced around.

He could see the Grand Duke Belvar and other ministers gathered in the grand hall, which boasted a stunningly elegant architectural style.

There were also high-ranking officers from the military and ministers responsible for major pillars of the state lined up neatly.

For Daniel, awkwardly sandwiched among them, sitting here felt like sitting on a bed of thorns.

‘And there are plenty of people glaring at me too…’

Though no one said anything, many were sneaking sidelong glances at him.

It was only natural that he would draw disapproving looks from the higher-ups; after all, he was just a mere captain sitting in the grand hall of the palace.

Deciding it would be best not to meet anyone’s gaze, Daniel stared straight ahead.

There sat Emperor Berthelm, dressed in the white uniform symbolic of the royal family, seated upon the imperial throne.

The frail figure he’d seen in the bedroom seemed nowhere to be found—this was truly a man who commanded respect.

“Lift your heads. My children.”

At Berthelm’s solemn voice, Selvia and Arno, kneeling on the red carpet with one knee bent, raised their heads.

Selvia and Arno were both wearing the white uniforms symbolic of the royal family.

“I assume you both understand why I’ve called you here today in front of so many distinguished leaders of our empire.”

At Berthelm’s words, Selvia and Arno swallowed hard.

Though they performed the same action, Selvia was basking in exhilaration while Arno was drowning in defeat.

“My illness grows worse each day, as everyone here knows, making it impossible for me to handle state affairs properly. So let’s skip the formalities—I will announce today that my successor will be chosen right here.”

Everyone remained silent, unsurprised by what they already knew.

Seemingly pleased with the silence, Berthelm chuckled softly as he looked down at his children.

“Are you both prepared to accept my decision?”

“We accept.”

That was Selvia’s immediate reply.

But Arno hesitated before finally speaking.

“We accept…”

Having secured the agreement of his children, Berthelm nodded once and continued.

“In that case, I will now choose a successor. Selvia von Amberg!”

At the call, Selvia stood up.

Seeing this, Berthelm continued.

“I have great faith in your abilities and see in you the makings of a future emperor. Can you prove that my judgment is correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I shall certainly do so.”

“Good. From now on, you must carry out my will for the sake of the royal family and the empire. Remember well that you must respect all citizens and establish a just reign.”

After addressing Selvia, Berthelm looked around the room.

“Did everyone hear that? From this day forward, Princess Selvia von Amberg will succeed me!”

This was a clear message: no objections should be raised, and all power must now be rallied behind the next emperor, Selvia.

Understanding the emperor’s meaning, everyone bowed their heads in unison.

—Yes! Your Majesty!

A united chorus echoed through the grand hall.

Berthelm, scanning them with sharp eyes, spoke again.

“A successor has been chosen, so we must teach statecraft sooner rather than later. I plan to entrust Selvia with regency duties—what do you all think about that?”

At the mention of regency, there was a brief murmur throughout the hall.

Just as everyone hesitated to respond hastily, Duke Belvar stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty, might the princess not yet be ready for regency? It seems more appropriate for Your Majesty to continue overseeing state affairs.”

“Duke Belvar, that is quite presumptuous of you. Asking me to take on more responsibilities when I am ill far more often than I am well—is this your way of working me to death?”

Realizing his misstep, Duke Belvar bowed even lower.

“I have spoken out of turn, Your Majesty. Please forgive my rudeness.”

With Duke Belvar stepping back, the others chose to remain silent.

Enjoying the quiet moment, Berthelm spoke.

“There seem to be no further objections, so regency will proceed. In nine days, Selvia will begin assisting me in state affairs. You are all to know this.”

Once again, everyone bowed their heads in unison.

—Yes! Your Majesty!

With his points made, Berthelm waved his hand as if signaling the end.

“Well then, everyone may now withdraw.”

Ministers and officials bowed their heads and slowly exited the grand hall, followed by generals and industrialists.

Among them, Daniel, the lowest-ranked officer present, simply stood still, patiently waiting his turn to leave.

Watching from his throne, Berthelm’s eyes grew heavy with thought.

“Most of the people gathered here today wouldn’t know…”

To those less politically astute, Daniel Steiner was merely a close aide to the princess—nothing more than a well-functioning horse following her orders.

But Berthelm, having observed all the events thus far, knew differently.

Daniel Steiner hadn’t acted based on the princess’s will but according to his own intentions.

“So…”

The one who truly orchestrated everything from start to finish wasn’t Selvia herself—or even Emperor Berthelm.

It was Daniel Steiner alone who had led everything.

“That guy claims no interest in politics, yet…”

Finding it absurd, Berthelm chuckled dryly and raised his hand, wiggling his fingers.

Noticing this, the head of the inner court approached.

“Your Majesty, did you summon me?”

“Yes. Do you see that man over there—the one with the captain’s insignia?”

“Yes, I see him clearly.”

“What do you think of him at first glance?”

The head of the inner court blinked silently before tilting his head.

“If you’re asking about his appearance, he seems somewhat thin but handsome. The dark circles under his eyes suggest he’s usually busy, and I suspect he’s a young man concerned about the future of this country.”

Concerned about the future of this country? At this amusing statement, Berthelm burst into hearty laughter.

Confused by the sudden laughter, the head of the inner court began to sweat nervously until Berthelm regained his composure and spoke.

“You always make me laugh, Inner Court Chief. Anyway, go tell that man I’d like to chat with him at the shooting range.”

Uncertain of the meaning behind the laughter, the head of the inner court obediently nodded.

*

A short while later.

As Daniel was about to withdraw, he was stopped by the head of the inner court and brought to the shooting range located in a corner of the palace grounds.

At the shooting range, Emperor Berthelm stood holding a double-barreled shotgun.

‘Why in the world did he bring me here?’

Curiosity mingled with tension.

Approaching Berthelm cautiously, Daniel saluted.

“Your Majesty, I heard you summoned me.”

“Oh? Ah, yes.”

Upon spotting Daniel, Berthelm playfully returned the salute and placed his hand on the trigger of the shotgun.

His eyes gazed upward at the blue sky above the grassy field ahead.

“I apologize for calling you here so suddenly. Have you ever tried trap shooting?”

“I only heard about it during my cadet days from a friend who enjoyed it.”

“In that case, this is a good opportunity to learn from me. Watch closely.”

No sooner had Berthelm finished speaking than a whistle blew, and two clay targets soared into the air.

Without hesitation, Berthelm raised the shotgun and fired twice in quick succession.

Bang! Bang!

The scattered shot effortlessly shattered the two clay targets.

Satisfied with hitting his mark, Berthelm lowered the shotgun.

“This is a sport, you see. Given your shooting skills likely surpass mine, this shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“…Your Majesty? Are you inviting me here purely to enjoy some shooting?”

“Of course not. This is merely a casual bonding activity between us.”

As Berthelm lowered the barrel of the shotgun, two spent shells popped out and clattered to the floor.

A servant approached and handed Berthelm fresh ammunition.

“The main reason I called you here is to offer a reward.”

“A reward, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. Haven’t you worked hard for my daughter recently? I secretly hoped Selvia would become empress, so I’m very grateful for your efforts.”

Taking the ammunition from the servant, Berthelm slowly reloaded the gun.

“That’s why I plan to reward not only you but also those who helped you, assuming you’re okay with it. So, could you tell me who they are?”

With a friendly smile, Berthelm locked the barrel into place, completing the reload.

Raising his hand as a signal, the servant stepped back.

Soon, it was time for the clay targets to launch, and Berthelm’s gaze returned to the empty sky above the grass.

Standing nearby, Daniel awkwardly responded.

“Your Majesty? If you’re referring to the dismantling of the prince’s secret organization, I can only attribute it to good fortune. There’s nothing else I can say.”

Clay targets flew into the air.

Reacting instinctively, Berthelm raised the shotgun and fired twice in quick succession.

The muzzle flashed, and once again, the two clay targets shattered into pieces.

Confirming his successful hits, Berthelm lowered the shotgun and tilted the barrel downward.

Two spent shells popped out.

As the servant approached to provide new ammunition, Berthelm turned to Daniel with a casual shrug.

“Captain Daniel.”

Simultaneously with the shells hitting the floor, Berthelm looked directly at Daniel.

“I’m not really asking you a question right now. This is closer to an order. So let me ask again.”

A cool breeze swept through.

After a brief silence, Berthelm continued.

“Tell me who the forces supporting you are—who they are and what they do.”

Though Berthelm’s mouth was smiling, his eyes were cold and serious.

From this subtle change in expression, Daniel realized the truth.

‘This isn’t…’

It was absolutely not about offering a reward.