“Making a king…? What do you mean?”
Knut raised his eyebrows and asked. It wasn’t that he was curious about the details of the plan, but rather that he couldn’t comprehend the very concept of creating a king. It was a very human reaction in this world, where bloodlines were revered.
Like most Westerners, he probably believed that unless one inherited the royal bloodline, they couldn’t—and shouldn’t—become a king.
Well, in a world where divine artifacts like my Durandal, which can only be used by the descendants of their original owners, are scattered everywhere, it’s only natural that bloodlines are valued more than anything else.
Not that it’s any of my business, though.
“Before I explain, pick up that sword and swing it first.”
I pointed to Ragnar’s cursed sword, Dainsleif. Its reddish blade, chipped and battered from clashing with Durandal, still exuded an eerie aura.
“A blood-red sword… Just looking at it gives off a sinister vibe. Wouldn’t it be better to just break it?”
“That’d be a waste. It’s not just a hunk of metal—it has some kind of magical ability.”
“Magic?”
I explained Dainsleif’s power to the two of them. The ability to absorb blood through the blade, infuse curses into the absorbed blood, and unleash crimson slashes. It was undeniably the kind of power you’d expect from a cursed sword.
“Sounds like something only deranged murderers would use.”
That’s your national treasure you’re talking about.
Unintentionally insulting his own country, Knut reluctantly gripped Dainsleif and swung it a couple of times. The chipped blade sliced through the air, letting out a sound resembling a ghostly wail.
“What about the Blood Blade? Can’t you use that?”
“Hmm… Let me see… Ah, so that’s how it works.”
Knut, who had been staring at the blade in contemplation, seemed to have figured something out. He swung the sword again, and—
– Whoosh!
A crimson slash shot out along Dainsleif’s trajectory, embedding itself into the ruins of the royal palace.
Just as I expected.
I smirked as I watched the debris scatter from the impact of the Blood Blade.
—
Ragnar had said it.
Dainsleif, the national treasure of Dane, was a sword that only the King of Dane could wield.
That’s why he killed every member of the royal family except himself, making himself the King of Dane. If only one royal remained, that person would inevitably become the king.
I hadn’t confirmed it, but he probably even wiped out the distant collateral lines.
If even a single member of the royal bloodline other than Ragnar had survived, he wouldn’t have been able to unleash Dainsleif’s full power.
But Ragnar was dead. Less than two hours after becoming king.
And so, Dane lost its king.
…Does that mean Dainsleif is now just a hunk of useless metal, unable to be wielded by anyone?
I didn’t think so. This cursed sword was meant for the King of the Dane people, not necessarily for a member of the Dane royal family.
While reviving an extinct bloodline is impossible unless you’re a god… unlike bloodlines, the position of king itself is something that can always be filled. Inheriting the throne isn’t the only way to become king.
If you can’t inherit the throne because you’re not of royal blood, then just take it by force, right?
Historically, that’s always been the answer. How many people have cut off the heads of kings they despised and taken the throne for themselves?
Of course, that’s the history of my original world… but it doesn’t seem to be much different here.
After all, Knut, who had cut off Ragnar’s head, was now recognized as the new King of Dane and the wielder of Dainsleif, despite being a traitor to the Dane royal family.
“So, Knut, you will become the King of Dane.”
Knut looked horrified and dropped the sword to the ground.
Not that it would break from that.
—
Right after Prince Haral turned into a prince-shaped piece of meat, I immediately scrapped my original plan—the one where I’d set up a puppet state with a young, weak king.
After all, the people of Dane probably wouldn’t want to serve a king who was now just a headless slab of meat.
No, it wasn’t just his head. Prince Haral’s body had been torn apart by the Spear of War, scattered like a thousand-piece puzzle dropped on the floor.
Even if his parents came back to life, putting him back together would be impossible.
So, I came up with a new plan. If there’s no king, then we’ll just create one.
“There are about three options we can choose from.”
I explained the three plans I had come up with to the two of them.
The first option was the “Nothing Happened” operation.
It involved thoroughly controlling the rumors to prevent news of the Edricksa massacre from spreading beyond the capital, while impersonating King Hestein to issue orders to the Dane army.
The idea was that as long as we could move the Dane army, that was all that mattered.
“It might work in the short term… but controlling the entire capital isn’t simple, and sooner or later, the truth will come out.”
Frigg expressed her doubts.
Well, I agreed with her. Unless the people of Dane were all as dumb as monkeys, such a lie wouldn’t hold for long. That’s why I had come up with other options.
I quickly moved on to explaining the second option.
“If we can’t deceive them, then we’ll just brazen it out. We’ll announce everything that happened here and ascend to the throne as the victors of a revolution, not as rebels.”
“…That’s impossible. The lords from all over will rise up. They’ll never accept a commoner who killed the king as the new king.”
“Rise up? What can they do? Punish me and Knut, the ones who wiped out the royal family?”
I shrugged and gestured to the ruined royal palace.
Look at this. Can’t you see the difference in power?
“Unless they have a death wish, they won’t dare.”
This was the second option: the “Bring It On” operation.
Of course, this option also had its drawbacks.
“Many Dane warriors consider dying in battle a blessing. They won’t back down just because their opponent is strong. And most importantly, you don’t have the luxury of leisurely subduing them, do you?”
Yeah, that was the problem.
It wouldn’t be too hard to crush any rebels who refused to accept Knut as king…
But if I wasted time hunting them down one by one, the Imperial Army, which was relying on me, would be torn to shreds by the Ka`har.
“Then we’re left with the last option.”
To Frigg, who had once again expressed her doubts, I explained the final plan I had come up with.
It was the option I thought had the highest chance of success, but it was also one that would be impossible unless certain conditions were met, which is why I had set it aside.
“If the problem is that they can’t accept a traitor who killed the king as the new king… then we’ll just frame it as an internal royal purge.”
“Are you saying…?”
Frigg, understanding my meaning, glanced at Knut. More precisely, at the proof of kingship hanging from his waist—the cursed sword Dainsleif.
That was the prerequisite for the third option.
“You caught on, huh?”
I smirked and laid out the details of the final plan.
“Knut, from now on, you’re someone who didn’t know your own bloodline… No, wait. It’d be more dramatic if you knew but had to hide it.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“I’m saying that you’re actually a collateral member of the Dane royal family. The reason you hid your bloodline is… well, let’s say it’s because Ragnar was secretly assassinating all the collateral members.”
Knut’s eyes widened.
“I’m… of the Dane royal bloodline?”
What is this monkey talking about? Is his IQ in the double digits?
“No, we’re going to fake it. We’re creating a well-crafted tale of revenge.”
I explained the backstory I had come up with for Knut.
A collateral member of the Dane royal family who lost his parents to Ragnar’s plot to wipe out the royal bloodline and seize the throne.
A survivor who, seeking revenge for his parents and the realization of justice, fought under the guise of a rebel, bearing the stigma of treason… until finally, he defeated Ragnar, who had revealed his ambitions, and restored justice to the land.
That was the true identity of Knut, the vice-captain of the Engraved Holy Warriors!
It was pure fabrication, but in essence, it wasn’t far from the truth.
We were only faking Knut’s bloodline and motives—everything about Ragnar’s actions was true. It was like mixing one part lie into nine parts truth.
“Hrapun will take care of forging the documents, and even those who don’t trust documents will be convinced once they see Dainsleif. After all, it’s said that only the King of Dane can wield it.”
Of course, there might be some who still refuse to believe even after seeing Dainsleif unleash the Blood Blade… but Knut can handle those guys himself.
That’s why I had him behead Ragnar.
Having killed Ragnar and grown stronger, he should be able to take down most opponents without much trouble. And those who believe Knut is of royal blood after seeing Dainsleif will support him wholeheartedly.
“Not a bad plan. I think this is the best option.”
Frigg also nodded with a slightly brighter expression.
Of course she would. As someone whose job revolves around manipulation and fabrication, she knows better than anyone how effective such lies can be.
However, Knut, instead of agreeing, just stared at me with a bewildered expression.
“Wait… aren’t you going to ask for my opinion? You’re telling me to become the King of Dane, but I never wanted…”
This guy doesn’t want to rise to power even when it’s handed to him.
Don’t you get it yet? You don’t have the right to refuse.
I sighed and “persuaded” him.
“Then I guess we’ll have to go with the last resort. I’ll wipe out the royal family and make this country mine. I’ll declare it as Median’s new territory, and anyone who resists will be killed—”
“I’ll be the King of Dane.”
Knut hastily replied.
Yeah, I figured you’d think it’s better for you to rule Dane than for me to do it.
