Captain Daniel Steiner’s unwavering gaze radiated sincerity.
Emperor Berthelm, no fool, was fully aware these words were directed at him.
A heavier silence than ever descended between the two.
“……”
“……”
As the silence stretched, neither made a move to speak first, both knowing a wrong word could lead to disaster.
This wasn’t just from Daniel’s perspective—it was mutual. Even Emperor Berthelm found himself now walking on eggshells around Daniel.
In his prime, Berthelm might’ve strong-armed Daniel into submission, but now power in the royal family was split. And Daniel knew it.
Most ministers had already sworn loyalty not to the emperor but to the princess. After all, when Berthelm passed, Princess Selvia would rule the empire for decades to come.
Daniel would undoubtedly be treated as a pillar of the realm under her reign, enjoying her favor and the people’s support.
‘If I oppress Daniel now and limit his authority…’
The citizens wouldn’t stand for it, and it’d weaken Selvia’s foundation. To neglect such a loyal servant who helped place him on the throne would invite endless criticism.
With regency duties, Selvia couldn’t even use “the emperor’s unilateral decision” as an excuse—especially since she’d never agree to suppress Daniel anyway. This realization left Berthelm with an odd sense of discomfort.
What truly irritated Berthelm was that Daniel Steiner understood all this and was skillfully leveraging it.
‘So, Blackberry blood runs through your veins after all.’
By framing his statements as “things he heard from the monastery head,” Daniel avoided any charges of blasphemy.
Even if they cross-checked with the monastery head, it’d be pointless—if he simply claimed “my memory is hazy,” there’d be no way to verify anything.
‘Even if it were true…’
Bringing it up would only suggest ulterior motives.
Clearly, Daniel used this fairy tale analogy to subtly convey his intentions without putting himself at risk.
‘Tricky fox…’
Wasn’t it said that fairy tales humorously satirize reality? Berthelm chuckled faintly, recognizing the irony unfolding before him.
“In a mutually assured destruction scenario, we can’t attack each other, huh? Interesting interpretation.”
Hearing this, Daniel felt relieved. He’d been worried his gambit might’ve overstepped due to the alcohol, but Berthelm’s laughter reassured him.
“Let’s move on from fairy tales and discuss your reward.”
“Reward?”
“Yes. Didn’t I promise that if you successfully concluded negotiations with the Prime Minister of Belanos, I’d grant you an award based on our imperial principle of justice?”
Daniel hesitated to respond, sensing a trap.
There was no way an emperor’s reward came without strings attached.
‘If I ask for a reward, he’ll surely demand something in return.’
Though Berthelm had promised a reward, he hadn’t mentioned ignoring the delay in Daniel’s report during the Belanos incident. Adding conditions to the reward using this as leverage would be problematic.
After a brief thought, Daniel decided to strike first.
“Your Majesty, the only reward I desire is forgiveness for my independent actions during the Belanos incident. Beyond that, I have no further requests.”
Berthelm’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘He doesn’t want anything?’
Had Daniel asked for a reward, Berthelm intended to propose a formal investigation to confirm his worthiness—a common, though not frequent, practice. Given Daniel’s past delays in reporting during the Belanos crisis, an investigation would’ve been justified. Framed as part of granting a reward rather than punitive pressure, public backlash would’ve been minimal.
‘But now…’
By asking only for clemency regarding his independent actions, Daniel sidestepped Berthelm’s expectations.
A crack appeared in Berthelm’s gentle smile as he felt a strange sense of reverence for Daniel’s evasive rhetoric.
‘Are you really just a mere officer?’
It felt like conversing with a seasoned politician who’d seen it all—similar to Count Kaledra during their diplomatic talks. Beneath Daniel’s facade of loyalty lay motives impossible to fathom.
Swallowing dry, Berthelm feigned calmness.
“Let me ask again: besides absolution for your sins, is there truly nothing else you desire?”
“That is correct. I deeply regret troubling Your Majesty and consider Your pardon the highest honor.”
Playing the loyal servant left Berthelm unable to criticize.
Finally, Emperor Berthelm had to admit:
‘I cannot rein him in with my current state…’
Daniel was dodging every trap Berthelm laid out like he saw them coming.
And worse, the wolf avoiding the traps was slowly approaching, baring its teeth at the hunter Berthelm, warning him not to try again.
Berthelm smiled bitterly and nodded.
“Fine. If that’s all you want, I won’t stop you.”
The breeze through the terrace cleared the alcohol haze.
“The night air is chilly. You must be tired from recent events; you should go rest.”
“I shall take my leave then.”
Rising, Daniel bowed respectfully to Berthelm.
Before Daniel turned to leave, Berthelm casually remarked:
“Do you think my daughter will make a good ruler?”
Pausing briefly, Daniel replied:
“She will become someone worthy of this great empire.”
Delivering this cryptic message, Daniel bowed again and walked away.
As the Imperial Guard opened the door, Daniel disappeared down the corridor.
Staring blankly at Daniel’s retreating figure, the Chief Advisor approached Berthelm.
“Your Majesty, did everything go well?”
Chuckling dryly, Berthelm poured himself another glass of whiskey.
“If understanding each other’s intentions was the goal, then yes, it went well.”
Gazing at the slowly filling glass, Berthelm continued:
“Chief Advisor, I seem to hate Daniel Steiner.”
“…Your Majesty?”
“But if I say I also love Daniel Steiner most dearly, would you believe me?”
Unable to grasp his own feelings, Berthelm rose with his drink.
“If only he were my son… perhaps then I could escape this tiresome cycle of passion and worry.”
Muttering to himself, Berthelm stepped onto the terrace.
As the emperor appeared, citizens celebrating below began looking up. Their cheers echoed throughout the square.
Lifting his glass in response, Berthelm was greeted with thunderous cries of “Long live His Majesty!” and “Long live Daniel Steiner!”
To Berthelm, these cheers weren’t simple applause—they sounded like declarations of dual rulership within the empire.
‘Of course…’
Perhaps this was just paranoia born from hypersensitivity.
‘If Daniel Steiner truly is the unparalleled loyalist…’
Then the empire would undoubtedly flourish, returning to the greatness of old under his grandfather’s reign.
Selvia would be remembered as a wise ruler, Daniel as a faithful statesman, celebrated through generations.
‘But if Daniel Steiner is a wolf consumed by political ambition, hungering for power…’
Then this empire would fall into an abyss of despair unlike any other.
