There is no one in the world without ambition. Big or small, every human harbors the desire to achieve something.
Zwalter was no different. He, too, had dreams.
To stabilize the North, to ensure his people lived happily, and to live a life without great hardships alongside his loved ones.
That much, he believed, was enough.
"My dream was coming true."
Thanks to his son, the territory had grown prosperous, and the long-standing troubles in the North had been quelled. The remaining barbarians were blending with the people of Perdium, and villages were steadily increasing in number.
The dream of Zwalter, who had lived with a sense of duty, was quietly coming to fruition.
He was only a little lonely because he missed his wife, who had passed away. Other than that, he lacked nothing.
'I thought it was enough.'
Truly, he had believed so. Once this war was over, he had planned to hand everything over to his son and enjoy his remaining years.
After a lifetime of worrying, he felt he deserved it.
And yet now, he was being told to become king? Was that something you could just agree to and make happen?
Zwalter, forcing his racing thoughts to calm, asked in a trembling voice.
"I am a noble who swore loyalty to the kingdom."
"You know that no longer holds any meaning," Ghislain replied.
"..."
The king had allied with a heretical cult responsible for countless deaths. If they did nothing, they would all perish.
So yes, it was meaningless.
"But… I do not wish to become king."
Zwalter genuinely lacked such ambition. Being the great lord of a prosperous territory was enough for him.
To be king—he had never even considered such a thing. In truth, he wanted to retire and rest.
Looking at his father, still overwhelmed, Ghislain spoke.
"The people of the kingdom and the nobles need a central figure."
"Does it have to be me? Couldn't it be you instead?"
Whoever wanted to become the new king would need to overturn the kingdom by force. The only one capable of such a feat was Ghislain, leader of the northern forces.
By that logic, Ghislain himself seemed the natural choice for the throne.
But Ghislain disagreed.
"No, 'for now,' you are better suited than I am."
"And why is that?"
"I must continue to fight on the frontlines with my vassals. I also need to aid the allied nations we've formed ties with. Managing an entire kingdom is beyond my capacity for now, though I could handle a single territory."
"Hmm..."
"And besides, the other nobles would prefer you over me."
In terms of reputation alone, Ghislain far outshone Zwalter. But the nobles found Ghislain uncomfortable.
If he overturned the kingdom, they would follow him out of fear, but they wouldn't like the idea of a young, brash warlord on the throne.
Zwalter, however, was different. His rank was high, and his age significant. He was widely known for his responsibility in safeguarding the North through years of hardship.
While Perdium's poverty had invited scorn, few could fault Zwalter's character.
To the nobles, he was someone they could bow to with less wounded pride.
Zwalter understood this reasoning.
"...I see."
This was the most significant decision of his life, but no one voiced objections. If they didn't act, they would all die anyway.
In the awkward silence, Head butler Homerne cautiously spoke.
"If we succeed… does that mean I'll become prime minister?"
Everyone glared at Homerne. Was this the time to bring that up?
Even Ghislain, caught off guard, blinked before replying.
"Yes… I suppose… for the time being."
Until the kingdom stabilized, it made sense to place Perdium's people in key positions. The vassals of Fenris would continue to fight alongside Ghislain.
At Ghislain's answer, Homerne chuckled awkwardly and turned to Zwalter.
"Big Brother… uh, my lord. What choice do we have? We have to do this… don't we?"
"..."
Next, Treasurer Albert hesitantly asked.
"And me…? Will I be the kingdom's treasurer?"
"Yes… well… for the time being."
Albert, his usual stern expression softening, suppressed a grin and spoke to Zwalter.
"My lord, there's no other way. I think the young lord is right."
"..."
Randolph, his face bright with anticipation, chimed in.
"Then does that mean I'll be the kingdom's commander-in-chief?"
"No, that'll be me," Ghislain said firmly. All military forces needed to operate under his command.
Randolph looked a bit deflated.
"Then I'll make you commander of the Royal Knights."
Randolph grinned again. That position was just as prestigious as being commander-in-chief.
"My lord! The king and Duke Delphine won't spare us anyway. Let's just overturn everything!"
"..."
The other vassals stared in astonishment. Ghislain was handing out the kingdom's top positions as if it were nothing.
Could something like this really be decided so freely?
Still, if they succeeded, they would each claim a position of power. Managing Perdium alongside the kingdom wouldn't be easy, but they had recruited enough administrators over the years to handle it.
Running the kingdom was the priority, after all.
Each vassal was already imagining themselves in a prominent role.
'If the young lord says to do it, then we do it.'
'If we fail, we'll just die.'
'He won't listen to us anyway.'
If they succeeded, a new dynasty would be born. If they failed, they would die as traitors. But since there was no alternative, they focused only on the brighter possibilities.
All of them spoke to Zwalter with a single voice.
"My lord, you must make a decision. The king and the Duke will attack us either way."
"The young lord is right. If we're going to fight, we must prepare thoroughly."
"We can't just sit and wait to be destroyed."
"The king has allied with heretics. We cannot follow him."
The sentiment spread like wildfire through the room.
In the past, they might have been paralyzed with fear, uncertain of what to do. They would have fought only out of desperation to survive.
Even now, they were fighting to survive, but the atmosphere was entirely different.
'With the young lord, we can win.'
'The northern forces are the strongest in the kingdom.'
'When have we ever lost?'
This newfound confidence was all thanks to Ghislain. Because of him, the people of Perdium dared to dream.
And so, one by one, they turned eager, expectant eyes toward Zwalter.
'Sigh…'
Zwalter chuckled at the sight of his vassals.
Once poor and timid, they now showed ambition, inspired by their trust in Ghislain.
If they were going to die anyway, they said, they might as well overthrow everything.
To make such a dire situation feel almost trivial…
His son had truly grown into someone remarkable.
Though he felt proud of his son, Zwalter couldn't help but agonize.
'Do I really have to do this?'
He had always taken pride in being a loyal servant of the kingdom.
Honor, loyalty, and responsibility—these were the principles that defined his life.
If this were merely a power struggle, Zwalter would have rejected Ghislain's proposal outright without a second thought.
'Why did His Majesty make such a choice?'
The Salvation Church had created rifts, incited wars, and killed countless innocent people. They would continue to do so.
The king's alliance with them was an endorsement of their atrocities.
'This cannot stand. If the Salvation Church prevails, the people of the kingdom will all become sacrifices.'
Zwalter could not bear to let that happen. He had spent his life defending the northern fortresses for the sake of the people.
'The other kingdoms and the Four Great Churches will not stand by either. They'll tear the kingdom apart and divide it among themselves.'
His loyalty was to the kingdom's welfare, not to its destruction.
Even if Zwalter tried to support the king and justify his mistakes, the king and the Duke's faction would still seek to destroy the northern forces.
In the end, there was no choice.
'My dear, who would have thought this day would come in my life?'
Zwalter didn't know that his wife, Annette, had once been a protector of the royal family.
Nor could Annette have imagined that her husband and son would one day aim to topple that very royal family.
Such are the tides of history—often flowing in directions no one can predict.
After a long moment of contemplation, Zwalter nodded.
He would have to delay his retirement.
"Very well. I will do as you say."
As Zwalter made his decision, the vassals' faces lit up. Though tension lingered, the thrill of making history prevailed.
Even Belinda, who had followed Ghislain, clenched her fists tightly.
'Our young master is really going to become the "Grand Duke of the North!"'
In the past, the title had been merely an aspiration. But if they succeeded, he could claim it with pride.
Though the title of Grand Duke was rarely given to the king's offspring, it could be justified as a title for a regional ruler. And if not, they could simply take it.
After all, she would ensure it happened.
Zwalter turned to Ghislain and spoke.
"When do you plan to move?"
"Soon. I'm currently gathering information about the situation in the capital."
The spies were more active than ever. The information Ghislain needed would arrive shortly.
Zwalter nodded a few times and then stood up.
He looked around at his vassals and spoke slowly.
"Inspect all supplies and summon the troops. When Count Fenris determines the right time, we will march to the capital together."
"Yes, my lord."
The vassals bowed their heads in unison, their faces set with grim determination.
The Duke's faction intended to kill them. Now, even the king had joined forces against them. In the past, they would have cowered in fear.
But this was no longer the weak and impoverished Perdium of old. It was no longer a land that endured unjust oppression in silence.
Things are different now. If their enemies wanted them dead, they would need to be prepared to die themselves.
Though Ghislain had proposed this plan, it was something the vassals had secretly longed for.
Seeing their resolve, Zwalter spoke in a commanding tone.
"We will save this kingdom."
***
The atmosphere in the capital was bleak.
It had been that way ever since the king reclaimed power.
Even among the royalist faction, the nobles who had been stifled under Marquis Branford's influence quickly aligned themselves with the king.
"Hahaha, to think so many loyal subjects remained in this kingdom."
The king was overjoyed and began redistributing the powers and privileges that had been held by other nobles to these newly loyal ones.
For the king, it was better to scatter power among many rather than consolidate it in one person. He couldn't risk another figure like Marquis Branford rising again.
The nobles were also pleased to receive a portion of the power that had previously been concentrated in a select few.
A new power structure was naturally taking shape. If things had ended there, it might have been tolerable.
But Berhem couldn't resist doing something strange.
"Are we running low on prisoners?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. There weren't many death row inmates in the capital," replied Marquis Domont, now elevated in rank after becoming one of the king's trusted confidants, his expression troubled.
Thanks to Marquis Branford, the capital had enjoyed exceptional security. There were hardly any criminals left.
But to continue treating Berhem, a great number of "death row inmates" were required.
"Didn't I send orders to the provinces? There should be plenty of criminals with all the bandits running rampant."
"The prisoners are being transported to the capital, but it's taking some time."
"Hmph! I don't have time to wait! How long do you expect me to sit here waiting?!"
"..."
Marquis Domont had no response to the king's desperate outburst. How could he produce nonexistent prisoners out of thin air?
At that moment, Flaccus leaned in and gently suggested.
"Strengthen the laws and arrest even those guilty of minor infractions."
"Hmm, would that be acceptable?"
"The people would even welcome it. There would be no more crime in the kingdom."
"Ah, yes, a kingdom without crime would indeed be an ideal land."
"Exactly, Your Majesty. Our faith dreams of such a world. And Your Majesty's health is of the utmost importance. After all, Your Majesty is the kingdom itself. Is the kingdom not wholly Yours?"
"You're right. From today, we shall strengthen the laws. Chamberlain!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"From this moment, no crime shall be forgiven. There is no such thing as a minor offense. Punishments will be unified under one rule."
Berhem's face twisted into a cruel smile.
"All criminals will henceforth be sentenced to death."
The madness in his eyes made Marquis Domont swallow nervously.
He knew better than anyone that the king's mind was unstable. He had witnessed it firsthand while serving at his side for years.
But now that Berhem had seized the throne, his twisted nature was finally surfacing.
'Did I do the right thing?'
Though his rise had been a success, propelling his family to the pinnacle of the capital's nobility, showering them with wealth and titles, Domont couldn't shake the feeling of walking on thin ice.
The king was half-mad.
'There's no turning back.'
Domont steadied his resolve. He had only one chance to seize this position, and he couldn't afford to let it slip.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I shall carry out your orders immediately."
In the capital, Berhem wielded absolute authority. Everything proceeded according to his will.
The idea of a world without crime sounded appealing. Some might even welcome Berhem's policies.
The real problem, however, lay elsewhere.
"Please, spare me! I've done nothing wrong!"
"Just come with us. If you're innocent, we'll let you go after the investigation."
Even people who had committed no crimes were arrested if they seemed even slightly suspicious. None of them ever returned home.
To meet their quotas, soldiers dredged up past misdeeds or fabricated charges to detain people indiscriminately. All those captured became "sacrifices" for Berhem's treatment.
"Ohhh... such power, such strength flows through me."
Deep within the palace, in a massive hidden chamber.
Berhem sat at the center of a blood-red magic circle.
Corpses were scattered all around him. The prisoners brought to sustain the magic circle had all been used as sacrifices.
The circle, filled with the blood of the dead, glowed with a crimson light.
Berhem let out a maniacal laugh and shouted.
"More! Bring me more prisoners! Is this all you can manage? If there are no criminals, create them and bring them to me!"
Berhem was consumed by an insatiable thirst. To quench it, he needed more people.
Far more sacrifices drenched in blood.
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