Chapter 8

The Crown Prince of the Empire

 His shadow stretched long, just like his tall frame.

The wind coming through the open window gently stirred Lesvan’s hair.

His face was handsome enough to have been carved by a sculptor, while the golden eyes beneath his sharp gaze glowed coldly like those of a beast lurking in the shade, despite the sunlight falling upon them.

Lesvan slowly released the maid’s waist, his eyebrows drawn together.

The maid bowed her head without showing the slightest surprise and spoke stiffly.

“…I’m sorry.”

Lesvan remembered the split-second movement the maid had made when she collided with him.

Even someone with excellent reflexes would have simply fallen backward, but the maid had twisted her waist as though she were a knight who had trained for years.

As if she were about to perform a breakfall.

“…Raise your head.”

Lesvan’s low voice rang out.

The maid’s neck, with her hair tightly tied back, was suspiciously delicate, as were her fingers.

A moment later, the maid slowly raised her face.

With a graceful forehead, a high nose, beautiful blue eyes that seemed to contain an entire lake, and lips that were neither too thin nor too full, the maid was unquestionably beautiful.

“…”

The maid stared directly at him.

There wasn’t even the slightest trace of fear in her eyes.

There was something slightly incongruous about the attitude of a woman who remained wary without being afraid.

Her slender, thin, lightweight body appeared completely ordinary.

Yet if she had trained enough to instinctively perform a breakfall, her hands should not have been so delicate.

A series of thoughts naturally swept through Lesvan’s mind like the wind.

“…What is your name?”

True to his nickname, the “War Maniac,” Lesvan possessed a large, solid physique.

In contrast, his face was breathtakingly beautiful, but the murderous aura that clung to his body like clothing caused women to instinctively fear him.

“I am a maid.”

Yet she answered boldly without even trembling.

He had asked for her name, and she had answered that she was a maid.

“You have no intention of answering me, then.”

The corners of Lesvan’s lips lifted slightly.

Insolently, the maid did not answer him.

Even when he subtly released an oppressive aura, she remained completely unmoved.

Such a reaction could only make her more interesting.

“…”

He never forgot a person once he had seen them.

No matter how long ago he had met them.

Some strange sense of déjà vu was also mixed into the flow of his thoughts.

After a moment, Lesvan spoke to her.

“…Go.”

**

Near the training grounds of the ducal residence, Lesvan and Kallian stood watching the soldiers train.

There was a peculiar scent that one could sense upon facing a person even without actually smelling it through one’s nose.

Some people called it an atmosphere, but to Kallian, it was far more intense than that.

He thought that the Crown Prince’s gaze smelled strongly of blood.

His large frame was dressed in a dark military uniform, with broad, solid shoulders, a sculpted nose and jawline, and black hair gently fluttering in the breeze.

And there was no need to explain how many enemy territories had been swallowed by the sword reflected in those emotionless-looking golden eyes beneath his cold gaze.

Nor was there any need to explain the countless lives of enemies that had disappeared alongside their final screams.

“I will agree to the conquest of Agrife.”

Agrife was a fertile land located in the southwestern part of the Empire.

It was the destination toward which the Crown Prince’s army would soon march.

And for another war, he needed the cooperation of the dukes.

“And I will provide the Imperial Army with five thousand cavalrymen and three Aura Knight Orders from the ducal territory. They may not compare to His Highness’s Royal Guard Knights, but they will be of great assistance in commanding the troops.”

Agrife had once been an Imperial territory.

However, twenty years ago, when the lords of the frontier and several kingdoms allied together and stabbed Turesian in the back, it had been one of the territories that took the lead.

In that war, which annihilated more than half of the Empire’s military forces, the Empress, two Imperial Princesses, and three Princes lost their lives.

The only survivor had been the Crown Prince Lesvan, who had been nine years old at the time.

It was a horrific chapter in the Empire’s history.

It was also the legend that had given birth to the Crown Prince known as the “War Maniac.”

“As expected, it’s nice that you and I communicate so well, Duke.”

When the corners of Lesvan’s lips rose faintly, Kallian felt a deep chill.

There was no point refusing anyway, since next time the Crown Prince would simply bring an Imperial decree bearing the Emperor’s command.

Besides, Agrife was rich not only in food but also in profitable mineral resources, so the compensation for providing military support would undoubtedly be sweet.

“May I ask Your Highness one question?”

Lesvan gave a slight nod, and Kallian continued.

“Does Your Highness intend to reclaim all the former territories of Turesian?”

Crown Prince Lesvan, who bore the nickname “War Maniac,” had always stood at the forefront of wars of conquest.

He had expanded the Empire by brutally crushing his enemies and scattering their blood.

There were not many territories left to reclaim now, but even for those remaining lands, more blood would have to be spilled.

“Breighton was curious about that as well. That boy is always afraid of me.”

At the mention of his half-brother—the Second Prince whom House Klaus had backed—Kallian’s hand twitched briefly.

Second Prince Breighton was the son of the current Empress and had only recently turned nineteen.

“He is still young, Your Highness.”

Lesvan slowly drew the sword from his waist.

The sound of its horrifyingly sharp blade scraping against the scabbard caused everyone’s attention to turn toward the Crown Prince.

“At first, all I could think about was avenging my siblings.”

His quiet voice drifted through the air.

A vivid blue Sword Aura glowed along the tip of the Crown Prince’s sword.

“But at some point, I realized something.”

He continued.

“I was born a conqueror. It is simply in my nature to take things away.”

Then he swung his sword once in a smooth motion.

A slight crack appeared in the air.

In the blink of an eye, the wooden training dummy dozens of meters away was sliced into pieces and came tumbling down.

The soldiers who had been training froze in place and stared blankly at the Crown Prince.

Was that truly the realm of a human being?

Could the rumors really be true? Had he made a contract with a demon?

Even though there was no wind, the scent of blood seemed to emanate from beside the Crown Prince.

“…I will reclaim every territory that once belonged to Turesian. And…”

His golden eyes moved elegantly, carrying a cold light.

“I will burn every kingdom and territory that pointed a sword at Turesian twenty years ago to the ground. I will turn even those who cooperated with them into ashes, and the Empire will swallow the fruits left behind by those traitors.”

“…”

“I would also like to give you a chance to share in the glory of the eventual end of the war. The nobles of Torres are all cowards who tremble at the mere sight of a sword.”

Kallian struggled to hide his appalled expression.

“House Klaus will support His Highness the Crown Prince in every way, both materially and otherwise.”

“Those are pleasant words to hear.”

Lesvan slowly returned his sword to its scabbard.

Everything about Lesvan—his words and actions alike—had hidden weight behind them.

He was also more strategically minded than anyone, methodical in his planning, and a man possessing all the qualities necessary to become Emperor.

If I oppose him, this is a crude threat that he will personally conscript me into the war.

That was also why he always came directly to the ducal residence instead of summoning Kallian to the Imperial Palace.

It carried the implication that the soldiers within the Empire belonged to the Emperor, and that even the forces stationed at the ducal residence belonged to the Emperor.

“Then I’ll have the servants prepare tea.”

Just as Kallian was preparing to summon a servant with a displeased expression, Lesvan’s voice came again.

“As for the tea…”

Lesvan’s lips moved.

His sun-like eyes wavered ever so slightly, but no one noticed the subtle change, like a tiny stone being tossed onto the surface of a lake.

“Have it prepared near the lake. The scenery is quite pleasant there.”

**

An ordinary person would have sensed him before he even came close.

But Lesvan was a master among masters who habitually suppressed his presence.

Essika, who had failed to sense him and ended up running directly into him, let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Then she frowned and inwardly complained.

Why does that Crown Prince keep coming to the ducal residence all the time instead of taking care of state affairs?

It wasn’t actually all the time—it had been nearly five days since his last visit.

But after running into him like this, Essika couldn’t help feeling irritated.

She had appeared before him wearing a maid’s uniform and had even lied about being a maid.

So she should no longer have to encounter him as the Duchess of Klaus.

She intended to uproot the entire Klaus family eventually anyway, but now it felt as though an obstacle had appeared in the path of her freedom.

Still, what was done was done.

With a small sigh, Essika entered the kitchen of the ducal residence.

“This cannot be called an elixir.”

“An… an elixir?”

Through Sella, Essika had bribed the head chef and asked him to prepare an elixir according to her recipe.

But what he had made was nothing more than a terrible-tasting sauce.

In the end, she would have to personally teach him how to make the elixir.

“How dare some rat sneak into my kitchen… Who are you?!”

As Essika entered the kitchen’s storage room, a rough, deep voice came from behind her.

She turned around.

A short, fat, bald man stood there.

It was the head chef, Hemos, holding a large kitchen knife and staring suspiciously at Essika.

“Hoo…”

Essika let out a small sigh and loosened her hands.

Crack.

The sound of her knuckles popping made Hemos’s eyebrows twitch.

Hemos, the head chef.

He had always deliberately prepared food that had been left sitting for several days as Essika’s meals in order to prove his loyalty to the Head Lady.

He had once strutted around under the Head Lady’s protection, but after Yuri began offering jewelry to her, the Head Lady’s attention toward the kitchen had diminished, leaving Hemos displeased.

He and Yuri, who had become the head maid, were constantly keeping an eye on each other.

He was the typical kind of small-minded man who was weak toward the strong and cruel toward the weak.

And being typical meant he would be easy to deal with.

A sinister light soon appeared in Essika’s blue eyes.