FMLDM 66

Chapter 66

There Cannot Be Two Suns in the Empire

When Duke Evelyn broke the silence first, the hesitant nobles gained courage and began to speak. He must have hoped that the others would watch and feel ashamed of themselves. Evelyn’s support gave Marquis Libert’s side a different weight altogether. The overwhelming wealth and military might of House Rippler would surely become a great strength for Macaron.

Even though everything seemed to be tilting in Macaron’s favor, his head throbbed. The nobles who had firmly declared for Macaron now openly revealed their stance. In the end, the hall became a battlefield split between Macaron’s and Rainer’s factions.

And once again, the one who halted everything was Soletin.

The Emperor, who had been leaning one arm on the armrest, inhaled deeply and stood up. His slight stagger showed his health was not good, but his voice, steeped in majesty, resonated with strength greater than anyone else’s.

“We will test the Crown Prince’s capability by addressing the Empire’s pressing issues.”

The fierce light returned to Rainer Creid’s eyes, which had been dimming in the fight.

“A pressing issue, you say…?”

“The provocations from the Kingdom of Mitnut have become severe of late. They are blocking the borders, forcing our merchants to endure hardships by taking routes more than double the distance.”

“…”

“I want to hear what the princes think on this matter.”

Mitnut’s provocations had been going on for a long time—since the reign of previous emperors and even up to Soletin now. No emperor had avoided being plagued by this issue. Several times, military action was attempted, but all ended in failure.

One might think it absurd that a mere minor kingdom like Mitnut could resist the great Empire, but that was reality. The land of Mitnut was riddled with countless canyons, making troop movements extremely difficult. On top of that, hidden enemies ambushed Imperial forces, defeating them swiftly.

Thus, the only practical option had always been dialogue, not war.

Rainer seized the chance to speak first.

“Through diplomacy, we must give Mitnut what they seek, and in return, restrain their provocations and invasions.”

The nobles who supported Rainer murmured in agreement, saying his words made sense. But the Emperor’s expression darkened, dissatisfied.

“Macaron, do you share this view?”

Rainer’s face twisted as attention shifted to Macaron. After a brief silence, Macaron looked Rainer straight in the eye and spoke.

“Diplomacy has already failed, hasn’t it? Brother, you attempted it countless times, yet failed each one.”

At the word failure, Rainer’s face flushed red with anger. Indeed, Rainer had involved himself in every matter, from wars to diplomacy, to bolster his standing. But most had ended in failure—including the Mitnut problem.

At first, he had maintained peace by granting their requests, but their shamelessness only grew. Citizens began to avoid the border altogether, and complaints reached the heavens.

“Since I took charge, their provocations have markedly decreased. You, who hid behind the scenes doing nothing—are you now blind to the state of affairs?”

Macaron gazed down at Rainer with a look of pity.

“If you gave away so much, you should not have merely reduced the provocations—you should have ensured they never happened again. Since you speak of state affairs, allow me to say my piece.”

His sharp gaze silenced everyone.

“The reality is that many Imperial merchants still avoid that path and take detours. Brother, perhaps you didn’t know.”

Whereas Rainer’s method was to sneer indirectly, Macaron struck with blunt force. Every noble there knew the mistakes born of Rainer’s incompetence and how much heavier the Empire’s burdens had become because of it. Rainer only sought personal achievements, indifferent to the suffering of the citizens. Whatever generosity he showed abroad, in truth, the Empire’s people paid the price with their lifeblood.

“How much more must the people suffer before you stop? Give away more, and it ceases to be diplomacy—it becomes foolish submission.”

Rainer trembled as if ready to strike him. His pale face was lined with deep creases born of tension. Macaron met his eyes squarely and continued.

“If this continues, if we practice diplomacy by endlessly giving, it won’t be surprising when the Romanti Empire collapses.”

Soletin’s face broke into a faint smile at Macaron’s bold words. Alarmed, Rainer quickly interrupted.

“And that is not something you—who have hidden behind the Empire and done nothing—should be saying…”

“Indeed. But it is also not something you, who failed in every diplomatic effort, should be saying either. Am I wrong?”

Their cold glares clashed, and the hall froze. Then Soletin’s cough broke the silence. His physician rushed in, but Soletin waved them away, signaling his resilience. He turned back to Macaron.

“So, you have a method?”

Soletin knew Macaron well enough to believe he wouldn’t provoke Rainer without a plan. Yet, since no emperor for generations had solved this, he still worried.

“The Empire must…”

At that moment, Marquis Kaelon, sensing the tide shifting toward Macaron, cut him off.

“So are you saying we should go to war with them immediately? And furthermore—”

Soletin frowned at his rudeness.

“Enough. I asked for Macaron’s thoughts, Marquis Kaelon.”

Chastised, Kaelon clenched his teeth and fell silent.

Macaron’s voice, low and steady, filled the chamber.

“Yes. We must go to war.”

War?

The word was so unexpected from Macaron’s lips that I could hardly believe it. He knew well that previous wars had failed, and that diplomacy had become the chosen path. War was a last resort, never the first suggestion.

So why?

I wasn’t the only one startled; murmurs rippled through the hall. To propose war despite knowing he’d be attacked for it—he must have a plan.

As expected, the wolves and jackals wasted no time listing reasons why war was impossible. At the forefront was Rainer Creid.

“Mitnut is a land of countless canyons. We turned to diplomacy only because wars had failed time and again.”

His lecturing tone belittled Macaron.

“Sacrificing the small for the greater good is the principle here. How can you, my brother, utter such foolish words?”

His mocking smile stretched wide. Macaron stood still, enduring the barrage. But his eyes—those were not passive eyes. Having watched him long, I knew them well. They were the red eyes of a black panther, marking its prey.

Following Marquis Kaelon, Rainer’s allies pressed on with fervor. Even the nobles who supported Macaron fell silent, troubled by his stance.

Then the First Crown Princess, Raylin Creid, joined in.

“The real reason we haven’t struck Mitnut is because of the Kingdom of Halatis standing behind them. It seems, Prince, that after so much rest, your grasp of the world’s affairs has dulled.”

“…!”

While nobles often laced words with hidden barbs, rarely did anyone so openly scorn another. The hall fell so silent you could hear breathing.

Turning my head, I saw Macaron unmoving. He clearly had something in mind. Just as he was about to step forward, Raylin shifted her attack—to me.

“What does Lady Calypse think?”

Her tone dripped with contempt. Her eyes swept me from above, carrying the clear message: How dare a mere baroness stand here? Passing the spotlight to me instead of Macaron was a calculated move.

No noble looked at me with expectation—not even Macaron’s supporters. In the Romanti Empire, the children of dukes and those of barons were treated worlds apart. Dukes’ heirs were groomed from childhood with tutors, while barons’ heirs merely attended the academy by law—and nothing more.

When I had humiliated Raylin earlier, the nobles had cheered, but now they bowed their heads, resigned. This was not a household squabble—it was a matter of state. Raylin had struck at Macaron’s weakness by targeting me, his wife of low birth. It was a clever move.

Her lips, trembling with suppressed rage moments ago, now curled in triumph. The many nobles backing Rainer sneered the same way. Duke Evelyn, too, wore a look of disdain.

Macaron met my gaze, as if to intervene. I shook my head. He held back, remaining seated.

Winning the nobles’ recognition was something I had to achieve myself—and in turn, it would fortify Macaron’s position.

In preparation for this succession struggle, I had studied endlessly on the shifts of power and politics. I had also prepared lists of problems Macaron would face as Emperor—and solutions for each. I even bought intelligence unknown to others through the guild.

“The Kingdom of Halatis is currently suffering an unprecedented famine since its founding, shaking the throne itself. Moreover, conflict between priests and magicians has thrown their politics into chaos. They no longer have the capacity to support Mitnut from behind.”

“…”

“As Prince Macaron has said, there will never be a better time than now to wage war.”

“…!”