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Chapter 08
“Everyone, stop. No one has been granted permission to speak.”
Even though his voice was not particularly loud, it carried enough authority to quiet the commotion.
The Duke of Kiel quietly scanned the assembly before turning his gaze toward Walter. Speaking in as neutral a tone as possible, he said:
“Sir Heiberg, I do not wish to refute your opinion. However, she is an unprepared talent.”
“By unprepared, you mean…”
“Had Your Majesty trained her as a royal heir during her lifetime, grooming her for such a role, I would have accepted your opinion without hesitation. But at present, we need someone capable of leading the royal court immediately.”
“Then allow me to ask just one question.”
Walter, who had been calmly listening to Kiel, slowly closed and reopened his eyes. After a brief silence, he fixed his gaze on empty space and spoke.
“The candidate you are seeking to elect—are they meant to act as a regent entrusted with proxy rule, or as a new king?”
The blunt question echoed through the hall, and the lords collectively held their breath.
No one desired a mere proxy ruler. And none of those present were unaware that everyone in the room had gathered to vie for the next throne.
The general, who had been acutely aware of the political currents, was also not ignorant of this. Walter continued, keeping his gaze locked on Kiel’s eyes:
“If what you are seeking is a discussion on the new king, speak carefully and consider your words. And please, I hope you will recall the first article of the Royal Army’s Code of Service.”
“One, we shall dedicate all our strength to loyalty toward the Parnas royal family and its protection!”
A resounding shout echoed from beyond the windows.
Walter paused, watching the soldiers recite the pre-service code of conduct.
As the officer recited the first article, the soldiers in formation repeated it verbatim. At the officer’s urging to project their voices, the soldiers shouted in unison, straining to be heard.
The unusually loud voices were likely due to the general, who had been stationed at the Western Command for nearly half a year, returning to the central command after a long absence. Or perhaps it was the pride of the lords, who formed the backbone of the royal court, in choosing the central command as the meeting venue.
Though the choice of the central command had been a mere alternative because the palace was sealed off, the soldiers might have misinterpreted the situation.
Walter withdrew his gaze, expression unreadable, unsure whether he was pleased or annoyed by the display of military discipline.
“Sir Heiberg.”
A gentle voice tinged with a western accent brushed past his ears, and Walter slowly turned to face it, collecting his expression.
A gracious lady approached with a fluttering fan, walking slowly. Her short hair had been pulled tightly and pinned up with precision, not a single strand out of place—a reflection of her meticulous character.
“Long time no see, Marquis Rutherford. I should have greeted you before the meeting, my apologies.”
Benedicta Rutherford, the Marchioness, waved her plump arms and chuckled in reply.
“The meeting was called in such a hurry, you probably wouldn’t have had time for formalities anyway. Are you returning to the command?”
“Yes. Has the meeting already ended?”
“Oh, that meeting today was merely a formality to impress you. The person whose permission was needed has already left, so what meaning would the meeting have had?”
Rutherford covered her mouth with her fan as she smiled. Despite her gentle expression, her eyes, as she looked up at Walter, were sharp and calculating, like a predator surveying its prey.
“There was quite a commotion after you left. It was rather amusing.”
“I don’t imagine anything particularly amusing occurred.”
“Aren’t you curious what was discussed?”
Folding her fan, she lifted a curious smile. Not waiting for an answer, she continued speaking with sparkling eyes:
“You might think differently, but no one in the council considers the late king a truly competent ruler. The Duke of Kiel managed the great famine, and you, Sir Heiberg, quelled the Talschyn rebellion. What did His Majesty accomplish when the kingdom was in crisis? Even producing multiple heirs, meant to stabilize the crown, is now useless in the current situation.”
“Marquis Rutherford, speaking ill of the royal family is…”
“I’m not trying to slander them. Don’t you see the point I’m making?”
Walter, expressionless, slowly shook his head. She paused, carefully checking if anyone nearby was listening.
“You value the royal family above all, but the council desires reform. They are tired of the Parnas line. Perhaps if you were to take the throne, they might follow willingly.”
Walter’s gaze turned cold at her frank words.
“I am a protector of the royal family, not a claimant to the throne.”
“That’s precisely the problem.”
Crossing her arms and tapping her side with the fan, Rutherford continued:
“There were always those who disliked you. Because you hold military power, they have kept their distance, but now someone will try to break you.”
“Is that so.”
“Just my opinion, but the person who could earn your loyalty and establish a new dynasty…”
“The Duke of Kiel cannot become king.”
Her words halted at his firm reply. Walter brushed back his disheveled hair, tired eyes returning.
“He genuinely cares for Parnas, so his ambition is understandable. But I cannot support him as my sovereign.”
“Then who could be your king?”
“Well, none of those present are suitable candidates, even if it isn’t him.”
Rutherford laughed at last, releasing the humor she had been holding back.
Walter, puzzled, tilted his head. She continued for a long while, then rubbed some powder off her fingers, smiling wryly.
“Everyone has been waiting for the day the pinecones fall, not realizing the tree should have been in the pine forest. I thought we had faithfully served for a long time, yet here we are. Why can’t we be kings?”
Walter studied her carefully, noting the serious light in her eyes beneath the seemingly casual tone. Realizing she asked sincerely, he chose his words carefully.
“Lords are politicians.”
A soft breeze from the window tousled his hair. Brushing it aside with evident annoyance, he continued:
“If you had to choose between saving fifty dying refugees or distributing fifty cows to your subjects, which would you choose?”
“Personally, I would choose the refugees, but considering the position and practical needs of the subjects… I would choose the latter.”
“Exactly. Politicians are seekers of interest; they always act to gain something. They never willingly take a loss.”
She nodded, urging him to continue. Walter stepped back slightly, adopting a more formal posture as he looked at her.
“I don’t criticize this. It is their nature, and their duty. And so is mine. Though I speak of protection and loyalty in noble words, what I do mostly involves eliminating or sidelining threats for gain. But a king…”
Walter pursed his lips, lowering his voice.
“A king is one who embraces and protects all. He sees the future objectively and endures losses for the sake of the right path. We are merely his subordinates, calculating our gains to follow and implement his ideals.”
“That’s rather vague. Enduring losses? So we cannot be kings?”
Walter pondered briefly, then added gravely:
“Yes. All present, not just you, would choose the cows over the refugees. That is why they cannot be kings.”
“And the king? Will he choose the refugees?”
“Yes. While choosing the refugees, he will command his subordinates to secure the cows. Then he will distribute the cows among the refugees, turning them into farmers.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Oh my, a third option.”
Walter exhaled deeply, allowing a pause, and slowly nodded.
“To choose the path uncharted by others. To guide everyone along the correct path, even if it takes time. That is the righteous path a king must walk.”
Rutherford smiled faintly, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at him.
“The king you envision is rather exacting. Then, in your view, who is currently the closest to being king?”
