Masaran was truly displeased with the topics being discussed at the recent state council meeting.

As the defeated nation, they had to pay war reparations demanded by Aglante, but the current Brinwell treasury couldn’t afford the amount the king was demanding.

However, if they didn’t pay the reparations, it was clear as day that war would break out again.

Although Aglante wasn’t free from the aftermath of conscription, their situation was different from here. Regardless of the internal bloodshed, Aglante’s royal authority was now stronger than ever. This was because all those who had been dissatisfied with the current king had been executed.

If it were the previous king, he could have turned the negotiation intentions towards Tesendot or Egelbamot. Tesendot was the previous king’s maternal family, and Egelbamot was a long-standing ally.

But the current king had no blood-related maternal family, and he wasn’t so attached to alliances made in the previous generation. The Egelbamot royal family also tried to unite with such a king rather than restraining him. After all, it was the living side that held the throne, and even if it was only half, the bloodline of Sigrasal wasn’t going anywhere.

Although he wasn’t unaware of this situation, Masaran couldn’t bring himself to accept the reparations demanded by the king. The country’s finances were already tight. To pay such a large amount, they would have to impose taxes beyond what they had predicted.

And raising tax rates was absolutely one of the things that shouldn’t be done right now. Not for the noble reason that the people’s lives would become harder.

For some reason he couldn’t understand, Masaran was receiving the least support from the people among all historical heads of state.

He wasn’t expecting the same trust as his father who had ruled for half a century. But shouldn’t he at least have as much popularity as Hator?

Yet the people seemed to favor the dead Hator more. The fact that Hator was the cause of the defeat didn’t seem to matter to them at all. No, rather, there was a tendency to idolize him more because he was dead. He was treated as a sort of tragic hero who lost his life at a young age.

Masaran was convinced that someone was hiding among the crowd to stir up such public opinion to undermine him, but he lacked the most important physical evidence.

Just because there was no physical evidence didn’t mean he couldn’t guess the culprit. The one inciting public opinion was likely Amarelda, who had lost her husband. Recently, Masaran’s relationship with her had become very poor. They hadn’t been close even when Hator was alive, but they became completely estranged after Amarelda was displeased by what he said following his brother’s death.

Masaran was determined to get back at her for what she had done, but there was no way to immediately boost his fallen popularity.

In this situation, if he raised taxes as well, riots would break out like in the distant country of Reden.

Moreover, Masaran was in a position where he had to soon hold his coronation ceremony. Although his father hadn’t said anything about it yet, there was no one else to ascend to the throne but him.

Masaran didn’t want to be the first king to be booed at his coronation ceremony.

So he had to somehow resolve the war reparations issue.

But the palace ministers only opposed his opinions at every turn without offering any proper solutions. All they ever said was this couldn’t be done for this reason, and that couldn’t be done for that reason.

The only person he could have an open conversation with, the Second Prince, had left for Aglante on personal business. He went to collect the debt from the current Aglante Queen, who was the sister of the Reden Prince who had passed away without repaying it.

It was then, as Masaran was walking down the palace corridor with his complicated thoughts, that a child caught his eye.

“Namie?”

“Hello, Uncle.”

And Namie bowed her head politely. Gone was the willful behavior from when she had been raised pampered by her parents, replaced by a courteous attitude.

Masaran knew that this wasn’t so much that she had developed manners that weren’t there before, but rather that she was intimidated. Given that the justification for starting the war had been to reclaim Namie’s throne, her position in the palace had become very precarious now that they had lost the war.

But rather than feeling sorry for his niece in such a situation, Masaran found her irritating. He thought that if only Namie hadn’t existed, the war wouldn’t have happened, and he wouldn’t have to worry about war reparations.

If the war hadn’t happened, Hator wouldn’t have died in battle, and he wouldn’t have had to replace his brother’s empty position, but Masaran didn’t think about such aspects. He was originally only sensitive to areas where he suffered losses.

However, he couldn’t openly mistreat her with eyes watching. Masaran cleared his throat and asked.

“Where have you been?”

Although his voice was no different from before, his gaze looking down at her was not kind. Seeming to feel self-conscious, Namie shrank her shoulders a little and said.

“I was called by His Majesty the King and am on my way back.”

“By Father?”

Masaran frowned at the unfamiliar combination. Strictly speaking, Namie was his father’s grandchild, but his father wasn’t the type to dote on blood relatives. It wasn’t his father but Masaran himself who had taken care of Namie when she sought asylum in Brinwell after losing her parents.

It was then that someone approached from behind Namie.

“I greet you, Your Highness the Prince.”

An old man with a stern expression bowed to him. It was a greeting impeccable in outward courtesy, but Masaran immediately frowned.

This old man standing behind Namie was Amarelda’s relative and the Prime Minister of this country. He was also an old friend of his father who always opposed him in state affairs.

But openly showing hostility here would only add another flaw to his father’s ears, with nothing to gain. Suppressing his annoyed feelings with effort, Masaran asked.

“Prime Minister, why did Father summon Namie?”

“Princess Namie is no different from the King’s grandchild. Does a grandfather need a reason to keep his grandchild close?”

“I know Father to be someone who even lines up his sons to deal with them.”

“Perhaps his strictness has faded for a descendant born a generation later.”

Realizing there was nothing more to gain from further conversation, Masaran slightly raised his chin and walked past them. It was an outright dismissal, but the Prime Minister didn’t express any dissatisfaction. After all, he would soon become king anyway…

“…Wait.”

Come to think of it, his father hadn’t clearly declared that he would abdicate to him.

But if not him, who else was there to inherit the throne? Pausing briefly, Masaran mentally retraced the royal family tree. There were only him and Hator in the direct line, and Hator was dead. Hator and his wife Amarelda had no children, and all of his father’s siblings had also passed away…

“…Namie.”

Namie was the child of the son born from his father’s half-sister who had married the King of Aglante.

Among the justifications for the war was also that Namie had Brinwell’s Rognak royal blood mixed in her.

His father, who had never paid attention to the child, now seeking her out, and his father’s old friend standing behind that child.

Masaran’s expression hardened as he realized what this situation meant. He slowly turned around. Namie and the Prime Minister were already walking far away.

After watching their retreating figures for a moment, Masaran looked ahead again.

It didn’t matter what his father thought. He had to be the one to ascend to the throne.

His tightly set lips now held the determination to do whatever it took to make that happen.

The Sigrasal royal palace he returned to hadn’t changed much from before.

According to secretly transmitted news, there had been a brief siege, but it seemed the Aglante elders were more incompetent than he had thought. Netepel clicked his tongue as he looked at the castle walls that showed almost no signs of damage.

He was now not only entering Edegrun, the capital of Aglante, but was in the process of entering the Sigrasal royal palace, the heart of Edegrun.

Although it was virtually the heart of enemy territory, he decided to go to Aglante without hesitation. There was only one reason. Ophelia had called for him.

Of course, Bahamal was opposed, as expected. But Netepel expressed his intention by leaving that loyal and somewhat irritating servant behind in Brinwell.

After all, how could he not go when Ophelia was calling for him?

Especially because their last meeting had ended on a bad note, Netepel needed to see her face. Although he was also good at writing letters, he was more talented in speaking than writing. So it would be easier to persuade the other party by meeting face to face rather than sending a letter.

Besides… wasn’t he in a position to receive something from Ophelia?

It wasn’t that he had an irrational preference, but Netepel felt pleasure when people were in a subordinate position to him. Especially if it was Ophelia who was yielding to him… there was no need to say more.

Just as he was unknowingly raising the corners of his mouth, the carriage that had passed through the first wall of the royal palace came to a stop.