Chapter 582: Fangs

“So that’s how it is.”

Muen nodded in understanding.

In short, unless His Majesty Aldrich III personally passed the throne to Albert, Albert still had to prove—by some means—that he was the rightful Emperor of the Empire.

And that proof was the King’s Sword.

“So right now, his top priority is to find the King’s Sword and obtain the King’s Sword’s recognition.”

“Recognition?”

Muen asked in surprise, “The King’s Sword has its own consciousness?”

“...”

Celicia looked over again with the expression she used when staring at an idiot. “Even the pair of dual blades in your hands have ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ living spirits inside them. The King’s Sword that has guarded the Empire for a thousand years—why would you think it doesn’t?”

“...Fair.”

Muen let out an awkward dry laugh.

Elizabeth’s foundation came from what had once been one of the holy swords, and with Teacher Mera personally refining and forging it, its pedigree was no joke.

But compared to Elizabeth’s “twenty percent combat power increase at any stage” trait, the King’s Sword could outright “hard-add fifty thousand combat power,” turning an ordinary person into a crowned powerhouse standing at the peak of humanity. That kind of cheat stat was obviously more insane.

But...

Muen suddenly thought of something else, and frowned as he asked,

“But if the King’s Sword has its own consciousness, can Albert really get its recognition?”

Muen tapped his own head, the meaning obvious.

Albert’s mind and soul weren’t original. The moment he came into contact with the King’s Sword, there was no way the consciousness inside it wouldn’t notice. When that happened, would it really recognize someone who wasn’t even truly of the royal family as emperor?

“Probably... it will.”

Celicia’s lashes lowered.

“Why?”

“A living spirit’s intelligence is still no match for a real person’s. It will most likely only act according to preset rules. And I told you before, didn’t I? For the royal family, the most important thing isn’t the mind, and it isn’t the soul—it’s...”

Celicia raised her hand and stared at the back of it. Beneath that pale skin, within those faint blue veins, hot blood was flowing.

“Bloodline. Royal blood. That is the most important thing.”

“Bloodline... and that most important thing was in the enemy’s hand from the very start?”

“Yes. That’s why they were smart. Of course, if they didn’t have that biggest trump card, they wouldn’t even dare sit at this gambling table.”

“But now they not only sat down at the table—they struck first, won big, and raked in chips by the pile.” Muen sighed.

That earlier round of being toyed with—though afterward their side clawed back a little and forced the other party to move before their preparations were fully complete—had only been a small loss for them. It couldn’t possibly break their bones. Their side’s situation was still extremely grim.

But fortunately, it was precisely because of that small loss that everyone was still at the same table, and the outcome was still unknown.

“That’s right. From the current situation, Albert is indeed only one step away from success, and he holds a very large advantage.”

Celicia’s tone didn’t ripple at all, as if she were describing something that had nothing to do with her.

And in those ice-lake eyes of hers, there wasn’t the slightest wave.

“The only way we can win right now is probably to take back the King’s Sword and retake control of the imperial palace, stripping him of the qualifications to sit on that seat. Only then can we nail him to death.”

“Is it hard?”

“Extremely.”

“...Are you afraid?”

Muen suddenly asked.

The two of them obviously weren’t chatting idly at a time like this. They were basically talking while moving.

And now, that palace was not far ahead. It lay in wait within the shadows of the night, like a savage beast opening a bloody maw, ready to choose its prey and devour it.

“Afraid?”

Celicia, still flying forward, glanced back with a puzzled look.

“I mean, we’ve come this far—none of us really have any way back anymore...”

Albert—no, the old thing hiding inside Albert’s body—was absolutely not a merciful person. Once he succeeded in ascending the throne, no matter what price he had to pay, Celicia and the Campbell family were certainly not people he would let off.

These parasites that had been sucking blood from the Empire’s roots for far too long—when it came to their own interests, they didn’t care about the Empire’s long-term future at all. As long as they could protect their power and wealth from being taken away, they probably wouldn’t even blink at something like handing Imperial territory over to the demon race.

“I thought you were about to say something stupid again.”

Celicia suddenly let out a small laugh.

She was someone who rarely smiled, but if he had to describe the smile of this iceberg of a girl, then even this faintly mocking, faintly disdainful, utterly cold smile made Muen feel like the surrounding deep night brightened for an instant.

“Since you’re asking something like that, what do you think—would I be afraid?”

Celicia didn’t answer. She only tossed the question back with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

It looked like she simply didn’t want to respond, but that slightly sideways glance told Muen this wasn’t the kind of question he could brush off casually.

Was this what it meant to throw a stone and hit his own foot?

Not really. How to answer a question like this wasn’t difficult for him anymore—he had plenty of experience.

But...

“If you ask me... I think you probably are a little afraid.”

Muen thought for a moment, rested his chin on his hand, looked out toward the palace, and slowly gave the answer he knew was wrong.

“In such a short time, your two older brothers died one after another. Your father is seriously ill too—life and death unknown. Even if you weren’t close to them, no one could be completely unmoved.”

“And on top of that, the pressure of the entire Empire is on your shoulders now, and you’re not some real iceberg that can carry anything.”

A girl who became adorable when she got drunk—how could she truly be emotionless?

And it was precisely because of that heat hidden beneath the ice that she couldn’t ignore what she’d seen in the lower districts back then, and ended up standing here now.

But she was still, in truth, just a girl—one who was even a year younger than him.

“...Stupid.”

Celicia clearly looked down on Muen’s answer. She snorted and turned her head away.

“Is that so...”

Muen studied the expression on her pretty face, which seemed a shade colder, and smiled.

“Still as arrog—”

Clang—

A longsword slid partway from its sheath.

Muen immediately straightened his face and said seriously, “How could the handsome and powerful Princess Celicia possibly be afraid? I was talking nonsense.”

Clang.

The sword slid back in.

Muen let out a breath.

But looking at Celicia’s unchanged profile, he didn’t know what wire in his head had crossed. He suddenly said,

“Actually... it’s not like I have absolutely no retreat. At worst, some old loli would definitely shelter me, so...”

“Hmm?”

Celicia’s face again showed that adorably puzzled look.

“Ahem... What I mean is, if we really fail by accident... how about I secretly keep you?”

Muen said it with total seriousness.

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a deep, soul-level regret for his brain’s habit of self-destructing at critical moments. His glutes tightened, ready to be punted into the sky by Celicia’s foot.

But...

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

Muen froze, thinking he’d hallucinated.

But a hallucination couldn’t be this moving.

Celicia lightly swept her long bangs aside. Her silver-white hair looked like frost-snow tossed by a breeze. Her gaze flickered slightly as she answered softly,

“I said, sure.”

“...”

The voice was clear as it reached his ears. It definitely wasn’t a hallucination.

Berland was already in late spring, so even at the deepest hour of night, it wasn’t as cold as one might imagine.

And yet Muen felt as if he’d been frozen in place, staring blankly at Celicia’s breathtaking face.

That flawless face was still expressionless, revealing no emotional sway—like an ice sculpture carved by a master.

But deep within those ice-lake blue eyes, there were undercurrents, melting snowwater, restless springlight...

Ripples spread across the lake, and stirred a heartbeat that seemed to resonate in response.

Her lips were like plum blossoms blooming in ice and snow.

Muen stared, and with nothing more than simple words, he couldn’t help being drawn in by that throb that linked their heartbeats together. He unconsciously took a step closer—

“President!”

Viel popped out from who-knew-where. “Everything’s ready!”

“...”

“Huh? Muen Campbell, why are you making that sour face and staring at me? Did I eat your steak? Drink your red wine?”

“...You came at exactly the right time.”

Muen ground the words out through clenched teeth.

“Of course. The situation is urgent right now. I’m obviously not going to waste even a second. What, did you think everyone was like you, always slacking off?”

Viel lifted her little chin, putting on the air of someone who was Princess Celicia’s number-one lackey.

“Since you’re ready,”

Celicia turned slightly, brushed her hair aside again, and spoke as if nothing had just happened,

“Then begin.”

“...”

...

...

Following Viel, the two of them reached a carriage hidden in dense woods.

But as the carriage sped forward, Muen realized they weren’t heading toward the imperial palace at all.

“Where are we going? We’re not going to the palace?”

“You don’t seriously think we’re going to storm the imperial palace head-on with just a handful of people, do you? When it’s under Albert’s control?”

This time Celicia didn’t give him the “are you an idiot” look, because Viel was basically about to shove her mocking face right into his.

“Idiot, idiot, mmph...”

Muen shoved away Viel’s steamed-bun cheeks. “Then we’re going to—”

“We’re here.”

The carriage stopped.

Muen poked his head out and found an extremely vast compound.

No... maybe it shouldn’t be called a compound.

The walls and fencing that met his eyes—each bar looked like an inverted spearhead, gleaming with cold light, with barbed metal netting wrapped around it.

And outside the main gate, those knights standing ramrod straight—on their chests, blood-red roses bloomed in silence.

“This is...”

“Unlike the Royal Mage Corps stationed in the imperial palace, the Royal Knights are split into two parts. The Marigold Knight Order is responsible for guarding the imperial palace, while the other—Blood Rose—handles the upper city’s security and defense work.”

Celicia stepped out of the carriage.

Not long after, a disheveled, potbellied middle-aged man practically rolled and crawled over to Celicia, forcing a smile.

“P-Princess... Your Highness, w-why are you here?”

“Count Charles. Good evening.”

Celicia gave a slight nod. “The imperial palace has suffered a sudden upheaval. Traitors have invaded. I want to borrow some manpower from you to go and eradicate the thieves.”

“Th-Thieves?”

Charles wiped sweat away and gave an awkward laugh.

“There’s no need, is there? Even if the forbidden spell has failed, I think the knight order over there should still be more than enough to handle so-called thieves, right?”

“Oh?”

Celicia lifted her pretty brows. “So Count Charles, who looks like he just crawled out of a woman’s bed, also happens to know the palace’s forbidden spell has failed?”

Charles’s face changed. Terror first—then, in an instant, a dark, ugly look.

He bounced up from the ground like a rubber ball and pointed at Celicia as he shouted, “Kill her! Kill—”

Pfft.

Blood sprayed.

The fat face that had been showing a do-or-die expression gradually stiffened.

“Y-You...”

He slumped to the ground. In his final moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the one who had stabbed him in the back was the subordinate he trusted most.

A lowborn nobody he had personally promoted—so that while he spent his days drinking and whoring around, someone could work like an ox and a horse handling the upper city’s security affairs for him.

And at certain moments, be pushed out to take a blade for him.

But now, the one taking the blade was him.

“Your Highness.”

The knight, drenched in blood, knelt respectfully on one knee before Celicia.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. The entire Blood Rose Knight Order is ready.”

In the darkness, grim shadows wavered, mixed with a thick stench of blood.

That “ready” definitely didn’t mean simply lining up neatly.

Purging dissenters was something every faction had to do when choosing sides.

Toward those absolutely loyal knights, Celicia gave a small nod, approval on her face.

Watching from the side, Muen felt a chill run through him.

Tonight, this princess who was nominally “without any real power” had finally bared her fangs.