Chapter 158
Patriot
Yaldemar Golt.
House Golt was a family of founding contributors, and its descendants had maintained a reputation worthy of that legacy.
As was often the case with hereditary nobles, the more exceptional one generation was, the greater the expectations placed upon the next.
And nine times out of ten, those heightened expectations went unmet.
That had been the case with Yaldemar Golt’s father.
He had left behind the greatest achievements in the history of House Golt, and people had said Yaldemar would never surpass him.
Yet Yaldemar had become a great grand duke who exceeded even his father.
He never hesitated.
That was the reason Grand Duke Golt had succeeded.
Just as he had boldly pursued elitist policies and cultivated the image of a hero, he had been equally ruthless in his covert schemes.
Whenever someone seemed likely to obstruct him, he removed them.
And if necessary, he killed them.
As Yaldemar aged, his experience only grew, and he rarely held anyone younger than himself in high regard.
Ferda was one of those rare exceptions.
Ferda Valdrova.
Ferda Valdrova’s reputation in the imperial capital was poor.
Being thrown to the Princeps as her fiancé meant that one was considered useless refuse, and Ferda had been exactly that kind of person.
Anyone who genuinely believed he was a capable regent and lord was no different from a fool who still believed the fairy tales of childhood.
And what about his behavior during the recent procession?
The man who is supposed to represent the Princeps’ territory is acting like a complete idiot.
So the rumors about nobles really are nothing more than rumors.
Because he had gone through the ceremony without smiling, maintaining a cold and gloomy demeanor, the nobles had reacted even more negatively.
It had been no different from turning a festival at its height into a dreary funeral that ruined everyone’s appetite.
Refusing to follow the mood of the crowd was no trivial matter.
In common terms, he was a bastard who could not read the room.
At least, that was true until he defied the ruling.
To Yaldemar, the murmuring that erupted when Ferda refused sounded like this:
They had cornered him.
Defying the Crisis Response Committee’s decision was an act that undermined its authority.
No one in their right mind would do such a thing.
It was also an insult to Yaldemar, who was revered as a hero of the people.
But I should never have allowed him to speak after that.
Yaldemar admitted that it had been a mistake born of his own complacency.
He had left Ferda the smallest opening, expecting him to destroy himself.
He had never imagined Ferda would use it to overturn the entire situation.
That mechanical, socially oblivious man had spoken with genuine emotion when it came to his fiancée.
That emotion had carried a noble cause, and from it came the power to captivate the audience.
As though kneeling had merely been a way to gather momentum, Ferda had struck at the opening and soared into the sky.
Because of that, Yaldemar had failed to create the public perception that the disaster had occurred because the Far East had failed in its defensive duty.
He needed to shift the atmosphere before it settled.
That was why he had postponed the decision and called a recess.
Ferda Valdrova...
Yaldemar recalled the name and everything he knew about its owner.
He placed the man upon the scales in his mind.
How valuable was he?
“Elder.”
At that moment, Alexander approached and blocked his path.
Yaldemar read the look in Alexander’s eyes.
They were filled with dissatisfaction.
“I have nothing to discuss with you right now. Leave.”
Yaldemar ignored him and continued walking.
“This is not what we agreed upon.”
“And what exactly did we agree upon? Was it not that I would spare your life?”
“It was.”
“Your severed head seems to have been reattached quite well. The dullahans would envy you.”
“That is not the point...! You handed my authority to my younger brother, the one everyone currently has such high expectations for. How is that any different from placing an expiration date on my life!?”
Alexander shrieked in protest.
Yaldemar sighed and turned his head.
Contempt gleamed chillingly across his face.
“You fool. How can you not understand that this was the best possible outcome?”
“How can it be the best outcome when the opportunity has been handed to my brother?”
“If you had managed to produce even one prince during all the time you had, there would have been no need to go this far.”
Alexander’s face turned bright red.
“Th-that is...”
“Why? Are you embarrassed? Yes, of course you are. The public believes that the Crown Princess is physically incapable of conceiving, but you know that the real problem lies with you.”
“The way your head is hanging right now looks exactly like the thing dangling between your legs.”
Yaldemar merely clicked his tongue, yet Alexander felt as though his shins were tingling.
His spirit completely crushed, Alexander could not even answer.
“I will say it again. I gave you an opportunity, boy.”
“An opportunity?”
“The throne is a position where one must endure every humiliation. Dragging someone down is easy. Remaining in place is difficult. How many years did you endure there?”
“T-ten years.”
“Yes. After ten years, you should be able to write with your eyes closed. Merely looking at a map of the Empire should bring every landscape vividly to mind. You should know which regions have suffered famine and which are on the verge of disaster.”
Yaldemar patted Alexander on the shoulder.
“You already hold the advantage over Ureas when it comes to information. It is a game where you begin five moves ahead and with three points already secured. If you still cannot win from that position, would it not be easier on your heart simply to give up?”
“I apologize, Elder. I spoke far beyond my station...”
“Enough.”
Yaldemar had never expected anything from Alexander in the first place.
“Did you do what I ordered?”
“Yes, of course. She cooperated very actively.”
“Good. That is how it should be...”
The plan was progressing smoothly.
Even so, the worry on Yaldemar’s face showed no sign of fading.
His mind was occupied entirely by a single woman.
“There is one thing I am curious about.”
“Please ask.”
“Olivia.”
Yaldemar leaned closer.
“What exactly is the relationship between that girl and the Regent?”
“What? Well... they have grown close after speaking frequently, but not in a romantic sense.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“O-of course! She is the woman I observe most closely. How could I not know what she is thinking? The Regent is merely one more fish among the countless others in her pond.”
Alexander sounded certain, but his words only made Yaldemar more suspicious.
Yaldemar was praised as a hero of the people.
Maintaining that reputation required the ability to see through the hearts of others, and he believed himself more than capable of doing so.
That was why he also understood Olivia’s nature well.
She constantly wore a mask and sought to make men into allies so that she could escape difficult situations.
Olivia was exceptionally skilled at walking that precarious tightrope, where one misstep could send her falling.
There was coldness beneath her warm-looking smile, and a stubborn firmness that pierced the ear beneath her fluttering voice.
And yet, that Olivia...
The look in Olivia’s eyes when she gazed up at Ferda had been different.
As Yaldemar recalled her expression, a woman buried deep in his memories came to mind.
Stella Arken.
The woman destined to have been mine.
Yet that destiny had scattered pointlessly, like cherry blossoms in the wind.
Yaldemar had mourned.
He had mourned her selfishness in rejecting fate.
He had mourned the cold death that fate had placed between them.
Once was enough for such sorrow.
There would be no further tragedy.
Yaldemar decided to send a letter.
After the recess, Ferda returned to his lodgings.
They were staying at a luxury inn reserved for nobles.
Even a single room there was more than spacious enough, but Ferda had rented out the entire establishment.
And that was not all.
For a second layer of security, they had erected a field tent and sealed it thoroughly so that not even the slightest gap remained.
Consilus inspected the security arrangements with his subordinates, then returned to the tent and reported.
“We checked every window, and there are no suspicious individuals anywhere in the surrounding area.”
“You’ve worked hard, Count.”
“It was hardly work at all. A simple task like this is nothing.”
“I am not merely thanking you for inspecting the security. I am also grateful for how well you handled yourself at the Golden Council.”
Consilus gave a hearty laugh.
“If anything, I should be the one thanking you. Since coming to the Far East, I have rarely had the opportunity to stand before the Golden Council...”
Had another noble said that, Ferda might have thought it was an obsession with appearing before the Golden Council.
But coming from Consilus, it sounded as though he had simply wanted the opportunity to stand there as a representative of the Far East.
“We must prepare for tomorrow now.”
“If there is anything this old man can do to help, please tell me. I will gladly follow your command.”
Consilus placed a hand over his chest and bowed respectfully.
“I’m sorry, but it would be better if you did not involve yourself from this point onward.”
“May I ask why you think so?”
“If you try to defend me carelessly, the backlash may fall upon you instead. From here on, I want you merely to watch.”
“Hmm...”
Consilus could not immediately say that he understood.
The future of the Far East rested upon Ferda’s back.
He regarded Ferda with worried eyes before finally answering.
“Understood. This old man will watch over you, Regent.”
Consilus bowed and prepared to withdraw.
Just as he was about to leave, the knight standing guard lifted the tent flap and spoke to him.
“Regent.”
Consilus walked back over to Ferda and handed him the object the knight had delivered.
His expression was grim.
“A letter has arrived.”
Ferda unfolded it.
The contents were brief and forceful.
I will prepare a carriage. Come alone.
Yaldemar Golt’s name was written in the signature field.
Ferda decided to indulge him.
A carriage was waiting outside for Ferda, and it carried him into the imperial palace.
He had clearly come at Golt’s invitation, yet three or four times as many people welcomed him as had greeted him when Olivia invited him.
The irony was almost absurd.
Golt should have been a guest here as well, yet he was treated like the master of the palace.
Ferda made his way to the reception room where Yaldemar awaited him.
“Welcome, Regent Ferda.”
“I greet Your Grace.”
“Let us not waste time on pointless greetings and formalities. Men like us have no need for such things, do we?”
Ferda could only be grateful to hear that.
“Understood.”
Ferda straightened his back and walked inside.
Yaldemar gestured to a servant.
As though everything had already been prepared, the servant brought out a teapot and liquor.
A perfectly brewed cup of black tea was placed before Ferda, while a glass of whiskey with ice was set before Yaldemar.
Without saying anything, Ferda began by drinking his tea.
“After watching what you did today, I must admit I was impressed.”
Yaldemar swirled the ice in his glass before taking a drink.
“I did not underestimate you, but neither did I overestimate you. I thought I had prepared for you just the right amount, yet you still caught me off guard.”
“Is that so?”
“Boy, you may show a little more pleasure. It is extremely rare for me to praise anyone. You are far more capable than that fool Alexander.”
“Being compared to the Crown Prince makes the compliment sound even less flattering.”
“He may have a tendency toward stupidity, but he knows how to read a situation. He understands perfectly well which side he must cling to if he wants to survive.”
Yaldemar chuckled.
“Judging from what I have seen, you must have prepared for the possibility of this postponement as well. You probably have a rough idea of what you intend to do next, so let us discuss that.”
Ferda wondered whether this was some cheap attempt to extract information from him.
But it was nothing of the sort.
“I am speaking of Duke Yurei.”
Ferda could not hide his surprise.
He had never imagined Yaldemar would mention the matter so openly.
“Your intelligence agents have likely noticed already, but Duke Yurei has entered the palace.”
“Is that so?”
“Ever since he fell into debt, he has been no different from a tiger that has lost its fangs. But that does not mean he can be ignored. Do you know why?”
“Because he has nothing left to lose.”
Yaldemar nodded.
“They say there is no sorrow greater than losing one’s child. When a man reaches that point, he tends to go to one of two extremes. He either becomes enraged or gives up entirely. Consilus chose resignation. Yurei chose rage.”
“I see.”
“Do you believe you can stop that rage?”
Ferda did not know.
Rage was like fire.
Once it had grown large enough, it was not something even Ferda could afford to underestimate.
When Ferda failed to answer immediately, Yaldemar continued as though that silence itself had been an answer.
“You appear far wiser than I imagined, so this conversation should be easy. First, I need another drink. What about you?”
“I still have half of mine left.”
“I see. Then only mine.”
A servant removed the glass that contained nothing but ice and placed a fresh drink before him.
“Do you know how I have managed to survive in this world for so long?”
“I do not.”
“It is because I am a patriot. The reason I have not retired even at my age is that I still worry about this country.”
He drank his whiskey and continued.
“The Empire is in chaos. Rural farmers who should be tending their fields have gathered into gangs and are disrupting public order. They are becoming rats that gnaw away at the country from within.”
Ferda wondered whether it was drunken nonsense, but Yaldemar’s eyes did not waver in the slightest.
His curiosity stirred, and he asked,
“If you love this country so much, why not lead it yourself?”
Yaldemar possessed more than enough ability to sweep aside an incompetent emperor and his incompetent children.
“To rule... If I truly wished to, I suppose it would be possible.”
Yaldemar gave a short laugh, looking at Ferda as though he found the question endearing.
“But what would happen if I dragged the Emperor from his throne? The rise of a new sun would inevitably throw the political order into chaos. A fool who blindly climbs the mountain of power might choose such a path, but it is not the path of a patriot. I do not desire that.”
There was one truth in his words that Ferda could accept.
Had Yaldemar truly set his mind to it, he could indeed have ascended all the way to the imperial throne.
After finishing two glasses of whiskey, Yaldemar smacked his lips.
“I would like to ask you something. Are you a patriot?”
“Yes.”
“Was that too vague? What I meant was this: if the Empire ordered you to die, would you do so?”
“I would not.”
Ferda answered bluntly.
“They tried to skin me alive today. How could I possibly remain loyal to them?”
“Do you not wish to become their dog?”
“I am already a dog. However, just as there cannot be two suns beneath the heavens, I have only one master.”
Ordinarily, Yaldemar might have scoffed at such words.
This time, he did not.
He merely stared at Ferda, so Ferda asked him directly.
“Will you punish me because I am not a patriot?”
“Of course not. The rats already make up more than half of the Golden Council. I could kill them all and change the balance of power, but I will not. History would only repeat itself.”
No matter how superhuman a man might be, he could not change the hearts of every person.
“More importantly, I received a certain promise from the Emperor.”
And above all else, there was only one thing Yaldemar truly obsessed over.
“That is why I cannot help but ask you.”
“Go ahead.”
“What do you think of Princess Olivia?”
When he spoke her name, Ferda looked into Yaldemar’s eyes.
They burned with the virile intensity of a man.
Or perhaps it was an indescribable obsession and madness.