The Great Wish - Chapter 36: The Crossroads of Choice (3)

Sienna received astonishing news from her aide.

“The Emperor appointed the Iron King?”

“Yes, it was officially announced just moments ago.”

Yesterday’s emergency council meeting concluded with the decision that the Empire would send troops again at the allied nations’ request. Along with the troops, the Emperor would send a letter of encouragement.

Sienna, knowing the intricate politics of the allied nations, immediately grasped the significance of this letter. Through it, the Emperor would bestow the right to claim the branch of the Sacred Tree to one of the two factions that had split the alliance.

She had briefly wondered who would be appointed as the official envoy to deliver the Emperor’s letter. But to her surprise, the Iron King had been chosen.

“I thought the Emperor intended to pass the throne to the Iron King. In the vision of that possible future, he even fabricated a false maternal family for him.”

If the Emperor had allowed his old grudges to affect his children, surely he would never have appointed the Iron King as the envoy, further distinguishing between the Iron King and the Silver King.

“What is the Emperor thinking?”

The desert—a volatile region on the brink of civil war—was a perilous place. Although the allied nations had come under the Empire’s rule as vassal states, their reputation as exile territory had barely faded. Just recently, the desert had still been viewed as a place of banishment.

“There must have been a discussion during yesterday’s council meeting.”

The council had been divided into two parts. The second half, a closed meeting, was attended only by the Emperor and the heads of the major ducal houses, forming an ad-hoc Imperial assembly. To find out what had been discussed, Sienna would need to hear directly from someone who had been present.

She quickly sent a messenger to Duke Bless’s estate. Late that afternoon, Duke Bless arrived at the Silver King’s palace.

***

“Was there a discussion in yesterday’s meeting about who would be sent as the envoy?” Sienna asked.

The duke nodded. “Yes, that was the main agenda during the latter half of the meeting.”

“And who first suggested the Iron King?”

“His Majesty,” the duke replied.

“The Emperor?” Sienna’s surprise was evident.

“He didn’t explicitly name the Iron King,” the duke clarified, and then relayed the Emperor’s exact words to Sienna:

“Who do you believe would be the most appropriate to carry my letter and represent my will? I intend to grant the envoy considerable authority, given the unpredictable nature of this mission. Should any unforeseen circumstances arise, the envoy will have the power to make decisions, all of which I will endorse. Furthermore, the envoy may need to retrieve the Sacred Tree’s branch if necessary. Now, share your thoughts.”

The authority to act on behalf of the Emperor was significant, but the symbolic role of retrieving the Sacred Tree’s branch was even more crucial. Only a royal family member could bear such a role.

At present, there were only two royals capable of serving as an envoy: the Silver King and the Iron King. The Emperor had indirectly asked the council to choose between them.

“The first to explicitly name the Iron King was Rimone’s representative,” the duke continued.

With Duke Rimone having returned to his duchy, one of his vassals attended the imperial council in his place.

“The representative argued that the Iron King had previous experience in diplomatic missions to the desert, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with the territory and could successfully fulfill the envoy’s duties based on his past experience.”

Sienna offered a bitter smile. If Duke Rimone had been present, he would have made the same argument, she thought. It seemed like praise for the Iron King’s qualifications, but in reality, it was Duke Rimone who had sent the Iron King to the desert years ago, likely hoping to get rid of him.

They probably planned to kill him back then, she mused, remembering how Kuhn had recounted his first meeting with the Iron King. If the Iron King hadn’t been sent to the desert, he wouldn’t have met Kuhn.

If Kuhn hadn’t helped him, Duke Rimone and his mother would have had a much easier time eliminating him.

The irony of it all was striking—the trap they had set for the Iron King had ended up ensnaring them instead.

“There were no significant objections,” the duke added. “His Majesty asked if there were any other opinions twice more, and then he officially announced that the Iron King would be appointed as the envoy.”

“No objections? Even Duke Grossi agreed?” Sienna asked, raising her brows.

Randell recalled Duke Grossi’s tense expression throughout the meeting. His granddaughter was due to give birth soon, and the thought of his grandson-in-law being sent to such a dangerous place must have greatly troubled him.

“Even if Duke Grossi was uncomfortable, he had no real alternative. It’s not an issue anyone wanted to raise, especially when it came to sending the Silver King, who is the heir apparent. Who could seriously suggest sending him instead?”

Sienna made an internal realization.

Duke Grossi doesn’t know.

If the duke had known about the Iron King’s true parentage, he would have fiercely opposed the decision.

“Not even a formal objection?” Sienna asked.

“None,” the duke confirmed.

Randell hadn’t thought much of the meeting at the time, but seeing Sienna’s serious expression now made him reflect on the event with more scrutiny. He came up with a possible explanation for why the decision had been unanimous.

“Perhaps it’s because of the rumors that Marquis Rad has cut ties with the Iron King…” he speculated.

Sienna’s expression darkened. “So they no longer feel the need to consider Marquis Rad?”

Randell cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s what people are saying. The rumor came from the Iron King’s own circle, so everyone treats it as a fact.”

“Hmm.”

The duke coughed softly and added, “Personally, I wanted to align myself with Rimone’s representative’s suggestion yesterday.”

“Duke!” Sienna’s tone turned stern.

The duke immediately raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t! I kept my mouth shut, just as we agreed.”

Randell had promised Sienna not to make any formal moves or statements that would openly support the Silver King.

A few days after meeting Jeffrey, Randell visited the Silver King’s palace. He asked bluntly:

“Your Highness, I’ve heard something. Do you know the secret about the Iron King’s birth?”

He had no reservations about dropping such a bombshell, somehow feeling that the Silver King already knew.

“I do,” the Silver King replied calmly, nodding.

Randell couldn’t read the thoughts of the young princess, not even half his age. He began to wonder if the Silver King truly understood the implications of this secret—how it could change the line of succession.

“What are you thinking?”

“If it is the natural order for the Iron King to ascend to the throne, I won’t go against it.”

Randell almost shouted in disbelief, What madness is this? He barely stopped himself from criticizing the princess directly, instead cursing Marquis Raad inwardly for deceiving the Silver King so thoroughly.

“That snake must’ve fed you lies, saying it’s ‘the natural order,’ with his wicked tongue!” 

“No. He doesn’t even know that I’m aware of it.” 

“The audacity! He’s manipulating events behind the scenes, scheming to place the Iron King on the throne, all while treating you like a fool!” Randell fumed, his temper breaking through. The usually composed duke lost his manners and launched into a tirade of curses against the marquis. It was only after he had vented that he began to calm down, his eyes meeting the wide, startled gaze of the Silver King. Embarrassed, Randell let out a sheepish laugh.

Now that his anger had subsided, he felt genuine concern for the princess.

“Your Highness, you must have gone through so much pain.”

“I doubt it’s more than the Iron King, who’s constantly under threat of death. I owe you an apology, Duke. You’ve given me your unwavering support, yet I can’t promise you future glory.”

The Silver King’s sincere, unguarded smile was blinding, free of any pretense or hypocrisy. In that moment, Randell found himself unable to say anything further.

He observed the prince’s somber expression, his heart heavy with concern, and silently sighed.

What a waste. Truly, what a waste, Randell thought to himself.

It wasn’t that he was hoping for a personal reward if the Silver King ascended to the throne. It was the expectation of the empire’s future under the Silver King’s rule that made Randell’s heart ache with disappointment.

He didn’t know the Iron King well enough to judge his character. But before him stood a perfect ruler in every sense. How could Randell even consider anyone else?

I don’t know about their individual talents since I haven’t had the chance to compare, but in terms of external factors, they are similar, Randell reasoned.

The Silver King had the Rimone family, while the Iron King had Jeffrey Acheron—a source of both power and burden.

But the Silver King wouldn’t allow the Rimone family to control him. That’s what makes him better, Randell thought. If Jeffrey, consumed by revenge, gained power, the empire would fall into chaos.

“…I don’t know.” 

“What’s troubling you?” 

“Why didn’t the Emperor oppose sending the Iron King as the envoy?”

“Why would the Emperor oppose it?”

“I’ve heard that His Majesty once deeply cared for the Iron King’s mother. The Iron King is the son of his former lover.”

Randell’s eyes widened briefly before he burst into laughter.

“To His Majesty, there’s no difference between the Iron King and the Silver King.”

“No difference?”

“Yes. If the Iron King were truly special to the Emperor, he would never have left him to his own devices all these years.”

Randell realized the moment he learned that Prince Dian was Edith’s son that the Emperor cared little for either child. And when he discovered that the Emperor was the mastermind behind the attacks on the Rimone family, he understood the Emperor’s state of mind—driven only by his own emotions.

“Sadly, it seems you don’t know that yet,” Randell thought to himself, recalling his friend. The Emperor would never act as a shield for the Iron King.

***