The Great Wish - Chapter 36: The Crossroads of Choice (4)

Jeffrey’s anger surged as he saw the Emperor leisurely sipping tea. Before his emotions could show on his face, he bowed his head.

“Your Majesty, I offer my greetings.”

“What is it?” the Emperor’s voice was indifferent, irritated by the interruption of his rest.

Jeffrey clenched his teeth. He had come deliberately to find the Emperor in the courtyard, hoping that away from the formal setting of the study or the office, he might engage in a more candid conversation.

“I have something urgent to discuss with Your Majesty.”

“If it’s a long matter, come to the study later.”

“I’m too anxious to wait, Your Majesty. I beg you to spare me a moment now.”

The Emperor’s indifferent gaze turned toward Jeffrey. With a casual wave of his hand, the servants around them retreated.

“Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Jeffrey pulled out a chair and sat at the table.

“I’ve heard that Your Majesty visits the courtyard daily,” Jeffrey began, attempting to ease into the conversation with light small talk.

“That tree,” the Emperor said, pointing. Jeffrey turned fully to see what the Emperor was gesturing at.

“The tree with white spots on its trunk—do you see it?”

“Yes.”

“Your sister gave it to me.”

Jeffrey’s eye twitched. An image of his forgotten homeland sprang to mind. It was a type of cypress that grew near the Acheron duchy.

“How… that tree only grows in very specific soil conditions.”

“So I’ve heard. It was originally in a pot. Later, they brought soil from Acheron to transplant it here. They say the tree has a calming effect on people.”

“Yes…”

Jeffrey blinked rapidly to stop the moisture from gathering in his eyes.

So, that’s why… Jeffrey now understood why the Emperor spent so much time in the courtyard.

This is perfect, he thought. He had come to talk about the Iron King. No matter how cold the Emperor’s heart might be, surely, with this tree reminding him of Edith, he couldn’t turn away from the son she left behind. Jeffrey turned back to face the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, I’ve heard that you appointed the Iron King as the envoy to the allied nations.”

“I did.”

Jeffrey’s voice became grave. “Your Majesty, I implore you to reconsider.”

The Emperor, who had been resting his chin on his hand while gazing at the tree, shifted his eyes to Jeffrey.

“That decision was made in consultation with the council.”

“Your Majesty is the final decision-maker.”

“If not the Iron King, then who should go?”

“There are others who can go.”

Jeffrey didn’t directly mention the Silver King, but the implication was clear. There were only two royals suitable for the mission: the Iron King and the Silver King.

Their gazes locked. The Emperor, catching the resentment in Jeffrey’s eyes, chuckled faintly.

Jeffrey, whether deliberately or not, barely concealed the fury in his expression—fury that bordered on hostility. Such audacity would have been unforgivable from anyone else, but the Emperor chose to overlook it.

It wasn’t because Jeffrey was Edith’s brother. It was because every time the Emperor looked into Jeffrey’s eyes, he was reminded of her, stirring old memories even more vividly.

“Why shouldn’t the Iron King go?”

“It’s dangerous. The desert is a place where monsters roam. Furthermore, the Iron Queen is about to give birth. With such uncertainty in travel times, the Iron King might miss his child’s birth. And if the Iron King’s succession rights are restored, he is your heir.”

“There’s no real danger—he’s not going alone, and a whole army is being dispatched with him. Even if he misses the birth, what difference does it make? The Iron Queen will give birth safely in the palace. As for the succession, it doesn’t matter. Either the Iron King or the Silver King will inherit after me. All of your concerns are dismissed.”

“Your Majesty!”

Jeffrey almost shouted, but bit down on his anger. Angering the Emperor would only make matters worse.

“Dian is Edith’s son,” he pressed.

The Emperor’s gaze drifted into the distance. Jeffrey believed the Emperor was looking past him at the cypress tree behind him.

“If Edith hadn’t been pregnant, she wouldn’t have died.”

Jeffrey’s eyes widened in shock. His hands, resting on the table, trembled violently, and he clenched his fists. In his heart, he had already punched the Emperor’s face a hundred times over.

“How could you say such a thing, Your Majesty…?”

“Talking about the past is pointless. I hold no ill will toward the Iron King.”

Jeffrey’s tension eased slightly.

“Did the Iron King say he doesn’t want to go?”

Jeffrey hesitated, unable to answer. Dian didn’t know Jeffrey had come to meet the Emperor at all.

“If he doesn’t want to go, let him come and tell me himself. He shouldn’t hide behind you.”

“Your Majesty, the Iron King didn’t send me in his place. I came of my own accord.”

“That’s exactly my point. Why are you making decisions for him?”

“….”

The Emperor rose from his seat, but Jeffrey did not move to offer a proper farewell. The Emperor, seemingly indifferent to Jeffrey’s rudeness, simply let it pass.

“Tell the Iron King to come to me. Someone unwilling shouldn’t be given the role of envoy.”

The Emperor walked past Jeffrey without another word. His attendants, who had reappeared from the shadows, trailed behind him like a silent procession.

Jeffrey remained seated, frozen in place for a long time, his emotions roiling inside. He struggled to contain his anger, swallowing it down again and again.

After becoming an investigator and making his survival known to the world, Jeffrey managed to contact the surviving members of House Acheron. They had concealed their identities and continued to live in the Acheron duchy. Through regular communications, they informed him of troubling developments within the Rimone duchy.

Jeffrey had become convinced that the Emperor had begun his long-awaited revenge. He believed that the Emperor’s hatred for the Rimone family was something they shared.

“Your Majesty, it’s unwise to destroy the Rimone family too quickly. In the long run, it won’t benefit the Empire.”

The Emperor had responded coldly:

“You overstep.”

Leaving the audience with a sense of humiliation, Jeffrey couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. But now, he was certain.

The Emperor doesn’t care about Edith or the Iron King. All he wants is to quench his own thirst for revenge.

***

There was someone who rejoiced at the news of the Iron King’s appointment as the envoy to the desert.

“The Iron King, heading to the desert?”

Patricia’s eyes gleamed with a sharp, vindictive light. She had been simmering with frustration, unable to act against the Iron King, who had remained secure in his position. Even the troublesome Marquis Rad had distanced himself from the Iron King.

“I can’t let this opportunity slip away.”

This might be her last chance to remove the Iron King from her path once and for all.

In the empire, the Emperor held supreme authority, but the next most powerful figures were the vassal kings. A king enjoyed considerable power under the Emperor’s approval, and any attempt to harm a king was seen as a direct challenge to the Emperor’s authority.

Once a royal received a title and fiefdom, they became untouchable as a vassal king. Ever since Dian had been made the Iron King, Patricia could no longer openly scheme against him.

No matter how much Patricia raged about wanting to eliminate the Iron King, her ability to act within the palace was limited. For something decisive to happen, she needed full support from the Rimone family, but Doug had been uncooperative.

Doug’s attitude had been frustratingly passive, as if saying, Why be so anxious? The Silver King will take the throne eventually anyway. Patricia had been growing increasingly irritated with her brother’s complacency.

“We should have gotten rid of him back then.”

Patricia still regretted missing the perfect opportunity when Dian had been sent as an envoy to the desert before. That failure haunted her, but she resolved that this time, she would not let the chance slip away.

Ever since the Iron King had been granted his title, Patricia had felt like something was stuck in her chest, an irritation that only his removal would resolve. Nothing could be allowed to stand in the Silver King’s way.

“With Doug absent, this might actually be better. At least he won’t be a hindrance for once.”

Patricia pouted. Recently, Doug had come to the capital briefly without even seeing her, and the sting of that neglect still hadn’t faded.

“He lacks decisiveness. He’s nothing like our father.”

Doug’s inability to properly handle the crisis in the duchy was only further proof of his ineptitude. At first, Patricia had been concerned, but as time passed, she found herself disgusted by his weakness. If their father were still alive, none of this chaos would have occurred.

“Once the Iron King is gone, everything else will fall into place.”

Patricia scoffed as she thought about the Iron Queen. The woman was naive and inexperienced—handling her would be a simple task.

Patricia had never publicly shown any discomfort toward Violet. In fact, she had always been courteous, even sending congratulations when she heard about the Iron Queen’s pregnancy.

If Patricia had openly tormented the Iron Queen, people would have seen her true nature. But she knew better than to resort to such crude methods. Acting obviously hateful would only draw unwanted attention.

In social circles, Patricia was known for her clear-cut preferences. Many had fallen out of her favor, unable to attend the social gatherings she dominated. People whispered about her bad temper, but most believed that as long as they stayed on her good side, there was no need to worry.

Patricia had carefully cultivated an image of being direct and straightforward but not secretly scheming. Even her reputation as a social tyrant was part of her calculation.

The public, foolish as they were, often believed what they could see. A person known for their harshness who occasionally acted kindly would be praised, while someone who appeared kind but occasionally showed cruelty would face criticism.

Years ago, Patricia and the Rimone family had played a hand in sending Dian to the desert as an envoy. People had gossiped, but no one took it too seriously, as Patricia had never hidden her disdain for Dian.

But no one had suspected that Patricia and the Rimone family had actively worked to have Dian killed during that mission. The close call Dian had experienced in the desert was seen as nothing more than an unfortunate accident.

Patricia called for her maid.

“Prepare for my departure. I’m planning to visit my father’s grave, as I missed the recent anniversary. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Yes, Red King.”

Patricia dressed in mourning clothes and set out with a modest entourage.

The end of last month had marked the first anniversary of the late Duke Rimone’s death. With the Rimone Duchy in turmoil and Doug absent from the capital, the anniversary had passed without much ceremony.

Now that Doug had briefly returned to the capital, Patricia’s belated visit to the grave didn’t seem out of place.

After paying her respects at the late duke’s tomb, Patricia made her way to the Rimone estate. The duchess and the household retainers came out to greet her as if they were welcoming the head of the family.

As the carriage doors opened and Patricia stepped out, they all bowed in unison.

“Welcome, Red King.”

“It’s been a while,” Patricia responded.

When the late duke was alive, Patricia had visited the Rimone estate several times a month. She had always been treated as the most honored guest, and even after the duke’s death, her status remained intact.

The retainers followed Patricia into the reception room, while the duchess quietly disappeared with the maids. The duchess, chosen for her quiet nature and lack of influence, had been handpicked by the late duke to ensure that no discord would come from her family.

Since her marriage, the duchess had been a silent, shadowy figure, focusing only on her duties. She had no desire to engage in any power struggles with Patricia.

Once the retainers had been reassured and left the room, Patricia called for the steward.

“I need to speak with your foster father.”

The steward flinched. His foster father had once overseen the household when the late duke was alive.

The man had retired a few years before the late duke’s death, handing over the stewardship to his foster son. After the duke’s death, the old steward had fully retreated into the background.

Patricia, noticing the steward’s hesitation, snapped, “What are you waiting for? Bring him to me at once!”

“…Yes, Red King.”

The steward bowed and left the room after Patricia’s command. Though she was merely a guest, in Doug’s absence, no one at the Rimone estate could afford to ignore her orders.

The late Duke had always found his daughter more reliable than his son. On several occasions, he had discreetly summoned a few trusted retainers and told them:

“Doug will succeed me. You must serve him with the same loyalty you’ve shown me. However… should an urgent situation arise where Doug cannot be consulted, seek advice from the Red King.”

The late Duke had ensured that Doug never learned of this arrangement, fearing it might strain the relationship between the siblings.

Patricia was halfway through her tea when a knock came at the door. It opened quietly to reveal an elderly man leaning on a cane. His steps were labored, but his eyes were sharp. Patricia’s brow briefly furrowed at the sight before she smoothed it over.

This was the man her father had trusted above all others—someone he confided in more than his own children. It irked Patricia that the steward, a mere servant, had been privy to discussions that even she and Doug had been excluded from.

Moreover, the man’s past was shrouded in mystery. No one knew where he had come from or what he had done before entering the Rimone household.

“Father never told us, even in the end.”

Patricia could only guess that he had handled the dirty, unmentionable tasks her father needed done. Something about the man’s inscrutable, almost eerie gaze always made her uncomfortable, like an unsettling presence lurking beneath his otherwise polite demeanor.

The idea that she, the Red King, could feel unsettled by a mere steward annoyed her to no end. It made her dislike him all the more. Doug, her brother, despised the man even more than she did.

“What brings the Red King to seek out this old man?” he asked, his voice a rasp but with a hint of amusement.

“I need your help.”

The old man’s thin lips stretched into a tight, almost eerie smile. The deep wrinkles around his mouth smoothed out as he chuckled softly.