The Beginning

The final journey proceeded under the gaze of countless onlookers. As everyone bowed their heads in solemn silence, the sound of horse hooves echoed as the carriage passed.

The coffin bearing the deceased king was placed in an ornate carriage, and as it passed, all bowed on one knee to bid farewell to their king. Along the roads, a crowd likely numbering a million had gathered. A long procession of carriages followed this scene.

The capital city of Pullea, a blend of towering buildings and low houses, revealed itself as a grand metropolis of two million residents. It felt as though the entire city the king had built in his lifetime was present to witness his final departure.

Amid this union of tradition and modernity, it took an hour and a half for the entire procession to reach its end. The final destination was, in essence, the harbor. As befitting a kingdom of the sea, the ocean was densely packed with numerous warships.

A substantial number were present. Hundreds of warships were arrayed, most of them destroyers. Many of these destroyers had been rapidly constructed after the war, restoring much of the diminished fleet.

Even from a glance, five battleships stood out. These included the three Monglia-class battleships originally possessed by the Polia Kingdom, the Pullea-class battleship Mythos—Ian’s warship—and a newly acquired Bomer-class battleship from the Moria Empire.

At that moment, the horns of all the ships at sea began to sound. It was the final salute from the fleet to the king.

Bwooo-! Bwoo-! Bwooo-!

The blaring horns continued for nearly ten minutes before falling silent. Then, the battleships’ turrets rotated, and all at once, they fired into the empty sea.

Boom-boom! Boom! Boom-boom!

It was a royal salute fired by the battleships in tribute to their king. With that, the final rites came to a close. What remained was to escort the king to the royal tomb—reserved only for royalty.

The funeral procession made its way to the tomb, and the coffin was taken inside. Each royal family member then stepped forward to pay their respects. Ian too offered a short bow before stepping back.

Thus, the funeral concluded.

The funeral had ended. Nothing had happened, but a silence like the calm before a storm hung in the air. Amid this, some had already begun leaving the palace—among them Ian’s mother and younger sister.

Technically, there was no need to leave before a new king was named. However, since it was allowed, Ian decided to escort them out immediately. His mother packed the jewels gifted to her by the king during his life and selected only recently bought clothes.

Even so, the luggage was considerable. It was loaded onto trucks and sent ahead to Ian’s residence. Before the cargo arrived, Ian had already brought his mother and sister to his home.

“Mother, this is my house. You’ll be comfortable here, even if only for a while.”

“Mother, what do you think?”

Since Charlotte had been here before, she asked as if to check. Hearing this, their mother nodded.

“It’s quite nice.”

“Right?”

Though it lacked the splendor of the concubines’ quarters in the palace, the mansion was certainly larger in scale. At that moment, Leni—no longer a palace maid—was visibly excited. Seeing her, Ian smiled and said,

“Leni, take charge of the maids here for the time being.”

“Of course! But… just for the time being?”

Leni seemed puzzled but interpreted it as meaning a new home might be arranged later. Having long served as a maid, she was certainly experienced enough to lead the others.

‘Even so, Mother still seems worried.’

Her expression hadn’t changed since that day when she’d urged Ian to leave the kingdom. Though they had exited the palace, she was clearly concerned about what came next.

Especially troubling to her was the betrayal by her brother. He had openly declared that he had no ties to Prince Ian. That cold declaration made many people think he was already cutting ties.

Many assumed it was a move to distance himself before the next king was crowned.

“Let’s not just stand here. Let’s head inside.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and as they entered, they were greeted by the butler, servants, and maids. In that warm reception, Ian finally got to spend time with his family—something he hadn’t done in a long while.

They dined together and relaxed in each other’s company. Occasionally, they even attended noble parties. Compared to before, however, the atmosphere had shifted. When the king was alive, many approached Ian with warmth—but now, some began to subtly avoid him.

It felt as though things were reverting to how they were in the past. Yet this time, those who admired or had already chosen to follow Ian gathered around him.

With the First and Second Princes openly competing for the throne, Ian’s actions drew suspicious glances. Many could only click their tongues at his reckless behavior.

Still, despite the whispers and wary gazes, Ian behaved just as he always had. And soon, June arrived. More than three months had passed since Ian had narrowly survived an assassination attempt.

And now, movements targeting Ian were beginning to stir.

The drawing room of Ian’s residence.

Someone had come to visit. Ian greeted the guest and realized the man was from the First Prince’s faction—Baron Arlang, if he remembered correctly? Despite being just above a baron, Arlang was known for his sharp mind and held a notable position within the First Prince’s circle.

“I greet Prince Ian.”

“Welcome, Baron Arlang. What brings you here?”

“I came because I am deeply concerned for you, Prince Ian.”

“Concerned? What do you mean?”

Ian tilted his head in confusion. Arlang gave him a knowing look before speaking reproachfully.

“You must know what I’m talking about. It’s about your recent behavior—or rather, the way you’ve been presenting yourself.”

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t know.”

“Pretending not to know won’t make it go away. These days, the First Prince is quite worried about you.”

“Brother Vincent is worried about me?”

“Indeed. You are someone His Highness the First Prince holds in high regard. Your situation is entirely different from that of the other princes.”

“Oh? Me, you say?”

“Of course. You’re hailed as a hero of the nation. Many praise you and follow you. Precisely because of that, the First Prince holds you dear.”

“Hmm? I doubt that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, wouldn’t he find me more burdensome than anything? If he becomes king, he’d probably want to erase my myth entirely. Don’t you think?”

Even the video played at the theater had tried to erase his presence. If Ian hadn’t stepped in at the time, his contributions would have been omitted entirely. If that happened while the king was still alive, what would happen when Vincent became king? It would be the beginning of an orchestrated effort to erase Ian completely.

‘They’ll probably start spreading that all my accomplishments were fabricated, right? Did I strike too close to the heart? That expression looks downright murderous.’

The once-gentle smile had vanished, replaced by a chilling expression. Still, Ian spoke as if unfazed.

“Prince Ian, I believe you are choosing a path far too difficult for yourself.”

“Well, yes, that may be true. I was originally planning to leave this country. But the situation changed suddenly, and I couldn’t. So I had to think differently.”

“So now you’re gathering a faction?”

“Does it look that way to you?”

“Who wouldn’t recognize such blatant actions? People are simply letting it go because it seems insignificant—for now.”

“That could be one way to see it.”

“Prince Ian, I believe you’re chasing an empty dream.”

“An empty dream… I’ve heard those words before. Someone once told me not to dream such foolish dreams.”

“That must have been very wise advice.”

“That person happens to be my uncle.”

“So that’s why the Count behaved that way.”

To Baron Arlang, the Ian before him seemed reckless beyond reason. Gathering a faction? It was no more than a group of lowborn nobles. And though many praised and followed him now, the moment the issue of succession came to the fore, they would all surely turn their backs.

‘From where I stand, it looks like he’s sticking his own neck into the noose.’

Both the First and Second Prince’s factions saw Ian as a troublesome figure—dangerous whether held close or left alone. In the end, he was fated to fade away from the world as a tragic prince.

‘Even the Fifth Prince, who had some wild ambitions, ran away in fear and gave up.’

When the Fourth Prince died in the war, the Fifth must have thought he had a shot. But as those who had gathered around him were systematically removed one by one, he was left alone—and fled the capital in fear. Ian would no doubt follow the same pattern.

“Prince Ian, allow me to offer a piece of advice. Soon, the people around you will begin to fall away. It won’t be long before you’re pushed to the periphery.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It seems you still don’t understand what I—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But let me ask you this—why do you think I would wait around for that to happen?”

“Pardon? What do you mean?”

“You see, I despise the idea of this country being torn in two by two princes—arguing, fighting, clawing at each other, wasting our national strength.”

“Who doesn’t know that? If the Second Prince would just step down right now, this would all be over.”

“Do you think anyone would give up the throne? No one would. Not for something as sacred as the kingship.”

“Then what are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m saying I’m going to end it. This entire conflict.”

“Ha… Are you out of your mind?”

“Out of my mind? That’s an awfully casual way to speak to a prince.”

At Ian’s unshakably calm tone, Baron Arlang was utterly dumbfounded. Was Prince Ian always this self-righteous and delusional? He’d thought Ian at least had competence—but now he seemed downright deranged.

“Baron Arlang. You came at a very convenient moment. I was just expecting someone.”

“Excuse me?”

Knock knock.

“Your Highness, a guest has arrived.”

The butler’s slightly trembling voice came from outside.

Ian smiled faintly. The timing was almost too perfect.

“Let them in.”

Inviting another guest in while one was already present would normally be a grave breach of etiquette.

Baron Arlang looked as if to protest, but when the door opened and he saw who entered, his eyes widened in shock. The man stepping into the room was someone who absolutely should not have been here.

“C-Count Dimentis…?”

“I, Count Dimentis, humbly greet Prince Ian.”

Thud. As he knelt on one knee, Baron Arlang could barely contain his panic. The Commander of the Capital Defense Command had just bent the knee—not to the king, but to Prince Ian. Such an act was unthinkable unless the other party was royalty of the highest standing.

“Welcome. Just in time—we already had a visitor.”

“I see.”

Count Dimentis glanced briefly at Baron Arlang, then ignored him and turned to Ian with a formal report.

“All forces are prepared. If you give the order, we are ready to seize the palace immediately.”

“Is that so? Then it’s about time to make our move.”

“W-What!?”

Baron Arlang’s jaw dropped at the mention of seizing the palace. His face was a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and fear.

What on earth was happening? Count Dimentis had aligned himself with Prince Ian? And not only that, he had already made full preparations to take the palace? The fear that stemmed from this realization was overwhelming.

‘This can’t be… How is this possible? How did Prince Ian gather such a force?’

Clearly, an enormous faction had been built in secret—completely unknown to the outside world. It was the kind of development that defied logic and reason.

At that moment, Baron Arlang became certain he had walked into the jaws of a monster.

He couldn’t help but want to go back and slap his earlier self.

‘Did I really just call him crazy?’