Raising the Princess to Overcome Death-Chapter 345: Playmates - The Elector Prince
344. Playmates - The Elector Prince
“This war began because of me, so I shall go. Until I’ve secured an apology from the Bellita Kingdom, I will not return.”
A roar of sweaty cheers erupted from the knights. Nobles clapped enthusiastically, while others frowned deeply. This was the heart of the Aisel Kingdom—the Imperial Assembly (Comitium Imperiale).
The commander-in-chief for the war had just been decided. Standing at the podium, Prince Vivian de Isadora raised his fist to thunderous applause from the knights.
In contrast, the faction of the second prince, Oscar de Isadora, wore expressions as if they had already washed their hands of the matter.
Though their arms were crossed and their postures cynical, they could not entirely conceal the quiet despair hanging over them.
Not only had they failed to brand Vivian as a “disgraced prince” after his return from an insult-laden diplomatic mission to the Bellita Kingdom, but they also couldn’t stop him from becoming commander-in-chief.
The most shocking part? The voting results.
62 to 59.
A narrow margin, but it meant that several Elector Princes had shifted to the Isadora royal family’s side.
Prince Vivian, celebrating his victory, made his way around the assembly hall, shaking hands with members.
Meanwhile, Prince Oscar chewed his lip nervously. A soft yet sharp voice pierced through his thoughts.
“Your Highness.”
“...Yes.”
A woman stood close behind him, covering her mouth with a fan as she smiled.
If not for the fan, it would have been impossible to hide the twisted shape of her lips.
“Prince Vivian has become commander-in-chief. Wouldn’t it be the most heartwarming display of brotherly affection if you went to congratulate him?”
She added a quiet whisper.
“Straighten your shoulders and put on a smiling face. Don’t just stand there looking pitiful.”
If anyone had heard Oscar grind his teeth, they might have thought it imagined. Pale-faced, he replied, “Yes…” and began walking. Soon, he stood before Prince Vivian.
“Hahaha! Thank you. Oh, no, it wasn’t just me—Baron Trudi’s efforts were invaluable, as you saw. I’ll have to arrange a proper event to—ah, hold on. Let’s talk in a bit.”
Noticing Oscar, Vivian cut off his conversation and approached. His imposing frame—a match for any knight—cast a shadow over Oscar. Straightening his neck to look up, Oscar spoke.
“...Congratulations on your appointment as commander-in-chief.”
Vivian grinned broadly, offering a handshake to his half-brother and political rival.
“Thank you. Your congratulations make this victory all the more delightful.”
Yet, despite his cheerful demeanor, the hand that clasped Oscar’s was ice-cold. His warm smile held no trace of genuine warmth.
There was too much baggage between the two for genuine camaraderie. Vivian kept his grip on Oscar’s hand, neither tightening nor letting go.
“...”
It was a subtle provocation. In front of the assembly’s watchful eyes, Oscar realized his approach had devolved into a power play.
Vivian used his broad frame to assert dominance, leaving Oscar in a position where he had to respond in kind—perhaps with magic or another display of strength.
But Oscar withdrew his hand and silently turned away, leaving the area.
As if parting waters had closed behind him, the path he’d taken was now filled with people, their colorful silk garments flowing like waves. Though nothing outwardly significant had happened, Oscar felt a wave of nausea.
The way people’s gazes shifted so quickly made him queasy. He had done nothing, yet disappointment followed naturally.
Oscar tried not to look back. However, there was a peculiar addiction to defeat, and he succumbed, turning around.
Vivian still stood where they had shaken hands, raising his hand in an almost mocking wave as if to say farewell. His expression seemed faintly incredulous.
An extraordinary showman.
For a moment, faint smirks played on the lips of the Elector Princes. Vivian, shaking his head as if amused, turned away. With a single moment of showmanship, Vivian had humiliated Oscar, who now appeared naive and inexperienced in the political arena.
How could someone as competent as Vivian have humiliated himself in Bellita Kingdom? If only that hadn’t happened, things would have been easier for both of them.
Oscar, grumbling internally, blamed Princess Chloe for their troubles and made his way out of the assembly. Waiting for him was a terrifying figure who fixed him with a piercing glare.
“Well done, Your Highness.”
“...”
Though Oscar was far from short, the woman loomed over him, her stature almost unnerving for a lady. She bent slightly to look down at him, her pale hand gripping his wrist with crushing force.
Like a mother dragging a misbehaving child, she pulled him out of the assembly. No one dared intervene, for this was none other than…
Angelica Lydia Kyrgyz.
The only Great Mage on the continent, the representative of the Duchy of Kyrgyz, and the personal tutor of Prince Oscar de Isadora.
As soon as they left the assembly, Angelica conjured a magical passageway with a flick of her hand. Though no one else could see or hear what happened inside, the sound of a resounding slap echoed sharply within.
By the time the dark corridor dissipated, they had arrived at the royal palace—specifically, in the chambers of Princess Elika de Isadora. However, instead of rebuking her uninvited guests, Elika greeted them with a bow.
“Welcome.”
Angelica, still fuming, stepped out of the portal with a huff.
“Water.”
“Here you go, Mother.”
The princess’s trembling hands handed her a glass of water. Thankfully, her mother calmed after drinking and taking a deep breath.
“You may leave, Your Highness. But I do hope such incidents are not repeated.”
Oscar, terrified, hurried out. Elika, realizing she was now the target of her demanding mother’s wrath, steeled herself.
The soundproof walls ensured no one outside would hear her scream, should it come to that.
So, Elika took the initiative, smiling brightly.
“Mother, did you hear? A prince from Conrad Kingdom will be arriving soon.”
“...Oh, is that so? There he is.”
“They say he’s very handsome. What do you think, Mother?”
“Blond hair, I see… no, not quite pure. Sigh. Perhaps we should have insisted on summoning Prince Leanne de Yeriel instead.”
“Oh, Mother~ What’s done is done. If you keep fretting over the past, I’ll feel upset too. I could just kick him away like Princess Chloe de Tattalia, but… wouldn’t that be unwise?”
Peering over the wall into the far distance, Angelica turned her head. Her eyes, shimmering with arrogance, were intimidating, but Elika maintained her smile to the end.
“Of course. With war against the Bellita Kingdom underway, we can’t expect the Conrad Kingdom to remain loyal to the Isadora royal family indefinitely. We’ll need to extend our hand as well.”
“Exactly, Mother. Then I’ll—”
“But I feel uneasy about giving away my dear daughter so easily. Come here. Let me hold you.”
Elika obediently stepped into her mother’s embrace. Angelica’s pallid, almost gray hand stroked her hair in a gesture that lacked genuine affection.
While it seemed like a tender moment between mother and daughter, Elika understood it for what it was. Her mother wasn’t consoling her about a potential marriage; she was amusing herself, treating her like a pet.
Elika knew all too well. Angelica had given birth to her and her brother, Oscar, solely as part of an experiment.
Unfortunately, the experiment was a success, and the two siblings had been used for the selfish ambitions of this terrifying mage ever since.
As Angelica pressed her nose against Elika’s golden hair and inhaled deeply, Elika endured the repulsive display, thinking to herself:
If only I had even a straw to grasp at.
It was the day Prince Eric de Yeriel entered Ofrontis.
***
“Don’t expect a warm welcome,” came the warning.
“Why not?”
“Prince Eric has no choice but to ally with the Kyrgyz ducal family. The Isadora royal family has no reason to greet him warmly.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? Isn’t Prince Eric here to marry Princess Elika de Isadora? What does the Kyrgyz family have to do with this?”
Neil interrupted with a scoff.
“Joen, don’t spout nonsense when you don’t fully understand it. Just take it with a grain of salt.”
“...Neil. You and the others will return home, but I’ll remain at the prince’s side. I’ve taken the time to study Aisel Kingdom. Princess Elika and Prince Oscar de Isadora, despite their surname, might as well be considered members of the Kyrgyz family.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the Aisel Kingdom traditionally follows matrilineal descent. While the practice of adopting the father’s surname has taken hold, the royal lineage ultimately follows the mother.”
“What nonsense is this? I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
Neil, half-reclining with his feet on the table, looked thoroughly unimpressed.
The knights were gathered in a common room, baffled by the lack of any formal reception for a foreign prince.
Their disappointment at the shabby treatment prompted the conversation.
Joen patiently continued,
“For example, if Prince Oscar de Isadora ascends the throne, the Isadora royal family would become the Isadora ducal house, while the Kyrgyz ducal house would rise to royalty. That’s because Oscar’s mother is a daughter of the Kyrgyz family—Aria Kyrgyz, I think her name was before she married the king. She’s now Aria de Isadora.”
“Wow! The royal family changes just like that? That’s fascinating. Then I guess the Isadora family and the Kyrgyz family don’t get along, huh? They’re rivals.”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm… but wait a second. Something doesn’t add up,” said Lena.
“Why doesn’t the family holding the throne simply avoid marrying into other families? They could keep the royal lineage intact through inbreeding… unpleasant as that sounds.”
“There are restrictions, of course. Marriages aren’t decisions made solely by the royal family. The Manjajun Imperial House governs Aisel Kingdom with a unique political structure. To understand it, we need a bit of history…”
“I know quite a bit of history,” Lena interjected, sensing Joen’s hesitation about her comprehension. Joen, a commoner-turned-knight, had studied the basics, but Lena was determined to show she wasn’t clueless.
“That’s good. Then you know how the Arcaea Empire collapsed? It fell apart in all four directions. Among the eastern refugees were members of the imperial family, and when they mixed with the eastern nobility, they formed the Manjajun Imperial House. They…”
“Joen’s history lesson~!”
“Neil, shut up for a second.”
“...Anyway, while they’re all technically related by blood, the intricate web of marriages—between noble houses and the imperial women—has grown so complex over time that they no longer define themselves solely by lineage.”
“Then how do they define themselves?”
“They created a privileged class known as Elector Princes to represent their authority. Only families listed in the Golden Charter of Cornelius are recognized as Elector Princes.”
“Elector Princes? And what’s this Golden Charter of Cornelius?”
“Elector Princes are feudal lords with voting rights, specifically those who can elect a ruler. The term emphasizes their imperial lineage, as seen in the use of the character (emperor). As for the Golden Charter of Cornelius... hmm, do you know the Cornel Tower?”
“Yes! It’s a magical tower in the Aisel Kingdom, known as the first of its kind. Wait, Cornel… Cornelius… are they connected?”
Lena’s guess hung in the air, but Joen shook his head.
“The builder of the Cornel Tower?”
“No, Cornelius was humanity’s first mage. He’s credited with opening the path to magic and is recognized as the one and only true Archmage. His influence was instrumental in the founding of Aisel Kingdom.”
“And thanks to him, Aisel Kingdom’s politics are as messy as they are now.”
Following Rev’s grumbled comment, the topic shifted to the Golden Charter of Cornelius.
Chapter 345: Playmates - The Elector Prince
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