The audience at the Agora had already shifted overwhelmingly in Rupert’s favor.

By the time the suggestion arose that banning comic books might simply allow neighboring Sylvanya to profit in their place, even the nobles were cheering Rupert’s name in support.

Naturally, Macbeth’s face twisted in frustration.

‘Damn it, how is this young kid so persuasive?’

One of the reasons Macbeth and the Imperial Parents Association had confidently called Rupert to the Agora was due to his youth.

The elder nobles, who had survived the Empire’s cutthroat political arena, were experts at swaying public opinion. They had assumed Rupert, being young, would easily be flustered by a few well-aimed attacks. However, it was Macbeth who found himself flustered as Rupert responded to each blow with a calm and deft counterattack.

Still, Macbeth remained self-assured.

‘No matter what, the verdict is in my favor as long as Lyos and Marquis Demian support me!’

While Duke Bluewell would undoubtedly side with Rupert, Macbeth was certain that Lyos and Marquis Demian would vote with him.

In the nature of the Agora, the decision of the three judges from the Seven Great Nobles couldn’t be overturned, not even by the Emperor himself. Even the Crown Prince, attending on the Emperor’s behalf, had no right to interfere unless something was amiss with the proceedings.

Of course, it was obvious that the Crown Prince would support Rupert, but if Macbeth could continue to press difficult points and catch Rupert off guard, he might yet sway the verdict.

“This man’s arguments are far too emotional! Comic books contain only sensational and frivolous content, which degrades the level of Imperial literature…”

“Enough! We’ve heard enough from both sides.”

But the Crown Prince abruptly cut off Macbeth’s effort, leaving him grumbling internally.

‘Tch, he’s openly shutting me down.’

Though he was annoyed at the Crown Prince’s blunt dismissal, Macbeth could only seethe silently.

“Now that the judges’ deliberation is over, I shall announce the winner of today’s Agora,” the Crown Prince Alex declared as he moved to the center podium. An overwhelming cheer erupted throughout the hall.

“It’s the hero of the Empire, the Crown Prince!”
“The Iron Prince! Look at that right arm!”
“His story of sacrificing his right arm to save a mere soldier is one that never fails to move me, no matter how many times I hear it!”

Alex’s popularity had already surpassed that of his father, the Emperor. Each time his symbolic golem arm gleamed in the sunlight, the crowd’s admiration grew louder.

Having led the charge against the dark mages who threatened to plunge the Empire into ruin and sacrificing his arm to save his soldiers, Alex’s story was one beloved by the people and was retold by countless bards and theater troupes across the Empire.

As the cheers subsided, Alex quieted the crowd and continued with the announcement.

“After the deliberation among Rupert Somerset, Macbeth, and the fifty-one members of the Imperial Parents Association….”

The arena fell silent as the Crown Prince’s voice commanded attention.

Finally, his lips parted once more, and he declared the result.

“By a vote of 3 to 0, I declare Rupert Somerset the winner of this Agora!”

It was a perfect victory for Rupert.

Macbeth’s face contorted further, his mouth agape as he stared at the judges’ seats. There sat the Crown Prince, Duke Bluewell, and Marquis Demian, all with relaxed expressions.

“Well fought, Lord Macbeth,” Rupert said, extending his hand for a handshake with a warm smile as he recalled the events leading up to the Agora.

 

“Ada seems to have lost a lot of weight since I last saw her.”

“Yes, Your Highness, it’s no joke. She got so slim overnight that it surprised us too.”

“What? Overnight? Could she be unwell?”

“Do not worry. We’ve already consulted a renowned doctor and a priest.”

Relieved by the news of her health, Alex felt a tinge of nostalgia.

‘I didn’t realize it before, but Ada was quite cute when she was a bit chubbier.’

On his long-awaited visit to the Somerset estate, Alex picked up Ada, who ran to him calling him “Uncle.” Though her speed caught him off guard, he lifted her as he always had.

Yet, something felt different. He noticed how light Ada had become, and with a hint of regret, realized the plumpness he’d grown fond of had disappeared.

Still, she was incredibly adorable, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about not seeing her chubby little self bouncing around.

As Alex played with Ada, he found himself stunned by her agile movements, despite his own proficiency in swordsmanship—a skill instilled in him as a royal.

‘I got a new arm, Uncle! I want one too!’

‘What? There’s no need for you to have one of these.’

‘If I had four arms, I could even defeat the witch Oun!’

Alex struggled to calm Ada, whose eyes sparkled at the sight of his golem arm.

At first, he thought she wanted to replace an arm like his, but she actually envisioned adding another to her perfectly fine body, which left him both amused and exasperated.

“I came not only to see Ada but also to bring you news,” Alex told Rupert later.

“Is it about the Agora?”

“So, you already knew?”

Rupert nodded, having already heard from Esteban about the Imperial Parents Association’s intent to hold an Agora.

“It’s a troublesome matter, as even the Imperial family cannot easily intervene.”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

“If things become dire, let me know. As Ada’s godfather, you’re like a brother to me,” Alex said, offering to halt the Agora if necessary. Rupert was moved by the sentiment.

‘He would risk his own path, which has finally become smooth, without hesitation….’

Where once Rupert might have seen him as a brash character from the original work, Alex had revealed himself to be more than just a good person. Ada’s unwavering affection for him was proof enough of his character.

“I already have a plan in place. If you’re concerned, there is a way you could help,” Rupert said cautiously, laying out his scheme, to which Alex responded with a knowing grin.

 

In a mansion near the palace, a prime area of the capital, Marquis Demian received an unexpected visitor early in the morning.

Though uninvited visitors were usually turned away, the Marquis made an exception today.

“It’s been a while, Guildmaster.”

“I apologize for my long absence, Your Excellency.”

“We haven’t met often because there’s rarely any good news between us,” Marquis Demian remarked with a pointed smile. Esteban, however, was unperturbed, having anticipated this reception.

“You must have been in a hurry to visit so early.”

“There’s a saying that bad news is better left for the evening, and good news should be heard in the morning.”

“Is that so?”

“Hearing bad news in the morning can ruin your day, while good news can make it better.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“Then, what good news do you have for me?”

Marquis Demian was more than a high-ranking noble of the Seven Great Nobles. Though his family had distanced itself from merchant activities, they still secretly influenced the Empire’s economy through their covert control of the merchant guilds.

Many knew to tread carefully, as openly discussing this knowledge could lead to one’s sudden disappearance.

“I’ve come to offer you salvation.”

“Salvation? From you? I’d expect the opposite.”

Marquis Demian gave a wry smile, fully aware that Esteban’s visit was related to the Agora and that the Imperial Parents Association had likely sought him out as a judge to secure his vote.

But salvation? The choice of words was bold, even presumptuous.

“I see this as a chance to crush the Yuren Guild blocking Vera’s path.”

“If you win.”

Esteban knew the Imperial Parents Association’s support gave them an apparent advantage among the nobility, but as Rupert once said, “The real battle is won before it’s fought.”

“That’s how war should be waged,” Esteban recalled Rupert’s words, nodding in agreement.

“I suspect you’ll be a judge for the Agora.”

“Indeed, I intend to participate.”

“Do you know who the other two judges are?”

“I haven’t confirmed, but… surely not…?”

Esteban’s smile widened as Demian’s eyes grew.

“Duke Bluewell will be there. So, with one judge unknown, it appears the votes may split one-to-one.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“If the votes are split, even with your participation, you might gain nothing. But if you side with us, victory is assured.”

“I see no benefit in aiding your side.”

Demian acknowledged the Parents Association’s potential disadvantage but saw no reason to assist Rupert, as it wouldn’t benefit him. Rather, it was an opportunity to strengthen his opposition.

“I can offer you a reward.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Are you aware of the newly revealed animation?”

Of course he knew. As a covert controller of the merchant guild, Marquis Demian was well-informed, though frustrated by the complex and costly process involved.

“If you help us, we’ll partner with you on this animation venture.”

“Are you serious?”

The Marquis was taken aback. He saw the potential of animation to sweep across the Empire as manga had, yet Rupert was offering him a stake.

“Isn’t this an attractive offer?”

“Haha! It seems you were right about good news. Bring the wine we brought last time!”

It wasn’t long before the Marquis entertained a visit from the Imperial Parents Association, who secured his vote and paid a handsome fee.

And on the same day, as he accepted the fee, he told them,

“Have you secured the last judge? I can win over Marquis Lyos.”

With that, he pocketed an additional sum, vowing to sway Lyos, who owed him a debt.

Marquis Max Demian. A noble in title, but still a merchant at heart.