[First Prince Louis Loire is not of royal blood.]

The current king, Georges Loire II, had witnessed an unusual situation: his deceased queen and his concubine had given birth on the exact same day. The concubine had a son, while the queen bore a daughter. The king stared blankly at the two newborns swathed in white cloth. Though still youthful, his face bore the pallor of deep concern.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty! You've been blessed with a healthy prince and princess!"

The court physician, midwives, and maids all offered their congratulations, but their words barely registered with the king. He expected to feel a swell of love upon seeing the children, but instead, his mind was clouded with worry about the queen.

"What about the queen? Are both women safe and well?"

The midwife nodded with a gentle smile.

"Yes, Your Majesty. There are no health concerns, so please be at ease."

The king let out a sigh of relief, nearly staggering as the tension eased, his face regaining some color. However, there was still an equally significant issue remaining. Steadying himself against the wall, the king refocused and asked a question.

"They’re a prince and princess, you say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"…Who belongs to whom?"

At his question, the midwife pointed to each child in turn, explaining.

"The prince is Lady Mary’s child, while the princess is born of Her Highness, Queen Helene."

Ah.

The king’s expression twisted. Why did ominous premonitions always prove accurate? His gaze wavered. The sight unsettled a nearby minister, who cautiously addressed him.

"Your Majesty, is there a problem?"

A problem? There were dozens of issues he could raise. His firstborn child—no less than a prince—was the son of his concubine, not his queen. If he named his son as the First Prince and heir, he’d have to elevate the concubine to the status of the queen. Yet Queen Helene was his royal consort through an arranged marriage with another kingdom. Deposing her and raising a concubine simply for bearing a son would lead to severe diplomatic complications.

And, more than anything else…

Georges II truly loved his queen. Who said arranged marriages could not be happy? He could proudly declare that his own marriage had brought him true joy. Initially a stranger from a distant land, the queen had gradually become his most precious treasure.

A solution…

If he decided against naming the prince as the heir solely because he wasn’t born of the queen, the ministers would certainly protest. The high nobles, constantly trying to push their way into the center of power, would pounce on the opportunity. Accepting a concubine in the first place had been a reluctant concession after failing to withstand the nobles’ and court ministers' constant pressure to produce an heir.

Being a king was indeed a heavy burden. He couldn’t even protect his beloved, yet he had to protect this kingdom.

The king looked down at the crying infants. These were his children. Was the decision he was about to make one of a husband, or a king? The only thing he knew for certain was that it was not a decision he could make purely as a father.

"Have the women seen the children yet?"

"No, Your Majesty. Per your orders, we showed you the prince and princess first."

The king took a sharp breath. His mouth was parched, his throat scorched, and his palms were clammy. His heart pounded. He knew exactly what he was about to do, or so he thought. But he was young, inexperienced, and narrow-sighted.

The king exhaled, shaping his thoughts into words. He had no idea how deeply his next words would throw the kingdom into chaos or alter so many lives.

"Listen carefully."

His voice came out lower and colder than expected. The courtiers, physicians, midwives, and maids all watched him, tense and silent. Only the cries of the newborns filled the quiet room, almost deafening. Glancing briefly at the infants, the king began to speak.

"The prince is Helene’s child, and the princess is Mary’s."

A deep silence fell over the room, leaving the courtiers as if staring at a thin layer of ice that might break at any moment. Finally, a minister who had grasped the king’s intentions stammered.

"Y-Your Majesty… How could you…!"

"Lower your voice."

The king’s own heart was growing cold. His tone was so commanding that the minister instinctively shrank back. The tension was palpable; all in the room began to tremble in its grip.

"The queen must remain as the queen consort. You understand what I mean."

"Your Majesty… I understand your desire to maintain diplomatic stability. But before we address foreign matters, we must first strengthen our own nation."

The king’s expression did not waver. The minister, seeing this, realized that the king’s words had not been impulsive. Perhaps he had planned this from the moment he learned both the queen and concubine were with child.

"Your Majesty, foreign diplomacy can be navigated through dialogue. We are not on hostile terms with the other kingdom. Once we explain the matter of succession, they will surely understand."

"The queen can still bear more heirs. If you’re concerned about legitimacy, we can simply wait for another prince."

The king was resolute. No matter what the minister said, he would not change his mind. Recognizing this, the minister swallowed a sigh. Yet he persisted, hoping to sway the king somehow.

"Your Majesty. When I served as your royal tutor, there was one thing I always advised you."

"Never wager on the uncertain."

His voice was weary. The king met the minister’s gaze, fully aware of his meaning. But the minister continued undeterred.

"That’s correct. And in this case, Your Majesty, the stake is the fate of this nation. Why would you squander this chance to secure its foundation?"

"Do you truly not understand my intentions, or are you pretending ignorance?"

The minister fell silent under the king’s piercing question. The two locked eyes, a myriad of emotions swirling within them. The minister knew well the depth of the king’s love for the queen, his willingness to take any action to protect her.

"Your Majesty, the matter of legitimacy doesn’t depend on titles if you care for them equally."

"And you’ve forgotten who Mary’s father is."

Queen Helene had been wed to the king for diplomatic reasons, while Mary, the daughter of a powerful noble house, was married to him to secure internal alliances. The king subtly rebuked the minister, warning of the danger of excessive influence from noble factions.

"Once they catch wind of this, they’ll leap at the chance to pry into the royal consort’s status."

The minister had no response. If this had solely been about national stability, he might have succeeded in persuading the king. But since it involved the queen’s safety, there was little he could say.

"Your Majesty, if this truth leaks, it could bring unprecedented disaster upon the kingdom."

"If the truth is revealed, I am prepared to abdicate willingly. I do this for the queen and for the country, not for my own sake."

It was poison, a poison that had blinded the king entirely. The minister sighed, his thoughts shifting from convincing the king to concealing the truth. With the king’s pronouncement, rumors would inevitably spread.

"Your Majesty."

"Enough. I’ve made up my mind. I won’t change it."

The king’s voice was unyielding. The infants’ cries continued. Slowly, he approached the cradle where they lay. From this moment, he would completely alter their lives. He would become the greatest obstacle they would ever face.

"I’m sorry."

The words, perhaps the first and last apology he would ever offer them, were barely audible. Raising his head, the king spoke again.

"Prepare to make the announcement. I shall inform the queen and my concubine of the 'truth.'"

He gazed at the chambers where Helene and Mary rested. He had never found the weight of kingship too burdensome. Yet at this moment, the weight was crushing.

"Helene…"

He whispered the name of his beloved. It pained him that all he could do for her was add another burden. His hand reached for the door handle.

"Can I truly protect you?"

 

[Thus, it is declared to all citizens of the capital: the First Prince is not the lawful offspring of the queen consort. Therefore, the sole legitimate heir of the royal bloodline is the Second Prince, and neither the First Prince nor his supporters hold the right to inherit the throne.]

The king’s hand trembled, the throne felt cold beneath him. Staring needles pricked him from all directions. In the hall, he clutched the proclamation that had been delivered by a court official. Commander Hugo stood behind him, his gaze piercing the king.

"Your Majesty, the public is in turmoil."

With those words, it was as if a dam had burst; ministers began shouting, their voices like carrion crows waiting to descend on wounded prey. The king gritted his teeth, watching the hall. This was no longer a place for royal audiences but a hunting ground for a weakened king. No powerful allies stood with him.

"Your Majesty, this is not an issue to be taken lightly."

The king winced at the cacophony of crows. Count Leon Bening… Though he had held his ambitions at bay after the martial tournament, he had now thrown them into the filth of courtly scheming.

"Who posted this notice?"

The king’s voice was low, and the hall fell silent. All eyes remained on him.

"Your Majesty, while identifying the poster is crucial, we must also verify the claims made."

"Indeed, Your Majesty. How could such a damaging proclamation appear so easily?"

The momentum against him was building, and the few loyal ministers could not speak up, their heads bowed low. None dared openly support the king.

"Do you truly believe this baseless rumor? I won’t dignify this nonsense with a rebuttal, but I will personally see to the judgment of those responsible."

The king’s presence flared as he scanned the room, silencing the defiant ministers. Even Hugo Bern added his own imposing aura, his hand resting on his sword’s hilt.

"Well? Do my words fall on deaf ears?"

The ministers exchanged glances.

"Well, it’s just…"

Then—

Thud.

A footfall echoed down the hall. The king and ministers turned towards the doors as they opened, revealing the Second Prince striding in confidently, followed by Count Leon Bening. Leon’s cold, steely gaze bore down on the hall, exerting a pressure more befitting a rival than a subject.

"Your Majesty! I have brought the man who slandered you and the palace!"

The Second Prince’s voice echoed as he stepped aside, revealing a nobleman, bloodied and restrained, dragged along by one of Leon’s knights. The king clenched his teeth as he recognized the man—one of his loyal nobles. Leon met the king’s gaze, speaking with calm precision.

"Your Majesty, you vowed to personally judge those spreading slander."

It was an open challenge. At Leon’s signal, the knight threw the nobleman onto the ground. Leon’s gaze was as cold as ice.

"Confess."

"I… I did it. I spread the rumors…!"

The noble’s voice trembled, his words stammered, but he confessed.

"Your Majesty, here is the man who sullied your name and the palace’s honor."

If that is what you wish, I will oblige.

The king stepped forward, reaching for the sword at Hugo Bern’s side. The blade gleamed coldly as he unsheathed it, repeating his earlier words.

"Yes, I did say I’d see to the judgment myself."

He walked slowly toward Leon, his gaze falling on the trembling noble lying on the ground before him. One of the nobles who had shifted allegiance after the tournament. The man looked up in terror at the king.

Swish.

The king’s hand showed no hesitation as he struck. Blood pooled on the floor as the noble’s severed head rolled away, his face frozen in fear.

"I understand your intentions well enough."

The king, holding Hugo’s sword, met Leon Bening’s gaze. The sharp scent of fresh blood filled the hall, heralding the chilling winds of war.