Grinahae Antgadull viewed his position as an Imperial marquis serving the Earthworld Empire as completely involuntary.

My father was pathetic… He played up his role as the wise man, forgetting his pride as a king and giving up his own throne!

Grinahae was a direct descendent of the royal family, destined to be king. And yet, his predecessor—the former king of Antgadull—had offered vassalage to the Empire and consigned his line to the humiliating rank of marquis.

And what has that brought us? The Empire stole half our land. The allied nations see us as traitors. The Imperial nobility snub us as newcomers. This is a titular role with no say in Imperial politics.

These were the seeds his father had sown. And Grinahae was left cleaning up this absurd mess—Grinahae, the person who should by all rights have been in line to be the next King of Antgadull.

If he’d stayed in the alliance and crushed the Empire, Antgadull would have made even greater strides under my rule.

This was Grinahae’s ongoing pet theory.

—But children tend not to understand their parent’s intentions.

King Antgadull had seen through the fact that his child lacked the wisdom required of a ruler. And that with the fall of the Empire, the Eastern continent would fall into an era of rivaling warlords, and Antgadull would inevitably end with his son’s reign.

In truth, Grinahae wasn’t doing a stellar job of running the country, even though he’d been left to rule only half of the area his predecessors had administered. The lands had fallen to ruin, and the hearts of his people grew more and more distant.

That was why King Antgadull had betrayed the alliance and sided with the Empire. He’d brought an end to the Kingdom of Antgadull and allowed it to become a sullied name in the continent’s history—all so his son would stand a fighting chance.

After his nation became a vassal to the Empire, the king had made sure they stayed out of Imperial politics. He’d known his son would be eaten alive if the boy ever poked his head into the palace’s den of thieves, so he took measures to keep him at a far distance.

But Grinahae took no notice. Which wasn’t surprising. If he’d been the type of person to come to this realization on his own, King Antgadull wouldn’t have made any of those decisions in the first place.

Then, earlier that summer, an opportunity fell in his lap.

“Lord Grinahae, I have welcome tidings for you…” a man named Owl had said.

They’d been first introduced to each other by a vassal. He’d had initially claimed to be a merchant, but after repeated meetings, he revealed himself to hail from a ruined nation, too. Owl told him the former alliance had been talking about rising up against the Empire once again.

Grinahae had immediately jumped on board. The Kingdom of Antgadull could be restored in its former glory, and then, everything would be right for once. It’d be his time to shine. He believed this with utmost sincerity.

And then he’d declared his support for one of the Imperial Princes as advised by Owl without question. He began to gather weapons under the pretense of preparing for civil war. Though Antgadull’s influence in the Gairan State had taken a big hit in the past, it still ran strong. He gathered more and more weapons and soldiers. Everything was going well—or so it seemed.

But this was where his bad habits reared their ugly heads.

—Is this really gonna work out?

Grinahae was said to be a man who had inherited his father’s looks and ambitions but none of his courage or resourcefulness. These days, he made no attempt to hide his criticisms of his predecessor, but when his father was alive, he didn’t once object to any of his opinions. Antgadull the younger was a coward.

That meant there was no way he’d be able to join this overzealous plan and keep a level head. In his bouts of anxiety, Grinahae had constantly demanded that Owl tell him the details and probability of success, trying to ease his racing mind. But Owl always sidestepped his inquiries, citing the need for absolute secrecy. This had made Grinahae even more nervous, heightening his suspicions.

He wanted some sort of guarantee—a card up his sleeve that he could use to defend himself should anything happen. It was only natural Grinahae would think that way. It was part of his disposition.

When the news came that Imperial Princess Lowellmina would be visiting the neighboring country of Natra, he couldn’t have asked for better timing. She held a claim to the throne; her retinue was scant; Natra had just battled Marden practically the other day; their soldiers had to be exhausted. The princess would be in his possession by midwinter, and the heavy snow would frustrate the advance of responding Imperial troops. Once spring came, their rebellion would begin.

It was a perfect setup. He could have called it divine will.

Since he had been preparing for the revolt, he could dispatch soldiers immediately. All that was left was to set out for Natra under his command.

But all of his activities ground to a halt—when a letter from Natra wound up in his hands.

In a room of his mansion, Grinahae was glaring at the person across from him and made no attempt to hide his scowl.

“As per your request, here are the names of those participating in our plan, my lord…”

Sitting across the table from him with a reverent expression was his acquaintance Owl. Grinahae had no idea if that was his real name or not, not that he particularly cared. It was more important that this man was his connection to the uprising.

“As you can see, each person on this list is worthy of standing by your side. I leave this with you only because I have utmost faith in your wisdom and insight. To accomplish our goal, we all must observe caution and discipline. I ask that you refrain from any reckless movements…”

“You don’t have to tell me! I know!” Grinahae boomed, raising his voice as he slammed the documents on the desk.

Grinahae had been pestering Owl for info on the members of their plan, and until this very moment, Owl hadn’t made any moves that suggested he’d oblige.

But that all changed once Grinahae began organizing his soldiers.

Of course, Owl had been flustered when he realized the target was Imperial Princess Lowellmina, who was currently residing in Natra. Grinahae was confident of their success, but that outcome didn’t matter. Owl viewed it as a move that would jeopardize their plans for revolt, which was why he’d sought to curry favor by providing the signature bearing document. But even Grinahae couldn’t help but get irritated over this obvious change.

Not to mention he was now dealing with an even bigger problem.

“Enough! Go! I’ll make sure the soldiers stay in the territory!”

“…Understood.” Owl dragged his feet out of the room, weighed down by his displeasure.

But Grinahae quickly forgot his insolence. On top of that, he gave only a cursory look at the documents that he’d been desperate to obtain before tossing them aside. Instead, he took out a single letter.

The very one he had received from the crown prince of the Kingdom of Natra, as a matter of fact.

The contents were simple: An aristocrat wished to visit the mansion of Marquis Antgadull after their stay in Natra.

To think I’d receive such news…

One would obviously think it was referring to the Imperial Princess Lowellmina.

But he had a few questions: Why did the princess want to visit Antgadull? And why did she go through the crown prince to contact him? There were no clear answers.

But upon scrutinizing the letter enough to pierce through it, he read between the lines that this was of Princess Lowellmina’s own volition, and she meant for him to keep it a secret.

In other words, she doesn’t want the factions to know about it.

It made sense. She was surrounded by people belonging to each of the Imperial Princes’ factions. If she were to send a letter herself, its contents would be censored before she could blink. That’s why she went through the crown prince.

Well, that was assuming everything in the letter was true.

I can’t see any reason for Princess Lowellmina to want to come here…

He approached it from every angle but it was this point that he couldn’t figure out, which was why Grinahae couldn’t completely trust the message.

Well, it would be more precise to say that if he’d been more creative with his approach, he might have concluded, mistakenly, that she was trying to outmaneuver the three factions and strengthen her own in the struggle for the throne. But in a brain steeped with misogyny, this thought wouldn’t have occurred to him even in his dreams.

Grinahae wanted to believe the letter. If it was all true, Princess Lowellmina would fall right into his hands without any need to send his army. It was a divine blessing that seemed to confirm his fated return as king.

At the same time, it did cross his mind that this was too good to be true. Oh, what to do?

He’d hemmed and hawed for a few days.

But then his problems resolved in an unexpected way, thanks to the coincidental return of his son Geralt from the Imperial capital.

Geralt Antgadull was the Imperial poster child for wayward sons. He displayed no interest in politics, of course, nor in martial arts or academics. He did nothing all day except escape reality through romance. He’d gotten in trouble for it more than once, and he was the type of person who used his status to get out of it.

Even Grinahae found it shameful. It seriously concerned him that such a lousy son could have come from his loins. But well, a son is a son. Even if he had a bad reputation, Geralt was still his precious successor, and Grinahae was optimistic he would change his ways sooner or later.

He’d heard this son had grown infatuated with Princess Lowellmina. When Geralt had gotten violent with another aristocrat at a soiree, she’d been the one to mediate. He had sent her gifts and letters ever since.

When Geralt found out about the letter to his father, he’d exclaimed, “My feelings have reached the princess at last! She obviously wants to see me!”

Geralt had gone on to claim that her previous unfavorable replies to his advances were no doubt because the princes would see his advances toward the princess as a political threat.

“I must go meet my future wife as soon as possible!” he’d declared before he rushed off without delay.

Even Grinahae was dumbfounded by his son’s recklessness. At the same time, he was filled with a sense of What if?

If Geralt and Lowellmina were united in marriage, the Antgadulls would become one with the Imperial family. Plus, a future Emperor could be born from their line.

Grinahae had faith in his own ability. But if the rebellion succeeded and the current Empire fell to ruin, a period of warring states was liable to come about. Could he really expand his territory as far as Imperial domain? Thinking about that made his ego deflate.

There’s value in waiting until Geralt confirms whether his suspicions are true.

Would they steal Princess Lowellmina from Natra and follow through with their revolt against the Empire?

Or get Princess Lowellmina to marry Geralt and have the Antgadull line become part of the Imperial family?

The scales swayed in Grinahae’s heart.

He never realized the scales themselves had been fabricated by two tacticians.

Grinahae’s mansion stood in the center of the large port city of Salude in the Gairan State. It had originally been a villa for the royal family of Antgadull, but they’d surrendered their palace upon declaring vassalage to the Empire and made this mansion their stronghold as new marquis.

Salude was normally a lively place with a prospering fishing industry, but the town was currently packed with Grinahae’s soldiers, who caused a ruckus wherever they went. Even when the people appealed to their feudal lord, he didn’t particularly care or pay attention to their complaints. The soldiers were effectively under no leadership, and the residents, fearing they would run amuck, held their collective breaths as they locked themselves away in their homes.

Owl had left the mansion, observing the state of the town with side glances and occasionally peeking over his shoulder as he walked down an alley. He finally stopped in front of the door to a small house. He knocked twice, paused for a beat, then rapped on the door three times. It opened soundlessly, and he slipped inside.

There were a few men dressed in civilian attire, but their demeanor carried a dangerous tension.

“How’d it go, Captain? Any news of Grinahae?”

“The word ‘fool’ was made for him.” Owl tsked as he looked around at the men.

As his title implied, Owl led the people here. Their goal was the destruction of the Empire. Grinahae didn’t know that hostile forces were secretly gathering under his very nose.

What Owl had told Grinahae was no lie. But he hadn’t exactly told him the full truth, either. Like about his homeland.

“And what about Geralt?”

“According to my men hidden among the servants, he’ll arrive in Natra soon.”

“Guess we won’t be able to stop him… And the investigations into the crown prince and the Imperial Princess?”

One subordinate shook his head. “No good. It’s been tricky getting closer to them…”

“The complete opposite to a certain idiot we know,” Owl spat out with no attempt to hide his scorn, and he looked at all present. “In any case, keep watch over Geralt, the crown prince, and the Imperial Princess. To overthrow the Empire, we can’t even overlook a loose thread.”

““Yes, sir!””

With their new orders, the subordinates began to move. Owl looked west as he watched them go—toward Natra.

Geez, to think the impossible would happen…

The princess’s visit to Natra had ruined their plans, which had gone off without a hitch until that point. Now even Geralt was trying to jump into the maelstrom.

What’s going on in Natra anyway? Owl couldn’t help but wonder.

“So, you’re the crown prince, huh,” Wein heard the moment he walked into the entrance hall.

There was a man in his late twenties with an entourage of a dozen and a rotund body that looked like he’d never missed a meal in his life. His weak profile hadn’t been chiseled by hardship. His clothes were made of the finest quality fabric and packed with gorgeous ornamentation.

One could say he dripped extravagance—or that he was drowning in it.

“It’s the first time we get to meet face-to-face, Prince Wein. I’m the son of Grinahae Antgadull, Geralt.”

“…Well, well, well, a warm welcome to you, Lord Geralt,” Wein answered monotonously. “I’ve thought for some time that I’d like to strike up a friendship with you—an important imperial vassal. A pleasure to meet you. But I must admit I’m startled by your visit. What can I help you with?”

Geralt put his enthusiasm on full display as he proclaimed, “I’ve come for my one and only beloved flower, Princess Lowellmina, of course.”

YO, IS THIS GUY SEEEEERIOUS?! Wein involuntarily screeched inside his head.

It went without saying that this was the palace in the Kingdom of Natra. It was the backbone of the national government, run by a conglomerate of important people with Wein at its head. The compound was heavily guarded, of course, and it wasn’t a place for unsolicited guests to wander in without notice. On occasion, dignitaries from foreign nations were invited to the palace but not without meticulous arrangements beforehand.

In short, an aristocrat waltzing into the palace with his entourage wasn’t just rude. It made people question his sanity.

And to say you’re here for Lowa…!

He’d heard from Ninym that Geralt was in love with Lowellmina. There was no question that he’d happened to be home to read Wein’s letter to the marquis. That appeared to spark a flame in Geralt that spurred him to arrive at the palace. Which brings us here.

Well, Lowellmina had invited herself, too, on the surface. But her visit had been planned ahead of time. It was nothing compared to this madness.

Dude, I couldn’t care less if you snub me, but, like, the least you could do is pretend to respect me!

Since his arrival, Geralt hadn’t bothered to put on an air of reverence for Wein. He probably saw himself as equal to Wein or above him. If the Kingdom of Antgadull had retained its independence, he would have been a crown prince, too. It’s not hard to imagine why he’d feel this way.

That said, this put Wein in a tough spot, since it set a bad example to those in the room who respected him as their lord.

“I understand.”

Wein decided they needed to take this conversation elsewhere, pronto. He took this opportunity to reassure those around him by putting Geralt in his place, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“We get blinded by love, according to ancient proverbs…and it seems you couldn’t escape its clutches, Lord Geralt.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I was being saaaaarcastic! Taaaaake notice! Wein begged.

Geralt went on, dashing his prayers. “And? Where does my princess await, pining for me?”

She’s not pining for anyone. Wein held back his thoughts.

“There is no need to hurry, Lord Geralt. You know it takes a while for ladies to get ready. And to meet a man of your caliber? She can’t even have a single strand of hair out of place. Be generous with your time. Isn’t that what makes or breaks a man?”

“…You’re right. Guess I lost my composure for a little there.”

Well, more than a little, but there was no reason to point that out.

“I’ve prepared a room for you to rest for the time being, and we’ll have a banquet for the two of you in the evening.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

As he was escorted away, Geralt strutted around like he owned the place with his attendants in tow. As soon as he watched them disappear, Wein murmured with exhaustion.

“Well then—Ninym.”

“Yes. Right this way.” She guided him to a nearby room.

No one was there, save the two of them. Wein let a teeny sigh escape his lips.

“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU COME HERE, GEEEEEEERALT?!” he roared. “Seriously, dude? Who in their right mind would come here?! To the palace?! Of a neighboring kingdom?! When no one invited you?!” Wein wailed.

He shot Ninym a look. “Hey, don’t you agree with…?”

He trailed off because Ninym was in the worst mood ever.

“U-um, Ninym…?” Wein asked timidly. His frustrations evaporated in an instant.

She spat back. “…Geralt was looking down on you the entire time.”

“Y-yeah, well, he is the heir of an Imperial marquis. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she asserted. There was no room for argument. “There’s nothing fine about it.”

“……”

If he had a slip of the tongue here, he’d be her next target.

Wein chose his words carefully. “Yeah, you’re right. But you shouldn’t be angry with him on my behalf, Ninym.”

“You’ve got no right to tell me whom I can be angry with and why.”

“But I do. You’re my heart. And I won’t forgive him for monopolizing you.”

This made even Ninym look startled. And Wein wasn’t just going to let this opportunity slide away.

“Besides, being mad will only make you slip up. Better to think of something that makes you happy.”

“…Like what?”

Wein thought for a few seconds. “Like me,” he joked.

Ninym adopted a serious expression and spoke quietly. “…Okay.”

“R-right on.”

Wein could feel her rage subside. She seemed to agree with his point.

As he was overcome with relief, he rested on a nearby chair, and Ninym hopped on his lap like it was perfectly normal.

“…Ninym?”

“Don’t mind me.”

Which was an unreasonable request, but Ninym was hell-bent on getting her way.

“It was a stroke of luck that their soldiers weren’t the ones who arrived. I honestly thought we’d be done for this time,” she admitted.

Around the time the two tribes had reconciled, Wein had figured out Lowellmina’s objective and sent the letter to the marquis. If Antgadull had set off with his soldiers before it arrived, Wein wouldn’t have been able to stop them.

“We were lucky he didn’t make the call to mobilize them until the very last minute,” she continued as though nothing about this situation was abnormal.

Wein gave up trying to shove her off his lap. “…I imagined he’d be indecisive until the last possible moment. Even so, I knew we could have been in a tough spot.”

“Based on your findings on the King of Antgadull?”

“Right.” Wein nodded. “Grinahae Antgadull is a man who runs from decisions, hides from responsibility, and hopes the right answer will drop from the sky to save him. He can’t confidently make a judgment call in the face of something that could change the fate of an entire continent… Well, the king sold his nation out to the Empire to save his son, so he’s plenty reckless, too.”

What a comedic tale. To think the prince of a neighboring nation would understand a father’s intentions better than his own son.

But even Wein couldn’t grasp what Geralt was thinking.

“What are you going to do? I want to get that jerk out of here as soon as possible,” Ninym added.

“If we did that, their army would actually come pay us a visit… One thing on my to-do list is to stop Lowa. I bet she’s in a crazed panic in her room right about now.”

After Ninym had informed them of Geralt’s arrival, Lowellmina and Fyshe returned to her room. With her plan in shreds, she’d been forced to make revisions.