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Chapter 435. Dancing Puppet

After having a painful tumble, it seemed that Oranio had calmed down a bit and was once again riding his unicycle toward the audience room.

As he made his way, the castle officials passing by couldn’t hide their astonishment at the prince’s disgraceful behavior.

Oranio, who already had a bad reputation among the populace, certainly would not have expected the people to think it could get “this bad.” Fortunately or unfortunately, those who understood the true state of the prince fell silent in shock.

Why is he still able to be the prince despite such a situation?

Part of it is due to the fact that Johannes, the legitimate heir and grandson of the previous king, is currently missing; this strengthens the claim of the princely bloodline. Also, Oranio’s close relations with the Empire play a significant role.

The Empire, which has been waging an economic war against them under various pretexts, declared, “If Oranio ascends the throne, we’ll call off our hostilities,” which is the primary reason supporting Oranio’s reign.

It is clear to everyone that Oranio is foolish and a puppet of the Empire. However, there is no other option available.

Before long, he arrived at the audience room, where the winners, runners-up, and commendable participants of the martial arts tournament had gathered.

By the way, they are all knights. The martial arts tournament is open to all races and social statuses, competing purely in martial skills without magic or favoritism. However, in individual battles, commoners rarely stand a chance against knights, who have trained from a young age as professional soldiers.

Thus, unless exceptionally talented individuals enter, the prize winners are often comprised of knights.

Incidentally, it tends to be a one-sided game when Sword Saints or Fist Saints compete; they’re expected not to participate to avoid mutual destruction.

Very rarely, there are some who, in the midst of the tournament, display a mastery of the elements, but in such cases, it’s customary to allow the competition to continue, and those characters usually go on to win.

“Hey there, everyone! The martial arts tournament was truly amazing!”

As Oranio entered, clapping his hands, the waiting knights swiftly knelt and lowered their heads.

It may not have been out of respect for the prince, but perhaps they simply didn’t want to gaze upon the eccentric who rode in on a unicycle. If he were just an oddball, that would be one thing, but he’s their ruler.

“Haha! Armed knights are just so cool, aren’t they?! Oh, allowing you all to be armed is a sign of my trust, you know! So do your best to uphold that!!”

It almost sounded as if he had the awareness that his vassals could pull their swords on him. A few royal guards were also stationed against the walls of the audience room for protection.

“Sir Armstrong! Congratulations on your victory! Your fighting style truly etched itself in my mind! You were amazing!”

“Ah… I’m truly honored…”

As Oranio slapped him on the shoulder numerous times, Sir Armstrong merely managed a forced smile and spoke few words.

He had a robust physique perfect for wielding a sword, as if he were born for it. Had he not been born into nobility with strong magic, he might have reached the level of Sword Saint.

“Sir Zerothstrong, the runner-up, just missed it! But you looked cool!”

“Haha, thank you.”

Unlike the other participants who wore gloomy expressions, the rosy-cheeked Sir Zerothstrong answered cheerfully.

He had been drinking during the after-party post-tournament when he was suddenly summoned by the prince. Normally, appearing before the prince while tipsy would be utterly unacceptable, but since it was a personal invitation and considering it was Oranio, he felt it was probably fine. Indeed, Oranio didn’t seem to mind at all, so his judgment appeared correct.

“Everyone else fought splendidly too! It’s brightening to see knights like you all for the principality’s future!!”

Ha ha ha… Only the forced laughter of Sir Zerothstrong echoed hollowly. The future of the principality hardly seemed bright, especially with the source of the problem standing right in front of them. The butler dressed in formal attire next to Oranio sneered, his lips curling at the grim faces of the principality’s officials.

“So! To celebrate your valiant efforts, I want to give out rewards!”

With a clap of his hands, a cart was wheeled in, adorned with jangling bags that produced metallic sounds.

“Here you go! This is an additional sum of gold on top of the winner’s prize!”

Sir Armstrong was handed the largest bag. “Go ahead and look inside!” he was told, and reluctantly opened it to find it stuffed full with gold coins.

“Thank you… I’m so fortunate…”

Of course, he was pleased to receive something and the prospect of a thicker wallet was undoubtedly delightful.

However, he couldn’t help but think there must be better uses for the money…

Currently, voices of the impoverished echoed from all over the country. While the principality’s economy struggled due to various interferences from the Empire, the major cause was Oranio’s reckless meddling in the nation’s politics.

With such a bounty of gold, one couldn’t help but wonder how many poor lives could be saved… Sir Armstrong intended to use these funds to develop his territory, but if only his village became prosperous while the nation remained poor, it would only be a temporary fix—a more fundamental solution was necessary.

“Wow, this is really generous!”

Zerothstrong exclaimed, checking the weight of the bag of coins, beaming with joy. Most likely, it would quickly disappear as drinking money.

“I’m glad you accepted! And now, I actually have a favor to ask of you!”

However, with Oranio’s unsettling words ongoing, even Zerothstrong’s smile faded.

…It was no wonder that he had been so generous. Sir Armstrong was barely able to suppress a sigh. This unpredictable dimwit of a ruler was notorious for his unreasonable requests of his vassals.

“…If it’s within my capacity, anything you need…”

Yet, when asked to do a favor, how could one directly refuse, saying, “No”? Reluctantly, Armstrong spoke up—

“Nothing too complicated.”

Oranio pointed at the butler dressed in formal attire behind him.

“I need you to restrain this man and the royal guards. I don’t care about their lives; life or death doesn’t matter.”

…Huh?

The atmosphere in the room froze. Sir Armstrong, the butler, and the royal guards all looked at him in shock.

Only Oranio, breaking the lively air, wore a serious expression.

“This man and the royal guards are my watchers, sent by the Empire. Just the other day, I received an ultimatum from the Empire. At this rate, I could be mysteriously sick and dead.”

…What is the prince talking about?

I couldn’t help but think maybe he finally cracked, but Oranio, whom some called foolish, fixed his gaze with a keen and sincere intensity.

“For the sake of the nation, I would gladly give up my life. However, creating a political vacuum at this point would be disastrous. The Empire is likely to declare war very soon. I have a duty as the temporary king to support this nation until we can welcome back His Majesty King Graham…!”

‘Oranio, I’m sorry. You’ll have to play the villain…’

I couldn’t help but reminisce about that day when Duke Graham decided to retire.

“…Please, don’t look so gloomy, Uncle! Do you think I went to study in the Empire for no reason?!”

Oranio gladly took it on.

He pretended to be a soft target in the Empire, indulging in mindless pleasures.

Everything before this was for this moment. Oranio was of the proud Hamilton line, a citizen of the principality.

Living for the principality, willing to die for it. He was ready for that resolve!

“I’ll flail about as their puppet and dance flamboyantly to my heart’s content.”

To postpone the decisive confrontation as long as possible—

But the die was cast. It had been cast.

“Reacting appropriately would open the door to war. I’ve been wagging my tail to avoid bloodshed until now, but… if the Empire is really ready, then I won’t flatter them anymore.”

As he swiftly drew a sword hidden beneath his baggy crimson robes, Oranio declared.

No matter how much he had been ridiculed or laughed at, his previously foolish expression transformed into unmistakable hostility.

“You bastard…”

The butler in formal attire—or rather, the Empire’s agent, grimaced and reached for a hidden weapon.

Indeed, he had received orders to assassinate Oranio. With word of the Empire’s invasion arriving, they aimed to paralyze the political center at the moment of the principality’s greatest confusion—

But this situation was dire! To quell this as the prince’s madness would be far too much—this man exuded far too much dignity!!

Even they had been made to believe they were just fools! They had been deceived up until this very moment!

If they didn’t crush this threat now—!

However, at that moment he withdrew a hidden weapon from his chest, a sickly blade made not just for mere concealment was deflected, sending sparks flying.

“You’ve revealed your true nature.”

With a draw faster than the eye could catch, Sir Armstrong sliced through the agent’s blade and stared him down with a steely gaze.

Taken aback by Oranio’s sudden transformation, the agent was overwhelmed by the dignified presence befitting a member of the royal line.

Nevertheless, there was lingering doubt. Oranio had built up too little trust over time.

Yet, the butler’s behavior solidified his convictions. There was no way a close aide would refer to his lord as “you bastard.” He decided to trust Oranio’s words regarding the agent being an overseer from the Empire.

Under normal circumstances, this agent might not have made such a blunder—but it seemed they too were equally shaken by Oranio’s dramatic shift.

…But what if all of this had been but a performance of Oranio’s?

“Haha.”

Sir Armstrong chuckled. If that were the case, he planned to become the laughingstock for generations to come.

“If that’s the case, let me lend my sword, Your Highness!”

Zerothstrong, showing no signs of intoxication, swiftly drew his sword. Other participants from the martial arts tournament followed suit, drawing their weapons one after another with determination.

—So that’s why they were fully armed.

Realizing this late, he noticed that unlike the royal guards donned in flashy ceremonial armor with gold plating and decorations, the warriors present wore well-used equipment—

That had been requested specifically by the prince for this audience.

“…”

Tensions rose as they glared at each other, reaching a critical threshold.

The sound of swords clashing echoed throughout the audience room.

Overwhelmed. The supposedly numerous royal guards were taken down one by one by the tournament participants. They were men who would happily turn sides for coins or other rewards dangled by the Empire. The appearance may have been flashy, but they were no match for Sir Armstrong and the others in terms of swordsmanship.

Even while weighed down by armor, it was challenging to exert restraint, but Oranio’s declaration that “the royal guards can die, they lack significant information,” allowed them to unleash fatal blows and send them into bloody pools one after another—

“Arghhh!”

The only one left shouting energetically was the butler, rendered helpless after his tendons had been severed.

“Your Highness! While I did believe you to some extent, I can really trust you, right?!”

Once they had subdued the audience room, Zerothstrong, wiping the blood from his blade, expressed doubts for the first time.

With a tense expression, Oranio was touched by the desperation in Zerothstrong’s voice, and as he cast aside his clownish crimson robes, he couldn’t help but smirk. Beneath them was a plain but finely tailored court outfit.

“Although it may be hard to believe, there’s no lie in my words now. Unfortunately, I suspect the Empire will soon back that up with a declaration of war.”

The atmosphere, which had begun to loosen, tightened at his words.

“And… It’s fine for you to just call me Oranio. For us, when we say ‘Your Majesty,’ it’s King Graham, right? I’m merely temporarily entrusted with the throne until he returns…”

With a self-deprecating laugh, Oranio spoke.

“Well, even so, a king is still a king, right?”

Zerothstrong, ever the joker, responded.

“Now, let me wield my sword in your service… Your Highness.”

Sir Armstrong knelt, followed by others mirroring the action.

“Thank you. Then, until King Graham returns, I shall act like a king as well. …In the true sense of the word.”

A shared wry smile among them.

—Truly, he wasn’t cut out to be king, was he?

But if it were a fool’s role, he was more than capable, Oranio thought to himself.

(Uncle… Please come back soon…!)

He was determined to do his best in return for Sir Armstrong and the others who now paid their respects to him—though the impending situation felt quite burdensome…

Soon after, news reached Oranio that the Empire had crossed the border without declaring war, and he found himself clutching his head in despair.

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Note: The term ‘Saint’ referring to Sword Saints and Fist Saints lacked a collective expression until now. To avoid inconvenience, it’s decided to use “Martial Saint.”

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