The Hero’s Party Members Treat Me Well for Some Reason

Struggle for the Throne (8)

In her childhood, most of Deila’s world was occupied by the First Princess.

Deila was terribly fond of her sister, who was exceedingly brilliant and kind.

And First Princess Isla, in turn, cherished Deila the most amongst the family.

And in the world she perceived as a child, Isla was truly a magnificent existence.

She was respected by everyone around her, effortlessly resolving matters that others wouldn’t even dare to contemplate.

Her body was a touch frail, but her mind was exceptionally sharp. So much so that, at a young age, she was already entrusted with state affairs.

Because of this, Isla was incredibly busy from a young age. Some even said that Isla seemed precarious, arguing that burdening someone so young and physically weak with such heavy responsibilities was wrong.

But Deila, who was closer to Isla than anyone else, knew better. She knew that her sister was an incredibly resilient person. Even if she were to visit Isla during her work, Isla would always smile at her.

What more could be said, when she had taken on even that workload herself to ease the Emperor’s burden?

Therefore.

“Suicide is unthinkable.”

That her strong-willed sister would take her own life? It was laughable.

She was not so weak, nor was she so foolish as to shoulder so much work to begin with.

So Deila was certain that her sister had been murdered. It was just that those dimwitted investigators, claiming there was no evidence, had concluded it was suicide.

But while evidence was lacking, there was a witness. The only one who claimed to have seen the scene of the incident. The Second Prince, Aiden.

‘Brother, I need your help.’

At the time, everyone said the Second Prince was mad, but she, at least, believed his words.

Screech…

With an unnerving sound, the tightly shut door creaked open.

She struggled to calm her wildly pounding heart. It had been a full ten years since their last meeting.

The last time she saw him, he hadn’t even finished his secondary s*xual development. She couldn’t quite imagine how much he might have changed.

What if he really was mad? What if he was too different from how she remembered him?

What if he refused to cooperate with her?

Various anxieties surfaced in her mind. Of course, regardless of her anxieties, the door was steadily opening.

At long last, the doors swung inward, revealing the room’s interior.

“…So that’s what all the commotion was about. We have a guest.”

The room was unexpectedly immaculate. Contrary to what one might imagine a madman’s chamber to be, there were no scattered belongings, and it was remarkably clean. The pristine white floor gleamed, a testament to the tireless care of the servants.

And seated at the room’s center sat a man.

“And you must be… Delaire? Goodness, how you’ve grown. It has been a long while.”

It was Aiden. He remained almost identical to how he’d appeared ten years past.

A robust physique, meticulously maintained, and eyes gleaming with a sharp intelligence. Defying the rumors rampant in society, he appeared perfectly sound of mind.

“So, what brings you here?”

He posed the question. Delaire responded, her voice betraying a hint of unease.

“Brother, I have come because I need your help. Lend me your strength.”

“…Hmm.”

His eyes, like daggers, pierced through Delaire. Aiden spoke again.

“Even if I am confined to this place, it doesn’t mean I am entirely ignorant of the outside world. From time to time, I overhear snippets of news traded amongst the servants and soldiers.”

He continued.

“Delaire, I am already aware that you are vying with my brother for the throne. And that you are at a distinct disadvantage.”

“…”

“You have come to me, most likely, concerning the death of the First Princess. Am I correct?”

Delaire nodded in silence, inwardly surprised. He had deduced her purpose without her uttering a word.

Though confined to the palace all this time, his keen senses were clearly undiminished.

Delaire felt relieved that her second brother was, in fact, sane.

But that was the end of it.

“And why, pray tell, should I help you?”

“Pardon?”

“If things go awry, it’s plain as day I’ll suffer the consequences. Yet, you expect me to assist you, knowing full well it’s a thankless task. Tell me, what reason could I possibly have?”

Aiden’s sharp gaze pierced her. Dela hesitated, then cautiously replied.

“…Shouldn’t you reveal the truth?”

“Ha, the truth? So, it is the truth you seek?”

Aiden scoffed.

“That ‘truth’ could have been revealed even ten years ago. You think my confinement to this palace is solely the First Prince’s doing? No, my will was involved as well.”

Aiden paused, lost in a moment of recollection. Back when the First Princess perished, Aiden had frantically claimed to have witnessed her death… or rather, heard it.

Indeed, with but a modicum of consideration, the death seemed riddled with oddities.

The First Princess, Ayla, fell to her death from the palace balcony. An accidental fall, they called it.

However, the palace balconies were, without exception, quite high, difficult to ascend.

It remained dubious that the First Princess, Ayla, had climbed up there alone.

Of course, if she strained enough, she might have managed it. In fact, near where she fell, there were no signs of struggle, no traces of anyone else’s involvement.

But most who reside in the palace know this: the palace’s investigative systems are far from perfect.

Traces can be erased with enough intent, and there were magical after-effects, like lingering echoes, that vanish with time.

Evidence could be concealed in any number of ways.

From the very start, the rivalry had been solely between the First Prince and the First Princess.

The nobles are no fools. Such conjecture was inevitable.

– To think, the First Imperial Princess, dead…

– Rumor on the streets says it was suicide. But does that even sound plausible?

– It feels…suspicious, doesn’t it? It seems more likely someone assassinated her. Perhaps that person who was overshadowed by the First Princess…

– You dare speak such treason here?! Do you wish to be arrested for blasphemy?

That the First Prince assassinated the First Princess. They couldn’t have failed to consider it.

– But if that’s truly the truth, shouldn’t the First Prince be punished?

– Even if he is a Prince, we cannot simply ignore the murder of a kinswoman. We must inform His Majesty.

– But if we do…

Yet, even with the thought, they turned away.

– Which side do we pledge ourselves to?

Everything was uncertain. Only suspicion existed, without a shred of proof.

There are witnesses, but even their words might be false.

– What if, after we inform him, it’s ruled a suicide…?

– If we make a misstep, we could fall out of favor with the First Prince. And if that happens… who knows what he might do to us…

– And frankly, whether His Majesty would properly punish him is… *ahem*.

– You fool!

– Oh, come on, isn’t it the truth? His Majesty is hale and hearty now, but we must slowly prepare for the succession.

– Let’s just pretend we don’t know anything.

And so, the nobles averted their gaze, a sight the Second Prince, Aiden, observed in its entirety.

That was why he found the spectacle so unforgivable. This charade of burying their heads in the sand… it was no different than a dog he kept at home.

“So it was here I came. Power, in any case, held no allure for me. I knew the Imperial Palace festered, but I could bear it no longer.”

The First Prince, even, must have found it a burden to slay two of his own kin.

Once the First Princess’s affairs settled, he declared the Second Prince’s mind to be fracturing and sent him here.

Aidan could have resisted, but he simply allowed himself to be brought.

The world’s perception was false, after all, and the nobility, nothing but layers of pretense.

Better to live here, distanced from the mortal coil, in peace.

Aidan turned his face from Dayla, as if he had no more to say.

“…”

Dayla, having heard his tale, remained silent for a time. Her violet eyes, as if lost in thought, sank into a deep contemplation.

After that silence, she finally spoke.

“But… is that not simply running away?”

“…What?”

The words, it seemed, could not be ignored. Aidan’s head snapped back toward her.

Dayla was in the position of seeking aid from him, practically a supplicant.

But that meant nothing now, it seemed, for she continued.

“Brother, if I may presume to offer my opinion. From my perspective, it appears you have merely fled. Afraid of the situation where no one would heed your voice. Simply hidden yourself away.”

When no one at the banquet would speak to her. When she was dismissed by the child of a mere Baron.

When mocked by the First Prince’s faction, she asked herself.

Why do I even aspire to be Queen?

With the First Prince’s ascension all but assured, why stubbornly involve myself in this succession struggle?

“Did you say you loathed the nobles? Then you should have fought! You should have changed things, even at the cost of your life!”

Once, she couldn’t answer those questions herself. But now, she understands.

She knows why she made the choices she did.

She, more than death itself, loathed the thought of the First Prince becoming Emperor.

That he become Emperor, and the rotten Empire remain rotten, was more abhorrent to her than becoming a vagrant.

So she challenged for the throne. To create a place even a little more honest and virtuous.

A place ruled by law, not by connections.

That is why she strives to be Empress.

Aiden, hearing her rebuttal, was speechless for a moment. But only for a moment, before he pointed at her and asked,

“Then, what is different now from ten years ago? Will they listen if you speak the truth?”

“Two things are different. First, unlike then, there is now a competitor named me. Second, therefore, the nobles have an alternative to support.”

“You know that most of those nobles are of the First Prince’s faction. They must have done terrible things to you, claiming to keep you in check. Would such men suddenly side with you?”

“They will have to. Otherwise, something will rise up from below.”

If she had to find even a single point where she surpassed the First Prince, it would be this:

Even so, the hearts of the citizens favored Deila.

Not that she was particularly popular with the common people, but the First Prince’s popularity was, to put it mildly, atrocious.

After all, he cares only about becoming Emperor himself, so how could they possibly like him?

However, even so, he had the advantage because this was a medieval society where the nobles had far more influence than the common folk. Is that not the way of a corrupt nation?

But no matter how strong he was, the attempted kidnapping of a Princess and her attempted murder, both happening at once, were bound to shake him. Discontent will not just surface, it will erupt.

“So, please, help me. Then I will change the current Imperial Palace.”

“······.”

Aiden’s eyes pierced Deila, as if appraising her. Deila met his gaze unflinchingly, returning the stare.

For a moment, that’s all there was.

“···You’ve grown strong.”

Aiden finally spoke.

“Good, little sister. I’ll entrust it to you, then.”

The negotiation was sealed in that instant.

*

“My gratitude. Thanks to you, we were able to break through with ease.”

“Don’t mention it. Then, until next time, Your Highness.”

Having completed the plan successfully, I parted ways with her near the city.

To be honest, there was little left for me to do.

All that remained was the battle for public opinion, and as you know, with my curse, withdrawing is the best form of assistance.

Now that we’ve acquired the Second Prince card, they’ll stir and fry it amongst themselves well enough.

With the Second Prince gone, the First Prince will be in an uproar, no doubt.

Which makes me a little worried about his specialty—assassination, admittedly…

“Ah, before you leave, please take these with you.”

“Er…these?”

“Yes, they’re good sorts. Just feed them meat regularly.”

“···It doesn’t *have* to be human meat, I presume?”

It was because of that I gifted her the Dimensional Worms.

After all, now that I possessed the Myriad Transformation, I’d scarcely have use for the little fellows anymore.

She would surely put them to good use in my stead.

For some reason, she seemed a touch afraid when I handed them over. But she didn’t refuse.

At any rate, with this, I’d done nearly all I could for her.

Now she would have to fight well on her own. I fervently hoped she’d flourish and become Empress.

Only then would I find some peace.

Though I’d stormed the palace in the early morning, by the time the negotiations concluded, it was already late afternoon.

Between fighting and parleying, the time had simply flown.

People walking the streets were slowly heading home, leaving the lanes quiet.

I intended to stroll leisurely, taking in the scenery for the first time in ages.

But that was when it happened.

“Are you the hero, Luke?”

A voice suddenly spoke from behind me.

I hadn’t even sensed his approach, when?

Turning around, I saw an elderly knight clad in scarred armor. Gaunt, his muscles diminished, a knight in decline.

“Curious. This hero feels like nothing but filth. Is it because the aura of Enen is so strong?”

But there was something strange about his presence. Though plainly a common knight, there was a familiar energy about him.

I soon realized that the energy stemmed from a certain supernatural power.

Unbidden, I murmured to myself,

“A puppet…?”

That is a Puppet Master’s doll.

“Ho, a ‘hero’ then, is it? Quick to figure it out, you are.”

“How? That fellow was certainly dead.”

“Dead or not. He left behind his dolls, did he not? This one was transferred to me a long time ago.”

At his words, I understood why the puppet remained.

Usually, when the caster dies, the ability dissipates naturally.

But very rarely, if held too long by puppetry, there were those who remained puppets even after the caster’s demise.

Their souls flown away, tethered for too long to the strings.

Even with a slight creak, they could still be manipulated. The one before me was such a case.

I offered a moment of pity to the knight before me.

‘…How long had you been trapped?’

Perhaps he was a youth when first brainwashed. Now, decades later, he was forever a puppet.

“Who are you?”

I asked the other, my hand gripping my sword. The one beyond the puppet answered indifferently.

“Evan.”

Evan Clockworker. The next Heavenly King I would face.

“The reason I sought you out is simple.”

He said, drawing his sword.

“A bout, then. I am curious as to your strength.”