Chapter 181

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: The Logic of Power
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As Philip IV declared his preparations for invasion complete, Prince Alfonso gritted his teeth and turned to face him.

“Princess Auguste de Brienne. And Your Majesty, Philip IV. …Do you have any idea what you are saying right now?”

Instead of Philip, who remained silent with a faint smile, an emboldened Auguste answered triumphantly.

“We are avenging my dear aunt! To think the noble blood of the Brienne dynasty was shed because you couldn't manage your own palace.”

She looked Prince Alfonso up and down. Her gaze was appraising.

“Prince Alfonso. If you are also a member of the House of Brienne, you should naturally be furious.”

Princess Auguste added with a gentle smile.

“Wasn't it you, Prince Alfonso de Carlo, who lost your mother because of that filthy mistress?”

Alfonso replied slowly.

“…That's right.”

It was the only true thing Auguste had said all day.

“You're right. The one who should mourn my mother's death the most is me. Which is why I can say this with the most conviction.”

Alfonso strode back to the conference table, planted both hands on the marble surface, and leaned forward to glare at Auguste, who was chirping like an excited jay.

“Cut the crap. It has not been confirmed that Queen Marguerite died because of Countess Rubina de Como.”

Startled by Alfonso's menacing aura, Auguste jerked back.

She was not sitting in a proper chair meant for the conference members, but on a backless stool placed right beside the king.

As she scrambled backward on the stool, Auguste nearly fell off.

“Agh!”

She let out a short scream as she lost her balance. At Princess Auguste's predicament, the mask-like expression on Philip IV's face instantly shattered.

“Alfonso de Carlo.”

He called out to Prince Alfonso in a growl.

He extended his long arm in front of the princess, as if to shield her from the prince.

“Luxuries like factual accuracy can only be afforded in times of peace.”

He said it half-singing, half-growling like a wolf.

“When a division including the Montpellier Heavy Knights has already crossed your border, well… it becomes rather difficult to quibble over the details, wouldn't you say?”

Philip IV no longer hid his true intentions.

The usual Philip might have cushioned his words, saying something like, ‘When armies are mobilized, military expenses and public sentiment are crucial, so a swift decision is vital.’

But even seeing Philip's true intentions, Prince Alfonso did not back down. There was nowhere to retreat.

“Your Majesty, Philip IV. Do you know what is as important as power in international relations?”

“As if such a thing exists.”

Despite Philip's sarcasm, he answered firmly.

“Just cause.”

Prince Alfonso looked Philip IV straight in the eye and said.

“If a monarch of the Yesab faith invades another Yesab monarchy for reasons that are clearly nonsensical, the Holy See and the nations of the central continent will not tolerate the situation in the long run.”

Philip IV frowned. Prince Alfonso's argument had merit.

It wasn't for nothing that Philip IV had offered to support a ‘holy war.’

He had promised financial backing to grease the wheels with the Holy See.

But Pope Ludovico was no pushover. He was the type of man to take the money and issue an excommunication all the same.

“So?”

The king answered immediately, trying not to show he was contemplating.

But the very fact that he had answered was proof of his unease. Alfonso watched Philip sharply.

“Until the charges against Countess Rubina de Como are proven, the Kingdom of Gallico’s demands will not be legitimate.”

But the young king was more seasoned than the young prince. At Alfonso's words, a broad smile spread across Philip IV's lips.

Prince Alfonso was inwardly flustered by the complete reversal in Philip's attitude.

“…How can we trust the Kingdom of Etruscan?”

Philip IV ran a long finger across the marble table.

“This is a marble table. A specialty of the Lastera Mountains in northern Etruscan.”

White marbling was visible through its subtle pink sheen.

“However, within the Kingdom of Gallico, if I say, ‘This is a specialty of Gallico,’ then it becomes a specialty of Gallico.”

Philip stared intently at Alfonso.

“If a king's authority is strong enough, he can transform not just unprovable facts like its origin, but even its clearly visible qualities. Its material, for example. If I claim this is not a marble table but a granite one, then to those under my influence, it will be a granite table. Sandstone, clay, wood—I can call it whatever I like.”

Philip IV gazed at Alfonso with a deep smile.

“This is not a privilege unique to me. It is a power wielded by any monarch with a firm grasp on their authority. Your father, and my dear late uncle-by-marriage, King Leo III, is in the same position.”

A few scenes of Leo III's stubbornness flashed through Alfonso's mind.

“Besides, he is desperate. He's in a position where he'd erase existing charges. If I were the king of Etruscan, I'd be frantically searching for reasons for Countess Rubina's innocence. In a situation like this, how on earth am I supposed to trust Etruscan’s judicial system?”

The young king of Gallico slammed his right hand down on the marble table with a thud.

“Send Countess Rubina here as well. We will conduct the trial.”

Count Marquez, sitting beside Prince Alfonso, whispered under his breath.

“That's absurd…!”

Princess Auguste shot Count Marquez a fierce glare.

But Philip IV, ignoring the surrounding commotion, wore his usual leisurely smile.

His snake-like gaze swept over Prince Alfonso.

“Ah, that's right. My dear young cousin.”

The next in line to the throne of the Kingdom of Etruscan, whom he couldn't even approach in their youth.

Now, he was dancing like a puppet in the palm of his hand. Philip smiled with delight as he twisted the knife.

“You aren't an ambassador plenipotentiary, are you?”

An ‘ambassador plenipotentiary’ was a diplomatic envoy with the authority to make decisions without receiving approval from their home country.

Movement of goods and people was slow on the central continent. Traversing the vast continent on horseback could take as long as three months.

Thus, when sending an envoy abroad for important negotiations, they were granted the status of a ‘nation's representative.’

The position was created to ensure the stability of negotiations, preventing a king from arbitrarily overturning the results when the envoy returned home to report them.

Leo III had not granted his son, Prince Alfonso, the status of a ‘nation's representative.’

“You can't decide anything without your father's permission, can you! It’s alright, I understand. A young son without his father's trust can't be helped.”

Alfonso's face flushed red. He gritted his teeth in humiliation, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He tasted the metallic tang of blood. He wanted to smash his fist into someone's face.

But he himself couldn't be sure if the face he wanted to smash belonged to Philip IV before him, or to his dear father, His Majesty the King, back home.

Prince Alfonso barely maintained his composure and threw out a single sentence.

“…I will return to my country at once and convey the Kingdom of Gallico's demands to my royal father.”

But the king of Gallico would not let even that pass so easily.

“Return to your country?”

Philip was on the verge of bursting into mad laughter. His attitude was that of someone watching a comedy performed by a court jester.

“You came all this way to your mother's land! You can't leave so soon.”

Auguste chimed in.

“As a special favor, I will permit you to send an envoy to your kingdom.”

Sparks flew from Alfonso's eyes at the word ‘permit.’ Philip stopped Auguste.

“Permit? How absurd. How could we dare to order the heir to the great Kingdom of Etruscan to come and go!”

At this, Auguste couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. Philip continued his act, unfazed.

“But I cannot let our cousin leave. He came all this way, so we must continue our lavish hospitality! Let the music play! Ha, haha, hahahahahaha!”

But in the end, he couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.

Philip and Auguste roared with laughter, the court nobles flanking them chuckled along, while the officials stared at the three from Etruscan with ice-cold expressions.

Before them, Prince Alfonso and the two Etruscan nobles could only grit their teeth, their faces pale.

“Now, escort our esteemed guest to his quarters.”

Philip ordered. It was a dismissal.

In an instant, about twenty royal guards surrounded Prince Alfonso and the two nobles.

Alfonso roughly shook off the nearest guard.

“Let go of me. I can walk on my own.”

* * *

From Prince Alfonso’s party, Count Marquez was chosen as the envoy to return to their home country.

“Your Highness, how will you manage here without me…!”

Count Marquez was the only diplomat in the party. He was also experienced and seasoned.

Sir Bernardino was also experienced and prudent, but experience built as an aide was different from that of a diplomat.

But Prince Alfonso shook his head.

“There is little that can be accomplished here with diplomacy right now.”

He was right.

“If we have any chance of a breakthrough, it lies in persuading His Majesty the King back home.”

Sir Bernardino, Sir Manfredi, and Sir Elko, who was wrapped in bandages, all agreed with his words.

“Five hundred thousand gold ducats is absurd. But we must find a way to appease Philip IV. That will require political finesse, as well as concessions or sacrifices from His Majesty our King.”

Sir Bernardino fell grimly silent. Concessions and sacrifices from Leo III.

“Among those present, you, Count Marquez, are the one most capable of persuading His Majesty to make a decision.”

Distraught at the thought of leaving the young prince and knights of his age alone in enemy territory, Count Marquez lowered his head.

“But…!”

“Don't think like that. Go back and persuade my royal father. There is no one else who can turn this situation around.”

Alfonso took Count Marquez's hand.

“I’m counting on you.”

Count Marquez slowly nodded.

“I, Anselmo de Marquez, will carry out this order with my life.”

* * *

And so, Count Marquez, with five royal guards assigned to him by the prince, dragged his no-longer-young body across the Prinoyak Mountains in just twelve days.

It was a journey that had taken a full month on the way from the Kingdom of Etruscan to Gallico.

“…And that is what happened, Your Majesty.”

Having reported everything that had transpired, Count Marquez knelt before Leo III.

He had come straight to the royal palace to request an audience without even washing.

On the verge of collapse, Count Marquez cried out to Leo III with his last ounce of strength.

“Please save His Highness the Prince, the foundation of our nation, and our young men being held in Gallico!”

And Leo III did not answer.