The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 373 Crown Prince Alondre (23) - Half-Siblings The current Emperor had many children. This was because the Emperor was by no means an abstinent man, and even less the type to consider things like "if a son is born of this woman, what political influence would that carry..." whenever he took a woman to bed. To be precise, he had considered such things back when he was hard at work — but from some point on, he'd simply stopped bothering. With a lecherous Emperor who had neither hesitation nor self-restraint when it came to fathering children, it was inevitable that Imperial Princes and Imperial Princesses would be born in droves. And the Imperial Princes and Princesses born this way harbored, knowingly or not, a great deal of discontent. The content of that discontent varied widely, but when it came down to it, the underlying direction was much the same. "No, seriously, what exactly are we lacking?" "Honestly, aren't we quite the capable bunch, as it is?" "We're supposedly imperial family — does this treatment even make sense?" ─That they themselves were simply not being given the treatment they deserved. "Aren't we honestly incredibly capable people?" The education given to Imperial Princes and Princesses was of an extremely high standard. They could easily access knowledge that even monarchs and nobility of other nations could scarcely obtain, let alone commoners; they could drink elixirs as freely as water; and their tutors, too, were of the highest caliber. One could disparage it as a matter of environment or elixirs, sure, but the world was full of people who, despite being blessed with excellent conditions, still failed to produce results — so by that standard, these Imperial Princes and Princesses honestly weren't of poor quality at all. Take, for instance, the man currently waking up every single day on some deserted island to the blare of a bugle going "Ba-bam, ba-ba-ba-ba-ram-bam," a fired-up young man and former Imperial Prince — Nikolaus — who was, after all, a 5th rank warrior in his own right. Was their lineage lacking, then? Not that either. As mentioned, the Emperor was not a man who fussed over the political ramifications that might follow from taking a particular woman to bed — and because of that, among the current maternal relatives, there were many houses whose power and prestige were so overwhelming that even fairly formidable families wouldn't dare put their name forward. A sword-arts household that had, for generations, produced the empire's finest knights; a civil-official household that had produced the empire's highest-ranking ministers across four generations; a duke's house whose domain alone was larger than the territory of many other nations — and so on. Among everything a single person could possess, this was backing of nearly the highest tier imaginable. They possessed personal ability. They possessed the strength of their household as well. With people like this also bearing the title of "child of the Emperor," it would honestly be strange if their hearts didn't stir with restless ambition. They wanted, right this instant, to launch into a fierce and merciless power struggle among the imperial family, to run the succession race with everything they had, toward the title of Emperor of the mightiest nation on the continent. That's what they wanted to do. "No, seriously, why does everyone only look at Brother Alondre and not even glance our way?!" "This isn't a country where the eldest automatically inherits, is it? It should be decided by ability!!" "It's so unfair! Ugh, so unfair!!" Why did the ministers act as though the next Emperor's seat were already decided?! We're capable too! If we just got some backing, we could go after the throne any day!! Every time she witnessed this kind of clamor, the Empire's 5th Imperial Princess, Trisha, thought to herself. '─Ugh. It's precisely because the next Emperor's seat is already decided that you idiots get to hold your heads up so high and squawk this kind of nonsense without consequence. Honestly, what a bunch of morons.' *** The Doll Princess. That was the nickname high society had given Trisha. It wasn't a derogatory nickname implying she was some passive figure incapable of doing anything on her own, or that she was cold and mechanical for lacking emotional expression. Quite simply, there was no more fitting expression to describe Trisha's appearance than that. Silk-like platinum blonde hair. Mysterious ice-blue eyes. Skin as white as snow, yet with an exquisitely fine texture that never turned unpleasantly pale or let the veins beneath show through. She was petite in build, with excellent proportions, and the way she sat there smiling sweetly looked as though some doll-maker had poured their very soul into crafting the most beautiful thing in the world. That, despite being unquestionably an adult, her apparent age looked more like a pretty young girl than a grown woman was, if anything, her one flaw — though even that was only to the degree of looking "youthful," never anything that reeked of impropriety, so it was a trivial issue at most. Not a few, in fact, interpreted it as more of a merit than a flaw. And so, that beautiful, lovely, fairy-tale-princess-looking girl, Trisha, said— "─Mother. Why are there so many idiots among the imperial family?" At the crude curse that spilled from those delicate, fairy-like lips, the air froze for an instant. The servants nearby swiftly began playing at being blind and deaf, while her mother, who had been enjoying a tea party with her beloved daughter, the Fourth Consort Beatrix, pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a deep sigh. "Trisha. Not 'Mother' — say 'Your Majesty Mother,' or 'Mother dear.' And that remark you just made is an insult to the imperial family. If you weren't an Imperial Princess, that comment alone could cost you your head." (E/N: Dunno what is the best way to translate those...) "Yes, Your Majesty Mother. And it's fine. I only say such things where there are no ears to hear." "I do appreciate your faith in me, but there are the servants right here, you know." "It's fine. Peter had me grant his cousin's request to be recruited into a knight order last time; Miradi and Meroni chipped the dragon-scale porcelain while cleaning it and secretly covered for each other; and Jetian's got a wife, yet he's been eyeing the kitchen maid. We're all bound together by each other's weaknesses — a solid blood pact, so I can trust them more than anyone else." The tea party venue, set at the center of the flower garden. The guardian knight on standby nearby, the two maids, and the gardener who had been quietly working in the blind spot beyond the hedge thinking "surely I can't be seen" — all of their faces turned pale. Beatrix let out another sigh. In her mind, like an afterimage, surfaced the words the Emperor had given her while casting aside her son Nikolaus. 「Yes, yes, let's leave the official matters at that for now, Bea. And don't be too disappointed. Trisha, at least, is quite sharp-witted, unlike her brother. When you have one finger that's hurting, there's usually a healthy one too, after all.」 Quite sharp-witted. At that phrase, Beatrix felt a hollow laugh threatening to escape her all over again. 'Can the words "sharp-witted" really contain this child, Your Majesty?' Beatrix, the Empire's Fourth Consort, was a formidable woman. Not in the sense that her personality was bold and manly, but in the sense that she herself, as a person, was simply a remarkable figure. That her looks were beautiful went without saying, but neither political acumen, nor charisma, nor the ability to devise schemes and stratagems — not a single one of these was she lacking in. It wasn't for nothing that the Emperor himself once remarked, "If we'd competed on equal footing, I could never have beaten her, not even if my life depended on it." She only held back and kept herself in check because she saw the Crown Prince as some meteor fallen from another world, or an immovable mountain — but if she had thrown herself into a purely political struggle, she was the sort of person who could have seized the entire imperial court in her own two hands. Unlike Nikolaus, who had inherited none of Beatrix's talent whatsoever, her daughter Trisha had inherited Beatrix's competence in full. The problem was that while she'd inherited the competence, she hadn't particularly inherited the temperament to go with it. "If Brother Alondre weren't holding his position as firmly as he does right now? Then how dare some lowly member of the imperial family run their mouth so carelessly. They'd deserve to die for the crime of failing to hold their tongue in unstable times." The reason the imperial court remained as peaceful as it currently was— The reason it caused no real problem even when the Imperial Princes and Princesses grumbled was, ironically, precisely because the position of the Crown Prince — the very source of their grumbling — was absolute. No matter what those lowlifes said, it couldn't influence the succession structure in the slightest. "Ah, of course, that has its limits. If they acted up to the level of that bastard Nicolai, that would be a death by natural causes." (E/N: Maybe Nicolai is a nickname?) "...Isn't that a bit much, even so, toward your own brother?" And this, even in front of the very woman who had given birth to that "bastard." At her mother's remark, laden with that implication, her daughter merely tilted her head. "I'm calling him by name precisely because I'm in front of you, Mother dear?" "……." Then what on earth does she call him when I'm not around? Beatrix forced down the question that had risen all the way to her throat. Because if she asked, her daughter would never dodge the answer — and the future in which hearing that answer left only Beatrix herself with a headache was all too clearly visible. "Anyway, there are just way too many idiots among the imperial family, whether they're bitches or bastards. Do you know what they've been saying lately? That Brother is doing something reckless. That giving power to the provinces weakens the imperial court; that if the nobility runs wild again after being allowed to do as they please like that, what then. On the surface it's all concern and worry, but their real intention is 'now that Brother's bound to take a big fall, maybe an opportunity will come our way too.'" "Hmm." The Administrative Reform the Crown Prince had recently been pushing forward was a matter that Beatrix herself had been keeping a close eye on as well. No — the more accurate answer was probably that everyone in the Empire who could even remotely be considered connected to politics was watching it with interest. In a nation where the imperial court held absolute, autocratic power, he was taking an action that might, of all things, lead to weakening the very power of that imperial court. Whether that outcome would actually end up weakening the throne's authority wasn't the point. The mere fact that "such a possibility existed" was, in itself, an enormous political bombshell. What's more, the Crown Prince wasn't yet Emperor, and history was full of countless cases where an heir who had seemed all but certain of the throne was cast aside on nothing more than the Emperor's whim. Among the populace, no end of speculation was circulating over why the Crown Prince — who up until now had shown nothing but model, exemplary conduct — was pushing through such an unreasonable reform, even if it was confined to his own domain alone. And the conclusions people reached were, for the most part, unfavorable to the Crown Prince. "Well, isn't it only natural to feel at least some worry?" "Mother dear. You can speak your true mind in front of your own daughter here, you know?" Beatrix paused for a moment. In truth, chattering on about such sensitive matters in front of another person like this was, in itself, thoroughly at odds with her own disposition. But it was also true that, with her heart already unsettled from having sent her son away, her only real comfort left was the time she spent with her daughter — so, unable to help herself, she indulged her daughter's preference. "...Given His Highness's abilities being what they are, he'll succeed in the end, I'm sure — but won't he suffer through a fair bit of hardship along the way?" "Hardship?" "The Administrative Reform. Looking at the Empire as a whole, it's a gain. But for the imperial court, and for the central nobility who serve as the court's own hands and feet, it's hardly a welcome development. It's common enough for a nation's interests to clash with the interests of an internal individual or group, after all." To think that no madman would dare openly pressure or check him, given that it's the Crown Prince himself pushing this through — that's a naive assumption. The world truly has all manner of madmen in it, and no shortage of people who understand nothing of how the world works and live within their own narrow little bubble. Those who truly grasp the situation well could use such madmen and ignorant fools as kindling, and there would be no end of means to obstruct him without ever having to confront the Crown Prince head-on. What's more, this wasn't even a matter of some specific individual stepping forward and taking the lead. It was simply the Empire's existing vested interests, its entire power structure, quietly and collectively moving to indirectly say, "Perhaps that's enough now, Your Highness." Even so, while most people believed the Crown Prince would fail this time around, Beatrix belonged to the minority who thought "still, he'll succeed" — yet it seemed even that wasn't enough for her daughter. "Mm, I see. Then I suppose I'll just have to go take care of the ones likely to get in his way, ahead of time." "...Trisha, why would you be the one to do that? And you just said that those 'likely to get in his way' are, in effect, most of the vested interests — are you saying you'd take them all on?" "It's Brother's business, isn't it." "Do you mean to put him in your debt?" Beatrix ran the calculation for a moment. Fight against the majority of the establishment to help the Crown Prince. And put him in her debt. The risk involved was enormous. It wasn't the kind of scheme that suited Beatrix's own taste. But, taste aside, it was the sort of plan that, if it succeeded, stood to bring a fairly massive payoff. Beatrix had asked with that meaning in mind, but Trisha simply shook her head, unbothered. "No? It's just that if someone's about to shout out in an avalanche zone, cutting off their head before they get the chance raises your odds of survival, doesn't it? It's that kind of thing." "?" "Or, to put it in a Cardian idiom, smoking a pipe in a gunpowder store? Anyway, I'm off to go take care of business. Live long and prosper, Mother dear. Toodle-oo~" Trisha left, deliberately putting a little skip in her step, punctuating her exit with playful sound effects from her own mouth. Beatrix thought to herself. Why is it that not one of my children turned out normal? (E/N: Trisha is insane xD)