Chapter 3 - Political Players
It was a bizarre sight.
The dining table was lined with enough food to satisfy several people, but only one person was seated. Since no individual could ever eat so much, the other diners would likely arrive soon.
That was the rational deduction, but logic didn’t apply to this individual.
He was massive. No, more than that. The man was literally a blob of flesh so gargantuan it was hard to categorize him as human anymore. He was an animate boulder living an aberrant existence.
King Gruyere of Soljest—that was the name of this corpulent mass.
“Mm, yes. As I thought, seasonal fruits have a magnificent texture.”
He picked off morsels from a mountainous bowl and popped them into his mouth. Produce large enough to fill the average person’s palm looked like candy in his hands.
“Please, help yourself.”
Gruyere glanced at the man sitting across from him—the man and his several armed soldiers. The group leveled spears at the king.
Yes, Gruyere wasn’t the only curiosity present. The force surrounding him was equally unusual.
“…Save your breath, Father. It won’t buy you any time,” the other man spat. This was Kabra, Gruyere’s biological son and the prince of Soljest. “My men have already taken control of the palace. Stall all you like. Help will never arrive.”
Kabra made it clear he was neither putting on airs nor acting on impulse. The weapon pointed at his father and liege meant business.
“‘Help’?” Gruyere blinked in surprise and burst into a fit of laughter. “Of all the things to say! My son, a cry for help is only for those times when you cannot save yourself.” Gruyere’s voice took on deep menace. “Do you honestly believe this is enough to take me down?”
“…!”
Everyone instinctively recoiled at the wave of pressure coming from the king.
A bevy of spears pointed at him was not enough to tarnish the majesty of the great Soljest Kingdom’s Beast King.
“Enough bravado!” Kabra shouted as if urging himself forward. “Father, you will immediately surrender the throne to me. I will become the next king and lead our nation.”
Gruyere sneered. “It would have fallen straight into your lap anyway. Are you so intimidated by your little sister, my son?”
Kabra’s expression twisted. “Tolcheila’s ambition has not escaped my notice. There’s no question she’s scheming to replace me. You know this and did nothing to stop her… Why, Father?! I am the crown prince. Why did you cast me aside for Tolcheila?!”
“You, the crown prince, chose to rest on your laurels and take the easy road. Meanwhile, Tolcheila applied herself and learned the skills necessary to accomplish what I asked. That’s all there is to it.”
“Didn’t you realize such actions might put a queen on the Soljest throne?!”
Gruyere nodded with a grin. “That sounds mighty interesting if you ask me.”
“Interesting?! Father, do you have any understanding of politics?!”
“It’s my fun little hobby,” Gruyere professed. “You can do whatever you want with a country as long as the people don’t starve to death. Developing a food culture, raising the world’s most powerful army, worshipping one’s god of choice—These are all nothing more than the whims and tastes of political players.”
Kabra was stupefied by this brutal assessment but swiftly recovered. “…As I suspected, you are unfit to be king.” He gave a hand signal, and his soldiers approached Gruyere with rope. “Resist, and your life will be forfeit. Father, surely you wish to live the rest of your days in peace.”
“I haven’t desired that once in my life…but very well. No matter the reason, a parent is duty-bound to respect their child’s decisions.”
The soldiers struggled to tie the rope around the king’s immense girth. Gruyere gave them a sidelong glance.
“My son, I have one word of caution. You assembled a group of like-minded conservatives who oppose a ruling queen in response to the threat of Tolcheila’s growing influence. Then you waited for her to leave the country before staging an uprising.”
“…And? What about it?”
“Do you honestly think Tolcheila hasn’t anticipated this?”
Kabra paused but ultimately rejected the idea. “Don’t be a fool. Tolcheila wouldn’t have gone abroad if she knew my plan. Now she’s alone and helpless in another land. She’s not Prince Wein. How could she possibly retaliate?”
That was a fair point. If Tolcheila were in Soljest, she could have raised an army against this revolt. However, that was unthinkable while she was abroad. The princess would undoubtedly rush home, but Kabra needed only to conclude his business before then.
“…Yes, you’re right. She cannot compare to Prince Wein,” Gruyere agreed.
Kabra sniffed. “Hmph, it seems you finally understand… Take him away!”
Gruyere was bound and loaded on a palanquin. As they prepared to carry him off, the deposed king glanced at his son from afar and whispered to himself, “Yes, Tolcheila is not Prince Wein. But she’s trying to reach his level. And that’s what truly counts.”
The shocking news of Prince Kabra’s coup against King Gruyere spread across the continent. Word naturally reached Natra as well, and the first words out of Wein’s mouth were…
“What’s that fatty doing?! We’re already freakin’ swamped over heeeeere!”
Wein cursed Gruyere from his office.
“Hear me out, Ninym. What are the chances this is all a big mistake…?!”
“We have identical reports from multiple sources. In addition, Prince Kabra… No, King Kabra, has announced his ascension in light of his predecessor King Gruyere’s illness and inability to carry out his duties. There is no doubting it.”
Wein gripped his head. A maelstrom of thoughts, like the fate of the alliance and the borrowed port in Soljest, ran through his mind. However, he set those aside to continue shouting.
“Kabra is the crown prince, right?! Why the hell did he stage a coup…?!”
“I can’t say for certain, but he and King Gruyere have always had a strained relationship. Princess Tolcheila’s recent activity may have put pressure on Kabra and given him reason to believe she would steal the throne.”
Wein groaned.
“C’mon now. Seriously? Anyone could have told him there was no way Soljest would accept a queen overnight!”
Kabra was set to be king, but he went ahead and shot himself in the foot. Future historians were already rolling with laughter.
“The danger Princess Tolcheila posed must have skewed his judgment… At any rate, King Gruyere seems alive, but he’s under house arrest in a detached villa. King Kabra is building his forces and crushing all who oppose his reign.”
“…Think anyone has a chance of taking him down?”
“The probability is low. Although Princess Tolcheila is the most likely to lead a counterattack, she’s in Delunio right now and lacks a unified position. King Kabra knows this and will make sure any resistance in Soljest is put down by the time she returns.”
“Guess he doesn’t want things to get too heated and risk riling up Natra…” Wein muttered pensively. “So Tolcheila’s over in Delunio, too, huh?”
Of course, Wein already knew Tolcheila was attending the ceremony in Delunio. Initially, he assumed it was Gruyere’s way of saying “I’ll honor the alliance but that’s it.”
“……”
“What’s wrong, Wein?”
“Ninym, you haven’t heard anything from Falanya yet, right?”
“No, but I expect to soon because of the situation… Will you contact the princess first and order her to return home?”
This turmoil was entirely Soljest’s personal issue. Delunio was hardly involved, let alone Falanya. Nonetheless, nearby political upheaval meant there was a decent chance she’d run into danger. Wein could protect Falanya in Natra, but his options were limited while she was away. Requesting her return was the standard course of action.
“No, I’ll leave that up to Falanya.” Surprisingly enough, Wein declined.
“Are you sure?”
“Even I can’t tell what the situation is really like over there. Falanya should have a better idea of whether to leave or stay. Plus, based on her progress, I’m confident she’ll come up with a solid game plan. Right now, Natra’s real problems are in the East.”
“You’re not wrong…”
A knock came at the office door, and a government official entered.
“Pardon me, Your Highness. An emissary from the Empire has arrived.”
“Right on schedule. Show her in.”
The guest was Fyshe Blundell, trusted retainer to the Earthworld Empire’s Second Imperial Princess Lowellmina.
“Thank you for seeing me today, Your Highness.”
“No problem. Let’s get started.”
Invisible sparks flew between the grinning pair.
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