The White Cat That Swore Vengeance Was Just Lazing on the Dragon King’s Lap - Volume 7 - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Truth Revealed

Samadan was born as the Third Imperial Prince of the Imperial Nation. His mother was the wise emperor, a popular ruler loved by the people, and his father was the individual supporting her behind the scenes. Although raised by wet nurses, his parents always made sure to show how much they loved their son, and he knew that he led a life more blessed than others, never having to worry about food, clothing, shelter, or any of life’s necessities. There was no way he could ever be dissatisfied. At least, that should have been the case.

When was it he first harbored doubts?

His eldest brother was an imperial prince by way of the emperor, just like he was, but it was all but assured that he would become the next emperor because he was born first. Indeed, Samadan’s eldest brother was wise and skilled, and Samadan was once proud of his brother for having learned far more than he had himself. Soon though, Samadan thought that he also would have learned the same if he’d been born as the eldest, a mindset that perhaps came from him gaining a rebellious streak at his age. Or perhaps not.

Shouldn’t he have a right to become emperor as well? It would’ve been unfair otherwise. The firstborn was not always the one to take the throne; there were always exceptions to the rule. Shouldn’t the best prince become the next ruler? That would be the best for the nation.

There was no definite time frame, but Samadan’s discontent had pooled up like water dripping into an empty glass, and his relationship with his eldest brother, among all of his siblings, was not the greatest to begin with. That might have been in part because their philosophies were polar opposites; his eldest brother respected the old customs, while Samadan favored what was new.

It was a mystery as to why Samadan disagreed so much with his eldest brother when he didn’t have such hostility toward his other brothers, and he thought that his eldest brother must have felt the same way about him. It was painfully obvious by the way he looked at and conducted himself around Samadan. Nonetheless, their royal upbringings prevented them from showing their true emotions. Samadan especially didn’t want to have unsightly quarrels in front of his parents, whom he respected so much, so he paid his elder brother respect like a good little brother—on a surface level.

Gradually, the eldest brother, who had respected the traditions of old, gained the support of the elder nobles with tenures rich in history. As for Samadan, who thought the Imperial Nation needed to adopt new things going forward, he had the support of the more burgeoning nobles. One could say their sibling rivalry formed from that point on.

His mother, the emperor, was still young, which was why she hadn’t nominated the next in line for the throne. The eldest brother’s party grew worried and impatient over this fact. Samadan’s party, on the other hand, made an argument that Samadan was a suitable candidate because they were convinced that the emperor hadn’t chosen the eldest brother yet because she found him unfit.

The second eldest brother hated conflict, so as soon as he found out that there was a war behind the scenes for the succession to the throne, he decided to marry into a neighboring country’s family so as to not get involved. Unlike the Imperial Nation, this nation’s traditions called for a male ruler, so the second eldest brother had gained the position of heir to the throne along with the princess he had always longed for. It was a power move that showed how astute and cunning he actually was.

Samadan was actually glad that he didn’t have to face off against the second eldest since he had never been on bad terms with him. While Samadan was impressed that even he had the tiniest inkling of brotherly love toward his second eldest brother, he didn’t understand why he had such an intense sense of competitiveness with his eldest brother.

When Samadan talked about it with the second eldest, he laughed at Samadan.

“That’s what they call ‘birds of a feather not always flocking together.’” Samadan looked unamused, but the second eldest just laughed even louder and added, “Take a look in the mirror. You look just like our brother when he gets pouty.”

After he became engaged to the princess from the neighboring country, the second eldest was away from the Imperial Nation quite often, all under the pretext of learning about the nation as the next king in line. Samadan, however, was likely the only one who knew his true intentions.

“If I stay here, then there might be some fools who try to recommend that I become emperor, so it’s better that I don’t remain here, to let the nobles know that I have no intention of taking the throne. I don’t want to give mother any more headaches considering she has to deal with both you and brother. That is the least bit of filial piety I can show her, I suppose. You also need to take it easy. If you think that mother will protect you forever, then you’ll sorely regret it.”

Unfortunately, the second eldest’s words became a reality. Their mother, Adularia, had fallen ill so suddenly that Samadan’s brain couldn’t even process it. Their mother had always been strong, beautiful, and resolute—a major influence who had helped guide the imperial princes down the right path as if it were second nature.

Samadan could tell right away that his eldest brother was extremely shaken over this turn of events, and even though he was trying to put on a brave face, Samadan knew. After all, he felt the same. Assuming that this illness was just caused by stress, Samadan tried to regain his composure, but once news broke that not even the dragon medicine could cure her and all they could do was wait for her to die, the eldest brother started making real steps toward taking the throne as next in line.

One might think this was terrible timing. People might have said that he was just a selfish son who’d used his mother’s illness as his chance to grab the throne. Be that as it may, Samadan could understand. He understood his eldest brother’s feelings so much that he finally figured out what his second eldest brother meant when he’d said they were “birds of a feather that didn’t flock together.”

The eldest brother wanted to reassure his mother. He wanted to tell her that she could decide the next emperor and it would all be okay because he would handle things from here on out. Samadan was torn, though. He could end the succession issue at once if he just switched to supporting his brother, but Samadan was at odds with his brother’s antiquated philosophy and couldn’t bring himself to accept it. He was left with no other choice but to fight. He would settle the matter as soon as possible and report to his mother. With that, a full-blown rivalry formed with his eldest brother.

While the second eldest came back to the palace to ask about his mother’s condition, he soon left for the neighboring country yet again. Apparently, he had caught wind of a plan. The people who’d been sitting on the fence, supporting neither prince, were getting impatient about being left behind. In fear that they would start to lose their clout no matter which of the two princes they backed, they plotted to help the second eldest ascend the throne. The second prince therefore decided on staying absent unless the worst happened to his mother since his presence would plunge the nation into a three-sided civil war. It was the right decision.

With the second eldest gone, that camp of nobles were left without anyone to back, and their murmurings died out. Samadan tried bringing the left-out nobles into his own fold, but his eldest brother had the same idea. In terms of power, the two were now evenly matched. Nevertheless, the eldest had many of the old-guard nobles in his camp, so the situation skewed more in his favor.

Just as Samadan began pondering ways that could help him turn the tables, the Dragon King and the Beloved from the Nation of the Dragon King arrived. If he could gain the support of those two, he could turn everything on its head in one fell swoop. Samadan could see the spirits because he had mana, although it wasn’t very strong, but the eldest wasn’t much of a believer because his lack of mana meant that he couldn’t see them himself. He knew that spirits existed since he had seen magic in action with his own two eyes, but his faith in spirits was limited. Perhaps that was the reason that he seemed disinterested in gaining the Beloved’s support, but he knew that he would be in trouble if his little brother gained it instead, so both princes had tried to reach out to them—only for both to be turned away before they could even introduce themselves.

As Samadan racked his brain over what he should do, his mother’s battle with her illness finally came to an end. As he stood behind his father, who was sobbing uncontrollably, he was hit with a bitter sense of loss. All that Samadan could think about was gaining the throne—a fact that disgusted even himself. He thought that maybe he should cry like his father, but for some reason, he couldn’t shed any tears. His eldest brother was also there in body but not in mind, as not a single tear could be seen welling in his eyes. Then again, that seemed to be the trend with all of the brothers present at the funeral. It was likely hard for any of them to believe that their once-strong mother had simply up and died.

The night of the funeral, an unexpected guest dropped by Samadan’s room—his eldest brother, carrying a bottle of wine in his hand for some reason. He rudely invited himself into Samadan’s room, arrogantly pulled up a seat, and snidely demanded a glass. Bewildered as to why the eldest was there, Samadan prepared a glass as he was asked.

The eldest started pouring wine into the glass. “I had put this aside for the whole family to drink when mother stepped down as emperor,” the eldest soberly explained, causing Samadan to gasp. “Mother carried this nation ever since she was in her teens, so I was hoping that she would pick the next in line and step down from the heavy responsibilities that being the emperor entails. That’s why I had a special bottle of wine made in order to congratulate her for all of her years of service. But in the end, I wasn’t able to give her a single sip...”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and before either could respond, the second eldest walked into the room.

“You’re late, Mariano,” said the eldest.

“My apologies, brother. I was busy trying to convince Orio.”

“Well? Where is he?”

Mariano said nothing and shook his head.

“I see. Well, his loss. The three of us will drink. Come, Samadan. Sit.”

“Right.”

The eldest placed a glass in front of each of them, the last being placed in front of an empty seat. Then, holding his own glass, he spoke to the empty seat. “Mother, you were a great ruler. I do not know if I or Samadan will be the next emperor, but I hope that neither of us will shame your legacy.”

As Samadan listened, the corners of his eyes started to burn. Despite not crying at all in front of his mother’s body, the inkling of tears started to form now.

The eldest raised his glass. “To mother.”

The second brother took his glass and tapped it against the eldest’s. “To mother.”

Samadan followed suit, raising his glass and tapping it against his siblings’.

They all downed the wine in one go. The eldest went to pour another round, but Samadan’s hand froze once he saw his brother’s face. Tears were rolling down it—silent tears.

“B-Brother...”

“Drink up, Samadan. You too, Mariano.”

The second eldest smiled, tears forming in his eyes as well. Drawn by this outpouring of emotions, Samadan’s eyes also started to leak.

“These tears are just for today. I won’t be going easy on you tomorrow, Samadan. I will be the emperor!” the eldest said, half crying. He didn’t sound convincing in the least.

Despite that, Samadan was determined not to be bested. “That’s my line, brother.”

“I don’t care either way, but could you both please stop trying to kill each other?” asked the second eldest.

“Yes, I know,” the eldest acknowledged.

“Well, that puts me in an awkward spot. I figured it would be faster to assassinate my brother,” quipped Samadan.

“Hey, Samadan,” the eldest fired back.

“It’s just a joke.”

“It doesn’t sound like a joke!”

Samadan and the others spent the night cracking jokes and forgetting about their feud over the throne. The next day, it was right back to business, and there was no holding back this time. It wasn’t long, though, before Samadan was informed that the eldest had fallen ill, just like his mother. It was shocking, unbelievable even.

The second eldest was no longer in the nation as he had quickly returned to the neighboring country to avoid getting involved, as usual, so Samadan had no one to confide in. His mother was gone. His brother was in dire straits. All these facts put a tremendous amount of stress on Samadan’s shoulders.

He couldn’t confide in the nobles that were supporting him either. After all, while they didn’t hate each other, his eldest brother was also an enemy vying for the throne. They would probably shout that this was an opportunity. In actuality, many of Samadan’s supporters were ecstatic about his brother falling ill. Looking at those nobles filled Samadan with intense disgust. That was his brother they were talking about. Why were they celebrating when his sibling—his own flesh and blood—was bedridden?

That was when Samadan first realized that these people were only looking out for their own benefit, allied to him only on a surface level. In spite of that, it was natural that none of these people could be trusted. The people affiliated with Samadan were burgeoning nobles. With such relatively new and shallow track records, their loyalty toward the imperial family was thin at best—not because they looked down on them, but because their own interests took precedence.

That made Samadan wonder what the situation was like in his brother’s camp. Many noble families rich in history were affiliated with him, and they had been loyal servants to the imperial family since the days of yore and were proud of that fact. They’d been trying to protect the imperial family even if it was to their detriment. His brother had plenty of followers who wouldn’t hesitate to give their lives to protect him.

Samadan looked around him, doubtful that he had anyone who would do the same for him, but there was no backing down now. Since the eldest had fallen ill with the same affliction that took their mother, he would meet the same fate. And if so, what would happen then? The burgeoning nobles would hold enough sway to make the more loyal and older nobles distance themselves from the imperial family. That could wind up destroying the Imperial Nation as a whole.

Samadan had no choice but to quickly connect with the nobles of his brother’s faction and work to bring them into his fold. However, the history-respecting nobles disliked Samadan for his active efforts to incorporate new ideologies. They would never switch sides so easily, but he had to try regardless. The situation would be dire if he couldn’t restore balance between the nobles before the worst befell his brother.

Without so much as visiting his brother, Samadan scrambled to protect the very nation his mother watched over until her dying days. Sadly, that was when Samadan met with even more disaster. He was told that a contract to assassinate his mother and the eldest prince was found in his room. That was inconceivable. Disagree as they might, Samadan had never once thought of killing anyone. He realized that someone was plotting against him, but he had no evidence to prove it.

Samadan’s father told him to confine himself to his room for the time being, but once he started thinking about his brother’s condition, the nobles, and the next in line for the throne, he grew impatient and frustrated with every passing day.

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

One day, Samadan’s younger brother, Orio, visited his room. Orio was timid and kind, completely incapable of participating in power struggles. In fact, when their mother passed away, his sadness had caused him to shut himself up in his room. He had probably been in so much shock that he hadn’t come out of his room when the second eldest called for him on the night of the funeral.

“Orio, you’re out of your room?”

Orio smiled sadly. “Yes. I cannot stay cooped up with matters as they are.”

“Sorry. I need to be setting a firm example, but I can’t even leave my room,” Samadan lamented.

“That isn’t your fault, though. Some nobles are saying that you are the culprit, but I believe in you. I know that you would never deliver orders to kill Roy, much less mother.”

“Thank you, Orio,” Samadan said. His younger brother had soothed his heart.

“I figured you’d like a change of pace, so I brought some relaxing tea with me. I’ll brew up a batch,” Orio said, setting out a pot and cups from a tea trolley that he’d brought with him.

As he watched on, Samadan softly smiled. “Thank you. You truly are kind. But I worry that your kindness will not mesh with this greed-ridden aristocratic society.”

“I am an imperial prince as well. I am just as capable as all of you,” Orio stated.

“You don’t have to strain yourself. I’m under suspicion now, but I’ll prove my innocence and become emperor soon enough. I’m not going to make you become the ruler,” Samadan said, knowing there was no way that his kind younger brother could ever take the helm with the nobles.

If he were to put Orio in front of those greedy nobles, they would just treat him as their little puppet, and that was something that Samadan wasn’t going to let happen. As his older brother, Samadan needed to protect him—for his mother’s sake as well. Yes, Samadan was imbued with a sense of duty.

“So, please, don’t worry!” Samadan finished.

Orio, who had his back turned, met Samadan’s strong, reassuring words with silence.

“Orio?” asked Samadan, perplexed by his younger brother’s lack of response.

Orio looked back at Samadan with a sweet smile and said, “Oh, no. I was just so moved by your words, brother.”

“Oh, I see. I’m glad to hear that, then.”

“The tea is ready. Here you go.”

“Yes, thank you.” Samadan picked up the cup set before him, taking in the aroma. “It smells great.”

“I used herbs grown inside the palace.”

“We’ve had these here?”

“Indeed,” Samadan answered. “I used to serve it to mother when she felt tired.”

“I had no idea. No doubt it made her happy.”

“Yes, she would happily drink until the pot was empty, in fact. I can’t wait for you to drink it and give me your opinion.”

“Then without further ado...”

After enjoying the fragrant aroma, Samadan went to put his lips to the teacup.

Bam!

Suddenly, the door flung open with a tremendous clatter.

“Don’t drink that, Samadan!”

Samadan was so startled that he stopped what he was doing, and his eyes widened. “Father?” he said, looking at his father, who was dripping with sweat as if he’d rushed over here as fast as possible. “What’s the matter?”

“You haven’t drunk any of that yet, have you?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I haven’t had a sip yet.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Corundum briskly walked over and took the cup from his hands.

“Father, what’s actually going on here?” Samadan asked. “What’s the issue with the tea? Did you want to have a cup yourself?”

“You fool! This tea is poisoned!” Corundum shouted.

“Pardon?” Samadan asked, staring at his father’s face in a daze, unable to process what he’d just heard. “But this is what Orio made for me.”

“Yes, and Orio poisoned it.”

“Huh?” Samadan shifted his gaze from Corundum to Orio in disbelief. “Orio?”

“What are you talking about, father? You know that I would never do something so heinous.” Orio lowered his brows sadly, seeming extremely hurt that his father would accuse him of something like that.

“Then you drink this,” Corundum demanded, holding out the cup that Orio had given Samadan.

That was when Orio’s sympathetic expression cracked. “I made that for brother, so I couldn’t possibly drink it.”

“That’s fine. You can always make yourself another cup. Or would you rather I force it down your throat?”

Corundum’s gaze traveled behind him, and he nudged his chin. The soldiers that came in after Corundum then grabbed both of Orio’s arms.

“Father! What do you think you’re doing?” Orio cried.

“If you drink this, then I’ll believe what you say.” Corundum then approached Orio and tilted the cup toward his mouth.

“Stoooop!” Orio furiously resisted, swinging his arm and knocking the cup and its contents onto the floor, soaking the carpet.

As Orio crumpled where he stood, gasping for air, Samadan looked on with a look of utter disbelief. “Orio? No, this can’t be true, right?” Unfortunately, Samadan’s wishes that this was just a big misunderstanding were washed away with another shocking accusation.

“You didn’t just try to poison Samadan. You also poisoned Adularia and Roy, didn’t you?” Corundum insisted.

“Father, there’s just no way!” protested Samadan.

“No, Orio would often bring tea to Adularia. He probably had plenty of opportunities to poison her. And when I checked with Roy, he said that you would make him tea in a similar fashion. Isn’t that right, Roy?”

Corundum then threw the conversation to the person he was looking at—Roy, who was walking in as healthy as could be.

Samadan, who’d been told that his brother was still ill, was shocked, but he was more relieved to see him up and in good health.

Orio felt otherwise. “H-How? How is he standing? It’s long past the point where he should be completely unable to move!” His words were a confession that he was the murderer.

“Sorry that you weren’t able to kill me, Orio. Thanks to there being a cure, I am fit as a fiddle, as you can plainly see,” Roy said with a bold smirk.

Orio’s face turned pale. “A cure? There is no cure. I thoroughly checked.”

“Oh, but there is. Her Majesty, the Queen of Yadacain, possessed the knowledge. And thanks to her, I am cured. Granted, the treatment had me wandering on the edge of death more than I care to admit,” Roy said, looking a bit peevish.

“Yes, you stuck it out in fine fashion. I surely would have run away,” Corundum added sympathetically, looking at his eldest son.

“Why...? How did you figure that out?” Orio asked.

Both Corundum and Roy sternly looked down at Orio.

“Our Lady Beloved asked the spirits to investigate for us,” Corundum explained. “It led to them finding the first person infected by the tachyotoxian venom and the doctor who was researching it. Apparently, you had that doctor teach you many things about poisons and diseases with no known cure. That doctor testified. He said you had a particular interest in the tachyotoxians. You stole the blood of that deceased patient and laced Adularia’s and Roy’s tea with it. Didn’t you?!”

Orio’s face contorted in frustration.

Samadan, the only one not really following along, was doing his best to sort out his confused thoughts. “So what you’re telling me is...Orio killed mother?”

“That’s right, Samadan,” Corundum confirmed.

“What kind of joke is this? Orio isn’t capable of doing such a thing. He is a kindhearted boy who we must protect—”

“That’s what infuriates me the most about all of you!” Orio suddenly shouted.

“Seize him!” Corundum ordered, and a soldier quickly hooked his arms under both of Orio’s arms.

“You’re all always like this,” Orio continued. “You always look down on me and bask in a sense of superiority! The nobles too! They only give their attention to Roy and Samadan. I’m an imperial prince too! I have the right to be emperor too! Yet no one gives me the time of day! No one thinks that I can be emperor... Not even mother did!”

“And that was your motive?” Roy asked, shooting a horribly cold glare at Orio.

“Yes, and what’s wrong with that? In the history of the Imperial Nation, it wasn’t that uncommon for people to assassinate their relatives in order to become emperor, was it? They’re all standing in the way of me ascending the throne. Mother, Roy, and Samadan!”

Roy stepped up to Orio and punched him as hard as humanly possible in the face, flinging Orio straight to the floor. The punch likely caused a cut as blood quickly started to pour from his mouth.

“I can’t believe you would think that. If you wanted to be emperor, you should have done it fair and square. Just as Samadan did. To think you would kill mother because of your victim complex... You are in no way fit to ascend the throne as emperor!”

“That is merely lip service. You can say that because all three of you were born with an advantage,” Orio sneered.

“The conditions remain the same. Yes, we may have been born with an advantage, being born before you, but unless you’re able to climb past that adversity, you can’t possibly serve as emperor. You went about things all wrong,” Roy said, clenching his fists in regret.

“Take him to the noble’s dungeon,” Corundum demanded.

“Yessir!” The soldiers carted Orio away per Corundum’s order.

Everyone expected Orio to thrash and resist, but he instead went along quietly, much to their surprise. That left Samadan, Roy, and Corundum all alone in the room.

“Brother...” Samadan began.

“Samadan, you didn’t drink a single drop, right?” Roy asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. But are you okay?”

“I’ve been pretending to be sick to throw the culprit off. And maybe it’s because I haven’t been doing any work and living like a slacker, getting so much rest, but I feel even healthier than before I fell ill.”

Once Samadan heard that, his legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. Roy and Corundum panicked.

“Hey, come on, are you all right?” asked Roy.

“Yes, I just got a little weak in the knees. I mean, I was convinced that you’d end up like mother,” Samadan said, trying his best to stifle a sob.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” Roy replied, rustling Samadan’s head, which made Samadan feel like a child again.

“I can’t believe that Orio would kill mother.” Samadan was still hoping that his brother or father would reveal that it was all one big practical joke, but he knew that it wasn’t.

“We assumed that he would never do anything like that because he was the youngest, the most gentle, and the most timid of us,” Roy said. “From Orio’s perspective, he probably saw that as us looking down on him. We should reflect on that misguided assumption. Perhaps our arrogance ended up warping Orio’s character.”

“Yes...” Samadan trailed off, the shock of his precious younger brother trying to kill him weighing on him immensely. He then looked up at his father with an inquisitive look. “Father, what will happen to Orio?”

His father’s face twisted uncomfortably. “Orio has assassinated the emperor. Even if all of you forgive his actions and we try to hide the fact that he attempted to murder two imperial princes, we cannot pretend as if what he did to Adularia never happened. Though he is an imperial prince himself, I assume I don’t need to tell the both of you what the punishment is for assassinating the emperor, do I?”

Samadan and Roy both closed their eyes as they tried to suppress the bevy of emotions welling inside of them—regret, chagrin, and sadness to name a few.

“We can at least wait until Mariano returns home, can’t we?” asked Samadan.

“Yes, we can,” Corundum answered. “I’ll call Mariano to have him return right away.”

This news was bound to devastate Mariano. Samadan could not rejoice in his brother returning home, knowing that.

Where had it all gone wrong? If he could, he wanted to go back in time and do things over again. Even though he knew that was impossible, Samadan couldn’t help but wish it were true.