TOPWL: 3

“A delegation from that country will be staying for four days.”

”……”

“Each prince will be given one day to host a banquet. Make sure yours is a success.”

“May I ask what the standard for success is?”

“Hmm, there are four princes left now, aren’t there?”

The imperial family had six children in total. However, with the deaths of the first prince and the fourth princess, only four remained—Second Prince Reginald, Third Prince Hiore, who shared the same mother as Reginald, Fifth Prince Yudit, and Sixth Prince Azil.

“It would be too harsh to demand first place right away. Try to at least place in the top two.”

Khalid spoke as if he were being generous, but in truth, it was an extremely difficult task. Yudit was a prince with little influence. He lacked support, and even his attendants were in short supply. No one would be surprised if he ranked fourth. In fact, it would be more shocking if anyone else ended up in last place instead.

But if, despite these disadvantages, Yudit managed to place in the top two—then he would prove himself worthy of becoming a chess piece. That was how Khalid saw it.

“I will meet your expectations.”

Even knowing he was at a disadvantage, Yudit calmly accepted. Seeing this, Khalid smiled in satisfaction.

…

After finishing his bath, Yudit found his formal attire hanging outside the bathroom. With practiced ease, he dressed himself. The other princes’ attendants were likely fretting over what they should wear today, but Yudit’s attendants never had that concern. His wardrobe was limited, and on a day he was to meet the emperor, the choice was always the same—his finest set of clothes.

As he buttoned his shirt, his nanny entered, carrying a jewelry box.

“Prince, have you finished dressing?”

“Yes.”

When he was younger, his attendants used to bathe and dress him, but as he grew older, he took care of it himself. His attendants were already busy enough keeping the prince’s residence in order with their small numbers.

“Let’s see… this necklace should do, and how about this ring?”

“Isn’t it too flashy?”

“The other princes will be wearing far more jewelry.”

Yudit was about to agree without much thought when something suddenly occurred to him.

“I’ll skip the necklace… One ring should be enough.”

“Why… ah.”

His nanny, who had been looking at him curiously, narrowed her eyes slightly. It seemed she had noticed the marks on his neck. With a sympathetic expression, she spoke.

“Then let’s forgo the necklace… A scarf would be better.”

“Alright, please get one for me.”

Closing the jewelry box, the nanny quickly left the room. Yudit absently rubbed his neck. Even the slightest touch sent a dull ache through him. The realization hit him again—he had nearly died last night.

Yudit recalled the encounter. Had it been a gain or a loss? He had risked his life to persuade that man, but the results were still uncertain. As he wrapped the scarf around his neck, he wondered: How much longer can I survive?

Yudit arrived at the palace on time. He had learned long ago that there was no benefit in arriving early—it only increased the chances of getting tangled in unnecessary disputes with the other princes.

The corridor outside the waiting room was lined with guards, their presence a direct result of Concubine Aisa’s desperate request after the emperor collapsed a few months ago. Just walking between the armored soldiers was enough to create a sense of intimidation.

When Yudit reached the waiting room, a guard removed his helmet to confirm his identity before opening the door. Creak. Sunlight streamed into the dimly lit corridor, where a red carpet lay beneath their feet. The other princes were already waiting outside the room.

“You’re early.”

Reginald, lounging on a sofa, sneered. Beside him, Hiore sent Yudit an equally unpleasant look.

“Good afternoon.”

”…….”

Yudit greeted them, but no one responded.

Azil, his younger half-brother, was speaking with Aisa a little distance away. Though he was fully aware of Yudit’s arrival, he didn’t even glance in his direction. It was a truly touching display of brotherly affection.

Fortunately, he was used to this treatment. Instead of sitting on the sofa, he moved to the window and closed his eyes, enjoying the sunlight on his cheek. The light was warm, yet the room carried a faint scent of winter.

Ten minutes passed.

A knock sounded, and a chamberlain entered the waiting room.

“His Majesty is ready. I will escort you to the audience chamber.”

Reginald immediately rose, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Hiore followed, positioning himself at Reginald’s side. Azil hesitated, looking anxious, but Aisa whispered something in his ear. After nodding, Azil began walking behind them.

Yudit silently followed at the back, watching the entire scene unfold.

The audience chamber was long and narrow. The marble floor was covered with a deep red carpet, and ornate tapestries symbolizing the emperor’s authority adorned the walls.

About a third of the way into the room, a set of steps led up to a throne—an elaborate chair where the emperor sat, resting his chin on his hand as he observed the princes with a hawk-like gaze.

To Yudit, the man seated on that throne did not feel like a father. In all his years, they had never once had a true private conversation.

The emperor’s gaze slowly swept over the princes kneeling before him. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

“Come closer, my beloved sons.”

Yet, despite his words, his eyes remained fixed only on the youngest prince. More specifically—on Aisa and Azil.

His favoritism was blatant, but no one openly expressed their displeasure.

“I lived through an age of barbarity.”

As the princes stepped forward, the emperor continued speaking.

“I witnessed the horrors of brothers slaughtering each other for the throne. It was then that I resolved—if I survived and became emperor, I would ensure such tragedies never occurred again.”

A noble sentiment. But no one believed him.

The emperor had butchered his own siblings and built his throne upon their blood, never once considering his actions to be wrong. Even when the first prince and fourth princess had died, he had remained silent.

But then he fell in love with a concubine—Aisa—and from their union, Azil was born. That was when he began to feel threatened.

“Therefore, I have decided to hold a competition to determine the next emperor. In your generation, there will be no bloodshed—only skill shall decide the victor. The one who proves himself most capable shall inherit the throne.”

It was a sweet promise—the throne without the need to kill. A groundbreaking declaration.

But no one was surprised. It was clear that they had already known.

Yudit felt his powerlessness acutely—while Reginald, Hiore, and even Khalid had known about this in advance, he had remained in the dark until now.

“The first competition will be a banquet.”

The emperor’s voice broke the brief silence.

“A delegation from Herut will stay in the palace for four days. Each prince shall host a banquet in their honor.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a fit of coughing seized him.

Aisa rushed to his side, pressing a handkerchief to his lips. The emperor patted her arm reassuringly, then, as if he had said all he needed to, gestured toward the chamberlain.

“We will now draw lots to determine the banquet order. Princes, step forward when ready.”

Reginald stepped forward first, drawing confidently.

“His Highness Reginald Friedrich Adanauer will host the banquet on the first day.”

Reginald smirked in satisfaction.

Azil, the frail youngest prince, drew the third day.

Yudit drew the fourth.

Hiore, the second.