A square in the neutral Kappel Federation, a secret gathering place for financiers, high-ranking politicians, and business tycoons. Luxuriously dressed figures sat around tables set for a banquet. They were the Knights of the Round Table, the central powers of capitalism. The Beluas, Manoffs, and Carloss families, descended from the Duke of Rotsilt and scattered across the Guiana continent, were also present. They had arrived in the Kappel Federation just before the war began, ostensibly to secure the reserve currency and raise war funds.
"Is this true? Those damn Frogens are bombing my military bases with fighter jets I built with my own money. Count Manoff, wasn't it you who instigated us to invest in Frogen and the Conqueror Alliance for the sake of profit?"
The agitated voice of an elderly middle-aged woman continued.
“It’s just a matter of selectively destroying secret bases built under the pretext of developing alternative resources.”
The voice's owner, Marquis Belua, the bank president and key cabinet member of the Kingdom of Belgaia, covered his mouth with his fan and made a face as if he had chewed sand. Count Manoff, a high-ranking politician of the Third Francian Republic, clicked his tongue at him.
"I offered my business and even my country, and now I'm choosing to take only losses, not to mention compensation? Duke Rotsilt will foolishly handle it. Remember, the success of developing a new type of bomb will deter and stop the war. It will give us a formidable national power, uncontrollable by capital. That right belongs only to the nation we choose. We're in a situation where we're just slaving away at the data our fugitive researchers possessed."
"So, are you saying that Frogen is destroying development bases on the continent, intending to monopolize the atomic bomb? Was that Duke Rotsilt's intention?"
"That's right. They won't succeed anyway. They won't have the capacity to conquer the lands of Eugene, where the necessary resources are buried. They'll rely solely on our capital and become greedy, leading to their downfall. Just think about disposing of the reparations, land, and companies that Progen and the defeated nations will spit out. The victory bonds alone will more than cover the losses."
Count Manoff smiled jokingly. Sitting opposite him was the young man, Archduke Carlos of the Holy Empire of Katiel, who clasped his hands and narrowed his eyes.
"In any case, it's only the families who failed to grasp his intentions that are suffering. They should have realized it when they bought the cash-strapped Frogen bonds with capital from emerging markets. This incident is nothing more than a sieve to weed out the foolish among the capitalists. Not even a dog or a cow can become an 'Ubermensch,' right?"
Everyone present gasped in admiration. Count Manoff chuckled, sipping his whiskey.
"He's drawing up a blueprint to use emerging capitalists to take over and control the monarchical powers. I simply can't keep up with this madman's thinking."
The great powers of the Guiana continent were severely weakened by World War. It was also an opportunity for emerging nations to strengthen their power. Grand Duke Carlos turned to Jace Groenendaal, who was sitting diagonally across from him, and asked,
“Hey, Bank Manager. Is Princess Medea really dead?”
"That kid keeps talking informally to me. If the caste system were abolished, I'd be the older brother," Jace Groenendaal grumbled to himself, pushing up his monocle and nodding.
"So, Noah Rotsilt returned to Frogen? He returned the Princess, who had been switched to her original position, killed her, and pretended to follow Queen Grace's orders to funnel funds into Frogen. The damage from the Allied Forces and Medea is so severe that even the Emperor seems to have acknowledged it. That old man, who has no answers, only cares about results."
"With Crown Prince Frogen dead, and only his illegitimate children remaining in the direct line, there's a chance he could become the heir to the throne. Or perhaps the illegitimate children could instigate a military coup. The Emperor should have gone a bit crazy."
“He always said, ‘Nothing ever changes.’”
Emma Everton, heiress to the wealthy Baron Everton family, smiled beautifully. She was the woman who had once approached Noah disguised as a nurse at a military hospital. Grand Duke Carlos nodded in agreement.
"Yes. He possesses the ability, numerous titles of nobility, and the right of succession, yet he cannot become master of the nation. Isn't that truly a pity?"
Long ago, a collateral branch of the Rotsilt family became Empress of the Holy Empire of Katiel, and the Third Prince born was granted the surname Carlos and the title of Grand Duke. The Third Prince's descendants were also eligible to inherit the throne, but no matter how brilliant, they could not surpass the direct line of the Emperor. Rebellion or coup d'état were not preferred, as they would be a historical stain.
Families with similar positions gathered together to form the "Knights of the Round Table." Their goal was to control nations with hereditary rulership through capital and dominate the world. Even commoners and semi-nobles, who had been forced to purchase titles or marry into the nobility despite being extremely wealthy, began to participate, pouring enormous amounts of money into these ventures. The Marquis Bellois took a drag on his cigar, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
"Duke Noel Rotsilt misjudged, driven by emotion. While it was good to siphon off the Esatians' talents, his kindness was excessive. Ultimately, he was killed by Emperor Mayer III."
"I was worried that Noah Rotsilt would follow the same path. But there was no need to deal with the Princess ourselves."
Vidoff, a member of the Lenin Federal Politburo, said nothing. He simply folded his arms and wore a worried expression.
“Comrade, you don’t look well. What’s wrong?”
Count Manoff asked, refilling his empty glass. Commissioner Vidoff shook his head slowly.
“It’s nothing.”
"If even Lenin turns to the Allies soon, Frogen will be completely ruined. Now, the path is set to foster the Eugene United States."
Commissioner Vidoff's eyebrows furrowed at the Count's words. Emma Everton rose from her seat and raised her glass.
"The day is near when a new era will dawn. A day when capital will dominate a world ravaged by war."
The people sitting around the table toasted her.
“Towards the will of the one who has surpassed.”
Vincent stood before Queen Grace II, who had come to the Grand Duke's room where Diana was sleeping, and bowed. Boaz, who had accompanied the Queen, was groaning and licking Diana's hand.
“Your Majesty, the third base of the Belgaia Autonomous Region has been destroyed.”
She listened silently, still beautiful. Her jade eyes had lost their sparkle, and her cheeks were pale.
Vincent thought she looked quite similar to the previous Diana. The Queen, sitting in a chair beside Diana's bed, took off her dress coat.
“What’s Noah Rotsilt up to now?”
"Yes. He received his forfeited titles back, and his military discharge was revoked, reinstating him as a colonel in the Frogen regular army."
Vincent politely took the coat and answered. The Queen stroked Diana's cheek.
“Sir Vincent, do you think Noah Rotsilt loves Diana?”
Vincent looked down at the Queen's back, her hair neatly tied up.
"Otherwise, why would he keep repeating this insane act of heading toward death? Even if it were the love of the century, I couldn't do it. I could accept a woman who lost her husband, but this is on an entirely different level."
"Is this true? Those damn Frogens are bombing my military bases with fighter jets I built with my own money. Count Manoff, wasn't it you who instigated us to invest in Frogen and the Conqueror Alliance for the sake of profit?"
The agitated voice of an elderly middle-aged woman continued.
“It’s just a matter of selectively destroying secret bases built under the pretext of developing alternative resources.”
The voice's owner, Marquis Belua, the bank president and key cabinet member of the Kingdom of Belgaia, covered his mouth with his fan and made a face as if he had chewed sand. Count Manoff, a high-ranking politician of the Third Francian Republic, clicked his tongue at him.
"I offered my business and even my country, and now I'm choosing to take only losses, not to mention compensation? Duke Rotsilt will foolishly handle it. Remember, the success of developing a new type of bomb will deter and stop the war. It will give us a formidable national power, uncontrollable by capital. That right belongs only to the nation we choose. We're in a situation where we're just slaving away at the data our fugitive researchers possessed."
"So, are you saying that Frogen is destroying development bases on the continent, intending to monopolize the atomic bomb? Was that Duke Rotsilt's intention?"
"That's right. They won't succeed anyway. They won't have the capacity to conquer the lands of Eugene, where the necessary resources are buried. They'll rely solely on our capital and become greedy, leading to their downfall. Just think about disposing of the reparations, land, and companies that Progen and the defeated nations will spit out. The victory bonds alone will more than cover the losses."
Count Manoff smiled jokingly. Sitting opposite him was the young man, Archduke Carlos of the Holy Empire of Katiel, who clasped his hands and narrowed his eyes.
"In any case, it's only the families who failed to grasp his intentions that are suffering. They should have realized it when they bought the cash-strapped Frogen bonds with capital from emerging markets. This incident is nothing more than a sieve to weed out the foolish among the capitalists. Not even a dog or a cow can become an 'Ubermensch,' right?"
Everyone present gasped in admiration. Count Manoff chuckled, sipping his whiskey.
"He's drawing up a blueprint to use emerging capitalists to take over and control the monarchical powers. I simply can't keep up with this madman's thinking."
The great powers of the Guiana continent were severely weakened by World War. It was also an opportunity for emerging nations to strengthen their power. Grand Duke Carlos turned to Jace Groenendaal, who was sitting diagonally across from him, and asked,
“Hey, Bank Manager. Is Princess Medea really dead?”
"That kid keeps talking informally to me. If the caste system were abolished, I'd be the older brother," Jace Groenendaal grumbled to himself, pushing up his monocle and nodding.
"So, Noah Rotsilt returned to Frogen? He returned the Princess, who had been switched to her original position, killed her, and pretended to follow Queen Grace's orders to funnel funds into Frogen. The damage from the Allied Forces and Medea is so severe that even the Emperor seems to have acknowledged it. That old man, who has no answers, only cares about results."
"With Crown Prince Frogen dead, and only his illegitimate children remaining in the direct line, there's a chance he could become the heir to the throne. Or perhaps the illegitimate children could instigate a military coup. The Emperor should have gone a bit crazy."
“He always said, ‘Nothing ever changes.’”
Emma Everton, heiress to the wealthy Baron Everton family, smiled beautifully. She was the woman who had once approached Noah disguised as a nurse at a military hospital. Grand Duke Carlos nodded in agreement.
"Yes. He possesses the ability, numerous titles of nobility, and the right of succession, yet he cannot become master of the nation. Isn't that truly a pity?"
Long ago, a collateral branch of the Rotsilt family became Empress of the Holy Empire of Katiel, and the Third Prince born was granted the surname Carlos and the title of Grand Duke. The Third Prince's descendants were also eligible to inherit the throne, but no matter how brilliant, they could not surpass the direct line of the Emperor. Rebellion or coup d'état were not preferred, as they would be a historical stain.
Families with similar positions gathered together to form the "Knights of the Round Table." Their goal was to control nations with hereditary rulership through capital and dominate the world. Even commoners and semi-nobles, who had been forced to purchase titles or marry into the nobility despite being extremely wealthy, began to participate, pouring enormous amounts of money into these ventures. The Marquis Bellois took a drag on his cigar, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
"Duke Noel Rotsilt misjudged, driven by emotion. While it was good to siphon off the Esatians' talents, his kindness was excessive. Ultimately, he was killed by Emperor Mayer III."
"I was worried that Noah Rotsilt would follow the same path. But there was no need to deal with the Princess ourselves."
Vidoff, a member of the Lenin Federal Politburo, said nothing. He simply folded his arms and wore a worried expression.
“Comrade, you don’t look well. What’s wrong?”
Count Manoff asked, refilling his empty glass. Commissioner Vidoff shook his head slowly.
“It’s nothing.”
"If even Lenin turns to the Allies soon, Frogen will be completely ruined. Now, the path is set to foster the Eugene United States."
Commissioner Vidoff's eyebrows furrowed at the Count's words. Emma Everton rose from her seat and raised her glass.
"The day is near when a new era will dawn. A day when capital will dominate a world ravaged by war."
The people sitting around the table toasted her.
“Towards the will of the one who has surpassed.”
***
Vincent stood before Queen Grace II, who had come to the Grand Duke's room where Diana was sleeping, and bowed. Boaz, who had accompanied the Queen, was groaning and licking Diana's hand.
“Your Majesty, the third base of the Belgaia Autonomous Region has been destroyed.”
She listened silently, still beautiful. Her jade eyes had lost their sparkle, and her cheeks were pale.
Vincent thought she looked quite similar to the previous Diana. The Queen, sitting in a chair beside Diana's bed, took off her dress coat.
“What’s Noah Rotsilt up to now?”
"Yes. He received his forfeited titles back, and his military discharge was revoked, reinstating him as a colonel in the Frogen regular army."
Vincent politely took the coat and answered. The Queen stroked Diana's cheek.
“Sir Vincent, do you think Noah Rotsilt loves Diana?”
Vincent looked down at the Queen's back, her hair neatly tied up.
"Otherwise, why would he keep repeating this insane act of heading toward death? Even if it were the love of the century, I couldn't do it. I could accept a woman who lost her husband, but this is on an entirely different level."
There was a sigh, but it was a clear conclusion. The Queen, who had been looking down at Diana, raised her head.
The Queen looked down at the jet-black hair that barely covered her shoulders. Her delicate hands began to comb and braid Diana's hair.
“When I was young, the late Queen used to braid my hair so beautifully. Her touch was so delicate, I used to look forward to that moment.”
"Oh, is that the hairstyle the previous Queen gave you? It looks like it'll definitely be popular in a hundred years."
Vincent's soulless admiration startled the Queen, who had been concentrating on braiding her hair. Sensing something wasn't quite right, she hurriedly began undoing it again. She hadn't intended to make her unconscious daughter look like a clown. A noblewoman who rarely had to do her own grooming couldn't possibly be good at something like this. A Queen who had lived her life wielding a pen and a scepter couldn't be more so.
“Do you think I’ve been doing this?”
Vincent suppressed a chuckle as he blurted out something rude.
“No. I heard that when the late Queen was alive, she personally styled Your Majesty’s hair, and that her skills were so outstanding that even the ladies of high society admired her.”
Suddenly realizing something, she followed him and burst out laughing.
“My mother was a truly kind and gentle person. She was very humane.”
Surely, someone must have been eager to learn how to style their hair themselves. She should have been a kind mother like that.
“Go out now, Sir Vincent.”
Vincent bowed and stepped back at the gentle congratulatory order, leaving only the Queen's soft voice in the quiet room.
"Diana. As you said, I'm a disqualified mother. I've been so focused on being a great monarch that I've neglected being a good mother."
The Queen's voice dropped low and became hazy. Tears flowed, one by one, from beneath her long, thick eyelashes.
"I never wished for you, my daughter, to die. I wanted you to survive this harsh world. I wanted you to be perfect, free from hurt or criticism from others. But my poor judgment, unable to understand your heart, has led to this..."
“I am alone, and everything is perfect.”
She recalled the words she had repeated countless times when she was Diana's age, trying to dispel the loneliness of being left alone in the world, carrying a heavy burden. She had endured difficult times alone, thinking of the child in her womb, and had always strived to be strong and perfect to protect her. As she grieved, the Queen remembered her daughter's question of whether she could be a normal mother. "That's what this child so desperately yearned for."
“You wanted mediocrity, not perfection.”
If you live an ordinary life with an ordinary family, at least you won't be lonely.
Only then did the mother, understanding her daughter's wish, smile gently. She reached for the rose diamond necklace hanging around Diana's neck.
"Freya's Blessing. This necklace dates back to ancient times, around the 15th century. It is said to be a treasure given by the great Emperor, known as the Sun God of the Eastern Empire, to his Empress, the moon of the empire."
It was a story that had been passed down by word of mouth for a long time. The Queen continued in a gentle voice.
"After the Empress's early death, he longed for her and prayed to the necklace. Just as the sun sets before the moon rises, he would sacrifice his life and everything to be reborn forever in every world that exists. He prayed that they would meet again forever. After that, the Eastern Empire was destroyed by foreigners and barbarians, and the world entered a new era, symbolizing rebirth and resurrection. The legend of the evening primrose is said to have originated from this story."
Young Noah noticed that the child in her womb had changed, and she, who had never loved anyone before, longed for someone so much.
“Perhaps, that wish has come true.”
She has to admit it. There is eternal love in this world.
The Queen kissed Diana's forehead and whispered softly in her ear.
"My baby, everyone is waiting for you. The man who loves you, and this poor mother. So please come back."
Come back, for the sake of the one you love. So that he or she will not be ruined any further, so that you can achieve the ordinary, beautiful love you longed for.
***
A mansion deep in the forest, on the outskirts of Frogen, barely damaged by bombing. This was once Noah's mansion, where he and Diana lived. It was confiscated by the royal family and is now owned by Mastiff.
And there was Noah. He sat on a long sofa, his chin resting on his hand, his eyes dry. The person at the end of his dull gaze was Mastiff. Leaning against him, Mastiff stroked his golden hair and lit a cigar.
"You arrived surprisingly safely. Medea wouldn't have left you alone."
“What if they don’t leave it alone?”
It was Noah's cold retort. Mastiff lit a cigar and chuckled. The light on his face flickered noisily.
“Seeing that you’ve returned, it seems the news that the Princess is dead is true.”
“Think whatever you want.”
“And that means you need me.”
Noah was the first to tell him of his worth, even though he was only an illegitimate child. Seeing him cherish and strive to make Diana, another illegitimate child, Queen, filled him with many thoughts. Mastiff believed Noah would return. If not, there was no reason to stay. He told Emperor Mayer III that this was all Noah Rotsilt's plan, foreseeing the future. The Emperor smiled with satisfaction at that. As long as the outcome was good, it was over.
After the death of the Crown Prince, the Emperor's madness went beyond the limit, and the ministers were only able to keep an eye on the situation as it was rapidly becoming more and more insane.
"My will is the will of the nation. Those who oppose it will be dealt with in the future."
This was the Emperor's message, sent to the Frogen, where he opposed Noah Rotsilt's return, instead shooting him dead as an example. The contradiction of accepting Duke Noah Rotsilt, who had defied his will and even abandoned his homeland. The respect and dignity of the past had long since vanished, and in everyone's eyes, the Emperor was nothing more than a deranged, demented old man.
"I truly cherish Noah Rotsilt's killing of that worthless Crown Prince. It was a tumor called blood, a tumor I couldn't bear to cut out with my own hands. If he had become Emperor, Frogen would have been destroyed. He saved this empire by cutting away what obscured my vision. Even marrying the Princess and trying to strip her of her right to inherit was all for the sake of overthrowing Medea. How incredible!"
Mastiff, who was recalling the Emperor who had been laughing so hard that he was about to vomit, raised his head.
"Everything in the world is abnormal. I decided long ago to follow your abnormal ways. You and I survived that way."
Noah did not answer.
Mastiff sensed a subtle change in Noah's mood. His expression, apathetic and indifferent to the world, resembled that of his former wife.
Mastiff added.
“Whatever it is.”
The handsome man, who had been resting his chin on his hand, smiled. His narrow, slanted blue eyes seemed bereft of any desire or pleasure.
“If I tell you to die, will you die?”
At first glance, it sounded like a joke.
He continued, nodding at the cigar in Mastiff's hand.
“Take that off first. It’ll probably smell on your clothes.”
The Mastiff let out a chuckle. He snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray and replied.
"Gladly."
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