novelraw Chapter 216 --216
Chapter 216 --216
Lord Helmut’s expression soured, his jaw tightening. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but you do not yet have children with Her Majesty. You do not belong to any of our established noble bloodlines. And—I hate to say this—we are simply not comfortable entrusting the empire’s governance, its armies, and its treasury to someone so... unfamiliar with our ways."
Larus’s blue eyes went cold as glacial ice.
"And who are you to decide who governs this empire?" Larus asked softly, though the threat in his voice was deafening. "Her Majesty is still alive. She still breathes. She is still the Empress. And you dare to stand in her hall and speak as if she is already dead and buried?"
He took one slow, deliberate step forward. Several nobles in the front row actually stepped back, intimidated by the sheer aura of command radiating from the foreign prince.
"Should I take that as treason, Lord Helmut? Or merely a remarkably stupid attempt at treason?"
Lord Helmut paled slightly, his confidence wavering, but he held his ground.
Sensing the shift in momentum, Duke Theron—a staunch supporter of the original consorts—spoke up to reinforce Helmut.
"Your Highness, we mean no disrespect! But the empire requires stable, proven leadership. Her Majesty has been unconscious for three weeks. The borders are tense. Trade is stalling. We don’t know when—or if—she will ever recover."
"She will recover," Larus stated flatly, brooking no argument.
"We all pray she does," Duke Theron lied smoothly, though his tone suggested he was preparing for a funeral. "But in the meantime, the empire needs someone experienced. Someone who inherently understands our complex political landscape. Someone from an established family with deep roots in our soil."
"Someone like who, exactly?" Larus asked, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain, though he already knew the exact answer they were building toward.
"One of the secondary consorts," another noble shouted from the middle of the crowd. "Prince Kieran! Or Duke Adrian! They have been part of the imperial family for years! They command armies! They understand our systems!"
Larus stood straighter, looking over the sea of treacherous faces, and let out a short, humorless laugh.
"To the secondary consorts and concubines," Larus addressed the room, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. "While I am the primary husband—the man my wife chose above all others, the man she gifted the vast majority of this empire’s resources to—you genuinely believe that I should step aside? That instead of me, the man the Empress trusts with her life, I should hand the regency over to a collection of demoted concubines and sidelined consorts?"
He leveled a glare at Duke Theron. "And would you care to offer me the name of even one of them whose reputation isn’t currently tainted by scandal, demotion, or rumors of spectacular failure?"
Hearing that, the murmuring nobles paused. They hadn’t anticipated the "soft" foreign prince to be so incredibly sharp. He wasn’t bending. He was swinging a blade right back at them.
Still, the aristocratic ego was a resilient disease. They didn’t want to lose power to a foreigner.
"Your Highness, we are just stating the facts of the political reality!" one bold minister shouted.
Larus shot back instantly, his voice like cracking a whip.
"The fact is, I am her husband. The fact is, I am your ruler right now. The fact is, you will all shut your mouths and follow my orders. If you do not, I will take it as an act of open rebellion, and I will definitely write your names down in the imperial execution records. I imagine that when my wife wakes up, you will all be the stars of quite a spectacular public function. After all..."
Larus tilted his head, his smile entirely devoid of warmth. "...have you gentlemen so quickly forgotten how Her Majesty dealt with insolence just before she fell ill?"
A collective shudder ran through the room. Every single person present suddenly remembered, with vivid clarity, the day Heena had drawn a sword in court and split the heavy oak table down the middle, or the time she had effortlessly dismantled Duke Adrian’s power and demoted him to second concubine with a terrifying smile.
Of course, they didn’t dare push further today. It was not a scene easily forgotten.
That temporarily shut the nobles up, but Larus knew it wouldn’t stop them.
As Larus exited the court, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the crown, Heena’s Aunt—the powerful Duchess and grand mage—was waiting for him in the corridor.
"You did well," she said quietly, her strict eyes softening just a fraction. "I need to leave the capital for a few days. Thanks to my niece’s sudden condition, some magical wards at the border have been messed up and require my immediate attention."
Larus looked at her, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "What is the problem? Is there a breach?"
"Nothing I cannot handle," the Duchess said, shaking her head. "But you must listen to me, Larus. You did not do anything wrong today, and you held the line beautifully. But you must be wary of these old foxes. They are not going to stay silent. They will find another angle."
And exactly that happened.
As soon as the powerful Aunt left the palace grounds, removing her magical and political protection from the capital, the nobles struck. They drafted a ’Grand Petition’ to the Emperor.
In the Eternal Phoenix Empire, the Grand Petition was the ultimate political weapon. It was a document signed by a super-majority of the high nobility. By ancient law, it had to be presented directly to the ruling monarch, who then decided whether to acknowledge it.
But there was a fatal loophole. If the petition was presented, and the monarch was incapacitated or absent from the court, the legal authority to rule on the petition fell to the highest-ranking peers of the realm.
And right now, the highest-ranking peers were the fathers and families of the five original consorts.
It caused an immediate, explosive commotion.
The court was forcefully reconvened the very next day. The throne room was entirely divided into two hostile camps. Those who had remained loyal to Heena and recognized Larus’s legal authority stood on one side. Those who saw an opportunity to seize power and elevate the secondary consorts stood on the other.
The tension was so thick it was hard to breathe. They argued for an hour, the volume rising until it was a cacophony of shouting lords. Larus was backed into a legal corner. The Grand Petition was unassailable by his authority alone.
Then, the crowd parted.
Duke Valorian—Adrian’s father—strode forward, holding the heavy, wax-sealed scroll of the petition. His face was a mask of triumphant arrogance.
"As Her Majesty’s most rational and devoted subordinates," the Duke proclaimed loudly, pressing his weight onto his words, "I believe we have the final answer to the question of who shall rule the empire in her absence. And the law dictates that it is not Prince Larus."
Larus was standing on the dais, his jaw locked tight. His fists were clenched so hard at his sides that his fingernails were biting into his palms, threatening to draw blood. He was calculating the cost of calling the Imperial Guard and ordering a mass arrest. It would mean civil war, but he would burn the empire down before he let them take her throne.