Joen’s eyes gradually filled with a deep confusion as he stared at the Emperor.
“But are we just going to let those corrupt officials go?”
“It’s not letting them go; it’s holding them in reserve. We keep this sword hanging over their heads so they remain afraid. When the time is right, we will arrest them as needed,” the Emperor explained, his voice patient and persuasive.
“Joen, you are a good child. I am allowing you to keep that ledger. In the future, whether you are building up the White Wolf Territory or expanding our borders, you will find a use for it.”
Joen fell into a state of uncertainty.
At one moment, he felt the Emperor’s words made sense, but at the next, something felt wrong.
Acting this way seemed to betray his original intentions.
A long silence followed.
It lasted so long that Liya couldn’t help but want to poke her head out to nudge Joen.
However, she feared that the Emperor and the Grand Tutor—those two old foxes—would notice something was off.
She could only squirm and crawl anxiously against Joen’s chest.
Fortunately, the Hero eventually found his clarity.
“If I know they are black, yet I must pretend they are white, then what color does that make me?”
Joen let out a self-deprecating laugh.
His gaze grew clear and sharp, though a hint of disappointment lingered within.
“Your Majesty, if I do as you say, then what do black and white, good and evil, actually mean to me? Are they the integrity of the heart, or merely tools to eliminate one’s enemies?”
The Emperor did not grow angry at Joen’s nearly offensive tone.
Instead, he said, “Sometimes, if you want to get things done, you must first learn how to pretend.”
Joen slowly withdrew his hand and said in a low voice, “I’m afraid that if I keep pretending, I’ll eventually turn bad myself.”
The Emperor looked seriously into those brown eyes that shared the bloodline of the Commoners.
This was the first time since his coronation that he had seen someone dare to oppose him so openly.
He felt neither anger nor shame.
Instead, an uncontrollable sigh echoed in the depths of his heart.
Scenes from the past flashed before his eyes.
Perhaps it was because he was getting old, but Naigel found himself thinking back to his confrontation with Constantine before the throne 40 years ago.
Ever since he had reached age 40, he rarely thought back to those times.
‘That’s wonderful! Brother, in the future you will be the Emperor, and I will be the Imperial Younger Brother. We will work together, and we will surely make the Empire great again!’
He remembered his own young, vibrant, and naive voice standing before the abandoned Golden Dragon Throne.
‘But little brother… tell me, would it perhaps be better if the Empire didn’t have an Emperor at all?’
In the center of the plaza, following the war, Constantine had sat amidst the ruins of the Empire Capital.
In the eyes of the hero, there was only the pain of parting with comrades and the confusion of reaching the end of the journey.
‘How could that be? If there is no Emperor, whom should everyone listen to?’
Naigel still remembered how certain he had been back then.
‘We’ll discuss things,’ Constantine had said.
‘Discuss? With whom? The Commoners? Are the Commoners even worthy? The Nobles? Brother, you’ve seen it yourself—they are nothing but a pack of useless fools! Surely you don’t mean the Church? The Church wasn’t even willing to deploy troops; they have always stood by and watched with total indifference!’
‘We will find a path eventually. Regardless, things cannot continue like this.’
‘Brother, are you really going to throw away the throne passed down to us by our Ancestor, Sinmir, generation after generation? If you do this, can you face the Arenix Family crest? Will you have the courage to face our ancestors in the afterlife?’
‘The throne has never been a mere seat; it is a responsibility. If I am wrong, then I am not an Emperor, but a Sinner. Little brother, we were wrong from the very beginning. From the moment we sat on that throne in a daze, relying on the glory of our ancestors, we were already walking toward a dead end.’
Naigel could not understand his cousin, and his cousin could not agree with him.
They argued through the night.
The argument gradually escalated into a duel, and they eventually parted ways.
‘I will protect the glory of the Arenix Family! If you become the Emperor, then I will be the one to stop you. I will be the True Dragon of the Arenix Family for this generation!’
Naigel had swung his sword, cutting his flowing robes to replace all hesitation, and placed the crown left by his late father upon his head.
The brothers turned against each other.
The army stationed in the ruins of the Empire Capital split into two factions, their swords drawn and tempers flared, nearly leading to another war.
He knew his cousin was trying to force him to yield, but he refused to back down.
He wanted his cousin to know that Constantine was not the only dragon-seed of the Arenix Family in this generation.
Fortunately… his cousin was the one who eventually took a step back.
In the imperial court, it took him 10 years to secure his succession, another 10 years to restrict his cousin’s influence to the Tulip Territory, and yet another 10 years to gradually sweep that influence out of the Northern Lands and the Borderlands.
He had always felt that he was the victor in this game of power with his cousin.
But at this moment, staring into Joen’s brownish eyes—which were just as stubborn and just as bright as his cousin’s had been back then—Naigel finally realized something.
The true “battle” was only just beginning.
A nation personally established by a Great Hero could, naturally, only be subverted by a Great Hero.
‘Constantine, is this your choice? To use this method? To use such despicable means and shameless conduct to prove you were right? Just to satisfy a moment of spite, you would lead the entire family to eternal damnation?’
Naigel’s heart felt both cold and mournful.
‘Joen, do even you think… I am wrong?’
He gazed at Joen.
Overcome with emotion, he couldn’t help but ask a question that lacked his usual imperial dignity.
Joen did not answer with a “yes” or “no.”
Instead, he asked another question.
“Your Majesty, the Empire has a history of over 1,000 years. Has every Emperor been this muddled? If even Your Majesty is muddled, who in the world would dare to be clear-headed?”
One question after another pierced deeply into Naigel’s heart.
His breathing gradually grew heavy.
Although he remained calm, his tone had turned somewhat cold.
“Enough.”
He tapped the tabletop twice and gave a soft reprimand.
“Loyalty and treachery, right and wrong, and black and white—there is the perspective of those below, and there is the perspective of those above. Only children who do not actually do work can afford to only distinguish between right and wrong. If you wish to govern the people of a territory, you must learn not to push things to the extreme.”
“Your Majesty, is practicing the correct principles the same as pushing things to the extreme?”
“You — “
“Fortunately,” at that moment, Anthony interrupted with a chuckle, “Duke of White Wolf, didn’t you want to ask His Majesty about the disaster in the Dry River Territory? Compared to a few corrupt officials, aren’t the millions of Doom Victims in the Dry River Territory more important?”
Joen startled, as if waking from a dream.
“Indeed.”
He looked back at the Emperor, his words earnest and solemn.
“Your Majesty, I have strayed from the point. As the Grand Tutor said, I have come on behalf of the millions of displaced Doom Victims in the Dry River Territory to request the disaster relief funds that should be distributed according to the Law.”
Emperor Naigel also pulled himself out of his previous emotions and remained silent for a long time.
There were many things in the world that “should be so.”
In terms of both reason and morality, the relief money should be sent; corrupt officials should be arrested; when floods occur, the state should allocate funds for disaster relief; and Priests who constantly speak of “God’s love for the world” should actually love the people.
But limited by reality, there were always some things that “should be so” that one had to turn a blind eye to.
The national treasury had been in deficit for consecutive years, forcing him to rob Peter to pay Paul.
This was a problem that had always given him a headache.
Right now, the national treasury truly could not produce many Gold Coins.
As for the 2,000,000 Gold Coins brought back by the Hero’s Party from the Demonkind raid, they still had to be used to fill the deficit in the Royal Treasury from last year.
“Joen, in my heart, I admire your selfless devotion to the country,” the Emperor said vaguely.
“But the nation has its own difficulties.”
“Are you saying you won’t even save the Doom Victims?”
Joen’s voice carried a suppressed rage.
“It’s not that I won’t save them, but that there are still difficulties that need to be resolved.”
A slight smile finally touched the corners of the Emperor’s mouth.
A Hero who was wholeheartedly devoted to the public good was a peerlessly sharp sword.
If Constantine could use it, why couldn’t he?
“That is my country, my own flesh and blood!”
He said sincerely.
“Joen, with the disaster in the Dry River Territory, I am just as anxious as you. I wish I could rush there right now to do my part for the victims!”
His tone shifted.
“But things are not that simple. There are many practical difficulties that will obstruct us.”
“Such as?” Joen pressed.
“For example… it is currently the autumn harvest, the end of the year, and the national treasury is empty. Even when this year’s taxes are collected, there are many places where they must be spent. You must convince the powerful Nobles of this capital to add an extra expenditure for the Dry River Territory in next year’s budget.”
“What could be more important than human lives?”
Joen’s brow furrowed deeply.
“Many things,” the Emperor responded slowly.