Chapter 7
Our Secret Wedding Story (2)
Faced with High Priest Norba’s stubbornness, the young Emperor of the Empire clenched his teeth. He massaged his forehead, barely suppressing the urge to storm out immediately.
“There must have been a priest who wrote the marriage certificate… Call him here and we can resolve this face-to-face—”
“That is not possible.”
Unlike his usual evasive demeanor, the High Priest rejected all of the Emperor’s suggestions without leaving even a sliver of room for negotiation.
The Emperor, momentarily speechless, glared at the priest and then spoke slowly, biting off each word with effort.
“Wouldn’t that be the most reliable way to determine the truth? Even if lowly commoners might be swayed, surely a priest of the temple wouldn’t yield to power?”
The old priest calmly extended his arm to pour tea as he replied.
“Priest Louis, who handled the record… passed into the arms of the gods last summer. Such a pity, especially at such a young age.”
“…He died?”
Clink.
The priest gently set down his teacup and continued with a slightly regretful expression.
“This matter has nothing to do with the record keeper’s death.”
“Are you even hearing yourself right now…”
“I apologize for the offense, Your Majesty. But the temple’s marriage records clearly state that the two of you were wed before the gods more than three years ago. Even if you wish to annul or void it now, there is nothing the temple can do.”
“…”
“My condolences, Your Majesty.”
Crack.
The teacup that Norba had placed down had cracked.
It seemed the finely crafted glass couldn’t withstand the Emperor’s murderous aura.
The Emperor stared coldly at the High Priest—cold enough to freeze one’s heart—then turned and left the main chamber of the Genesis Temple without looking back.
Norba glanced down with a bitter smile. The water that had spilled from the broken teacup had frozen solid. The Emperor’s rune. Said to govern all things in space…
The High Priest slowly ran his fingers along the frozen table and water, whispering so softly it was almost inaudible.
“There must be divine will in this, Your Majesty. I pray you will reflect and understand.”
After returning from the temple, the Emperor’s aura was ominous.
In his eyes, which resembled frozen winter lakes, blue flames flickered violently.
This year marked the tenth anniversary of Ferza IV’s ascension to the throne.
The Imperial Chronicles recorded the rise of Emperor Jan Felixrion de Ferza in unusually brief fashion—thanks to the young Emperor’s distaste for tedious ceremony.
“Born in May, Imperial Year 612, the legitimate heir of the then-crown prince and the Duchess of Lekanois.
In June of the same year, inherited the Duchy of Lekanois and its fiefs from his mother.
In May 622, became Crown Prince at age 10. Succeeded control of the southern territories Shumarin and Huis from his uncle, Grand Duke Pellas.
In December 627, as the war neared its end and chaos escalated, led 100,000 troops to battle at the age of 15.
In February 628, subdued a diversionary campaign by the Servan Empire and reclaimed control of the northwestern region. Declared himself Lord of Taisser Lekanois.
In August 628, conquered the Duchy of Yozran, declared it annexed, stripped the duke of his title, and executed his family.
In July 629, volunteered for a covert mission into enemy territory. Saved by Isaac Mezzerin, a former knight of the temple, who earned the title ‘Red Lion of Shumarin’.
In December of the same year, achieved a decisive victory at the Battle of Carion. The Crown Prince personally beheaded the Emperor of Servan and his heir.
In January 630, declared an end to the war in place of the ailing Emperor Ferza III.”
He was only seventeen when the war ended.
While others his age were just entering the academy, he had lived a life far harsher than his noble status would suggest.
And peace didn’t bring ease either. This was clearly shown in a column published in the Daily Polie three years ago during the victory celebrations:
“When the young hero returned to the capital Zikrit, the Emperor had already passed. The central government, having been tainted by years of war, was rife with corruption.
Seeing the oppression and exploitation from the nobility, the people lamented daily.
The blood-steeled Crown Prince didn’t hesitate to turn his sword inward—sweeping out the corrupt and ushering in a new nobility.
His rise was supported by the brilliant intelligence and planning of the Lekanois family’s loyal retainers.
Even though the previous Emperor died before the Crown Prince returned, power was seamlessly transferred without any disruption.
Thus, the great Empire of Ferza welcomed the youngest ruler in the continent’s history.”
Ten years had passed since the war ended.
The government had stabilized rapidly.
Jan gathered talented individuals from all over the empire, making them his lifelong vassals and placing them in key positions.
His entire life had been a relentless sprint.
Becoming Crown Prince at a young age, training in martial arts, managing inherited lands, and waging war—how could he not have been busy?
Now, after ten years, he thought he might finally rest.
But due to a bunch of fools and a clerical error, he ended up with a “wife he’d never even seen.”
Frankly, Jan hadn’t expected the High Priest to reject his request so flatly.
Regardless of status, once he heard the circumstances, shouldn’t he have understood?
“Tch. This pisses me off. It’s not like I can just kill them all.”
The Emperor’s eyes gleamed menacingly.
No one dared open the door to the Emperor’s third office, frozen in fear by the blizzard-like aura inside.
At this point, the previously unspoken tension between imperial and temple authority was clearly surfacing.
Although the Empire promoted religious freedom and had no official state religion, Genesisism effectively held that position, serving as the spiritual backbone of the people.
Respected not only in the Empire but across most of the Asha Continent, Genesisism’s influence wasn’t something the imperial family was pleased with.
Especially since the Great Temple stood right in the imperial capital Zikrit, and its control over civil rituals like marriage, funerals, and coming-of-age ceremonies gave it overwhelming authority.
“Seriously, how could they treat His Majesty like that, even if they’re the temple? Do they even know who he is?”
“Right, right!”
“Our Emperor is the one who beheaded that wicked Servan!”
“…That’s murder.”
“He executed corrupt officials!”
“…Still murder.”
“He wiped out entire traitorous bloodlines!”
“…Mass genocide?”
“Ahem. Well, in any case, he cut down all those villains and saved the Empire!”
The aides hovering in the hallway gave Count Mirhi, the foreign affairs officer, a somewhat sympathetic look as he shouted with a flushed face.
“Count Mirhi… Did you just come from a public speaking contest or something?”
“Talking about beheadings isn’t exactly going to win over the already-hostile temple.”
“Count, shouting here won’t get you anywhere with His Majesty.”
“Don’t worry. It was the temple who caused this mess. It’s not like they’ll execute you for it.”
“Exactly. If he kills the Foreign Affairs Officer for a failed negotiation, who’s going to do foreign affairs next?”
Mirhi’s shoulders slumped as his colleagues offered him not-quite-comforting words.
Death… felt closer than ever.
After thinking a moment, Yuton, the Minister of State, finally spoke.
“His Majesty went himself and was still rejected so flatly… That’s unexpected.”
“Honestly, I thought it would work too.”
“For someone claiming to uphold principles, this is extreme. It’s the Emperor’s marriage record, after all. Could a priest really alter it so easily?”
“Could they have some ulterior motive?”
“…Are you suspecting the viscount?”
The knight Rian, who hadn’t joined the conversation and had been staring at a statue, finally spoke up.
“Not Viscount Mezzerin. I know his character better than anyone. Besides, he saved His Majesty’s life.”
“…”
Count Dyran furrowed his brow and muttered.
“Then we need to investigate the temple’s true intentions. Still, even if Sir Rian vouches for him, I can’t overlook the viscount’s past. Wasn’t he once vice-captain of the Temple Knights?”
“That was ages ago—”
“That’s enough.”
Minister Yuton stepped in to mediate.
“Let’s continue this conversation in the annex. There are ears… that may still be listening.”
“…”
“In any case, shouldn’t we see His Majesty?”
Mirhi and the others immediately went pale.
“W-Why would you bring that upon yourself?”
“Well…”
Yuton placed his hand on the office door and whispered softly.
“It’s better to be beaten… first.”
Knock, knock.
He gently knocked on the massive door to the third office, barely audible.
“Y-Your Majesty. May we enter—”
Boom.
Yikes! That startled me.
Even before Yuton could take a full step forward, a slash of sword aura tore across the wall.
The Emperor stood leaning over his desk, smiling brightly with sword in hand.
“Welcome. I heard you whispering in the hallway like wet cats. Was wondering when you’d finally come in.”
“…”
It seemed the great young master of the Empire… had truly chosen violence today.
