#8. The Crown Prince of the Empire
2023.12.08.
His shadow stretched out as long as his tall frame.
A breeze blew in from the open window, causing Resban’s hair to flutter.
His face was sculpted like a statue, with sharp features, and though his golden eyes were lit by sunlight, they gleamed coldly like a predator lurking in the shadows.
With a furrowed brow, Resban slowly released the maid’s waist.
The maid, without showing any surprise, lowered her head and said stiffly,
“…I’m sorry.”
Resban clearly remembered the maid’s subtle reaction when they had met.
Even someone with good reflexes would have fallen backward, but she twisted her waist like a seasoned knight who had trained for years.
As if she were about to execute a breakfall.
“…Lift your head.”
Resban’s low voice echoed.
The maid’s neck, exposed as her tightly tied hair pulled back, was suspiciously delicate—and so were her fingers.
After a moment, the maid slowly lifted her face.
With a graceful forehead, high nose, blue eyes as clear as a lake, and lips that were neither thin nor thick—she was undeniably beautiful.
“……”
The maid stared directly at him without the slightest hint of fear in her eyes.
Her posture, wary but unafraid, seemed somewhat contradictory.
She looked frail and thin, her light frame appearing quite ordinary.
But if she had trained enough to instinctively perform a breakfall, her hands shouldn’t be so smooth.
A bundle of thoughts passed through his mind as naturally as the wind.
“…What is your name?”
True to his nickname, “Madman of War,” Resban had a large, solid frame. His face, however, was so handsomely sculpted that women instinctively feared him—because of the murderous aura draped over him like a cloak.
“I’m a maid.”
Yet she replied without a tremor, boldly.
He had asked her name, but she replied “maid.”
“So you have no intention of answering.”
Resban’s lips curled slightly.
Brazenly, the maid didn’t reply even to that.
Even though he subtly radiated pressure, she didn’t flinch.
That only made her more intriguing.
“……”
He never forgot someone once he saw them.
No matter how long ago they had met.
Within the flow of his thoughts was a strange sense of déjà vu.
After a moment, Resban said to her,
“…You may go.”
Near the training grounds of the Duke’s estate, Resban and Kalian stood watching the soldiers drill.
There was a certain scent you picked up from people—without needing to actually smell them.
Some called it an aura, but to Kalian it was much stronger than that.
The Crown Prince’s gaze carried the heavy stench of blood.
A large body clad in a dark military uniform, broad solid shoulders, sharp nose and jawline like they were chiseled, and dark hair fluttering slightly in the breeze.
And those cold golden eyes that reflected countless blades—one could guess how many enemy strongholds they had conquered.
No need to explain the countless lives lost amid their final screams.
“I will support the war of conquest in Agrife.”
Agrife was a fertile land located in the southwestern part of the empire.
It was the destination to which the Crown Prince’s army would soon march.
To wage another war, he needed the cooperation of the dukes.
“I’ll provide 5,000 cavalry and three aura knight orders from the duchy for the imperial army. They may not compare to Your Highness’s royal guards, but they’ll aid greatly in military command.”
Once a fiefdom of the empire, Agrife had been one of the lands that led the charge when border lords and kingdoms struck the empire from behind twenty years ago.
That war had annihilated over half of the imperial forces. The Empress, two princesses, and three princes were all killed, leaving only the nine-year-old Crown Prince Resban alive.
It was a tragic part of imperial history—and the birth of the war-crazed Crown Prince.
“As expected, I enjoy how easily I can communicate with you.”
Resban’s lips curved faintly, and Kalian felt a chill run through him.
Either way, next time the Crown Prince would simply arrive with an imperial decree, so rejecting now would be pointless.
Well, Agrife wasn’t just rich in grain—it was also mineral-rich. Supporting troops would be handsomely rewarded.
“May I ask Your Highness one thing?”
When Resban slightly nodded, Kalian continued,
“Do you intend to reclaim all of Turesian’s former territories?”
Crown Prince Resban, infamous as a war maniac, had always led the conquest campaigns.
He trampled enemies mercilessly, spreading blood as he expanded the empire.
Now, only a few lost territories remained to be reclaimed—but doing so would require even more bloodshed.
“Brayton seems curious too. That boy has always feared me.”
When Resban mentioned his half-brother—the second prince, who was supported by the Klaus family—Kalian’s hand twitched.
The second prince Brayton was the current Empress’s child, just recently turned nineteen.
“He’s still young.”
Resban slowly drew the sword at his waist.
The sharp sound of the blade scraping against the sheath drew every gaze toward him.
“At first, I only thought about avenging my siblings.”
A low voice flowed out.
A clear sword aura, tinged with blue, shone at the tip of the Crown Prince’s sword.
“But at some point, I realized—I was born to take, not to give.”
With a graceful swing, he sliced through the air.
In an instant, a training dummy dozens of meters away shattered into pieces.
The soldiers, frozen, could only stare blankly at him.
Was this truly a human’s level? Had the rumors about him making a pact with a demon been true?
Even without the wind, the scent of blood clung to the Crown Prince.
“I will reclaim all of Turesian’s lands. And then…”
His golden eyes moved coldly and elegantly.
“I will burn every kingdom and territory that raised a sword against Turesian twenty years ago. Those who aided them will be reduced to ash—and the empire will feast on the fruits left by traitors.”
“……”
“I’d like to offer you the chance to share in the glory of the end. The nobles of Torres are all cowards who tremble at the sight of a sword.”
Kalian tried hard to hide the horror on his face.
“The Klaus family will support Your Highness in every possible way.”
“Such pleasant words.”
Resban slowly returned his sword to its sheath.
Everything about him—every move and every word—had purpose.
He was more insightful, strategic, and capable than anyone—a man truly suited to the throne.
‘This is a veiled threat: resist me and I’ll draft your forces for war.’
It was also why he never summoned Kalian to the palace, always coming to the Duke’s estate himself.
It symbolized that all soldiers within the empire—including the duke’s—belonged to the emperor.
“Well then, I shall have the servants prepare some tea.”
As Kalian, his expression soured, prepared to call a servant, Resban’s voice came again.
“Tea…”
Resban’s lips moved slightly.
His sun-like eyes flickered subtly, like ripples from a pebble dropped in water—but no one noticed.
“Have it prepared near the lake. The view is quite nice.”
An average person would have noticed long before he approached.
But Resban, by habit, suppressed his presence like a master.
Eshika, having unknowingly encountered him, let out a sigh of relief.
Then she furrowed her brows in frustration.
‘Why is that Crown Prince always loafing around the Duke’s estate instead of doing his job?’
It hadn’t really been “always”—this was his first visit in five days—but to her, it was annoying nonetheless.
She’d worn a maid’s uniform and shown her face, claimed to be a maid, so she should now avoid meeting him again as the Duchess of Klaus.
She did plan to uproot Klaus eventually, but this still felt like an obstacle to her freedom.
Either way, what was done was done. Sighing softly, she headed into the estate’s kitchen.
“This can’t be called a potion.”
“A… a potion?”
She had bribed the chef through Sella to follow a recipe and prepare a potion, but what he made was just a terrible-tasting sauce.
In the end, she would have to personally teach him the recipe.
“Who dares sneak into my kitchen like a filthy rat?!”
As she entered the kitchen storage, a rough, gruff voice bellowed from behind.
When she turned, she saw the short, fat, bald head chef Hemos glaring at her while holding a large butcher’s knife.
“Hoo…”
Eshika let out a small sigh and rolled her shoulders.
A cracking sound followed, and Hemos’ eyebrow twitched.
Chef Hemos—known for proving his loyalty to the Grand Madam by purposely serving Eshika spoiled food—had once basked in the old lady’s favor, but ever since Yuri began offering her jewels, he had fallen out of favor and resented Eshika.
Now he was in a tense rivalry with Yuri, the new head maid, and acted like a typical petty bully—weak to the strong and strong against the weak.
And being typical meant he would be easy to deal with.
A wicked glint flickered in Eshika’s blue eyes.