MWAMHR|CHAPTER 74

Chapter 74

The Decision

***

Two days after Ethan’s private audience with the King of Petra, a royal letter arrived — announcing that His Majesty had accepted Ethan’s proposal.

It wasn’t official yet. The matter would be settled in the noble council, scheduled four days after the letter’s arrival.

During those tense days, Ethan was summoned repeatedly by the Bureau of Security, questioned, and subjected to endless investigations.

The investigators pressed him relentlessly, waving “evidence” in his face, but Ethan remained firm — just as he had before the King. He never once admitted that his father had been a slave.

The interrogations were grueling, nearly indistinguishable from outright trials. But even harder than enduring them was for Elisa to watch him suffer without being able to do anything.

Those four days stretched endlessly — forty days, perhaps longer — until finally, the noble council convened.

That day, Prince Alex, who had returned to the capital only the night before, attended the session along with the royal diplomats. Alex made no effort to hide his displeasure at facing Prince Howard across the table, while Howard simply smiled, calm and unruffled.

The meeting began once the King took his seat.

First came the diplomats’ report on the results of the allied negotiations — just as expected, and so quickly passed over without dispute.

Other matters followed, and one by one they were resolved.

Then came the final issue: the matter of Baron Ethan Estevan’s lineage.

“According to the laws of the kingdom, a slave can never become a noble. Therefore, Baron Estevan’s title and noble status must be revoked.”

 “It hasn’t yet been confirmed that Baron Estevan is a slave. He himself has denied it. Let’s not make hasty judgments.”

 “Everyone knows he’s just refusing to admit it because he doesn’t want to lose his title.”

“Everyone knows? Well, I don’t.”

The voices clashed sharply. The King and Prince Howard remained silent, simply observing.

Then Alex, who had been sitting with folded arms, suddenly turned to his half-brother.

 “Howard, what do you think?”

Howard turned his head slowly toward Alex, who was wearing the confident smirk of a man already certain of victory.

That look — so arrogant, so sure — reminded Howard of a certain Imperial officer from years ago. 

That officer had smiled just like that, thinking victory was his, until Ethan cut him down. His army had been utterly annihilated — one of the Empire’s most disastrous defeats.

Remembering that, Howard almost found Alex’s expression amusing.

“Well,” he said, “if Baron Estevan truly is of slave descent, then yes, his title should be revoked. But since that hasn’t been confirmed, I think making a decision now would be premature.”

It was a cautious, textbook answer — one that merely echoed the sentiments already voiced by the nobles. Alex’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

 “You—”

He was about to retort sharply, but the King lifted a hand, silencing him.

“Still, we cannot simply wait forever,” the King said. “The longer we delay, the louder the unrest will grow — and other nations may try to lure Baron Isteban away.”

That last remark made the nobles murmur uneasily. They all knew that after the war, many foreign kingdoms had invited Ethan to defect. The issue had even been raised during the allied negotiations.

“Therefore,” the King continued, “I believe it best that we reach a conclusion today.”

Howard seized the moment.

“Then perhaps we should decide now,” he suggested.

The nobles turned to him in confusion.

 “Decide? But how, when the baron still denies it?”

“Do you have some clever solution in mind, Your Highness?”

 “A solution?” Howard chuckled softly. “Surely that’s your job to find, not mine. I’m not here to babysit you.”

His taunting tone drew deep frowns from several nobles, but Alex merely laughed under his breath.

“So, all that talk, and you have no answer after all.”

 “Is that what you think?” Howard asked mildly.

“Isn’t it?” Alex pressed.

Howard only shrugged.

And then the King, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke.

“I already have an idea.”

Every head in the chamber turned toward him.

 “Appoint Baron Ethan Estevan as Lord of Karsten, and send him there.”

The hall erupted in murmurs. No one had expected such a proposal.

The King tapped his fingers lightly against the table to quiet the room before continuing.

“We’ve had trouble finding anyone willing to govern Karsten, haven’t we? It’s a perfect fit. Let’s conclude that the rumors about his slave lineage were false and assign him to Karsten instead.”

 “Your Majesty,” one noble protested carefully, “but if by chance he truly is—”

“Ah,” the King interrupted smoothly, “then whoever objects is welcome to take his place — or to recommend another suitable candidate.”

At that, the noble instantly shut his mouth.

No one else dared to oppose.

The King, clearly pleased, straightened his shoulders with a satisfied smile.

 “Then, let us vote. Those in favor of my proposal — or against it — speak now.”

As expected, the decision was unanimous.

Ethan not only retained his noble status but was officially appointed as the new Lord of Karsten.

For any noble, being granted an estate was an honor — usually.

But Karsten was different.

True, the land was rich in minerals and fertile soil, but it bordered the Empire. That single fact made it the least desirable domain in all of Petra.

No amount of wealth could tempt most men to risk their lives.

And so, the nobles allied with the Queen’s faction mocked Ethan openly.

“He didn’t win a reward — he got a punishment!”

“Tried to dodge trouble and fell straight into the cesspit!”

Howard, listening to their jeers from behind a pillar, smirked faintly.

They didn’t know what they were talking about.

Karsten wasn’t nearly as dangerous as they believed. The Empire was broken and bleeding from the last war — too weak to start another. There would be no battles, not in Ethan’s lifetime.

And Karsten’s rich resources meant enormous potential for profit.

Better still, because it was a “danger zone,” Ethan could freely recruit soldiers to strengthen his forces — and no one would object. Most of those volunteers would be commoners with nothing left to lose, which suited Howard perfectly.

Those who have nothing to lose are never afraid to fight.

When Ethan had first volunteered to go to Karsten, Howard had thought him mad.

But now, the more he thought about it, the more it impressed him.

He’s not just strong — he’s smart, too.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

A pity he only thinks clearly when it’s about Elisa, he mused. Still… I like the man.

He was on his way back to the palace when a dark shadow stepped into his path.

 “Smiling like that… You must be deluded enough to think you’ve won.”

It was Prince Alex von Martinez. His palace lay in the opposite direction, so he had clearly been waiting for Howard.

How diligent, Howard thought, suppressing a laugh as he turned to face him.

“Baron Estevan’s being sent to Karsten,” Alex sneered. “Your pitiful little wings have been clipped completely.”

“If mine are clipped,” Howard replied lightly, stepping closer, “then does that mean yours are still intact?”

He looked behind Alex’s shoulders with mock curiosity and shrugged.

“Strange. I don’t see any wings. Oh—maybe they’re invisible, like the kind only good people can see? Then again, that means you can’t see them either.”

Howard chuckled under his breath. The taunt hit its mark — Alex’s face twisted with fury.

“You must have gone mad, sending your favorite dog to that prison. Don’t fool yourself — Karsten isn’t a city, it’s a cage. Baron Estevan’s not going there as a lord, but as a criminal.”

“Maybe so,” Howard said with a faint smile. “But it’s curious — for someone who refuses to recognize him as a noble, you keep calling him Baron.”

Alex flinched, teeth grinding in rage.

“We’ll see how long you can keep laughing,” he spat before turning sharply and storming down the corridor.

Howard watched him go, his smile never fading. Then, glancing toward the far end of the hall, his eyes narrowed.

A man was standing there, lingering in the shadows.

If his memory served him right, that was James, a merchant under Derek Grenville’s trading company.

And Howard had a feeling his sudden appearance was no coincidence.