TCCIO 39

Chapter 39 – Let Him Do as He Wishes

Seated atop the high platform on his throne, the King of Eorenty looked around the grand banquet hall with a heavy gaze. Once filled with nobles and ministers, the vast hall was now empty. So hollow it felt like it was showing the end of Eorenty itself.

“You have all worked hard.”

The King’s quiet voice echoed like a whisper through the hall. Despite the ruin that had befallen them, the light pouring in between the massive pillars still held a certain beauty. The King cast his eyes from the frescoes painted on the ceiling to the second-floor balcony overlooking the center, and then down to the wide first floor. At the end of that gaze stood the graceful and delicate Queen.

“I’m sorry I brought you to a small kingdom where you couldn’t enjoy a full life, only to face such an end.”

The Queen looked at him with luminous eyes and offered a faint smile. Even the chaos unfolding outside the hall could not overshadow the affection between them.

“Please don’t say that. Just being with you was happiness enough for me.”

After the defeat at Cabat, Eorenty crumbled quickly. With no commander to lead them, mercenaries had no reason to risk their lives. Outmatched by revolutionary new weaponry and terrified by the enemy’s superior numbers—twice their own—the army scattered. The elder council debated fiercely: should they surrender, request reinforcements from other nations, fight to the bitter end, gather a resistance, or flee? But when the King ordered their dissolution, they returned home empty-handed. As he recalled the final session of Parliament, the Queen’s gentle voice reached his ears.

“What worries me most are the children. Do you think our Delia arrived safely?”

At her question, the King closed his eyes, picturing their daughter. Had Delia been here, she would’ve insisted they fight to the end. Recklessness from youthful passion wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—it could sometimes birth legends. But with age came clarity. One could see whether something was truly possible or not. To the King, it was clear: defeating 100,000 Imperial troops armed with advanced weaponry was simply impossible.

“She’s probably already crossed the Sea of Dites and met Duke Boswell by now.”

“I hope the Duke takes good care of her.”

“He will protect her well.”

“I still worry. What if she’s ignored or looked down on in an unfamiliar place?”

“Even so, anything is better than being captured by the Empire.”

The Queen fell silent at that. According to the captain of the Royal Guard, Delia had been taken prisoner by the Empire’s commander. Though the details were unclear, the daughter’s silence and averted eyes had spoken volumes. They could never let her meet that man again. She couldn’t be defiled as well.

“Your family is there too, so she won’t be entirely alone. She’s a strong and spirited child—she’ll survive.”

“Yes, I’m sure she will.”

The Queen nodded at the King’s reassurance and thought of another child.

“What about Alfredo? There’s been no word from him since the Cabat Plains defeat.”

At the mention of Alfredo, anger welled up again in the King. He slammed his staff hard against the floor.

“Forget him. A prince who should have died fighting instead fled at the sight of the enemy!”

Tears welled in the Queen’s eyes at the harsh words. Cold and heartless from a father’s lips, but fitting from a king’s. A crown prince who retreated in shame instead of defending the kingdom—it was unacceptable.

“He insisted on fulfilling his royal duty, and then ran away. Such a prince is better off dead.”

“Your Majesty, please understand. He’s just a gentle soul.”

“If only he had made up some excuse and stayed behind like usual… he wouldn’t have been so disgraceful…”

The King stopped mid-sentence. The Empire, having swiftly conquered both Royeni and Kireins, was marching straight toward Eorenty. Not even the crown prince could have stemmed that tide. With a sigh of regret, the King swallowed his fury.

“Perhaps it’s for the best.”

He softened his tone to console the Queen. Her sorrow as a mother was understandable.

“If Alfredo had been here as crown prince, he likely would not have survived.”

“But, Your Majesty…”

“I heard no royals survived in either Royeni or Kireins. If he had remained, he’d have been the first to die.”

Faced with this painful truth, the Queen finally shed tears.

“Let’s believe he’s hidden somewhere, preparing for the future.”

It was no real comfort, but she nodded silently. The final tender words exchanged between the royal couple floated in the soft light.

“You two should go now.”

The King’s concerned voice prompted bows from the head butler and head maid.

“The Royal Guard is still resisting, Your Majesty.”

“You must escape while you still can.”

The King shook his head, halting their pleas.

“This war is already decided. Continued resistance will only spill more blood.”

“But Your Majesty, you must survive. You could regroup and—”

“According to precedent in Royeni and Kireins, the Empire spares those who surrender.”

Except royalty. The Imperial army would march until Eorenty’s royal line was erased. The rivers of blood to follow… the land to be trampled… To prevent such meaningless sacrifice, the King and Queen decided to surrender to the flow of history. If the royal line ended, perhaps the Empire would halt.

“No more useless words. Go. The Empire won’t come after you.”

With a resigned voice, the King dismissed them. Steward Croche bowed deeply. He understood now: there was no changing the King’s mind. Tears formed in the steward’s eyes.

“Then… we cannot leave the two of you alone. We will remain.”

“Stubborn man. I told you to go.”

“Please grant us the honor of staying to the end.”

The King had no response to that. The air in the banquet hall grew heavy with grief. As silence fell, the commotion outside grew louder—then nearer.

Bang. The doors burst open, and Imperial soldiers poured in, armed with guns and swords. The rhythmic stomping of boots echoed ominously through the vast hall. The order in their deadly advance made them all the more terrifying. Lining the hall with eerie precision, they stood silent, their eyes gleaming—unnervingly inhuman. The tension was suffocating.

Step. Step. Footsteps rang clearly in the breathless hall. The King instinctively gripped his staff tighter. As the sound drew closer, he stared at the entrance. A man entered, wearing a pristine uniform, incongruent with the battlefield.

With his mere presence, the very air seemed to thicken. His silver eyes scanned the hall, and though he said nothing, all could feel who he was: the Empire’s sole Grand Duke, Supreme Commander of its army—Aaron Stilleitz Bergen.

“King Franz II of Eorenty.”

Stopping before the throne, Aaron gave a slight nod. He lifted his military cap in a gesture of formality, almost leisurely. His silver hair fluttered with the motion—fitting for the man called the Silver Wolf.

“So you’ve chosen an honorable death. Hmm…”

His deep voice reverberated through the silent hall.

“Better than suicide like Royeni or cowardice like Kireins.”

Aaron locked eyes with the King—Eorenty’s ruler, and Collection Target No. 1. Obsessed with collecting all things related to Eorenty, Aaron saw the King as one of his most prized specimens. His gaze shifted to the Queen.

“Queen Eleanor.”

He politely bowed to Collection Target No. 2. The courtesy from an enemy commander felt like a slap to the face. The Queen clicked her tongue and turned to the window, refusing to look at him.

“You’re the commander of the Empire?”

The King struggled to contain his rage.

“I am.”

“Then Eorenty admits defeat.”

His voice trembled as he declared their surrender. Aaron tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable, his pale gray eyes fixed on the royal couple.

“I already knew that. No need to say it aloud.”

The King’s eyes sharpened. His staff shook in his grip. He had to restrain the urge to strike the man—for the sake of his people, he had to endure.

“I ask that you show mercy to the people of Eorenty.”

His voice cracked with humiliation, but he forced the words out.

“As you did in Royeni and Kireins.”

But Aaron showed no emotion.

“I’ll handle that as I see fit.”

His flat reply was followed by a glance around the hall, ignoring the King completely. The King stared at him, stunned—was that a yes or a no?

But he had one final plea.

“As King of Eorenty, I ask that the bloodshed ends with me. Please, no more innocent lives.”

His thoughts turned to Alfredo and Delia, his heart aching.

“I was going to do that anyway.”

Aaron answered casually, taking slow steps forward. Step. Step. His cold footsteps rang chillingly in the hall. He stopped directly in front of the throne.

“But I need your cooperation first.”

To kill them more easily? The King closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

“I’ve made my decision. Do as you will.”

Aaron stared at King Franz II, who awaited death with his eyes closed. Upon the King’s head rested Collection Target No. 37, the crown of Eorenty. Aaron had to take it—his purpose would not be complete without it. Glancing at the staff the King gripped, Aaron slowly reached for the rifle at his side.

Click. The chilling sound of his rifle loading echoed through the hall. The silver-decorated barrel pointed directly at the King’s head—where the crown gleamed.