The Question of Succession

Gawain met the prince in the reception room. Rebecca, whom Gawain had dragged along to broaden her horizons, was also present.

Edmund Moen, the child most favored by Francis II, the current King of Ansu. Gawain had not known this prince before, but in preparation for this trip to the royal capital, he had specifically sought out Heti and Viscount Andrew to cram up on the modern royal family. As a result, he knew quite a bit about its current state.

Francis II was now old, yet he had few children. Aside from his youngest son, Edmund Moen, he had only one other son and one daughter. His eldest son, Wales, was utterly mediocre in ability, timid by nature, and poor at political maneuvering. For a long time, he had been a source of worry for the old king. However, throughout the first half of his life, the old king had only that one son, so Wales had served as crown prince for seventeen years. Later, Francis II had children in his old age. A favored consort bore him a pair of twins at once: Princess Veronica Moen and Prince Edmund Moen.

Compared to their mediocre elder brother Wales, the twin siblings seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. At a very young age, they displayed exceptional talent—their martial skills and intelligence both drew immense praise from their court tutors. The old king, who had long been troubled by the matter of heirs, was finally saved from his predicament. With almost no hesitation, he stripped his eldest son of his status as crown prince and prepared to transfer the succession to his new children.

No one in court or beyond objected to this. Even Prince Wales himself accepted the arrangement calmly.

Ansu's throne could be inherited regardless of gender, yet the position of crown prince ultimately fell to Edmund Moen. This was not because the old king had arranged it so, but because Princess Veronica had voluntarily announced that she was renouncing her claim to the throne before the new crown prince was declared. She converted to the Holy Light Church and became a nun at the Cathedral of Light—now promoted to High Priestess. This had clearly been arranged in advance. The old king naturally offered his blessings to his daughter and sent her into the church, then promptly named Edmund crown prince. Thus, the succession of the Ansu Royal Family was completed quite smoothly.

Many believed Princess Veronica's "conversion" had actually been a move by the royal family. Through it, the King of Ansu had placed a high-ranking member of royal blood within the self-contained Holy Light Church. Moreover, a princess who renounced her right to the throne and devoted herself wholeheartedly to the God of Holy Light was indeed someone the church could not refuse—whether for symbolic or practical reasons. Others held the opposite view, believing it was a sign that the Holy Light Church's influence had grown strong enough to erode the royal family.

There were plenty of supporters for both opinions, but in Gawain's view, they were all strategic bullshit artists. After all, they were just talking out of their asses...

Gawain had no interest in the division of interests behind these royal stories—or rather, he had not yet reached the point where he could form opinions on such divisions. So he merely focused his attention on the young man before him.

Edmund Moen was an undeniably handsome man, combining a martial bearing with the calm, scholarly air of a gentleman. His every movement was textbook-perfect. After exchanging only a greeting, Gawain leaned over and muttered to Rebecca, "See that? Learn from him. Stop thinking about smearing people with giant fireballs all day."

Rebecca wanted to remind her ancestor that he had been the one egging her on to blast people with fireballs earlier, but she was afraid of getting beaten up and did not dare say a word.

Edmund wore a thoughtful, courteous smile. "I hope you find your stay here comfortable. If the attendants or maids fail to meet your needs, you may tell Butler James directly."

"Don't worry. Nothing feels more natural to me than living in my own home," Gawain said as he settled into a high-backed chair. "You've maintained this place quite well. It's basically the same as it was seven hundred years ago... You even recreated my favorite tea set. That's impressive. Sit. No need to stand on ceremony."

"Preserving a hero's former residence is preserving our glory," Edmund said with curiosity and respect. "I hope you won't laugh, but I grew up listening to stories about you. I even keep a set of replica weapons and armor that you once used in my room. I used to imagine that one day I could expand the realm and protect the people just like you did... Unfortunately, whether one is crown prince or king, one cannot live so freely."

Gawain sized the prince up several times, until Edmund shifted awkwardly and asked, "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Relax when you talk to me. Don't act as though you're facing some stuffy old man," Gawain said, waving a hand. "I've been dead for seven hundred years, sure, but I was only thirty-five when I died. I'm not that much older than you."

Edmund looked a little embarrassed. "Uh, you're right. I can't help adding those seven hundred years to your age..."

"There is definitely a seven-hundred-year generation gap," Gawain said with a smile. "For instance, people in our day spoke far more directly than modern people. All it took was a fight or a drinking bout to get down to business. Modern people, though, insist on exchanging pleasantries forever first."

Edmund froze for a moment, then suddenly laughed as if a burden had been lifted. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't be as difficult to deal with as my father imagined. He spent ages reminding me to mind my etiquette and all that. I told him too much empty chatter would only annoy people."

"See, this is exactly the kind of speaking style I like," Gawain said with a nod. "Then let's be direct. You came today to sound me out?"

"...You're being a little too direct as well..."

"People in ancient times were all straightforward," Gawain said with a wave of his hand. Those guys have been dead for centuries. They aren't climbing out of their graves to beat me up. At least among humans, I'm the only one who can make things up about ancient people, so I might as well say whatever suits me. "So there's no need to hide it—your old man sent you here because he wanted to find out what I, a man who suddenly climbed out of his grave, am planning to do. Right?"

Edmund shrugged. "This wasn't Father King's idea. He is extremely cautious. Even if he wished to understand your intentions, he would never do something as rash as sending me to ask you directly. This was my own idea, and I... truly am curious about why you came."

Gawain gestured for him to continue.

"You have been awake for some time now, so surely you know that many things have changed over these seven hundred years—especially the changes one hundred years ago." Edmund glanced at Rebecca. "Did you come for the interests of the Cecil Family?"

"That question is too broad. Of course I came for the Cecil Family's interests, but which part of those interests is the key," Gawain said, giving the prince a look. "From my perspective, there is quite a lot I could demand. Most directly—the Cecil Family's hereditary ducal title and southern territory are major points open to discussion, aren't they?"

Edmund was instantly stunned, seemingly unable to determine whether Gawain was serious. Still, he forced a smile and replied, "Your title and territory were inherited by your descendants after your death. Later, your descendants violated the kingdom's laws and could no longer retain their title and territory. Everything was handled within the framework of the kingdom's laws..."

Gawain adjusted his posture and leaned closer to Edmund, smiling faintly. "Yes, according to the kingdom's laws. But according to those laws, my heirs can only fully inherit my title and territory after my death. While I am alive, only my eldest son possesses my secondary title and limited Legal Proxy Authority, while all Cecil descendants other than the eldest son possess only noble status and no legal authority whatsoever. Clearly, I am alive now. And nowhere in Ansu law does it state how the succession rights of someone resurrected from death should be defined—when they take effect, when they lapse, or how conflicts arising during that period should be resolved."

(Legal Proxy Authority, under Ansu law, refers to the right of qualified noble descendants to act in the family's name, enjoy the corresponding privileges, and bear the corresponding risks and responsibilities.)

Edmund: "?!"

Gawain spread his hands. "So the very first step doesn't hold up—the inheritance was invalid. That Gruman from one hundred years ago should never have been a marquis, nor should he have held any Legal Proxy Authority over the Cecil Family. You merely took things from someone who had no right to inherit them in the first place, things that were never in his hands to begin with."

Rebecca stared blankly at her ancestor, never having imagined such a move was possible. Meanwhile, Amber, who was pressing her ear against the wall in the next room to eavesdrop, turned to look at Knight Byron. "Amazing—he's even more shameless than I am!"

Prince Edmund, sitting before Gawain, was already on the verge of having his expression collapse. His mouth twitched, and after a long pause, he finally squeezed out, "But who could have imagined, when those laws were written, that you would suddenly come back to life... Besides, you really did die once."

"So when you speak with me, put logic and rules aside first. They ceased to apply the moment I rose from my coffin," Gawain said with a smile. "Of course, I did not come for those confiscated territories or the titles of my descendants. I know what that wastrel from one hundred years ago did. If I were there, I would have beaten him to death too. The royal family's judgment was not wrong, and I have no intention of overturning it. I merely want you to understand that if I truly wished to argue over the Cecil Family's inheritance interests by picking at the wording of the kingdom's law code, there would be far too many loopholes to exploit—because so many clauses regarding succession are built around whether I'm dead or not, aren't they?"

"All right, all right, I understand," Edmund said, raising both hands in surrender. "You just said people seven hundred years ago spoke frankly and were bad at beating around the bush, but now it seems you may be more difficult to deal with than my debate tutor."

"I didn't just live through Ansu's barbaric age. I also lived through the Gondor Empire at the height of its glory, so don't underestimate ancient people from seven hundred years ago," Gawain said with a curl of his lip. "When we were barbaric, we could eat raw flesh and drink blood. When we were refined, we could give one kind of red wine thirty-six different names, each with its own sonnet."

"...That is indeed impressive," Edmund admitted sincerely. "Then could we discuss in detail what you intend to speak with my father about tomorrow at noon...?"

Gawain nodded, thinking that it was just as he had expected. Compared with tomorrow's public meeting at noon, today was probably the real negotiation...