"Pass the throne to my father?" Mark repeated, uncertainty in his voice. "Uncle Sparta... are you serious?"
His brows twisted into a knot. With his father being that henpecked, could he really lead the Viltrumite Empire?
Sparta's gaze passed through the window toward the distance, afternoon sunlight dividing his face into interwoven diamonds of light and shadow.
"Nolan carries Algor's bloodline. The Viltrumite Empire needs such a legacy."
"Even if Nolan has no political experience, no one else would dare say much, because he is royalty. So are you."
"Besides, I have already laid out a strategy for how the Empire should develop in the future. As long as Nolan follows it, there will not be any major problems."
Mark fell silent, seemingly digesting this sudden decision.
After a long while, he raised his eyes and looked at Uncle Sparta.
Sparta did not avoid his gaze. He merely nodded lightly, looking as though his mind was made up.
Passing the throne to Nolan was not a hasty decision, but the result of long and careful consideration.
Nolan was not only his subordinate, and someone he had an emotional bond with; he was also the Empire's great Nolan, a true veteran with the untouchable prestige of Algor's bloodline.
With those three factors combined, if even Nolan, who possessed Algor's bloodline, was not qualified to become the next Emperor, then no one else possibly could be.
Besides, he was confident Nolan would become a remarkable wise ruler in the future.
"...All right."
Mark did not persist. He understood Uncle Sparta's character. This man, who had held everything together with one hand, never made rash decisions.
"Does my father know about your plan... to pass the throne to him?" he asked tentatively.
The corners of Sparta's mouth lifted slightly, revealing an unreadable smile.