"Hey, Prime Minister."
"What is it, Your Majesty?"
"Have I done something deserving of punishment?"
"As a king, you've had to make various decisions that involve swallowing both good and evil—so it's hard to say everything has been entirely virtuous."
Thanks to Duke Edelgard's management, the stampede was resolved before it could cause catastrophic damage.
That was something to celebrate, but there was no time for celebration.
To compensate for the damage, the capital had to be thoroughly rebuilt.
Though taxes could be levied, the treasury didn’t have an infinite supply of gold coins—repair costs would plunge it into the red.
Accepting it as a necessary expense, the king did his best to stave off stomach pains while still scrutinizing documents to avoid wasteful spending. Despite some minor troubles, the capital's reconstruction progressed smoothly enough to be called successful.
"And of all things, the cause of this stampede—"
While fending off nobles who tried to exploit the capital's damage for their own gain, the king’s stress piled up daily. He vented by increasing his morning training, endured the finance department’s screams, resisted the urge to overindulge in food and drink, and suffered from back pain and stiff shoulders as he gred at documents alongside the prime minister. Even in his dreams, reconstruction haunted him—yet the king worked tirelessly.
All of it was to protect the kingdom, grinding himself to the bone.
"While not the direct cause, there’s no doubt this child was involved as a contributing factor."
Yet, despite the king’s efforts, the prime minister delivered a merciless judgment based on a pre-read report.
The stampede that had ravaged the capital.
Of course, defeating it wasn’t the end.
Unlike in games, there was no "Event Complete—Stay Tuned for the Next!" message to wrap things up.
After reconstruction came investigating the cause and preventing recurrence.
That was the real cleanup required.
The king’s covert operatives had investigated the incident and uncovered two key facts.
First, as suspected, a cult of dark gods was behind the incident.
They had identified a suspicious man in the capital, but by the time soldiers investigated his residence, it was already empty.
Tracking him was impossible—he was well-versed in vanishing into the shadows.
Leaving no evidence, he disappeared effortlessly.
With the mastermind still at rge, the second revetion made the king clutch his head and reflect on his own actions.
"A soldier’s child, tasked with protecting the kingdom, secretly spawned a dungeon right outside the capital. Just that alone is enough to give me a headache—but then the cult used that dungeon?"
Expining to an ignorant child why such ws existed would likely be pointless.
"Prime Minister, how should this be handled?"
"According to the w, public execution by hanging the entire family would be appropriate. If it were just the dungeon creation, a flogging might have sufficed—but given the circumstances, even ignorance doesn’t excuse aiding a dark god cult, endangering the capital, and causing numerous deaths. This cannot be overlooked. A harsh response is necessary to deter future incidents."
Normally, the king wouldn’t need to personally judge an ignorant child.
He could delegate it to subordinates, let the courts handle it, and have the punishment carried out.
That should have been the end of it.
But this incident was too significant.
Given its scale, the king had to pass judgment himself.
"..."
"Your Majesty, leniency just because it’s a child is unwise. Sometimes, a merciless decision is necessary."
"I know."
"Then why hesitate?"
By w, the captured boy—Dasse and his family—could not escape execution.
"Hey, Prime Minister."
"Yes?"
"Is ignorance evil?"
The king understood the facts, but he couldn’t accept them.
"I know it’s wrong for me to say this. I know that sparing him would make it impossible to face the citizens who suffered. But even so—"
As king, he knew he shouldn’t let emotions dictate his decisions. With a heavy sigh, he acknowledged that despite his heroic lineage, he was an ordinary ruler.
"I can’t help but hope. That there’s a path where this child admits his mistake, learns from his ignorance, and atones for his crime."
"...I understand your feelings."
"But my position won’t allow it?"
"No. Exceptions cannot be made here. Someone must do it—and that someone must be you, Your Majesty."
Because he was just an ordinary king, he hesitated to sign the execution order for a child with a future.
A wise king might have found a path to redemption.
A tyrant would have shown no hesitation in executing the child.
Lost in these thoughts, the king sighed again.
"How is the child now?"
"Locked in a cell. Given the risk of contact from the cult, guards are posted."
"I see. And the parents?"
"Likewise."
At first, the king had imagined his role to be more glorious.
But after a year on the throne, bearing the weight of the kingdom, he found only the harsh burden of responsibility.
The privileges of kingship were merely tools to manage the stress of that burden.
"Any leads?"
"Nothing substantial. We hoped the child’s description might help, but his memory is already hazy. And besides—"
"Besides?"
"I spoke with him."
"You personally?"
"Yes. And so I can say with certainty—there’s no remorse. He refuses to accept reality, doesn’t see his actions as wrong, insists he was just a victim of deception, and clings to his own justification. Conversation was impossible."
"You could dismiss it as childishness—a commoner’s child, with little opportunity to learn. But—"
"Indeed. If spared now, he would undoubtedly reoffend without guilt. Even corporal punishment like flogging would only breed resentment, likely driving him into the cult’s hands."
"...I see."
The prime minister’s cold verdict didn’t mean he cked compassion.
In fact, he had tried to find a way to save the child.
Otherwise, in such busy times, a man of his rank wouldn’t have personally visited a commoner’s child to question him.
"And most of all—he has no allies left."
"Judgment can also be salvation."
Investigations revealed that Dasse’s actions had already cost him his pce in the capital.
Whether leaked or spread by the cult to sow chaos, rumors bmed him for the stampede.
Had soldiers not arrested him and his family, they might have faced mob justice.
Arrest was also a form of protection.
"Understood."
But to Dasse, the world had already become unlivable.
To lessen his punishment and exile him now would only force him into darkness or death.
Recognizing the cruelty of that choice, the king took a deep breath and prepared to sign the order—
"Hold up, sorry ‘bout this!"
—when an uninvited guest barged in, halting the process.
"Laios, how many times must I tell you to follow protocol when entering here?"
The king sighed—a different kind of sigh than before.
The intruder, a man who embodied unrestrained freedom, strode in boldly. Normally, guards would stop him, but everyone in the castle knew him.
His name was Laios.
"Come on, bro."
He was the king’s younger brother—a prince of the realm.
Had circumstances been different, he might have been king himself.
His appearance made the prime minister shake his head as if nursing a headache.
"Prince Laios, this is the king’s office. Even you can’t just waltz in—it’s problematic."
"Lighten up, Prime Minister. Though I guess it’s thanks to you that this country runs smoothly."
Unlike the king, Laios wasn’t of noble lineage.
His mother had been a maid in the castle, and his birth was the result of the previous king’s indiscretion.
That could have led to power struggles, but Laios himself had no interest in authority.
He openly admitted he wasn’t fit to rule, respected his brother’s reign, and chose instead to support him.
His current position?
"Sigh… Making him an S-rank adventurer might’ve been a mistake."
The kingdom’s ultimate free agent.
"No, Your Majesty, it was the right call. Keeping him in the country would only tempt nobles to scheme. Sending him to the central continent to thrive was the better option."
As an S-rank adventurer—the strongest rank in the southern continent—Laios was even more talented in combat than the king.
The rigid court life didn’t suit him; he flourished in the wild freedom of adventure.
"Hey bro, I cut my quest short and rushed back when I heard about the stampede. Missed the fight, but I brought back some loot to help with rebuilding."
"That’s appreciated. I’ve arranged for your haul to be auctioned. But that’s already settled. You’re here for something else, right? Make it quick—I’m busy."
Despite being brothers and princes—a retionship often fraught with bloody power struggles—they maintained a healthy dynamic.
Mutual respect and cooperation kept things smooth.
"Alright, straight to the point. The kid in the dungeon—I’m taking him to the central continent."
"What?"
"Oh, and his parents too. They’ll work at my estate there. Handle the paperwork, will ya?"
"Wait, wait, wait! They’re criminals! You can’t just take them!"
"Come on, flex that royal authority a little!"
"If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be dealing with nobles and stomach ulcers!"
Laios’ sudden demand made the king raise his voice—more than usual, given his earlier turmoil over the child’s fate.
"Prince Laios, might we hear your reasoning? Even you can’t expect to casually pardon a family tied to this incident."
It defied logic.
Hoping for an expnation, the prime minister intervened.
"Cuz executing the kid won’t hurt the cult, right? Better to keep him alive and make him useful."
"You think that’s acceptable?"
"Just say he was executed. Nobles don’t care about commoners dying, and the public’ll buy it if you say he was granted a merciful suicide."
Laios nodded, acknowledging that legal loopholes weren’t the only hurdle—public perception mattered.
"Even if that were possible, the child shows no signs of reforming."
"Rex, I’ve got the old man."
"Ah—"
The mention of a certain elder in Laios’ party made both the king and prime minister exhale in understanding.
"That geezer still drills me like crazy—no way he can’t whip one brat into shape."
"Old Man Dorgan the Ogre?"
"Your Majesty, the infamous drill instructor even knights fear—if anyone can reform that child, it’s him. And being under his care would be harsher than death."
"Even the Royal Guard captain still stands at attention when greeting him."
"At the very least, the nobles might accept this."
Dorgan’s training was legendary—a brutal regimen that turned even the worst scum into model knights.
The cost? Lifelong trauma, reforging them into warriors of justice and courage.
Many knights broke into cold sweat at the mere sight of him.
"Yeah, he’ll turn the brat into a fine cult-sying kid. Way more useful that way."
"...Can you take responsibility for this?"
"Absolutely."
"Very well. The family is yours. But officially, they were executed. Understood?"
"Fine by me."
With that, the king felt a slight easing of his burdens.
"One st question, Prince Laios—why go so far for this child? Do you know him?"
"Nah, never met the brat."
"Then why?"
At the prime minister’s inquiry, Laios grinned.
"Cuz that little bastard wrecked my favorite bar. Letting him die easy? No way. He’s gonna suffer working for the greater good."
His decration made the king and prime minister silently reach for potions to soothe their stomachs and headaches.
But today’s troubles didn’t end there.
Kingship was a magnet for chaos.
No sooner had one crisis passed than reports arrived of foreign adventurers causing trouble elsewhere.
The two men braced for another round of stress, unaware that their potion consumption would hit record highs by dawn.
"I’ll never forgive them!"
"Your Majesty, at this rate, I might just pick up a sword and join the fight myself."
Their fury toward the nobles, too, would reach unprecedented levels.
