The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character

#Episode 1 Crown Prince Alondre – The Better You Work, The More Work You Get

#Episode 1 Crown Prince Alondre – The Better You Work, The More Work You Get

The Izerne Empire’s capital. Kalastia.

This historic land, bearing the name meaning ‘Resplendent City’, boasted several magnificent landmarks that lived up to its moniker.

The Golden Cloud Palace, residence of the Empire’s Crown Prince, was one such place. Although ostensibly the dwelling of the *Crown* Prince and not the Emperor, its scale dwarfed even the royal palaces of other nations.

Its golden roof, from which the Golden Cloud Palace derived its name.

Beyond the high walls lay a sprawling garden and pond rivaling a decent-sized forest, the structure not a single entity but divided into a main building and several annexes. A hundred elite guard knights, armed with the latest magic-powered armor, along with five hundred support staff including secretaries, gardeners, cooks, and maids, resided permanently within the palace.

A workforce that, at first glance, seemed excessive, provided to serve a single human being.

However, amongst the servants and subjects working at the Golden Cloud Palace, not a single soul dared to call it excessive or wasteful.

No, they wouldn’t hesitate to claim that even this was insufficient treatment.

Alondre Arcandel Izerne.

That, investing even more resources and manpower into the Crown Prince was only right and proper, considering he was blessed with the greatest talent and character in the history of the Eisen Imperial Family.

Now, the Crown Prince’s reaction upon hearing this tale?

“Utter madness. You mean, *more* work?”

Truly.

Sincerely.

From the very depths of his being, the Crown Prince recoiled at the thought. Absolutely not.

And why wouldn’t he?

More people beneath him? An increase in the allocated budget?

Someone with a thirst for power and influence might relish managing such newly acquired talent and funds, expanding their reach…but not the Crown Prince. Absolutely not.

“When they praised me, egging me on, I shouldn’t have played along so readily…!”

Alrond was a reincarnator.

Not the kind who recovered memories of a past life around the age of ten, due to illness or a blow to the head. No, he was the type born with a fully intact recollection from the moment he drew his first breath.

To possess such consciousness within an infant’s body was, admittedly, rather discomfiting, but the advantages were equally clear.

After all, he possessed a purpose far sharper than most, able to dedicate himself to a goal from a young age without wasting time.

Discovering that he’d been reincarnated into what could be described as a medieval… or perhaps a bizarrely advanced take on it… fantasy world, and furthermore, as the Crown Prince of one of the strongest empires of this age, he was inwardly jubilant.

In his past life, he had harbored a deep romanticism for fantasy; in a world where social hierarchy was so pronounced, being the Crown Prince was a gilded spoon to outshine all others, a platinum heirloom beyond compare.

To let such a supreme foundation rot away would be a tragedy.

Not wanting to be branded as pearls before swine, Alrond spared no effort.

He diligently absorbed the lessons of his personal instructors, and, drawing upon the memories of his previous life, embarked on a series of experimental trials.

Looking back, that was the problem.

“Your Highness, Alond! To manifest the Aura already, what astonishing talent! Now, let us learn to imbue your will into the sword!”

“Your Highness, Alond! Such exceptional academic achievements! It is an immense honor to be your tutor. Next, we shall delve into ancient literature and the study of heraldry!”

“Your Highness, Alond! The four-field crop rotation method you proposed has yielded tremendous results! To increase food production to such a degree without the use of magic or blessings… A feat worthy of being recorded in the annals of history!”

“Your Highness, Alond! Do this, do that, in short, do everything!!”

If there was one thing that Alond’s past life as a soldier and his current position as a crown prince had in common, it was that the more work you did, the more work piled up.

Just like how showing off your skills in the military led to being buried under an avalanche of tasks, the retainers, upon witnessing the crown prince’s diligence and talent, didn’t say, ‘This is enough!’ Instead, they exclaimed, ‘You even managed to accomplish this! Excellent! Then we shall prepare even more work!’ Their enthusiasm burned bright.

Around this point, Alond realized something was going terribly wrong and cautiously attempted to withdraw, but the Emperor dealt him the final blow.

“The Crown Prince’s aptitude is abundant, and his conduct is exemplary. This is a boon for the empire. However, knowledge cannot be fully grasped solely from books and lectures. We shall entrust the Crown Prince with practical duties, allowing his talents to fully blossom. Let the retainers follow and support him.”

A portion of the duties originally handled by the Emperor were transferred to Alond, which the retainers interpreted as the Emperor’s ‘favor’.

And that was because, in a vast organization, the power to make decisions was also power itself.

The Emperor handing over even a portion of his work to the Crown Prince meant that he was transferring a portion of his power to the Crown Prince.

Alond, already possessing the strongest claim among the Emperor’s children as the legitimate heir, saw his position as successor become unshakeable by any ordinary means as a result of this event.

Everyone around him offered words of congratulation, but Alond could not bring himself to rejoice.

Future Emperor, power, bah! All that mattered was that more work had been added!

If they were going to give him practical duties, they could have at least excused him from some of his lessons! But he was still expected to attend all of them!

Waking up before dawn and falling asleep late at night, his days were filled with nothing but work, study, work.

‘This… is supposed to be fantasy?’

Where were the adventures and challenges?

Where were the encounters with new companions?

What journey is it that shatters the grand conspiracy to plunge the world into chaos?

What good is it to unleash torrents of aura from a sword when, outside of training, there’s never a chance to actually wield it?

Perhaps, had he remained solely in line for the succession, there would still be an opportunity to escape.

Back then, skipping out or slacking off in class was simply Alond’s own affair.

But now, having inherited even the practical duties from the Emperor, things were different.

If he neglected or bungled his work, the Emperor’s wrath would be a factor, but more immediately, if the ultimate decision-maker threw a tantrum because he didn’t feel like working, the consequences would fall squarely on those below him.

Even though he’d adapted reasonably well to this new life, Alond, who hadn’t quite embraced the ‘it’s the duty of those below to dedicate themselves to the sovereign’ mindset, couldn’t bring himself to do that.

But… was he to live his life working like this, perpetually?

The dark of night.

Already sacrificing what little sleep he managed, Alond ventured into the Imperial Palace’s archives, seeking a distraction to soothe his melancholy.

“Your Highness, what brings you here at this late hour….”

“Sleep eludes me. I desire to read quietly, so I ask you to keep any commotion to a minimum.”

Issuing the order to the patrol knight guarding the palace in the now-familiar, antiquated tone, Alond began to peruse the archives.

And was met with disappointment.

“…Alas, there are no lighthearted adventure tales to be found.”

There was an abundance of scholarly tomes and intellectual works that academics would fight tooth and nail for, but a book solely intended to bring pleasure to the reader was nowhere to be seen.

He’d held some hope that the Imperial Palace’s archives, with its long history, might have something interesting, unlike the smaller library in his own residence, the Geumun Palace -which, objectively, was quite large- but the result was, as expected, a failure.

After all, only the Imperial family could access these archives, created during the reign of the first Emperor, and how many of them would actually bother to come here to read?

Books, by nature, require constant upkeep, but this place automatically handled everything, even tasks that needed a human touch, thanks to magic circles, essentially leaving it abandoned. According to the records, the last new addition was a century ago.

Just as Alond was about to sigh, lamenting the difficulty of even a brief respite,

“Hmm?”

Something peculiar tickled his senses.

A magic array meant to automatically regulate humidity and dust.

Within its flow of mana, a strangely twisted point pulsed.

Alrond moved toward the source of this anomaly.

After a moment of manipulating what seemed a normal bookshelf…

A click, a sound of something aligning, and the bookshelf slid open, revealing a hidden doorway.

Alrond was silent for a moment.

Reason and desire warred within his mind.

‘Too suspicious. Best to retreat, inform someone, order an investigation. If something were to happen to me, the Crown Prince, the repercussions would be immense.’

‘Chicken?’

‘What?’

Confirming desire’s knockout punch to reason, Alrond pushed open the hidden door.

Unlike the Imperial Archive, which could easily house an entire building, this hidden chamber was not so grand.

At the room’s center, upon something between an altar and display stand, rested a single, crimson book.

A terribly baleful aura emanated from the book, blocked at every turn by a circular magic array etched around the stand, as if encircling it.

But the array was far from pristine; faded and eroded in places, it looked like a glass membrane on the verge of shattering.

‘A sealing array. Extremely advanced. But neglected for so long, it’s become profoundly weakened. So that’s why the mana flow outside was so distorted.’

Key words blossomed in Alrond’s mind, weaving together into a single conjecture.

‘The First Emperor’s archive. A hidden room. A sealed book… Did they originally prepare this place to seal something, but with the passage of time, the person in charge vanished or was unable to pass on their knowledge, causing the relevant information to be lost? And so, it was abandoned?’

It was dangerous.

Yet, intriguing.

Perhaps in the past it wouldn’t have mattered, but for Alondre, mired in the recent, repeated feasts of labor and education, the sealed grimoire before him held a potent allure.

More than that.

‘The seal’s weakened, so the book’s power also seems considerably diminished. Even if things go sideways, I can handle it.’

His resolution solidified, Alondre reached out and touched the book.

The merest contact of his fingertips was enough. The book flew open of its own accord, spewing forth a crimson mist from within.

And that mist, in an instant, coalesced into the form of a beautiful woman.

A body of poisonously distinct curves and porcelain skin, draped in a gown of bizarre sheen.

Wings bearing a membrane reminiscent of a bat’s, and crimson horns. And a long tail.

Glossy black hair and jewel-like, scarlet eyes.

A beauty who would draw every eye on any street, spoke to Alondre.

“─Thank you for awakening me. Pray tell, won’t you grant me the honor of hearing your wish?”