The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character

#48 The Servant Cedric (14) – The Firstborn’s Dagger

#48 The Servant Cedric (14) – The Firstborn’s Dagger

“…Unwaveringly, sickeningly opulent as always.”

Redbell Marquis’s manor.

Regarding the place that could be called the Redbell family’s ancestral home, Claudia furrowed her brow.

It was a space she’d lived in for over a decade before being appointed Lord of Etched Territory, yet she found coming here exceedingly unpleasant.

Not because of the many painful memories, mind you.

Rather, it was precisely because of the many *happy* ones.

Recalling the time when her mother was still alive.

When the Redbell Marquis acted as a ‘good father’ and genuinely believed it; comparing those memories to her current self only served to make her feel wretched.

Unable to readily enter the manor, she merely glared at it for some time.

“A considerably spacious manor, wouldn’t you agree? It seems quite worthwhile to manage, indeed.”

A remark delivered as light banter, whether in earnest or jest.

The moment she heard Cedric’s voice, Claudia’s legs, which had been rooted to the ground, felt suddenly lighter.

Curving her lips into a smile, she retorted:

“You’re the only insolent servant who would rate the Redbell manor as ‘considerably’ spacious. In terms of grounds, it rivals even the royal palace.”

“My lady is destined to gaze upon places higher and broader than this. As her servant, should I not cultivate a similar mindset?”

“You speak prettily. Always with the pretty words.”

Despite the light grumble, Claudia’s mood wasn’t soured.

Yes, indeed.

The Claudia of the past was not the Claudia of now.

The current Claudia was no longer a child pouting over her father’s false affections, but a lord who had arrived with demonstrable achievements and a sterling reputation.

Chest puffed out, chin held high, she strode with imposing grace into the manor.

Within, guests who had arrived before her were waiting, and upon seeing them, Claudia greeted them with a distinctly unpleasant smile.

“Long time no see, Mira, Ervin.”

The young man, outwardly handsome with a robust, muscular build, contorted his face as if in displeasure.

Likewise, the noble lady, whose body was draped in a gown of obviously exceptional quality.

“I am your older brother. How many times must I tell you to mind your manners, Claudia?”

“Yes. Must you always parade your lack of upbringing for all to see, staining the family name?”

“Manners? Staining the family name?”

Unperturbed by their reproaches, Claudia scoffed.

Her reaction was that of one who had heard something utterly ridiculous.

“Shall I show the entire kingdom which one of us truly lacks manners, truly stains the family name?”

At Claudia’s significant words, the two siblings’ eyes flickered, ever so briefly.

But they, too, were individuals who had spent long years navigating the aristocratic society where politics was as natural as breathing.

The third daughter, Mira, replied with an unruffled face.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Weren’t you the one constantly tarnishing the Redbel name?”

Seeing her expression, so genuinely bewildered, few would suspect she was the one who’d sent assassins after her half-sister.

Her younger brother, Ervin, echoed his sister’s sentiment.

“I had heard you were making a decent showing as a lord recently, so I held a sliver of hope. But alas, your brutish nature remains. You should be ashamed.”

It was a display of audacity that would have been comical, had it not been calculated.

*‘A bluff, surely. They sent such a formidable force; there’s no way she could have captured them alive, let alone with enough strength to spare!’*

*‘Those deployed on the mission are notoriously tight-lipped. They wouldn’t be so quick to testify. And even if they did, admitting anything here is suicide. Deny, deny, deny!’*

Their reasoning wasn’t entirely unfounded.

After all, truth was a fickle thing in aristocratic circles, and right and wrong could be turned on their heads at a moment’s notice.

Of course, if Claudia truly held witnesses and wielded them as a weapon, the siblings would have to prepare for a considerable sacrifice. But conversely, if Claudia wanted something from them, she’d have to offer something in return.

However, there was one thing.

They were mistaken if they believed Claudia was the kind of ‘politically’ minded noble lady they thought she was.

“Oh, really?”

Claudia glared at their brazen display, displeasure etched on her face. She then unfurled her fan with a snap, concealing the lower half of her face, and commanded,

“Bring them here. Those things we brought in the carriage.”

“Understood.”

At Claudia’s words, some of her retinue, ever loyal, turned and exited the room.

At first, the siblings were perplexed, failing to grasp Claudia’s intentions. But their faces contorted in horror as the servants returned, each carrying ‘it’ slung over their shoulders.

Men, bound tightly like silkworms in their cocoons, hung limply, seemingly devoid of any strength to resist.

Their eyes darted around the room with trepidation, before finally meeting the gaze of the two siblings, and then hanging their heads in shame.

The siblings, never imagining Claudia would bring assassins right into the estate, remained frozen. Claudia, seeing this, declared:

“I thought these ones might have something to do with you two, so I wanted to have a little chat. But if you truly don’t recognize them, well, no matter. I’ll simply have to find another use for them.”

“A-Another use?”

“I’ll bring them to Father. They dared target the Redbell family line, so we must investigate their backers and thoroughly dismantle them. Someone with more experience would be better at it than I, don’t you think? Hmm?”

The siblings were speechless, unable to form any reply.

They couldn’t allow these men to fall into the Marquis’ hands.

He would inevitably tear open their mouths, exposing their entire plot.

But neither could they protect them.

Intervening to take custody of them would be the same as confessing their own guilt.

‘Th-This madwoman…!’

‘She’s blatantly blackmailing us!’

There was no elegant, behind-the-scenes negotiation typical of the aristocracy.

Instead, they were met with a heavy-handed, ‘screw you if you don’t like it’ sort of pressure, leaving the two, who prided themselves on having weathered many storms, completely disoriented.

Who in the world would dare force a Redbell in such a manner?

“Looks like you’ve nothing more to say, so I’ll be going. See you later. If our paths cross, that is.”

“W-Wait just a moment, Claudia!”

“Y-Yes! There’s been a misunderstanding, I think! Let’s talk!”

In the end, the two had no choice but to swallow their pride and cling to Claudia.

They chose the lesser of two evils.

And that sight was etched clearly into the eyes and ears of the family retainers.

‘…Effectively surrendered, it would seem. The rumors won’t be shouted from the rooftops, but with this many eyes upon them, everyone within the family will know, at the very least.’

‘Hmm, excessively crude, perhaps, but undeniably effective as a form of negotiation. A tyrannical disposition can be a weapon, if wielded with discretion.’

As retainers of the Redbell family, a true powerhouse within the kingdom, they possessed considerable political acumen and insight.

They understood the marquis’s temperament – his utter intolerance of his own hands and feet acting independently – and would not dare interfere in the succession battle, nor offer their opinions freely. But even so, their thoughts were their own to control.

In their estimation, Claudia had, at this moment, effectively leapfrogged the second son and third daughter in the family pecking order.

She had paid the price for failing in a decisive assassination and then attempting to gloss over the matter.

“Haha, I wondered what the commotion was! So, everyone’s gathered here.”

Of course, this didn’t mean Claudia had secured the top spot in the family.

Ignoring the marquis for the moment, the Redbell family still had a firm second-in-command, someone who could treat the second son and third daughter as nothing more than ‘extras’.

Armin Redbell, a nobleman with a gentle and refined appearance.

He approached them with an air of artless sincerity, as if utterly oblivious to the subtle tension between his siblings, and offered his greetings.

Erwin and Mira allowed a faint bloom of color to return to their darkened faces, while Claudia openly scowled.

“It’s been a while, little sister. I hear news often enough, but it’s never quite the same as hearing it from your own lips. Have you been well?”

“…Passably.”

“I’m glad, truly. It eases this older brother’s worries greatly, to hear it.”

Despite the curt reply, Armin didn’t seem to mind, his smile unwavering.

He gazed at her with the benevolent eyes of a man regarding a somewhat immature child.

The retainers saw in him an image of magnanimity and boundless capacity, but Claudia saw something entirely different.

‘A slippery eel.’

Unlike the second son and third daughter, Armin, as the eldest son, had never displayed direct hostility toward Claudia, nor subjected her to petty torments.

No, rather, there were even a few times he appeared to mediate when their actions threatened to become excessive.

Yet, Claudia did not trust Armin, her eldest son.

It was less a matter of reason, more an instinctive wariness.

Looking at Armin often conjured the image of Marquess Redbell, or rather, the Marquess wearing a mask of his former self, back when her mother was still alive.

Casting a smooth, almost flowing stream of sharp animosity, Armin turned his gaze towards the restrained assassins.

“Are these ones yours?”

“So?”

“Whatever business you have, it seems ill-advised to bring such individuals into the Lord’s residence so freely. It would be best to return them outside the estate for now, and bring them back after receiving the Lord’s permission.”

“What if they disappear or get silenced while left outside?”

“This is Redbell land. If someone dares to commit such an atrocity here, it would be an insult to the Lord himself, and they would surely face retribution.”

The statement sounded like a common platitude, yet also like a subtle insinuation.

The second son and third daughter seemed to take it as the latter; their eyes fluttered.

Claudia, having noted their reaction, nodded in agreement.

Even so, such words had been spoken in front of witnesses; they wouldn’t dare attempt to silence them now, she judged. And if they did try, that would be a good pretext in itself.

“Return them.”

Issuing the order to the servants, Claudia met Cedric’s gaze.

Seeing him carry out the command so obediently, as if there was no issue whatsoever, Claudia felt reassured that her choice was not wrong.

Armin, having watched the scene for a moment, soon spoke with a jovial, affable smile.

“Then let us proceed to the dining hall. The Lord has other matters to attend to and will join us a little later, so it seems we should begin without him.”

The Redbell Marquis estate boasted a culinary standard of considerable height.

Though the Marquis was often judged an “merchant noble,” possessed of a calculating nature in all things, he was not, in truth, so miserly as to hoard his wealth.

Fine bedding, fine garments, fine food.

He spared no expense on the conveniences and pleasures of daily life, and the laden table, overflowing with a vibrant array of dishes prepared from every conceivable ingredient, served as testament to this fact.

However, Claudia found none of it particularly palatable.

‘Not as good as what Cedric makes, or even what the head chef whips up.’

Objectively speaking, if one were to assess only the quality of ingredients and the chef’s skill, the main estate would undoubtedly surpass their own.

But no matter how exquisite the gastronomy, it was impossible to enjoy a meal while picking listlessly at one’s food with a knife and fork, seated at the same table as people one could barely tolerate.

“Erwin. I hear your wife is with child again. Is she in good health?”

“Yes, brother. Thanks to the medicinal herbs you sent last time. My wife has asked me to convey her gratitude.”

“Haha, surely such a small gesture doesn’t warrant thanks. Mira, I understand you’ve been spending time with the Countess Rudiol of late?”

“Indeed, brother. I am learning much from her, as a junior in society.”

“She was once known as the queen of the Birka social scene. Be careful to avoid any faux pas. Let me know if you require anything.”

The clinking of silverware and the murmur of familial conversation washed over the grand table.

As she sliced into a chicken steak – the fowl supposedly raised on grain even commoners rarely tasted – Claudia felt a renewed sense of weariness at how long she would have to endure this charade.

The Marquis himself was unlikely to appear anyway. Perhaps she could simply feign having eaten and depart.

Just as she was seriously contemplating acting upon the thought that had surfaced in her mind.

Armin spoke, his tone so utterly natural, so placid, as if he were commenting on an amusing cloud formation glimpsed whilst strolling down the street.

“Oh, that’s right, Claudia. The royal family has expressed interest in arranging a marriage for you. What are your thoughts?”

“……. …What?”

The pronouncement was so unexpected that Claudia’s mind needed a considerable moment to fully register its contents.

Armin continued, addressing the youngest sibling’s incredulous expression.

“You are, of course, aware that I frequently interact with His Highness, the Second Prince. Upon learning that you were not only unmarried, but unengaged, he expressed great dismay. He lamented that he had been so preoccupied with matters of the kingdom that he had been negligent regarding the affairs of his own family, namely, you.”

Family? Who?

Those people who, when Mother married into this godforsaken house, sent her with only her person and a handful of servants, then washed their hands clean of the matter?

Unlike Claudia’s face, which was growing increasingly cold, Armin’s remained serenely mild.

“The marriages of nobles are, by tradition, decided by the heads of their houses. The Head of our House has accepted this arrangement as a fortunate turn of events, the royal family directly intervening. Consequently, His Highness, the Second Prince, is quite motivated. He has vowed to find you the most excellent suitor, so you may anticipate great things.”

It was precisely there that Claudia’s remaining patience snapped.

CRASH!

“Eek!?”

“Ugh, Claudia! What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?!”

Claudia, all but kicking one of the table legs as she rose, sent the food on the table swaying precariously, splattering some sauce on the siblings opposite her.

However, oblivious to them, Claudia glared at Armin and exclaimed,

“Who are you? Who are all of you to decide my marriage as you please?!”

Armin, observing the salad dressing on his sleeve with a wry smile, spoke softly, as if scolding a miscreant.

“Such is the custom for noble marriages. I underwent it, as did Ervin and Mira. It is merely your turn now, so why raise your voice so?”

“Never! Do you think I’ll meekly be led to whatever marriage you arrange?!”

Each syllable Claudia wrung out was thick with every variety of passion.

What was the reason she had strived so far?

Why had she labored to improve her image, to care for the populace as a lord, and to accumulate such a number of achievements?

Like some common commodity, lest she be bartered and sold as a strategic pawn, just as her mother had been.

Now, having finally earned the Marquis’ recognition and prepared to initiate full-fledged negotiations, Claudia could not, in any way, accept being notified of this nonsense by some mere eldest son, without even so much as glimpsing the Marquis’ face.

And toward such a Claudia, Armin merely pronounced his verdict.

“You seem to be mistaken, youngest. It isn’t I, nor the head of our house, who is arranging this. It is the royal house of Virka Kingdom.”

That was all Armin said, but the rest echoed clearly in Claudia’s ears.

– *Or will you, alone, overturn the will of the royal family?*

Only then did it dawn on her.

While her second and third siblings were attacking her with petty plots of assassination, only to be countered and defeated, her eldest brother, Armin, had launched an attack of an entirely different caliber, a strike from which there was no recovery.

Just as the royal family’s request was not a request but a command, their benevolence was not benevolence but coercion.

The Second Prince extended ‘goodwill’ as ‘an elder of the family’ by brokering the marriage. Should Claudia refuse or break the engagement, it would amount to treason against the royal house.

No matter how fractured by internal strife, the royal family remained the undeniable rulers of this nation.

A mere lord, such as they, could not refuse them.

Claudia’s face was stained with helplessness.

She imagined the face of the servant now waiting in the servants’ lounge, someone who could easily resolve any problem.

‘…Cedric, what should I do in a situation like this?’