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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Secret Hobby
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The Zaunburg family, which ruled the Dragonia Empire, had long suffered from various threats.
For reasons unknown, the emperors could not produce many children, and those few were often lost to power struggles, assassinations by nobles or foreign powers, and rarely lived long.
As a result, the Zaunburg family developed a peculiar structure with only direct blood relatives.
Many expressed concern, but no improvements were made.
Finally, about five years ago, Emperor Frank Zaunburg died suddenly of illness without leaving an heir.
It was truly sudden—he hadn't even named a successor, and there were no other viable claimants.
The Zaunburg line had come to an end.
The empire plunged into great chaos.
Members of the imperial Zaunburg family had two defining traits.
Born with red hair and red eyes as if proving the legend of inheriting the Red Dragon's blood, the Sword of Bloodline embedded before the throne in the imperial palace could only be drawn by one of the Zaunburg imperial bloodline.
After several hundred years, for some reason, even Zaunburg family members could no longer draw the Sword of Bloodline, though the red hair and eyes continued to be passed down unbroken.
Thus, the Sword of Bloodline became a tale of legend, while red hair and eyes became symbols of the Zaunburgs.
When rumors spread that the throne was vacant, people with red hair from across the empire flocked to the palace, claiming to be of the Zaunburg line.
One claimant, an albino man with naturally red irises, was exposed for dyeing his hair red, dumbfounding everyone. Another ambitious noble lost his eyesight trying to dye his eyes red.
A massive number of throne claimants emerged, and nobles formed factions backing their preferred ones based on personal gain.
With no way to prove true Zaunburg blood, their conflicts were devolving into pure power struggles.
Then, the current emperor, Luise Zaunburg, appeared out of nowhere.
At 24 years old, young among the claimants, she was a farmer from Stilberg, a remote mountain village at the empire's southernmost tip.
She boldly displayed her naturally beautiful crimson hair and eyes, claiming to be a collateral relative of the imperial family.
Everyone scoffed that no imperial kin would live in such a backwater farming, but she swiftly silenced the doubts.
Entering the palace, she effortlessly drew the Sword of Bloodline, untouched for over 200 years, and it yielded to her hand without resistance.
The legendary sword, said to react to the dragon blood mixed in the Zaunburg line, left everyone stunned.
Once other candidates screamed and dropped it when handed the sword—just in case—she ascended the throne without opposition.
It aligned the wishes of nobles loyal to the imperial family and those ambitious ones seeking an inexperienced young emperor.
The nobles expected the legitimate but young and politically naive Luise to be a puppet in their hands, but she quelled the initial chaos with her unique charisma and insight.
Her sharp eye for talent especially shone; she promoted numerous promising nobles and officials, who coalesced into the Emperor Faction under her influence.
Established nobles, threatened by the growing imperial power, banded into the Noble Faction, but their solo Northern War effort failed, weakening them. Most neutral nobles then shifted to the Emperor Faction.
In the end, Luise built the strongest power base of any emperor in recent centuries.
Though the nobles in the Emperor Faction harbored varied motives, making it not entirely her own strength, on the surface, it appeared she had forged an absolute imperial court.
For the Dragonia Empire, long stymied by fragmented power, Luise gathered the hopes of those dreaming of imperial glory.
Neighboring nations gathered intelligence, focusing intently on her movements.
Thus, the woman who commanded the empire's attention—a single word or gesture from her could move the nation—
"Hehe. Hehehehe..."
Lay in bed, giggling as she read documents in hand.
The blanket was kicked to the floor, her nightgown half-unbuttoned and disheveled, threatening to slip off.
Utterly unlike her usual elegant figure in ornate robes upon the throne.
The documents listed brief profiles of employment candidates: graduates of the Imperial Officer Academy, those recommended by current officials, and so on.
Similar papers littered the bedside, under the bed, and atop her work desk.
"Not bad. Hmm. Not bad at all."
Luise devoured every word with intense focus.
Observing humans was her favorite hobby.
Among her own kind, who viewed themselves as lofty beings, she was infamous—even "that madwoman" was instantly understood.
It began in her youth, stumbling upon human tales.
Stories of Dragonia Empire's founding emperor, human hero Zeke, and more.
Like humans awestruck by a massive anthill.
Among continental races, physically the weakest, humans wove grand sagas that captivated her.
For decades, she devoured every human legend passed down.
Then, one day,
She realized all legendary humans followed similar patterns.
Extraordinary origins, fame, crises thrust upon them, triumphs, and happy endings.
Minor variations aside, the framework was always the same.
Luise grew utterly bored with the formulaic structures.
Refined tales of only noble traits no longer moved her.
She craved raw, unfiltered human nature.
Ultimately, she resolved to immerse herself among humans.
Believing high status would reveal diverse facets, she prepared meticulously.
Imposing severe restrictions on herself to convince worried kin, she awaited the right moment.
When the human nation Dragonia Empire's emperor died amid chaos, Luise seized it to infiltrate human society.
At first, she simply enjoyed humanity's varied faces, but the thrill faded quickly.
Most humans were vile and greedy; those lingering near her were often worse.
The self-proclaimed "nobles" who gathered were rude to her or feigned kindness with sinister intents.
The heroes she sought never appeared.
Even promising ones vanished or turned ordinary soon enough.
Thus, she thirsted constantly for new talent.
Convinced a true hero would eventually come, she kept collecting data on exceptional humans.
Daily, she read reports, imagined their actions firsthand, then summoned them to the empire.
Expectations and disappointments cycled, fueling her persistence and obsession ever fiercer.
"Hmm."
She set down the document, rolled sideways, and lifted the pillow.
Beneath, unlike the others neatly bound with string, lay a thick bundle marked with green at the corners.
The cover read: "Viktor, Ruth Kingdom."
"This one's my favorite, after all."
Luise picked it up and reclined comfortably again.
Lately, she focused most on a human named Viktor.
Viktor, Ruth Kingdom's famed general who nearly won the Northern War.
His tale—from street orphan to commander-in-chief—stirred long-forgotten excitement.
Orphan scraping by, topping into the officer academy: an extraordinary start.
Demotion and war crises led to proving himself and claiming command: a perfect arc.
Luise flipped through the document she'd already read multiple times.
Days remained before Viktor's arrival, but she planned nightly rereads.
Reports from Paul and his generals portrayed him as exceptional, heightening her anticipation.
A recent report confirmed negotiations ended; soon she'd meet him. Luise's cheeks flushed.
Recalling adult advice to temper expectations the longer the wait, she dismissed it.
Great expectations meant peak joy if met—or punishment if not.
"I'm looking forward to it."
Imagining what face he'd show before her, she spun fantasies while reading.
---
At the same time.
In Ruth Kingdom, Anna left behind pondered gravely over incoming letters.
"...Should I really stage a rebellion?"
Guarding the tent Viktor once used at his soldiers' request, Anna muttered at his cooling chair.
Her thoughts tilted toward revolt.
She didn't know how many would follow if she acted, but those pledging loyalty already numbered over ten thousand.
Even nobles who should have moved sooner busied themselves feasting daily.
'...You won't hear it, though.'
Approaching Viktor's desk—unfamiliar without piled papers—Anna wiped gathering dust with her hand.
His dragged-away silhouette resurfaced; she sat back with a gloomy expression.
Her desk overflowed with letters.
Most decried the kingdom's betrayal of Viktor; many outright urged rebellion.
These gave Anna conviction.
The process handing Viktor to the empire was utter disaster, resonating with many.
"General Anna, we're always ready."
A nearby soldier pressed for decision, but Anna shook her head.
"Not yet enough."
She knew rebellion, once started, couldn't stop midway.
Half-hearted uprisings ended in purges—she'd seen it often.
If the cause targeted noble discontent, success meant purging all nobles involved in the deal.
Did those gathered now have resolve to cut down nobles—or old comrades blocking them?
Not all letter-writers dreamed of rebellion; she thought to wait for nobles to provide better pretext.
To honor Viktor's final order to live long, she sought a perfect cause leaving no choice but to rise.
"...Let's wait."
In a way, she trusted Ruth's nobles.
Their horrific incompetence convinced her they'd blunder massively again.
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