Chapter 1010: A Legitimate Heir
“Your Majesty — Your Majesty, please, think carefully!”
Roland heard Barov before he saw him — the City Hall Director’s voice carrying through the outer hall in a way that suggested he’d been running. When Barov finally appeared at the desk, face red, still catching his breath, Roland set down his teacup and waited.
“The coronation?” Roland asked.
“No — your Majesty.” Barov pressed his handkerchief to his forehead and darted a glance at the space behind Roland’s shoulder. “Your wedding announcement. You intend to marry a witch and name her your queen.”
He hadn’t been surprised by this. He’d known the moment he informed City Hall that Barov would be the first obstacle, and he’d arranged the conversation in his head on the walk over. The months after the Months of Demons would bring spring plowing, new construction programs, and another campaign into the Fertile Plains to clear the demon outpost at Taquila. An exceptionally full year. A coronation alone required two to three months of preparation under traditional protocol — add a royal wedding, and the strain on his administration’s bandwidth became serious.
But the Months of Demons had been unusually quiet. He wanted to use this window. And he was genuinely tired of owing Anna a promise that remained unfulfilled.
A feudal king can do whatever he wants. History had no shortage of rulers who’d imposed their personal convictions on the machinery of governance and called the result a decree. He didn’t intend to become one of those rulers. He’d built the City Hall. He trusted it. He meant to keep trusting it, which meant persuading it rather than overriding it.
“Tell me,” Roland said, and knocked once on the desk.
Barov exhaled. “An heir, Your Majesty. That’s what you need. Everyone understands a witch cannot give you children. With war approaching — if anything were to happen to you — the nobles would move on the throne immediately. An heir gives your people stability. Something to point to.” He paused, then added, with the delicacy of someone defusing something: “If you simply want to remain with Lady Anna, the ceremony isn’t strictly required. You could take a lesser noble’s daughter as your official consort. She needn’t be significant — present on formal occasions, otherwise undemanding — and you could continue as you please—”
“So you mean Anna cannot be queen because she is a witch.”
It was Nightingale’s voice, clipped and flat, from the air just behind Roland’s left shoulder.
Barov coughed. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for Lady Anna’s preferences. And this is a matter of national interest, not personal sentiment. If Your Majesty finds it difficult to explain the arrangement to her directly, I could be the one to—”
“You cannot speak for what she would or wouldn’t mind,” Nightingale said. “She is not a decoration. She would never accept a third person between His Majesty and herself, and you know it.”
“It has nothing to do with feelings. It’s the matter of succession—”
“Enough.” Roland raised a hand. Both of them stopped. “I understand the concern. I need a legitimate heir to reassure the public.”
Barov blinked. “You… would consider finding one?”
“Isn’t it the simpler solution?” Roland reached for his teacup. “After I defeated the Pope, I absorbed her full lifespan. In practical terms, I have no need for a biological successor. That’s why this marriage was possible for me to announce. The problem is that very few people know this — and among those who do, most don’t fully believe it. The public won’t accept ‘eternal life’ as a substitute for an heir they can see and name. So: I produce an heir, they feel secure, I marry Anna.”
The senior City Hall officials had known about the Battle of Souls since Coldwind Ridge — how the spiritual duel’s victor inherited everything from the loser. The Taquila witches’ Soul Transfer technique had made the claim credible. At the first United Front meeting, Roland had used this fact openly, and Pasha’s trust had followed. Since then, the story had held.
Barov was already nodding carefully. “Yes — an heir would resolve the political question entirely. As long as you have someone who can be pointed to, no one can reasonably oppose the marriage.” He caught himself. “That is — that was what I meant, Your Majesty.”
“There’s already a candidate.” Roland set his cup down. “When we took Hermes, I came across Gerald Wimbledon’s former mistress. A maid in a tavern. She and Gerald had a son.”
The silence that followed was longer than usual for Barov.
“You’re certain the child is—”
“Grey hair. Grey eyes.” Roland nodded.
“Why didn’t you—” Barov stopped himself. The answer arrived before the question finished. His expression shifted.
“If I’d told you then,” Roland said, “they’d have been dead inside a month.”
Barov closed his mouth. Then opened it again. “A bastard child of a maid — the bloodline will need elevation. His mother’s status has to be raised before we can present him formally. A civilian woman, fortunately — far easier to manage than a noble lady.” He was already planning, Roland could see it — the story shaping itself in Barov’s mind, the narrative scaffolding rising piece by piece. “We’ll need a history for her. Something dignified, something the public will find satisfying. Leave it to me to—”
“Draw up a plan. We’ll discuss details once you have something.” Roland waved the dismissal.
Barov rose, bowed, and left with the brisk energy of a man given a problem he knew how to solve.
Roland let out a slow breath.
“I didn’t expect you to speak up like that,” he said.
“I couldn’t help it.” A pause — then Nightingale stepped out of the Mist, hands folded, composure intact in a way that cost her something. “Don’t apologize.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You looked like you might.” She held his gaze steadily. “This wedding is late, not early. If it weren’t for Anna, I would have made things much harder for you.” A beat. “I want you to know I think it’s right.”
He remembered her face when she’d found him after two days of silence — the way some held thing had released in her expression. He’d guessed, afterward, that something had passed between her and Anna. A conversation. An agreement.
He hadn’t asked.
He still didn’t.
Some things were given freely, and the right response to that was not to require their explanation.
Chapter 1010: A Legitimate Heir
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
“Your Majesty… Your Majesty, please think twice!” Roland heard Barov shouting anxiously outside his office.
It was only after the City Hall Director had run to his desk while panting heavily that Roland finally put down his teacup and asked, “What should I think twice about? The coronation ceremony?”
“No. I meant your wedding announcement. You are going to marry a witch and make her your queen.” Barov glanced toward the place behind Roland while wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Ah, Your Majesty, I’m afraid this isn’t a proper way to handle the case.”
Roland was not surprised by Barov’s objection at all. He had anticipated as much when he first informed the City Hall of his decision. To remove the obstacles to his marriage to Anna, the City Hall would be the first group that he had to persuade.
After the Months of Demons, Neverwinter would send troops to the Fertile Plains once again to eliminate the demons’ latest outpost in Taquila. Meanwhile, the City Hall would be busy carrying out the spring plowing plans, new construction projects, and trade programs. The coming year would be an exceptionally busy year for Graycastle, so it did not sound like a good idea to hold such a ceremony now. According to tradition, preparing a coronation alone would need at least two to three months, not to mention that there was a wedding after it. Preparing these activities would inevitably increase his administration’s workload and thus would interfere with Neverwinter’s production and military plans. However, Roland did not make this decision on a sudden impulse.
Different from the previous winters, this winter was peaceful. He wanted to seize this rare opportunity to hold both his coronation ceremony and his wedding, which would boost his subjects’ morale without costing him too much effort.
More importantly, he really hoped to redeem his promise to Anna as soon as possible.
Of course, as a feudal king, he could do whatever he wished just like the rest of the self-indulgent rulers throughout history who had imposed their personal values on others and thus had forced their foolish decisions to get implemented. However, he did not intend to become such a ruler. He created this City Hall, and he was confident that he could properly handle this case without turning against his own administration.
In Roland’s view, exercising his power while staying within the boundaries of the rules would be a much better choice than abusing his power.
“Why?” Roland knocked on the desk as he asked Barov.
“It’s… it’s because you need an heir,” Barov said urgently. “Everyone knows that a witch can never give you a child. There’s a war on the horizon. If some unexpected stroke of misfortune were to happen to you, the other nobles would covet your throne. An heir will make your people feel secure.” Barov paused for a moment before adding, “If you just want to be with lady Anna, you don’t really need to marry her.”
“Oh? What do you mean?”
“You could marry a lesser noble’s daughter,” Barov suggested. “No one would oppose such a decision. You don’t have to take her seriously. You just need her to stand beside you on official occasions, and you can still do whatever you want—”
“So you mean that Anna can’t become the queen because she’s a witch?” Nightingale suddenly interrupted.
“I don’t think Lady Anna will mind such superficial things.” Barov coughed twice to cover his embarrassment. “It’s for the benefit of the country, Your Majesty. If you find it hard to tell Lady Anna about this arrangement in person, I can pass on your words to her.”
“You aren’t her. How can you know that she won’t mind? I can bet that she would never want a third person between His Majesty and herself!” Nightingale insisted.
“It has nothing to do with personal feelings. It’s about an heir…”
“Enough.” Roland raised his hands to stop them. “I get it. I just need to find a legitimate heir to the throne to reassure my people.”
“Find… a legitimate heir?” Barov was a little bit startled.
“Isn’t this a good solution?” Roland replied with a casual air. “After I defeated the Pope, I absorbed her entire lifespan. I actually don’t need anyone to inherit the throne. That’s why I was able to decide to marry Anna. Unfortunately, there are only a few people like you who know about this matter. Most of the subjects know little about magic power and thus probably won’t believe it. Under such circumstances, in order to give my people an inner sense of security, I must find an heir and let them pin their hopes on him. Am I right?”
Since the battle at Coldwind Ridge against the church, the senior officials of the City Hall were aware that Roland had gone through a spiritual battle called the Battle of Souls, in which the winner could inherit everything from the loser. They had found it hard to believe at first, but then the appearance of the Taquila witches and their Soul Transfer technique had reduced their doubts about it. During the first United Front meeting, Roland had confirmed this rumor and had used this advantage to win Pasha’s trust. Ever since then, all the senior officials of the City Hall had bought the story that Roland now had a limitless lifespan.
“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Barov said, unaware that he was falling into a trap. “As long as you have an heir, no one will oppose your marriage.”
“I have a simpler way to solve this problem.” Roland shrugged. “A year ago, when we attacked Hermes, I happened to find Gerald Wimbledon’s mistress. She’s a maid working in a tavern, and she had a son with Gerald.”
“What did you… say?” Barov’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure that the child is…”
“Yes, he has grey hair and grey eyes.” Roland nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me at that time?”
“If I had told you, they would have been killed a long time ago.” Roland picked up his teacup and took a sip. “How is it? We have a legitimate heir now. Isn’t it a better way to solve the problem?”
Gerald’s child was indeed a good choice. He was not a threat to Roland and could be replaced at any time. Even though he might ultimately never become the king, he would still be widely discussed and could greatly raise the subjects’ spirits. Barov’s eyes shone with excitement. Seeing this, Roland knew that the Chief Director had already understood what he meant. Now, he did not need to do anything except tell the subjects about this boy and bring him to Neverwinter.
As for the actual situation surrounding the little boy and his mother, he believed that the people would exert their imagination and creativity to make up their own legendary stories.
“If his mother is just a maid in a tavern, he can only be counted as a bastard child. We must give his mother a higher status. Otherwise, making him an heir will attract many disapproving comments. Fortunately, she’s not a noble lady. It’s much easier to control a civilian woman…” Barov started to plan the whole thing in his heart.
Roland felt his lips curling into a smile. Now he could avoid fighting a verbal battle against Barov to sell his ideas, unlike three years ago. The City Hall Director could easily follow his hints and help him plan out the whole thing. No one would doubt his words anymore, no matter how implausible they sounded, not even his claim of having eternal life.
“You go make a plan for this child and my coronation ceremony. We’ll discuss the details later.” Roland waved his hand to Barov, indicating that he was dismissed.
After Barov’s departure, Roland heaved a long sigh of relief. “I never expected that you would speak up for Anna.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t help it…”
“No, you don’t need to apologize. You’re absolutely right.” He glanced at Nightingale deliberately and found that she looked much calmer than he had expected. “I just thought you would…”
“You thought I would look miserable and feel depressed hearing this news?” Nightingale gave him a cold stare. “I think this wedding is already too late. If it wasn’t for Anna, I wouldn’t have let you get away with it so easily.”
Roland still remembered the relieved look on her face when she had appeared in front of him after disappearing for two days. He guessed that her change must have had something to do with the secret agreement between her and Anna.
Curious as he was, he still did not ask her about the secret.