Chapter 112
I don't know much about the history of the Empire and the Imperial Family. However, even I could tell that the Crimson Crown Prince was a royal with an unusual disposition.
High society in the Empire was rigid. The full-body prosthetic nobility lived for nearly two centuries. It was said that after living that long, one's emotions dulled.
Even if that weren’t the case, emotional restraint was considered a noble virtue. Because of that, in a society where solemnity was the norm, suppressed desires had festered and rotted away.
Defying the atmosphere of such a society, the Crimson Crown Prince openly displayed his emotions despite being of royal blood. He interacted with those around him with a rich smile, a refreshing manner of speech, and a warm expression.
…Just as he was doing with me now.
"The Imperial Guards are always so reliable. Wouldn’t you agree, Lukaus?"
Francec adjusted the crimson collar of his attire as he spoke. Despite still being a cadet, I was standing beside him.
At the forefront of the procession, military armored vehicles and quadrupedal transport units led the way. Along the outer perimeter, two-wheeled vehicles maintained their formation at regular intervals.
Wooooong!
Over a hundred large drones swept through the sky in a dense formation. Each of these drones was large enough to carry a single person.
They monitored the entire crowd surrounding the procession, prepared for any possible incidents. In the mobile command vehicle, an enormous amount of data was being processed to ensure Francec’s security.
The military presence in the procession numbered around three hundred soldiers, including fifty Imperial Guards. There were also about a hundred androids. Additionally, numerous nobles from prestigious families and high-ranking officials accompanied the parade.
‘He’s solidifying his position as the successor through this procession.’
The parade had departed from the entrance of the Imperial Palace, moving along the circular main road of the upper district.
This main road formed a massive ring around the upper district, with various large and small roads branching out to reach every corner.
Due to the scale of the procession, we were limited to this circular route. As time passed, both sides of the road became packed with crowds who had gathered to witness the parade.
The procession moved as slowly as its grand size demanded. Francec waved toward the crowd.
Woooong!
From the central vehicle of the procession, a large lens activated. A real-time hologram of Francec was projected high into the air, towering over the crowd like a giant.
"Waaaaahhh!"
Francec’s enormous image drew everyone's attention. Cheers and exclamations erupted.
"Francec! We love you!"
"The Crimson Crown Prince!"
"Please look at me! Look at me!"
Some people tried to cross the boundary in an excessively vulgar manner. The soldiers and Imperial Guards pushed them back, restraining them.
Shiiiii—
My breath slowly escaped through the filtration system. I was wearing a helmet that completely covered my face.
There were many in Akbaran who sought my life. There was no need to expose my face to the public during the procession. If someone from the lower district recognized me, it would be troublesome.
Clearing his throat, Francec began his speech.
"We built this Empire in an environment far from blessed. The land was barren, the rivers dried up, and resources were always scarce. It was the same whether on Planet Ark or here on Novus."
As he spoke, Francec moved his hands and arms dramatically. His voice rang out powerfully through the large drones' speakers, spreading far and wide.
"Bellato, who claimed Mother Earth for themselves, and Corite, who began on Planet Corta, as rich as Earth itself..."
Francec closed his eyes and placed one hand over his chest. After a pause, he continued.
The majority of his speech revolved around how Bellato and Corite had oppressed the Accretia Empire. It was a story I had heard countless times before.
Bellato were the descendants of those who had driven us from Earth, while Corite were the offspring of the wealthy who settled on Corta, known as the second Earth.
Because of this, the Accretia Empire harbored hatred for both Bellato and Corite. Our people were the descendants of those exiled from Earth, persecuted and cast away.
The ancestors of the Empire had been exiled to Planet Ark, an environment unfit for survival. Worse yet, they had been forced into economic servitude.
"Those who not only oppressed but also plundered us… now call us the root of conflict, warmongers destroying peace. But the only reason we fought was to survive! We never waged war for the sake of war. Yet they have conveniently forgotten their own crimes and now blame us."
Francec's speech was compelling. His gestures were precise, his intonation well-balanced. His strong vocal projection added depth to his words.
"Those contemptible fiends say we are people consumed by hatred, as if we are the ones in the wrong! But the truth is clear—they are the perpetrators! And we are the descendants of the oppressed and the dispossessed! Revenge is our natural right, and they must bear the weight of our hatred and fury!"
Francec clenched his fist tightly.
Where did the truth end, and where did the lies begin?
The Crimson Crown Prince’s cry of hatred spread like wildfire. The older high-ranking nobles maintained their impassive expressions, but the younger nobles, their retainers, and the people from the lower districts responded as if they had been infected by his rage.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
The crowd’s cheers were wild and fierce, like an army on the verge of battle.
The atmosphere was heating up. Francec had a talent for speeches. Above all, unlike most of the upper class, he openly expressed his emotions, making his words all the more impactful.
The procession through the upper district had been a success. Security was excellent, making the escort relatively easy. No suspicious individuals were in sight.
The officer in charge of this procession’s security was Iskan. Approaching Francec, he spoke in a low voice.
"Are you planning to enter the lower district?"
"You’re stating the obvious. I’m well aware of the unrest these days. But that’s precisely why I must not avoid it."
Francec spoke like a textbook ruler.
"…Understood."
Iskan abandoned any further attempts at persuasion and nodded. He shot me a glance, as if entrusting Francec to me, then stepped back.
Francec and I stood on the largest and tallest vehicle in the procession. While safety was a concern, it was just as important for the public to have a clear view of him.
The people must not get the impression that the Empire’s Crown Prince was hiding among his subordinates. The Empire’s founder, the first emperor Dino Accretia, had always led from the front in battle.
Now was no different. At Francec’s side, only I stood. The other Imperial Guards remained below the vehicle, keeping a watchful distance.
We had completed a full circuit of the upper district’s main road. The procession stopped at the gateway connecting the circular road to the central road leading into the lower district, signaling the start of a break.
I took a moment to catch my breath and looked toward the gate.
The massive gateway was large enough for more than ten heavy vehicles to pass through at once, but only a small section was open for checkpoint control. Through the narrow passage, cargo trucks moved in and out. This was an entry point for logistics and transport.
The central road extending from the gate cut straight through the lower district and continued beyond Akbaran’s outskirts. However, this road was not meant for the people of the lower district. It existed solely to ensure the smooth transport of goods from the outer territories to the upper district. As such, it connected directly to airports and railway stations.
"Vehicles 7 through 13, return for maintenance. Where’s the reinforcement unit? What the hell are those idiots doing?"
In the distance, officers were moving about busily. Even during the break, only a handful of people had the luxury of resting.
The officers were reducing the size of the procession, following Francec’s orders.
"Today, we’ll take a different route than usual. We’ll be stopping here, here, and here."
Francec pointed at a holographic map in front of the officers and administrators. The locations he indicated were plazas and streets in the lower district where people frequently gathered. Uneasy expressions spread across their faces.
However, no one dared to argue against Francec’s firm tone. Only someone like Iskan, the chief of security, could even attempt to make a suggestion. And even then, if Francec rejected it once, there would be no second time.
It was a clear display of his authority.
'Even unreasonable demands must be obeyed.'
Officially, Francec was the undisputed Crown Prince. He was widely popular with the public. No one could oppose him.
After finishing his discussion with the officers, Francec turned back toward me. Thanks to his crimson attire, he stood out wherever he went.
"Lukaus, you’re from the lower district too, aren’t you?"
"They call us Irregulars."
"I like people like you. That’s why I like Iskan too. The ones truly supporting the Empire aren’t the nobles—it’s people like you, the Irregulars."
It seemed he was sincere about his admiration for Irregulars.
"Excessive praise can start to sound insincere, Your Highness."
I responded with a cynical remark. Francec would probably enjoy this kind of reaction more. And I was right.
He laughed heartily and even placed a hand on my shoulder.
"It’s not a lie. There’s no such thing as fair opportunities in this world. Life is inherently unequal. The Empire is no exception. It may sound subversive, but it’s the undeniable truth. Claiming that fairness and equality exist is nothing more than deception."
For a moment, Ilay came to mind. Right now, Francec resembled the Ilay of the past in a strange way—the content of his words, especially.
Unbothered, Francec continued speaking.
"Irregulars like you break through the rigid foundation of society like a piercing wedge, allowing the system to persist and the world to remain stable. This world is neither fair nor just… but as long as there are those who can rise from the harshest circumstances, people will fall for the illusion of fairness. They’ll believe they too have a chance. A world where everyone prospers is physically impossible. But giving everyone hope—that is the role of a ruler."
It was a relief that I was wearing a helmet. My eyes had widened slightly in genuine admiration.
I recalled Kinuan’s words. And so, I borrowed them.
"People don’t survive on despair—they live on hope."
Kinuan had said that once.
Francec nodded in satisfaction.
"Hope is what allows people to endure misfortune."
He was a ruler drawn with careful strokes—idealistic, yet not delusional.
The world was chaotic. Order carried within it the seeds of disorder, and disorder had its own form of structure.
Even knowing what to believe and what to despise was ambiguous. Willpower was nothing more than a fleeting phenomenon born from electrical signals and chemical reactions. A steadfast will was nothing but an illusion.
…Then what should I use as my guiding principle?
"Today, we’ll be going deeper into the lower district. I thought it would be a good opportunity. Well, to be honest, it was my younger brother’s advice. He said that visiting during turbulent times would leave a stronger impression on the people. Though he’s my little brother, he’s quite perceptive. I owe him a lot. You’ll meet him someday."
A searing flash tore through my mind. The puzzle pieces clicked into place in an instant.
‘Ivan Accretia.’
The younger brother Francec spoke of—it was undoubtedly Ivan.
Ivan had led Francec deep into the lower district.
Somewhere in the lower district—maybe today, maybe tomorrow. If not, then soon.
Even if I didn’t want to know, I would come to understand the task Ivan had entrusted to me. And it would likely be something I didn’t wish to do.
"The preparations to pass through the gate are complete."
Iskan approached us. Francec and I looked down at the procession. The now-reduced formation was lined up with precise order.
Wooooong.
The gates opened, and Francec’s procession moved forward, leaving the upper district and entering the central road of the lower district.