The Emperor of the Simone Empire, Carlos Simone.
Better known as Simone XII, he was thought of as a rather cheerful and gentle ruler. Yet those who knew him well all agreed that beneath that pleasant surface lay a cold, calculating mind, perfect for the one seated on the throne.
It would have been ideal if an heir who was a perfect copy of him emerged but unfortunately, Crown Prince Lucian Simone was all full of cheer while the second prince, Eagle Simone, was unsettlingly detached.
Simone XII favored Crown Prince Lucian more. Prince Eagle had a shadowy side to him that even his father could not fully fathom. The rumors that occasionally reached Simone XII’s ears were far from pleasing either.
“Hmm… What does Bertol intend to use this fellow for by raising him up?”
Simone XII murmured with interest as he read a letter from his cherished confidant, Bertol, the Black Lion of the North.
“Are you referring to Baron Zester Greze, the one Count Axios said he would personally bring to the Imperial Palace this time, Father?”
“Indeed.”
The two princes were gathered in the Emperor’s study. They often met here to discuss state affairs and provincial matters and today’s topic was about the tiny territory of Greze in the north.
Three years ago, during the imperial war, a common-born mercenary had won merit and been granted land and title. That was Zester Greze. In truth, the reason for going that far was due to Bertol’s intent.
He had advised to put a leash on the unpredictable mercenary forces so they could be well-organized and utilized for a long time.
Zester Greze.
The Emperor figured that if he were going to put on a leash anyway, why not do it boldly by granting a large territory and a higher title. But after running into opposition from the capital’s nobles, he ended up handing over a scrap of land that hardly mattered and then erasing him from memory…
Remembering him again had truly been a coincidence.
Feeling sorry for the solitary Bertol, the Emperor had been in contact with southern House of Ruberno, with the aim of sending the beautiful and widely rumored Count’s daughter, Cassia Ruberno, to the Axios territory.
At the time, Count Ruberno had been busy trying to marry his daughter into a marquisate in the south, and Simone XII, irritated by the count’s evasive response despite receiving a letter by his own hands, had acted a bit forcefully.
[The Count’s eldest daughter, whose reputation had reached even here, would surely be a remarkable figure who will brighten the North and further elevate the image of the capital. Await the good news. I will send the marriage documents, so understand it thus.]
After sending a letter that was, in effect, a notification carrying a marriage order, Simone XII later received a firm refusal from Bertol.
Bertol was the type who would never do something he disliked. Not wanting to damage his relationship with Bertol by forcing something he disliked, Simone XII fell into a dilemma.
Count Ruberno ultimately kept his daughter without sending her anywhere, but Simone XII, who had been the one to complicate matters, agonized for over a year after the war ended, unable to send the marriage documents.
He had already sent what amounted to a threatening letter, yet to now say, ‘Never mind, then,’ would badly damage his image. No matter how great a southern noble the count was, would it not look as though he, an emperor no less, had bent his will in the end?
As Simone XII agonized repeatedly, a person flashed through his mind like lightning.
The very one stuck in a tiny domain, whose name he could barely remember at the time.
Zester Greze.
『Right! Come to think of it, isn’t there that fellow I gave a title to after the war who is still unmarried? I only said ‘the North’ in the letter; I never said to marry her to Count Axios!』
Looking back now, it could only be called a rather despicable and petty decision.
To protect his own image, he had sold off a pitiful noble lady, who was living quietly in a wealthy territory, to a commoner…
“Ahem.”
Feeling embarrassed as he retraced his memories, Simone XII cleared his throat while pointlessly shuffling through Bertol’s letter.
Lucian, who had been watching him with a puzzled look, asked,
“Why is Count Axios trying to bring him here?”
“Well. I don’t know the details, but I suppose the count has his reasons. The incident he reportedly saw during his recent visit to Greze is quite something.”
“What incident?”
“Apparently, he punished a man who assaulted his wife rather harshly. In the execution grounds, he personally extracted a divorce agreement. Tsk, tsk, this is really…”
“What? Isn’t that problematic? That punishment goes significantly against the doctrine. Could the Baron of Greze perhaps be…”
Lucian, narrowing his blue eyes, leaned loosely back in his seat and crossed his arms, casting a glance at the Second Prince, Eagle, who sat opposite him.
Eagle, sitting with his back stiff and straight and eyes indifferent, gave off a rigid impression just by his posture. His hair, an oceanic blue unique to the imperial family, was tied neatly in a single ponytail, and his face never betrayed any expression. Lucian was always wary of his younger brother, whose thoughts he could never read.
“…A pagan follower?”
Lucian smirked.
Eagle’s gaze, impossible to read, briefly swept over Lucian.
While all the imperial family members were believers in the state religion, the Church of Orobas, only the Second Prince, Eagle, did not believe in the God Orobas. That was why there were public suspicion that he himself might be a pagan.
The ‘Remiel Religion,’ which promoted the absurd doctrine that ‘all of God’s creations have the right to equality,’ was currently a hot potato in the Empire.
It was, from beginning to end, a problematic heresy that clashed with the state religion of the Simone Empire, the Church of Orobas, which valued strict hierarchy of status and the restriction of the freedom of the ruled classes as virtues for maintaining order.
The Church of Orobas preached that the bond of marriage was not a mere contractual union but a promise of souls, and believed that only spouses could fully possess each other. It did not encourage divorce if one party did not desire it, and the Imperial Law which frowned on third-party intervention in matters, great or small, arising between spouses was derived directly from this doctrine.
However, this matter where the Lord of Greze personally handed down a punishment was clearly an act that did not quite align with Orobas’s doctrine.
Since he had not gone so far as to cut off the accused’s fingers and force him to stamp the divorce papers, it was a case too ambiguous to raise a serious objection over, but…
“They say the number of people migrating to Greze increased after this punishment became known externally. It seems there are quite a few who hold resentment toward the Orobas doctrine. We are already having a headache with the issue of pagans; it’s not like he’s trying to fuel the fire, but good grief.”
“Isn’t this actually fortunate then? When Baron Greze visits the Imperial Palace this time, Your Majesty should give him a firm warning. Desperate attempts by small and powerless authorities to make a name for themselves by borrowing the power of controversy have appeared very consistently throughout history, haven’t they? It must be crushed.”
Lucian murmured as if deliberately making sure Eagle heard him.
Although he was talking about Baron Greze, Simone XII knew well why it sounded like a remark thrown at Eagle. Simone XII was also worried about the very point Lucian had pointed out.
Still, though his second son’s character was hard to read, he would not be a problematic seed who gathered pagans to sow discord in the nation and the throne. He had to believe that.
The worry-laden emperor let out a sigh into the empty air.
* * *
A week before Princess Iskria Simone’s birthday, the capital, Kshetra was already in a festive mood. No, while the official festivities would begin on the day of the birthday, it was correct to say the festive period had already started.
Holding beer mugs made of oak, the citizens of the capital came out of their homes, drinking and playing from the afternoon, heating up the capital with noise. Roaring shouts of “Long live the Simone Empire!” and “Long live His Majesty the Emperor!” filled the streets without end.
Merchant stalls targeting the peak festival season were lined up in rows, and citizens, drunk since midday, had taken over the streets to the point where passage was impossible.
Thanks to the crowds densely packing even the roads for carriages, one had to be stuck and tied up for an hour at most, but no one voiced any displeasure. Everyone had faces that couldn’t stop smiling, excited by the festival atmosphere.
Clop, clop.
Because they were entering the crowded streets, the sound of horse hooves rang out as slowly as a turtle. The Greze carriage, with a cargo compartment attached, was also entering the capital, Kshetra.
The Greze party entering the capital was modest.
The Lord, Baron Zester Greze; the Baroness, Cassia Greze; the maid who would assist the Baroness, Clara Lev (in the Empire, once divorce papers were passed, women who had taken their spouse’s surname could use their original surname again); the manager of the territory’s wig business, James Cromwell; and the coachman, Khan Fisher.
Zester’s adjutant, Gregory, and the Greze soldiers were supposed to come together, but due to a lack of transport for everyone, they had set off on foot a day earlier.
They should have likely already arrived at the lodging.
The Baron and Baroness, having arrived a week early to find a merchant guild to distribute the wigs in the capital, had to leave their territory for about two weeks including the festival period, but they weren’t too worried. Because they had Paul, the all-capable butler, guarding Greze Castle.
“Master, the roads are completely blocked because of the crowds. The lodging is that three-story inn right in front of us, but the stable is behind the building, so it will probably take another 30 minutes to go around. What would you like to do?”
The coachman, Khan, opened the small window of the carriage compartment where Zester’s party was riding and asked. Cassia, who had been bored inside the carriage running as slow as a turtle, spoke with sparkling eyes.
“Let’s get off first, honey.”
“Ah, shall we?”
Khan looked like he was about to get down to help them disembark, but Zester was faster. Zester quickly opened the door and hopped down, then extended his arms toward the carriage compartment, which wasn’t that high. Cassia naturally stepped down as if falling into his embrace. James and Clara, who were riding with them, followed suit.
“I’ll tie up the carriage and move the luggage, so just leave it and go on up first.”
“Good work, Khan. Thanks to you, we arrived comfortably.”
“Not at all, Madam. It is my pleasure.”
Khan, with his good-natured face, bowed to Cassia and Zester before climbing back onto the driver’s seat.
Seeing the capital, Kshetra, by stepping out directly felt different than just watching it through a window.
All these people, and this festive atmosphere—how long had it been? Cassia smiled at the atmosphere, which was as exciting as the harvest festival in Ruberno. Zester, who was stealing glances at Cassia, felt simply happy that she seemed to like it. His cheeks soon flushed red with excitement.
Cassia’s attire was on the thin side. She wore a single light blue winter dress and didn’t even wear a separate coat. This was due to the unusually warm weather in the capital.
“How can it be this warm in this season, in this month! It’s practically a spring day!”
“Isn’t this the blessing of the God Orobas, who loves Her Highness the Princess? Since she is a precious person, even God is celebrating her birthday!”
To think there was weather like this in winter in the capital, which boasted terrifying cold even for the North, where summer was short and winter was long. It was certainly strange.
Cassia stared at the two men chatting about it being a blessing from God and thought to herself.
‘Well, this… rather than a blessing, it would be more fitting to call it a precursor to a curse.’
This period was still vivid in Cassia’s memory.
After the Princess’s birthday festival ended, and before the territorial war in Greze occurred.
A record-breaking cold wave, one that would freeze hundreds to death and was worthy of history books, was scheduled to visit the capital, Kshetra.
Hello guys,
My biggest apologies for the radio silence. I have been for lack of better word, ‘busy’.
Which was probably already obvious before with my scattered updates but I had to pick up a lot of overtime at work to stay afloat so I simply wasn’t able to log on and post. I have been translating in my spare time but couldn’t get around to logging on and posting and I’m really sorry about that.
Finally, I wasn’t on duty last Saturday and I could squeeze out some time to finish off the February backlog.
Will post all 10 chapters right after the post. Once again, I’m really sorry for not giving any updates in the meantime.
I’m going to see how next month is and if I really cannot handle this on top of my work anymore, maybe it will be best to drop it and have someone faster pick it up 🙁
For now, I will keep chugging on.
-Miss Ruby.
- Honey, I’m Going on Strike – Chapter 82 - February 26, 2026
- Honey, I’m Going on Strike – Chapter 81 - February 26, 2026
- Honey, I’m Going on Strike – Chapter 80 - February 26, 2026