At Schultz’s instruction, Landers had a servant hang a paper on the wall.

On the large paper, which was big enough to hide Landers’ body, these words were written in bold, powerful letters:

[Is poverty a sin? Can bloodline be a privilege?]

The framework of the story wasn’t much different from the previous poster.

The problem was the words written at the very end.

[……Then what about those who enjoy privileges with fabricated bloodlines?

Can they truly claim to be noble?

Their actions from beginning to end are utterly filthy, proving their tainted blood.

The time has come for us to judge those who treat human lives as less than dust for crimes that don’t even exist!]

……Ha!

Fabricated bloodlines?

Judgment?

Bang!

Schultz let out a hollow laugh and slammed his desk.

“Nothing but madness from start to finish.”

This nonsense written on paper was inciting the citizens.

The protests, which initially started with just about a hundred people, had now grown to over a thousand, proving it.

“We need to prevent this from growing further. Station guards throughout the city every night and arrest anyone who looks suspicious.”

“I’ll follow your orders.”

“What are they doing when we barely have time to focus on the wedding?”

Feeling stifled, Schultz filled his glass with wine and drank it in one gulp.

He couldn’t taste any of the flavor of the premium wine known for its excellent bouquet.

His head throbbed as if it would split.

Lately, his life hadn’t been going according to his wishes.

What could be the problem?

The nobles he had tamed with tobacco visited him daily, demanding more tobacco and behaving violently.

With crazed eyes, they dared to scratch him and grab him by the collar.

The fortunate thing was that he had another greenhouse besides this one; the unfortunate thing was that the flowers there hadn’t fully bloomed yet.

‘Because that pharmacist and his family escaped……!’

They were the ones who handled exius best.

If one took the medicine made by the pharmacist, one could enjoy the flower’s ecstasy without becoming addicted.

However, it was difficult to make, barely enough to supply to the temple.

‘The old folks have tasted the tobacco, so they’ll cause a fuss demanding more……’

The king’s wedding required the temple’s certification.

Three bishops dispatched from the temple had to attend as witnesses, but with the hastily arranged wedding, there weren’t many bishops available to dispatch.

The temple was a closed community.

They existed alongside the Levanian royal family from the beginning.

There had been entities worshipping gods before, but they weren’t powerful entities under the name of a ‘religious order’ like now.

The first king promoted the temple as a symbol of unity and royal authority, nurturing its power.

Now that power had grown as large as the royal family, becoming a burden…….

In any case, corruption existed even within the temple, so Schultz had drawn in those corrupt individuals to absorb the temple’s power.

The problem was that a generational shift was occurring within the temple, causing confusion.

Most of those on Schultz’s side were from the previous faction, different in nature from the current faction that opposed the existing power.

“……I need to somehow secure cooperation before the temple elders completely lose their power.”

Schultz muttered to himself as he rose from his seat and put on his outer garment.

“Are you going out?”

“I need to visit the temple today. I must get confirmation before those old folks run away. It would be a disaster if all the people who are supposed to be witnesses at the wedding flee.”

“You should go with strong guards. It’s chaotic outside.”

At Landers’ advice, Schultz quietly turned to look at his eldest son.

He was a handsome man by anyone’s standards, and strong too.

No noble, when placed next to his son, could match his elegance and nobility.

Even if they were royalty.

Fabricated bloodlines?

Yes, that might be true for himself.

But Landers was different.

Inside Landers flowed not only his blood but also the bloodline of one of the most prominent count families in the country.

Wasn’t he the eldest son of Schultz Tartien, raised as the very embodiment of nobility from birth until now?

“I feel reassured having you.”

“……”

“I’ll be going now.”

Just as Schultz was about to leave the room, Landers stopped him.

“Father.”

Facing Schultz who turned around, Landers approached with darker eyes than ever before and asked.

“……You’ve never told me about your childhood, have you?”

“What are you suddenly talking about?”

“Is the reason truly because you came from another country, Father?”

“……”

Schultz silently looked at Landers.

Landers didn’t take his eyes off Schultz either.

Schultz smiled faintly and patted his son’s shoulder, saying:

“I am Schultz Tartien. No further words are necessary.”

Schultz left the room.

Landers stared at the closed door for a long time, then muttered with a distorted face.

“……So it’s true. Father, you weren’t a ‘real’ noble.”

Landers buried his face in his hands as if in agony.

* * *

‘Damn archbishop!’

Schultz finally finished negotiating with the Great Temple and came outside.

He had wasted half a day trying to persuade the temple, which consistently feigned ignorance, claiming there were no suitable bishops.

Schultz sighed and climbed into his carriage, feeling drained.

‘……By the way, what is the temple thinking?’

That old raccoon-like archbishop demanded a statement ensuring that nobles wouldn’t interfere in temple affairs, in exchange for dispatching bishops for the wedding.

The noble faction and the temple seemed to want complete independence.

‘……That means they must have demanded something from the king as well.’

The temple wasn’t only connected to the nobles.

But the current king was bedridden and barely able to move, and his proxies were just a few officials holding some administrative authority.

‘Has anyone from the temple visited the palace recently?’

Landers would know about that.

He had been watching the palace with burning eyes lately.

“Duke, shall I take you to the mansion?”

“No. I need to check on La Foudre’s progress, so go there. The streets are noisy, so take a route where people aren’t gathered.”

“Yes, understood.”

The coachman obediently answered and quickly drove the carriage.

With the grand holiday approaching, the streets bustled with countless people.

Add to that the crowds protesting with pickets everywhere, and the capital felt packed with people.

“……At least there are many carriages moving about, so mine won’t stand out.”

Muttering to himself, Schultz suddenly frowned in irritation.

Since when did this Tartien have to hide from people’s eyes?

It was always the other side that had to avoid him, not Tartien.

‘Once the wedding is over…… Yes, once the wedding is over, things will improve.’

Maria would officially become the queen of this country, and he would become the father of the nation.

The crippled king would soon die anyway, so there was nothing to worry about.

If he somehow managed to survive, he could be killed quietly.

Wasn’t it already surprising that he had lived this long?

Having lived this long was enough; perhaps it would be merciful to take the breath from that rag-like body.

“I’m truly tired.”

It was truly exhausting to make a living.

Schultz sighed, massaging his shoulders that had begun to ache.

Around that time, his La Foudre came into view.

Even though the roof hadn’t been added yet, the massive structure with walls being built at a rapid pace dominated the surroundings.

The progress was satisfyingly fast.

It didn’t matter how many people were injured or died for that speed.

“I wanted to hold the wedding there, but it’s a shame.”

But he had a premonition that if the wedding wasn’t hastened, something worse might happen.

Schultz set aside his regret and admired his ‘La Foudre’ for a while.

The numerous parties, banquets, and performances that would be held there.

Gold and treasures would gather there, and that building would soon become a symbol of this country.

‘It will build a reputation far greater than the likes of ‘Cissus Opera House’.’

All events of the king and queen would be held there.

People would gather there even just to see the royal family.

And people would look up to him, the owner of that place.

Beyond bloodlines or fake nobility, they would admire ‘Schultz Tartien’ as the owner of La Foudre.

An era where capital becomes power.

Yes, perhaps it was an era made for him.

‘Bloodline……’

That cursed thing.

That meaningless thing.

Because of it…….

Schultz stared at La Foudre with a cold smile.

At that moment, something hit the carriage with a thud.

“Wh-what?”

“Duke, stay inside! Protesters have spotted the carriage!”