Viktor's words hit the hall like a thunderclap.
The nobles' eyes widened in shock, bodies frozen in place, faces drained of color.
What? The southern monster uprising was connected to Rippert?
Impossible. How could it be?
Rippert had only returned to the capital two weeks ago. How could the southern rift crisis involve him?
But Viktor's point was undeniable—the south did fall under Reiser jurisdiction.
And now, a catastrophic failure had occurred.
Poor Reiser governance, requiring Kravina intervention—this was indeed problematic.
Moreover, while this banquet bore the First Prince's name, Rippert was the actual financier.
Such convenient timing.
The capital's feast begins, and the southern front collapses?
Initially, no one harbored such suspicions. But Viktor's words cast everything in sinister light.
Still, they instinctively refused to believe it.
All eyes turned to Rippert, desperate for truth.
Countless gazes waited for the Reiser patriarch to provide satisfactory answers.
Rippert surveyed the room, meeting each noble's stare.
He drew a deep breath, eyes opening slightly with a deflated, helpless smile.
Raising his head, those flowing golden eyes met Viktor's dark gaze once more:
"You're absolutely right. It was me."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Shock and bewilderment crashed over them like waves.
Nobles retreated toward the walls, distancing themselves from Rippert by several meters.
Eyes wide, pupils trembling uncontrollably.
How could this be?
How could Rippert do such a thing?
Though Viktor's accusation had stirred suspicion, everyone instinctively rejected the possibility.
This matter was too grave—it concerned the entire empire's southern safety.
If monsters breached the lines, the southern region would face unimaginable catastrophe.
The empire's south was vast, densely populated.
Against the beast tide, those residents would be lambs for slaughter.
Within a single night, the entire south could become a living hell.
And the Reiser family headquarters was also in the south.
Was Rippert planning to destroy his own home?
They forgot to even ask why.
Nobles hunched against walls, hearts filled with endless confusion and bewilderment.
The First Prince heard clearest of all.
Trembling, he pressed against the wall for support, face etched with shock.
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Staring at the unperturbed Rippert, Aubrey's eyes held nothing but questions and astonishment.
"Uncle..."
"Tell me this isn't true."
Rippert turned slowly, those ancient-well eyes still flowing with golden sand.
Noble radiance surrounded him as his gaze settled gently on the prince:
"Child, though I wish I could deny it, I'm sorry."
He smiled and continued:
"I've never been one to lie."
The First Prince swayed, legs trembling, finally collapsing against the wall.
The nobles finally grasped the situation's gravity, angrily confronting Rippert:
"Rippert! How dare you!"
"That's the empire's south! Do you know how many people live there?!"
"You're insane! A complete madman! Did you consider the consequences?"
But their words couldn't touch Rippert.
Cocotte yawned from her distant chair, chin propped, watching this farce with boredom:
"Human infighting."
"This one's truly despicable."
As former councilor, Cocotte maintained high moral standards.
Even she, an elf, couldn't stomach his actions.
Lia observed calmly nearby.
Honestly, she'd never expected the Reiser head to admit everything so casually.
Despite the matter's severity, he acted as if playing an enormous joke.
Her gaze swept the hall—past spitting, cursing nobles and the prince's vacant stare and limp form.
Indeed, in their fury, they too hoped this was merely jest.
However...
When Gwen's stare fixed on Rippert, her calm expression turned ice-cold.
Hand on sword hilt, ready to draw.
In that moment, Lia understood.
Everything Rippert said was truth.
Why could Gwen reclaim her Knight Commander position? Largely because her justice had returned.
Before her, lies had nowhere to hide—like shadows pierced by sunlight.
As Rippert claimed, he simply wasn't lying.
Then... his motive?
Lia pondered, thinking of one possibility.
But she didn't want to believe it.
Soon, the powerless prince slowly raised himself halfway.
Hand pressed to chest, voice trembling and broken:
"Uncle, why... why did you do this?"
"Because you're worthless now."
Silence.
Rippert's words struck like depth charges in boiling water.
Hands clasped behind his back, he watched their reactions calmly:
"Bluntly speaking, Your Highness, and everyone present—"
"Do you still think you have a chance?"
The nobles fell silent, feeling steel needles pierce their hearts.
Coldness crawled over their bodies.
They understood his meaning—the throne's succession.
Everyone knew both princes' hopes had dimmed.
The emperor's explicit naming, plus Kravina's support for the princess faction through elven diplomacy—
These factors had essentially predetermined the future heir.
Yet the nobles clung to desperate fantasy.
What if?
Rippert ruthlessly stripped away their illusions, laying cruel reality bare.
His words echoed through the hall like tearing festered wounds.
Blood dripped, piercing dry throats.
The First Prince weakened again, trembling.
"So..."
"So he engineered the rift breach, unleashing monsters against Godinlima."
Viktor explained calmly:
"If you care about the south, he'll help crush the beast tide."
"But dealing with merchants like this—consider the final price carefully."
Clap clap clap!
Rippert applauded, showing satisfied approval.
The First Prince stared in dazed shock, rooted like wood.
Rippert continued:
"If Your Highness doesn't care about southern affairs, that's fine too."
"Tiebo possesses advanced technology—we can absolutely stop those beasts."
He turned toward the prince, smiling:
"Don't forget, Your Highness. That dragon you brought back—our weapons solved that problem too."
Gasps.
Shocked gazes darted between prince and Rippert.
So the First Prince's achievements were...
Fabricated?
Supporting nobles gradually lowered their heads, sorrowful eyes filling with disappointment and desolation.
Again, they didn't want to believe.
But seeing the prince's bowed head and clenched fists, they faced cruel truth.
Then their thoughts shifted, generating confusion.
Why mention Tiebo's ability to stop the beast tide?
Wasn't he the one who released it?
Did he want to play savior?
No, that's not right...
Some nobles had commercial experience.
They suddenly looked up, eyes widening, staring at Rippert.
In their minds, an answer formed—
An incredibly dark possibility.
Rippert smiled faintly, eyes narrowing, mouth corners rising nearly to his ears.
"Correct. I won't support Godinlima. We'll wait quietly in Tiebo."
"Waiting for those displaced, fleeing residents. Waiting for monsters to hunt them toward their only escape."
Godinlima and Tiebo were close neighbors. In the southern border, beyond Tiebo lay only wasteland.
People's sole escape route led to Tiebo.
"Then we'll appear, using Tiebo's powerful weapons to save these refugees."
Nobles listening felt chill penetrate their spines.
Hands and feet went cold. Bodies trembled.
Yet Rippert simply spread his arms, leaning back with raised head.
Golden sand in his pupils spun rapidly, fanatical light bursting from his eyes:
"They'll be grateful. They'll worship me."
"But..."
Suddenly, Rippert stopped his frenzy, returning to calm.
He reopened his eyes, head tilted.
Like a machine, he gazed emotionlessly at the despairing nobles.
As if viewing a swarm of insects—too insignificant for notice.
Deep whispers rose like demonic murmurs, ghostly echoes filling this golden banquet hall.
Dark clouds writhed into worms, drilling into every ear:
"Remember—this is a paid service."
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