The Khan's Succession II

Consort Neve couldn't help but admire Jasmine's child in secret, marveling at the child's precision and ability to ask all the right questions. Oh, if only her own son Amon possessed such attention to detail.

Neve knew her son intimately, as familiar with his nature as she was with the veins on her own hand. Amon was impetuous, a young man who charged forward recklessly, without concern for the consequences. This rash nature was always a source of worry for Neve.

"How could he have given up his birthright for the foolish myth of Bassal's treasure?" Neve bemoaned, unable to shake her concern. "What a waste of talent."

Neve's sole solace lies in Uoe, yet this brat brings further turmoil. The fool, consumed with indulgence in drink and swordplay, neglects to bless Neve with the gift of grandchildren. Meanwhile, Jasmine's offspring multiply like rabbits, enough to populate a metropolis

As she glanced once more at Jasmine's children: 3rd Prince, 5th Princess, 6th Princess and Melinda, a deep sigh slipped from her lips.

Meanwhile, Princess Melinda sat poised on the ornate chair, adorned in a striking azure silk gown. As if comprehending her stepmother's vexation, a faint smile graced her lips, though, upon closer inspection, it held a hint of derision.

Her gaze fell upon her own offspring, Prince Uoe. He sat idly, absentmindedly caressing his katana, his attention far from the conversation at hand.

She couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment at his lack of focus and wondered if he truly grasped the gravity of the situation.

With bated breath, Melinda yearned for the reply of Alber, the trusted eunuch. And lo! Without delay, his response resounded across the room.

In a measured tone, Alber cleared his throat and began to speak. His words were carefully chosen, laden with the weight of consequence.

The court was hushed as Alber's words hung heavy in the air. The weight of his announcement seemed to press down upon the assembled crowd, leaving them stunned and uncertain.

Princess Melinda felt her breath catch in her throat as she heard the terms of the succession laid out before her.

If she were to renounce her claim to the throne, she would also forfeit her government position within a matter of days.

She would be stripped of any special treatment in the business sector, and forced to pay the same taxes as everyone else.

Even her royal title would be rendered meaningless, a mere ornament to her name. And worst of all, her descendants would be relegated to the rank of Count, forever barred from the throne.

Melinda's mind raced as she struggled to make sense of the situation. She had been considering giving up her claim to the throne, but now it seemed like a far more costly decision than she had anticipated. There was so much to lose, so much at stake.

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, Melinda felt her resolve begin to falter. Could she really bear the weight of this burden? Could she live with the consequences of her choice?

Alber's response had been unexpected, and the consequences were far-reaching.

Alber cleared his throat once more, mustering the courage to speak his mind. "While surrender may not be my first choice, it is not without its merits," he declared.

"By yielding, you ensure your survival and that of your household. The successor will have no grounds to pass judgment upon you. You'll be free to live as you please, so long as you do not meddle in the coming trial."

The words hung heavily in the air, and Princess Melinda felt the weight of their meaning bearing down upon her.

Alber's response had been clear and definitive, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Hands being raised just as fast, in order to understand what happens if you choose to participate, as though expecting such an outcome, With unwavering resolve, Alber wasted no time in delivering the news.

"In the event that a successor chooses to participate, their Sea and Nodes will be sealed, only permitting fighting prowess of a Rank 2 Knight/Acolyte."

The faces of the princes and princesses fell, as though they had each swallowed a bitter pill. But Alber paid them no mind, continuing on with his announcement without faltering.

"Furthermore," Alber declared, "all participants must vacate the Imperial City and live for three years as a Temporary Baron, governing a border town.

During this period, it will be your solemn duty to defend, expand, and provide for the well-being of your resident.

"The Will dictates a trial, with a stringent condition - a proctor will join your journey, observing your progress.

Alas, no aid shall be granted, even in the jaws of death! Moreover, all riches shall be seized, and you are permitted to travel with no more than Five servants.

However, the 'servants' must not hold a rank higher than that of a Grand Knight. Such is the path ahead, fraught with peril and adversity. Will you accept the challenge and emerge victorious?"

The words hung in the air like a thick fog

With a final flourish, he declared, "The finale shall transpire within the confines of the illustrious Imperial City, three years hence.

Once all participants' motives are made manifest, the lots shall be cast, designating to each heir their assigned province."

"...,"

"Oh, how foolish of me," Albert exclaimed, cutting through the tension. "I nearly forgot to mention the unfortunate truth of this endeavor.

Those who choose to participate shall never ascend to the esteemed title of Prince or Princess. Instead, their progeny can only aspire to the rank of Viscount.

Thus, I implore you to choose your answer with the utmost care, for the consequences are dire. Will you become a slave to the victor or a mere rotting piece of flesh? The choice is yours to make. As for those willing to participate, please stick around."

All eyes turned to Princess Melinda once more as she contemplated her answer, weighing the weighty consequences of her actions.

The allure of forfeit seemed a far more appealing prospect than lingering in the midst of uncertainty.

Even Consort Neve, well aware of the ruthlessness of the 1st Prince, felt a glimmer of relief wash over her. None among them were safe from his wrath, for his vendetta against these three women spanned over 2,000 years.

It all began with the deposition of his mother from her seat, leading to her eventual demise with a shattered heart.

Melinda boldly declared her intention to fight, catching the third prince off guard. Though they had already discussed her willingness to take a backseat, she refused to be a mere spectator. A low grunt escaped his lips, and others could hear his disdainful remark, calling her a "greedy bitch."

Silence filled the room as all eyes turned towards the 7th Prince, awaiting his response. His heart raced with anticipation as he weighed his words carefully.

Finally, with an air of indifference, he replied, "I shall take my leave, but not without a humble request for my dear sister to increase my allowance upon her ascension to the throne." A sly wink was directed toward the Second Princess.

"How shameless!" Princess Hedwig thought, but she couldn't help feeling pleased. With one less competitor, her path to the crown became clearer.

The Queen Dowager's disappointment with Egon IV was palpable, as expected. Her son, if only he possessed the same ambition as his sister, instead of dabbling in crossbreeding.

The 8th Princess cast upon him a subtle yet unmistakable look of disgust, joined by a few others who did not bother to hide their contempt. And thus, he found himself standing alone amidst a sea of disapproving eyes.

Ahmes, the court scribe, approached the departing prince with a quill and parchment in hand. With a bow of deference, he spoke, "Prince Egon IV, may I humbly request your signature on this document, stating your intention, so that there may be no misunderstandings in the future?"

The regal prince, a portrait of serenity, assented with a dignified nod. "As you wish." He then departed abruptly, indifferent to their opinions.

"Fair 6th Princess, I implore thee, art thou willing to contest for the throne?"

"I must compete; to let my Lord Father's labor go to naught would be a great dishonor. If the first take the throne, a crimson river shall surely flow in its wake."

Princess Anya's willingness to participate even caught her mother, Consort Jasmine by surprise, " Never in my life did I expect this wench to bring joy to my heart."

First Prince, Musa's teeth ground against each other as his fist clenched, emitting a sound that reverberated through the air.

He fixed his fierce gaze upon Anya, and if looks could slay, she would surely have fallen.

"Alber, my dear subject, I must attend to the court this eve," announced the regal figure.

This gathering has gone on long enough, and Alber understood. After all, this was a period of mourning.

"Please pardon me, your grace," humbly replied Alber.

"And as for you, 5th Princess?"

"I too shall join the fray!" said Mona with a sultry reply.

"Umm…"

*cough*

"4th Prince Uoe, will you…"

The question echoed through the hall, met with only the metallic clang of a sword being drawn and sheathed. "Ah, I see," the prince said with a nod, understanding the unspoken affirmation.

While all this was going on the Dukes and Duchess took note…

"Pray, tell me, 3rd Prince Barlor," inquired Alber.

"Ah, dear Alber, how swiftly time passes," reminisced Barlor, "but let us not get sidetracked. Mother, I implore you to persuade Melinda to rescind her candidacy."

A wave of surprise washed over the gathered crowd.

"Why do you act in such a manner, elder brother? It is my right to contend for the throne, and I will not relent!" Melinda's hand came crashing down upon the table as she declared her defiance.

"You--"

"Balor, why must you disrupt the proceedings with such untimely objections? It is her decision, just as it is--"

"Very well, then. I shall withdraw," interjected Barlor.

In the hall, a restrained upheaval broke out. Musa, who had up until now kept a serene demeanor, appeared dumbfounded.

It seemed that the only true menace to his rightful claim was seeking to relinquish it. Such tidings were welcome indeed, but could life truly be so uncomplicated? Not a chance.

"Cease this folly, Balor," implored the Consort, her voice imbued with authority. "Tarnish not this court with your impertinence, Jasmine," Neve interjected, her sly grin betraying her love for the drama.

"You--"

"Hehe"

"Silence! I have warned you both...this proceeding must remain untainted. Should you continue to behave thus, I shall expel you from ever attending court proceedings! Do I make myself clear? And you, Balor, is this truly your desire?"

Balor turned his piercing gaze towards his mother, and at that moment, a telepathic connection was forged between them.

"Of course, I do not intend to give up," he declared resolutely, his voice echoing in their minds. "Why can't you understand... Ninth Prince will not compete, but that lad has the potential to surpass that monster, Musa.

Why would such a specimen withdraw? The answer is simple: although he seems indifferent to the throne, Amon's plans run deep.

He's willing to take a loss now to fight another day. And let's not forget the 7th Prince. Though lacking in brain cells, he took a backseat, making it easier for Hedwig to fight without reservation..."

"A ploy," interjected Anya, her eyes alight with understanding.

"Indeed," Balor concurred. "If everyone contests for the throne, our house will cease to exist. Mother, please listen to me for once.

Not only should Melinda withdraw, but Mona as well. That will increase our odds of securing the throne... Don't be fooled by Lady Neve.

That wench will not honor the truce, and I won't be surprised if she has made a backroom deal with the 1st Prince..."

All of this occurred within a mere few breaths. To outsiders, it appeared as if they had merely exchanged a glance. But those who knew better understood the truth: the 3rd Prince was putting his house in order.

"What says you, Balor?"

Mona's mischievous gaze flickered with playful intent, a flirtatious wink that even the most virtuous could not resist. "Forgive my fickle nature," she whispered, her voice dripping like honey.

"I am deeply ashamed. Would you kindly withdraw my candidacy?" The scribe hesitated, and the princess leaned in closer, her lips tantalizingly close to his ear. The man blushed, unable to resist her enchantment.

"But Princess Mona..."

"Please, Ahmes," she implored, her voice as gentle as a breeze.

Alber cleared his throat. "Royal Scribe, has such a request been made before?"

"Mona, you may withdraw, but it shall not be repeated. Once you sign this parchment, your decision is final," said Queen Dowager

"...."

All this occurred under to cold piercing gaze of the 1st Prince, 'Fucking harlot, the lots of them!'

Mona signed the parchment with swift and confident strokes. With a parting jab at her older brother, she made her exit. "You're not cute," she taunted, before vanishing from sight.

Melinda, too, decided to withdraw, casting a few pointed glares at the third prince before departing without another word.

Once the hall was quiet, the third Prince made his intention clear, " To compete!"

Amidst the clamor of royal aspirations, the moment had arrived for a choice to be made. With no need for theatricality, the contenders for the throne were announced:

"First Prince Musa, Second Princess Hedwig, Third Prince Balor, Fourth Prince Uoe, and Sixth Princess Anya," intoned Ahmes.

The eunuch Alber faded into the background, his task complete, and the Queen Dowager took center stage to bring the morning briefing to a close.

"With a heavy heart, I express my gratitude to all present here for fulfilling their duties. Alas, fate has dealt us a devastating blow.

Three of our key cities in the Western Plain have been engulfed by a volcanic eruption, leaving us in a state of shock and despair.

Furthermore, we mourn the tragic demise of Viscount Maverik and Count Vinci, who fell just outside our walls. To add to our woes, the Sandorian Empire has crumbled to dust, its history erased by pale-skinned beings with black wings.

In this moment of dire need, I implore each of you to summon your ingenuity and devise a plan.

Let us meet again in the throne room in six hours' time, to discuss our course of action. May our combined efforts bring us out of this abyss. Thus concludes the Succession."