Chapter 428
However, Xavier XV, though lying weak on his deathbed, remained firm in his stance.
He knew exactly what lay behind his sister's ambition.
He knew that Xavier XVI did not want to become queen to lead the people, but to enjoy the luxury of the palace, to indulge in endless feasts and celebrations, to live a hedonistic life that cared nothing for the suffering of the people.
At that time, the kingdom was being struck by a seasonal food pandemic.
The fields dried up, harvests failed everywhere, and the people starved in the streets while the nobles continued to live in luxury.
And Xavier XVI, according to the reports that reached Xavier XV's ears, was among the most extravagant nobles, the most indifferent, the most occupied with enjoying life while the people slowly died.
Seeing all this, Xavier XV made a firm decision.
He issued an arrest order for his own sister, commanding his loyal guards to secure Xavier XVI before she could do anything dangerous.
However, Xavier XVI, who had already suspected the worst possibility, moved faster.
With the help of several trusted people within the palace, she managed to escape just before the guards arrived to capture her.
She fled the palace at night, leaving everything behind, vanishing without a trace while the guards could only grind their teeth in frustration after losing her trail.
But Xavier XVI did not flee without a plan.
She went to the borders of her brother's domain, to the remote regions that had long served as nests for rebels and those disappointed with the government.
There, she formed connections with rebel leaders, using her charm and intelligence to convince them that she was the right ally.
She promised them many things—power, wealth, status—so long as they were willing to help her reclaim what she believed was rightfully hers.
And the rebels, who had long dreamed of overthrowing the kingdom's authority, saw this as a golden opportunity.
They agreed to ally themselves with Xavier XVI, forming a combined force secretly prepared to attack the palace.
For months they trained and planned, waiting for the perfect moment to launch their assault.
And when that moment finally came, when the combined forces of Xavier XVI and the rebels stormed the palace from every direction, King Xavier XV—already ill—and his loyal guards could do little to stop them.
They were outnumbered.
Out-equipped.
Outmatched in every way.
Xavier XV was captured, thrown into a dark and damp underground prison, and several weeks later he was publicly hanged as an example to anyone who dared oppose the new authority.
"The claim to the throne made by Xavier XVI was completely illegitimate. Not merely because she rebelled. But because at the moment she stormed the palace with her army, the succession had already been completed."
Xavier listened to every word that came out of Alaric's mouth with emotions growing increasingly complex.
There was anger.
There was confusion.
There was sadness.
Yet there was also something else.
Something difficult to explain.
Something that felt like a burden suddenly placed upon his shoulders without his consent.
And when Alaric reached the part about Xavier XVI's claim to the throne, the old man's tone changed—sharper, firmer, like a judge delivering a verdict upon an unforgivable crime.
Everything Xavier XVI had done—every ambition, every betrayal, every murder—meant nothing.
Because the claim she made to the throne was entirely illegitimate.
Illegitimate under the laws of the kingdom.
Illegitimate under ancient tradition.
Illegitimate in a spiritual sense.
And most importantly, illegitimate by blood, because the purest royal blood—the absolute requirement for occupying the throne—did not flow within her.
Not because she was not a member of the royal family, for she was indeed the younger sister of Xavier XV.
Not because she was a woman, for there was no rule forbidding women from ruling.
The reason she was illegitimate went far deeper than that.
She was illegitimate because Xavier XV, before his death, had done two decisive things.
The first was that he had officially handed over the authority of the kingdom to his child—to the tiny baby who had been born only a few days earlier—to you, Xavier.
That transfer of authority was carried out before loyal witnesses, before royal advisors who remained faithful, before guards who swore to protect the rightful heir to their last drop of blood.
By law and tradition, from that moment onward the throne already had its rightful owner.
And that owner was you, even though you yourself never knew it and never felt it.
Everything Xavier XVI did afterward—every act of seizing power, every killing she committed—was nothing more than ordinary crime.
An act of usurpation.
An act of betrayal.
Acts that would never be able to change the fact that you are the only legitimate king.
The second thing Xavier XV did was even more important.
Amid the chaos as the army formed by Xavier XVI began to break into the palace, when the thunder of battle could already be heard from afar, when the loyal guards were falling one by one defending the palace gates, Xavier XV—weak upon his deathbed—still managed to do something.
He summoned several of his most trusted people, those who were most loyal, those willing to die for the royal family.
And before them, surrounded by death that was drawing ever closer, he handed over the most precious thing he had.
Something that was not treasure.
Not jewelry.
Not an important document.
He entrusted his child—the tiny baby he had not even had the chance to hold long enough.
He entrusted the baby to them, begging with the last of his strength that they take the child as far away as possible, to a place where Xavier XVI and her followers would never find him.
And those loyal guards accepted that trust with tears in their eyes and steel in their resolve.
They fled with the baby in the middle of the night, passing through secret corridors known only to a few, disappearing from the palace just before the rebel forces succeeded in breaking in and taking control of everything.
But the handing over of the baby was not merely a physical transfer.
It was not only about saving the life of the heir from the threat of murder.
There was something else—something more important, more fundamental, more decisive for the future of the Xavier dynasty.
In the final moments before those guards departed, before they vanished into the dark corridor that would take them away from the palace forever, Xavier XV did something that only a rightful king could do.
He bestowed something upon his child.
Something that for thousands of years had been the hallmark, the symbol, the undeniable proof of a ruler from the bloodline of Xavier.
He bestowed the Authority of Perception Alteration and the five elements.
Six powers that had been passed down from one generation to the next.
Six powers that signified that the transfer of authority had taken place legitimately.
Six powers that could only be given by the previous king to his successor and could never be granted by any other means.
From Xavier I to Xavier II.
From Xavier II to Xavier III.
And so on until Xavier XV passed them to you, Xavier XVII.
To be continued…