Chapter 362: Side Story 3: Reunification and Family Legacy

Alexei took deep, laboured breaths. Since the war started a year ago, it seemed as if he had aged ten. His eyes were dark and tired, his hair greying, and his back hunched from exhaustion. Despite how tired he was, Alexei straightened his back and wore an incredibly proud look.

All around him, bodies lay. Ravens circled in the air, landing on nearby trees and watching with dark, cold eyes, waiting for their feast. Unlike him, Ivan walked around as if he hadn’t been locked in a brutal battle an hour before, looking through the bodies, trying to find something.

Alexei paid it no mind and walked forward, up and near a hill. His men looked his way and stopped what they were doing, watching with interest. Clicking his neck, Alexei looked down at everyone and smiled. Ivan reached into another pile of corpses and smiled, picking up a bloodied crown from the floor.

Scaling the mountain, Ivan and Alexei’s eyes met. Ivan could see that his father was warning him not to do anything stupid. He could tell if he had done something that undermined the great victory they had just won, Alexei might actually kill him.

Ivan stood before his father, holding the bloodied crown. Placing it on Alexei’s head, he looked to the soldiers below, all looking up. The sun shone just behind the two, making it so only their outlines could be seen. "REJOICE!" Ivan started with his usual excited tone.

"The great shame we as a people have suffered is over my countrymen!" Ivan struggled to contain the pride he felt for Alexei. Looking down at the men, he could see they were proud of their achievement. "The shame we have suffered from the rest of the world is over! The mistakes of our ancestors have been fixed!" Ivan took a deep breath and looked at his father. Looking back down, he spread his arms, "Forged in blood, I declare the end of the Principalities and in their place the return of the Silesian Empire to the world!"

Ivan looked at his father and fell to his knees, "Hail, Emperor Alexei Brantov, ’the Reunifier’. Hail the one who fixed the stain on our history!" The soldiers all froze, and Mikhail quickly fell to his knees before anyone else.

"Glory to the Emperor! Glory to the Empire!" His passionate cries resonated with the rest of the soldiers who had been locked in a trance, looking up at the hill. One by one, they all fell to their knees and lowered their heads, singing their praises for Alexei.

Alexei looked down at everyone, his eyes shining with an immense power. The previous exhaustion was gone as he basked in the praises being sung for him. Nothing seemed to matter to him in the world. The weight on his shoulders from carrying the failure of his father’s mistakes vanished. The hate he had always felt from his brothers for destroying his birthright was gone, replaced by an overwhelming joy.

Alexei wanted the moment to last forever. His entire adult life had been leading to this moment. He never expected to be the one crowned as Emperor. It was meant to be Ivan. He had spent his whole life preparing this very moment for his son, and now he was the one being bathed in the glory of reforging the Empire. He was the one who fixed the Brantov legacy.

"Rise!" Alexei said coolly, raising his hand. Ivan was the first to stand, followed by everyone below. "The sacrifices made have not been small, and I shall always be thankful for them. But I must ask you all for one more. If you wish to return to your families, you may. But to you all. The fine men who helped me so far, I ask you to join me in one final battle to retake the old capital."

The soldier looked around to see if anyone left, but no one did. They had sworn themselves to Alexei. It was their duty to help him to the end. Some were motivated by the opportunity they might get by staying with the Emperor. Some stayed out of loyalty. Others wanted to see how it would end. No matter the reason, no one moved, and Alexei smiled.

"Good. Then today we feast and celebrate." His voice was joyful, and the men all looked at one another with smiles before cheering in delight. Ivan walked closer to his father and watched everyone below prepare themselves for the small march to their resting point.

"Congratulations, Father," Ivan said, full of happiness, and Alexei looked at him proudly.

"Sometimes we must take risks to get what we want." Alexei looked into the distance and softly smiled, "I would have never launched this campaign if not for you, Ivan. I had been ready to die, knowing you would be the one to fix the Brantov shame. Thank you."

"I did not deserve to be the one to do it. The Empire was your birthright. Boris was the fool for letting the lands fracture." The disrespect in Ivan’s tone when speaking about his Grandfather was palpable, but Alexie said nothing about it, having cursed the man more times than he can count.

"I have one request. Not as your father but as your Emperor." Alexei’s mood shifted, a powerful aura coming off him. It was the first time Ivan had felt so suppressed by his father, as if something he had shackled away had finally been let out. "You are the future of the Empire. I need you to change. The mask you wear has become a weakness now. Be your real self."

The two locked eyes. Ivan’s playful look vanished with his smile falling. Seeing it, Alexei smiled and patted his shoulder, "I know that playful mask you wear is not completely fake, but the nobility don’t know this. Get them in line one way or another and show them who their future Emperor will be. Make them respect you, and then you can live however you want."

Ivan took a deep breath and nodded, "I understand, Your Majesty." Ivan placed his hand on his chest and bowed. Lifting his head, the playful look Ivan always wore returned, "But today I am celebrating. I can always start tomorrow."

Ivan quickly ran down the hill and joined up with some random soldiers. Throwing his arms around them, he happily laughed and chatted with them. Alexei smiled seeing it. Even if his son liked to play a fool, it made him happy either way. Alexei didn’t worry. His son was the greatest actor he knew. He had complete faith that he would be able to get every member of the nobility to respect him.

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"Father, you are looking worse each month," Horace said with a cold voice, being interrupted by Esmond’s chesty cough.

"Soon, Horace. Soon. I can tell my time is nearly over." Esmond sounded tired, but despite that, his hands never stopped moving as he worked on the documents in front of him, only pausing to turn his head and cough. "Have you found a suitable woman?"

"Of course." Horace smiled and reached into his pocket. Putting the document in front of Esmond. "Amelia Eaton. Daughter of a minor noble in the Flanders’ duchy. She agreed to be my wife. I looked into it. Up to her Grandparents, they suffered no major illness. Her grades at the university are good. They are also loyal to the Imperial Family."

Esmond read the extended description Horace had provided and nodded, "Good. When she is pregnant, we will move on to the final ceremony." Horace froze slightly at his words but quickly smiled and nodded.

"If that is what you wish, Father." Leaving the room, Horace took a deep breath and went into a nearby room. Inside was a woman in her mid-twenties, silently reading a book. "Sorry for the wait." Horace took a seat before her and leaned back. "I must ask, you do understand what is being asked of you."

Ameilia looked up at Horace and nodded. She wasn’t beautiful, but couldn’t be called ugly. Much like Horace, she had a face that, if seen in the background, wouldn’t turn heads; it could only be appreciated after interacting for extended periods. "I know. It’s a simple political marriage."

Horace frowned and shook his head, "You know the nature of my family. I am not asking you if you understand that it is a marriage. I am asking if you are ready for a life where you will get no love from your husband. A life where you will hardly be able to interact with your children and where I will discard you if I feel you become a threat to my family."

Amelia bent the corner of a page and closed the book, "I am under no illusion of what this entails. I don’t expect love from you. This is merely political after all. And as for children, I never wanted them. I will give you children, but make no mistake, I don’t want to know about their lives or yours. I simply want to be able to live in peace, and this marriage provides that for me."

Horace smiled. It was the final test for his future wife. He needed a child, and whilst there were barbaric ways to get one, Horace had no desire to do that. Instead, he chose the easiest way that worked with his life, having a wife who had no desire for power or children. Raising the next family head would be a cruel fate for the child, and Horace knew that if he did take a wife, they had to be willing to look past his family’s practices.

Amelia went back to her book and read. Getting up, Horace was about to leave, but stopped and turned back around. "Meet me in my room tonight." Amelia, without looking, nodded. Satisfied, Horace left and paused. Looking down the desolate halls of the Obsidian castle, he took a deep breath and went to his office.