I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 201 Playing Tricks (Part 1)

Chris knew that the Minieses had sent envoys primarily to buy time.

However, when Chris met the messenger, who was dressed in a blue robe, had chestnut hair, a fair complexion, no beard, and a fawning smile, the latter's first words almost made Chris, who was sitting in his chair, lose his composure.

“Prince Chris, you are also a Miniese, so why are you stopping us from helping the Bagnians move towards a more civilized world?”

"?"

Chris didn't speak; he just looked at the messenger for a moment, then leaned back slightly.

In aristocratic etiquette, Chris's backward leaning posture, in his memory of Bagnian aristocratic manners, represented a subtle contempt and a cool sense of detachment.

He looked directly at the messenger, his index finger slowly tapping the simple arm of the chair.

"What is your name?"

Chris's voice was as calm as a winter lake, yet it sent a chill down the envoy's spine.

“Your Highness, I am Albert de Morson, from the de Morson family of Montreal.”

Montreal?
The name was unfamiliar, so it was clearly not one of the major cities in Minicia. The envoy was probably not a powerful nobleman, but rather a courtier or court noble who relied entirely on royal power and his words to gain authority.

"Your Excellency Albert, how come I didn't know I was a Miniese?"

"Your Highness, your mother is the sister of the current King of Minicia. According to bloodline, you are also a member of the Minician royal family."

Albert leaned forward slightly, trying to use this sense of intimacy to close the distance with Chris, and his fawning smile became more and more obvious on his face.

"According to the laws of succession in Minicia, you also have a right to inherit the Kingdom of Minicia..."

Chris recalled his memories and found that there really was such a thing, but the inheritance he received because of his mother was very small and his ranking was very low.

Prince Flower, who was still within the Bohemian Empire, was positioned further ahead of Chris.

The succession law of the Kingdom of Minicia prioritizes primogeniture and male heirs, and explicitly stipulates that women and their descendants can only inherit the throne under special circumstances.

According to this inheritance law, the special case is when all the king's sons die, so that it is the turn of the son born to the king's sister to inherit.

Even if such an extremely rare event were to occur, the great nobles within Minicia would certainly oppose it.

Although the inheritance law stipulates this, there has never been such a case in the history of the Kingdom of Minicia... Even if all the king's sons died, there were still the king's brothers, nephews and nieces waiting to succeed him.

To put it another way, Chris's right to the throne of Minicia is like a two-dollar Ferrari coupon; it does exist and can save money when buying any Ferrari product, but it is practically worthless.

Those who can afford a Ferrari don't lack those two dollars; those who lack those two dollars can't afford a Ferrari.

"Your Excellency Albert."

He slowly stood up, his fingers gently tracing the horizontal sword from a player's armory on the table.

"You risked your life to come see me just to tell me that I possess a lottery ticket to the throne that can never be cashed in?"

The messenger's smile froze. He noticed that as Chris stood up, the long sword had been subtly moved closer to him. The temperature inside the tent seemed to drop a few degrees suddenly.

"Your Highness, you misunderstand. I only meant to say that we share the same roots... General Dudley's feelings towards you..."

Chris was no longer willing to listen to the messenger's excuses. He believed that the latter had prepared his speech beforehand and had many more flowery words he wanted to say. Listening to him would only be a waste of time and would not yield any useful information.

Seeing the impatience on Chris's face, Albert knew he had to use his trump card. He quickly took out a document from his pocket and handed it to Chris.

What is this?
Chris turned his head, let the clerk next to him take it, opened it, and began to read and recite.

"My dear son, my baby, hello!"
Sitting at my desk, my heart is filled with longing for you, and I can't help but pick up my pen to write you a letter. The weather is beautiful today; sunlight streams through the window and falls on my desk, reminding me of your warm smile…”

"Well, just from the beginning, Chris knew whose name this letter was written to him in." Chris smiled contemptuously and gave the clerk his orders.

"Tear it up, take it out and throw it into the fire to burn. A letter like that has no value in reading." Putting aside Chris now, even in his past self, Chris, who grew up at the Niyama Seminary of Light, probably didn't have much affection for his so-called father.

At least now, when Chris looks back at his memories, most of what he can find is related to hunger, cold, loneliness, and unavoidable resentment.

Therefore, the arrival of this letter may have had the opposite effect.

As the clerk tore the letter to shreds, Albert staggered backward, his face filled with disbelief.

His face turned pale instantly, his lips trembled, as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening before his eyes.

"Your Highness! That's a letter written by your father himself!"

Albert's voice carried a hint of shrillness.

How could you...?

“That’s enough.”

Chris's voice was like a drawn sword, instantly severing the messenger's lament. He walked slowly toward the messenger, the sound of his boots on the wooden planks particularly clear in the silent military tent.

"My father?"

Chris sneered.

"The man who sent me to Niyama when I was five and never heard from again—do you think I would believe he would now write me a letter home in such a tender tone?"

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Albert's forehead. He had thought that this letter would be the key to moving Chris, but it had backfired. He realized that he had made a fatal mistake. There was no wavering in Chris's eyes, only cold mockery.

"Tell me, when did General Dud learn to forge royal letters? Or is this letter simply a clumsy trick by your Miniseyan court?"

The clerk carefully placed the torn pieces of the letter into a sealed bag, intending to burn them later.

Albert's Adam's apple bobbed as he suddenly realized the true purpose of his mission... This was not a negotiation at all, but a test, even a provocation. General Dodd hoped to use this letter and his head to provoke Prince Chris into losing his mind.

Chris's fingers gently traced the hilt of the sword; the cold touch of the metal reminded him of those cold winter nights at the seminary.

"Lord Albert, I suggest you state your purpose directly, otherwise..."

His gaze swept over the envoy's neck, adorned with an ornate pendant.

"I wouldn't mind testing the sharpness of this knife with your blood."

The air inside the tent seemed to freeze. Albert felt suffocated. Chris's intimidation made him realize that he had seriously misjudged the situation. The young prince in front of him was completely different from the gentle and refined seminary graduate in the rumors.

"General Du...General Dud proposed a ceasefire."

The messenger finally gave up all his tricks and said in a dry voice.

“Minesia is willing to recognize your rule over Bagnia, provided you withdraw your troops.”

Chris suddenly laughed. That laugh sent chills down Albert's spine.

"admit?"

Chris slowly walked up to the messenger.

"Do I need the recognition of a group of invaders?"

He suddenly drew his sword, and with a flash of cold light, the gold necklace around Albert's neck snapped in two, the sapphire pendant falling onto the wooden board with a crisp sound.

Albert froze, his breath catching in his throat for a moment. He could feel the coolness of the blade as it grazed his throat... any more and his blood would have splattered throughout the tent.

“Someone… Since Dud sent you to find me, I will also send someone to deliver a letter I wrote to him… Albert, take my letter and my person to see Dud.”

(End of this chapter)