Chapter 378: The Widowed Princess, the Empire’s Forbidden Topic

After Charlot Mecklenburg had “attended to a matter of convenience,” he returned to the dreamscape.

Annie rushed toward him with a face full of worry as soon as she saw him. “The convoy was ambushed just now, and a few people were killed by Byron snipers. Were you in any danger?” she asked.

Charlot smiled faintly and replied, “I’m fine.”

Grandma Saint Karen, however, appeared indifferent, her face adorned with a calm smile, treating the earlier commotion as though it were nothing of importance.

Although the elderly dreamwalker had limited combat capabilities, her insight into the human heart far surpassed that of any Transcendent. She had long been aware of the sordid intentions of the young noble scions involved.

Grandma Saint Karen, who had followed Earl Bretagne for years and witnessed countless political intrigues, understood one critical truth: the weak are eliminated, while the brazen thrive. Charlot, with his audacious demeanor, was precisely the kind of person who belonged in the political arena.

She had refrained from intervening earlier, waiting for Charlot to step forward, as he was undoubtedly the best person to resolve this “trouble.”

Of course, even Grandma Saint Karen hadn’t anticipated Charlot’s decisiveness and brazenness in handling the situation, acting almost without any pretense. It was a bold approach, perhaps one that only worked because the Princess had no idea of the caliber of individuals under Charlot’s command.

As this thought crossed her mind, a new notion arose: “Perhaps he’s simply informing everyone that three Saint-ranked individuals have already pledged allegiance to him. He’s done being underestimated.”

Pondering this, Grandma Saint Karen faded into the background, leaving Annie and Charlot behind. Meanwhile, in her dreamscape, numerous individuals were pulled into discussions about the recent battle.

“The Byrons actually sent a Saint to intercept us! It’s fortunate that High Priest Auguslatin and Choudrou managed to drive off their Saint; otherwise, we would all have been slaughtered.”

“It’s a shame about the young scions from the Slade family—they were all killed…”

“And Princess Axelle truly is…”

“Are you insane? How dare you mention her name?”

“That widowed Princess is a forbidden topic in the Empire!”

The chaotic chatter of thoughts rose and fell in the dreamscape. Grandma Saint Karen hesitated briefly before deciding to do nothing. Her years as the steward of the Bretagne family had taught her the importance of not overstepping bounds. Unless Charlot gave explicit instructions, she wouldn’t act without his directive.

As she glanced back at the two young individuals, who seemed to be deeply enjoying each other’s company, she smiled warmly. Annie was a child she had doted on since infancy, and she wished for Annie’s happiness far more than for her to marry some so-called “promising young talent.”

Even so, Grandma Saint Karen hadn’t expected Charlot to not only capture Annie’s affection but also emerge as one of the Empire’s brightest rising stars. If he hadn’t chosen Annie—thereby aligning himself with the Bretagne family and earning the cold shoulder of Julius Axel VI—his political career would have soared even higher.

Yet even under the Emperor’s indifference, Charlot’s future achievements were bound to be extraordinary.

After all...

To have three Saints pledge allegiance to him—such a feat was unparalleled in the entire Empire.

…

Charlot was speaking to Annie, recounting what he had been up to in the Red Dragon Strait since their last meeting, when a faint tremor rippled through the dreamscape. Both of them heard Grandma Saint Karen’s low voice: “The Second Princess has summoned everyone for a meeting. Charlot, you needn’t attend, as the Princess doesn’t yet know you’ve joined our party.”

Though Charlot felt slightly disappointed, he could only bid Annie farewell. Back in the Dark Luxury, Charlot noticed that the Black Dragon and the others seemed calm. He casually asked, “Is this Princess so powerful?”

The Black Dragon, Choudrou, and the old Golden Goat Herolf all exchanged peculiar looks, making Charlot feel somewhat awkward. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

The Black Dragon replied, “Sometimes, I wonder if you’re really from the Fars Empire.”

“Twenty years ago, the Fars Empire had three Heroes and five Titans,” he continued. “The three Heroes were Earl Bretagne, Count Gallanord, and Princess Axo Axel.”

Charlot was taken aback. “There’s such a saying?”

Normally reticent, Choudrou couldn’t help but chime in, his usual irritation with Charlot momentarily set aside. “Are you even a Farsian?”

Charlot fell silent for a long moment before replying evenly, “I am, but I was born in the Behemoth Principality, studied there until university, and only came to Strasbourg afterward. My family are mere merchants; we had no access to the affairs of the upper echelons.”

“Apologies. I, too, wish I had been born into a grand noble family.”

“But this is my reality.”

Even the typically sharp-tongued Herolf remained silent at this point, sensing an underlying truth. Though they considered Charlot their equal and even followed him willingly—without the constraint of a magical contract—they were reminded that Charlot’s rise had come from humble beginnings. He had ascended purely through his own efforts, without family resources or benefactors.

The Black Dragon muttered softly, “Zimourman’s father was among the Five Titans twenty years ago, but he fell short compared to the Three Heroes.”

“In all the legends, Princess Axelle was a figure akin to a mythical goddess, admired by countless young prodigies of her era. Her most distinguished suitors were none other than the two Counts. At one point, their rivalry over her nearly led to war.”

Charlot’s thoughts wandered to another implication. “So, this Princess nearly became Annie’s mother?”

“If that were the case, her daughter might not even glance at me.”

“Then again, who’s to say she could have a daughter?”

Intrigued, Charlot asked, “She didn’t choose Earl Bretagne? Who did she marry, and how did she end up a widow?”

The Black Dragon hesitated, unsure of how to address this sensitive topic.

Charlot found himself increasingly curious about this mysterious Princess. He knew Julius Axel VI was in his seventies, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that Princess Axelle might also be from an older generation, entirely different from his own.

Princess May and Menielman Soumet, though a few years his senior, were still of the same generation. Princess Axelle, however, was an entirely different case.

Herolf chuckled lowly, his recent habit of breaking his usual silence showing. “That’s quite the secret. Knowing it will definitely make you jump out of your skin.”

Charlot, less patient with Herolf than with the Black Dragon, retorted, “Spit it out, or I’ll turn you into a eunuch.”

Teasing others by withholding information was detestable behavior—warranting a kick to the nether regions, or worse! A kick to the front could work just as well…

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