Zeweier turned to look at Richard. “Father, the border battle report clearly states that the Demon Race has begun massing.”
“The Goddess’s and the Lord Hero’s time is extremely precious. Every second must be used to improve their strength and prepare to confront the Demon King.”
Zeweier then looked at everyone else, spreading his hands. “And now you want the Goddess to put aside the important task of subjugating the Demon Race, waste a huge amount of time coming to the Royal Capital just to listen to you mortals sing praises?”
“If the Goddess is delayed because of something so trivial, causing the front lines to collapse and the Demon Army to break through into the Inner Ring, who will take responsibility?”
“You, Atticus? Or you, Howard?”
Zeweier slammed this question heavily onto the table.
“First,” Atticus raised one finger, speaking unhurriedly, “Tattle Town has a Teleportation Array. I wouldn’t use a carriage to fetch the Goddess.”
“Second, isn’t it just about eliminating the Demon Race? I’ll personally lead men out to assist the Goddess and the Lord Hero in subjugating the Demon Army at the border!”
Atticus said this, but he wouldn’t actually put in any effort to destroy the Demon Race. At most, he’d go through the motions.
His main goal was still to gain the Goddess’s trust, so that in people’s eyes he would become “the prince trusted by the Goddess.”
That would make the throne as good as his.
There were even greater interests tied up in this.
If the Demon Army at the border were truly all wiped out, then there would be no one left to kill the commoners.
That would mean losing the cut of money squeezed from the commoners.
But maintaining his trusted followers—paying salaries, giving rewards, organizing meet-and-greets in the cities, giving speeches, and all sorts of other activities to boost public support—
All of that required a lot of money.
Father didn’t allow them to use the royal treasury’s funds. Every vote-winning activity had to be paid out of their own pockets.
Without that income, it would be hard to raise enough funds to run lobbying campaigns.
That was right—he was also one of the participants in Zeweier’s Pig-Raising Scheme.
Or rather, basically every noble and royal of any standing was involved.
If they weren’t all colluding to deceive Father, that scheme never could have been realized.
They were now cooking the books, colluding to trick Father into believing the kingdom’s economy wasn’t improving.
And Father was still waiting for the domestic economy to rise so he could launch new construction projects, making life more comfortable and happier for the people.
Naive thinking. Atticus wanted obedience, not happiness for everyone.
The rabble should know their place.
What Atticus feared now was that if the Demon Race were all killed, and then the refugees flowed in, the kingdom’s population would explode.
Father would surely pool money to fund Construction Aid Funds.
The first to pay would be them—the princes and nobles.
Zeweier naturally also knew that his elder brother wouldn’t truly go destroy the Demon Race.
And he had long anticipated Atticus’s reply, and prepared a counter.
Richard, after hearing Atticus, relaxed his brow.
“In that case,” Richard nodded, “then let Atti—”
“Wait, Father.” Zeweier raised a hand to interrupt. “As I just said, the Goddess has no need for mortals’ paltry, insignificant strength.”
“Sending reinforcements rashly might be seen as blasphemy by the Goddess, as if you don’t believe in the divine power.”
Whoever could go to the border to meet the Goddess—even just to exchange a few words—would have a completely different standing in the eyes of the people upon return.
This was enormous Political Capital.
He wouldn’t let it go.
“Father, since we’re going to meet the Goddess, the identity of the person sent absolutely cannot be low.”
Atticus let out a derisive laugh, looking at Zeweier. “If you send some random nobody, that would be an insult to the Goddess!”
The implication was that Zeweier, as the third prince with a hog-like build, was that random nobody.
Atticus thumped his own chest. “I am the Kingdom’s Great Prince, the first in line of succession. No one is more suited than I to go to the border.”
Atticus glanced at Zeweier and George, his eyes full of warning.
“I will personally lead the Royal First Knights, take the kingdom’s best supplies, and go to the border to pay respects to the Goddess and the Lord Hero.”
“I guarantee I will convey Father’s sincerity.”
Atticus was scheming in his heart.
If he secured the Goddess’s support, the throne would be rock-solid.
Richard looked at Atticus, not immediately agreeing.
He knew his eldest son well.
Atticus was a good warrior, but his temper was too explosive. He had no idea what tact meant.
If he sent him to deal with the Goddess, and one wrong word angered her, that wouldn’t be winning an ally—it would be making an enemy.
But after all, Atticus was the Great Prince. His status was there.
Richard couldn’t find a reason to refuse for the moment.
Third Prince George sat to the side, watching Atticus’s smug look, and curled his lips into a cold smile.
George leisurely put the chain of his pocket watch back into his pocket.
He knew he couldn’t just sit by anymore.
If Atticus really went to the border, the throne would be out of his reach.
George stood up and adjusted the bow tie of his tailcoat.
“Brother Atticus, that’s not quite right.” George’s voice was very gentle, but his words hid a knife.
Atticus turned to stare at George. “Third brother, do you have a problem?”
George met Atticus’s murderous gaze without any fear.
A flawless smile hung on his face.
“Brother Atticus, I don’t have a problem with you. I’m acting for the greater good of the kingdom.”
George slowly turned to Richard and said, “Father, Brother Atticus’s fiery temper is something everyone knows.”
“He’s always beating and cursing the servants here in the Royal Capital.”
“The border is chaotic right now, full of refugees and assassins from the Night Demon Society.”
“If Brother Atticus goes to the border and gets upset about something, and loses his temper right in front of the Goddess, that scene would be quite ugly.”
These words exactly matched Richard’s own thoughts.
They further solidified Richard’s judgment.
“George,” Atticus’s face turned green with rage. He forced himself to control his temper, but his speech involuntarily quickened, his voice cold. “I don’t screw up when it comes to serious matters.”
George ignored Atticus’s words entirely.
He continued speaking to his father.
“Brother Atticus, you’re used to being high and mighty. Do you know how to assume a low posture and communicate with a revered divine being?”
Every one of George’s sentences stabbed into Atticus’s weak points.