Chapter 3: The Loyal Minister

Court Council Meeting.

Cohen sat upright at the head of the table, clad in a sharply tailored suit, his gaze focused and profound, exuding an aura of solemn authority.

Beside him, the queen quietly exhaled and whispered, “Your Majesty is doing well. Just follow what your sister taught you later.”

The assembled ministers discreetly appraised the young king.

Today was supposed to mark Cohen’s official assumption of full royal authority, but everyone present was well-informed and fully aware of the recent events within the palace.

Memory frozen! A king with the mind of a child!

The ministers exchanged glances, contemplating the impact of this unexpected development on the political stability of the Duchy of Effin.

Cohen surveyed the ministers with keen interest.

Noticing most of their gazes were filled with derision, coldness, and disdain, his heart grew even colder and more resolute.

Hmph, the treacherous ministers have revealed themselves. Once I reclaim true power, I’ll send each of you to the northern border to dig potatoes!

The middle-aged man seated to the left spoke loudly:

“The events of a few days ago are now clear to everyone. For the sake of political stability, secrecy must be maintained. I have already sent word to the Empire’s central government to summon Grand Mage Victor of the Sacred Realm. We believe the spell cast upon His Majesty will soon be lifted.”

This man was none other than Cohen’s stepfather, Duke Angus Angrion, the Prime Minister—just recently elevated from Marquis.

Marrying the queen, becoming prime minister, then duke—this sequence seemed all too familiar.

Angus continued:

“As for His Majesty’s formal governance, my recommendation is to postpone it temporarily. The length of the delay will be reconsidered upon the arrival of Grand Mage Victor.”

His words sparked murmurs throughout the cabinet, though no one openly challenged him.

Given the Angrion family’s current dominance at court, no one dared oppose them.

Moreover, over half the cabinet members were Angrion’s loyal followers.

Just as the council unanimously agreed that the queen would continue as regent, a burly middle-aged man at the back suddenly stood, his voice icy:

“I disagree!”

Cohen’s eyes flickered as he regarded the speaker, recalling the man’s identity:

Count Snape Middleton, former Master of the Palace and close confidant of the late king.

Memories from his previous life—a game—surfaced: during the great turmoil, while other nobles remained inert, Snape led his family’s guards in a fierce battle to defend the king, ultimately perishing alongside Cohen in the royal courtyard.

Cohen sighed inwardly; loyal ministers still existed within the Corleon family.

Angus regarded Snape’s outburst with unsurprised calm, leisurely sipping his tea.

Noticing Angus’s gesture, a minister nearby spoke decisively:

“Count Middleton, do you have a different opinion?”

The speaker was the newly appointed Chief Justice, Baron Gore Philip, Angus’s top subordinate.

Snape sneered at Gore and said to Angus:

“Prime Minister, His Majesty’s coming of age at sixteen was agreed upon before this council meeting. How can it be arbitrarily changed?”

Angus lowered his eyes coldly:

“If that is so, then you may ask His Majesty yourself.”

Snape turned toward Cohen, his burning gaze almost searing.

Cohen sighed softly, then, following his sister’s earlier instructions, spoke calmly:

“Count, thank you for your suggestion. However, given my current condition, I am not yet ready to govern independently. For the sake of the nation’s stability and unity, I hope you will respect the Prime Minister’s decision.”

Cohen’s words struck Snape like a sharp blade, causing the veteran servant of the Corleon dynasty for thirty years to slump as if aged by decades, his fiery eyes dimming.

After a long silence, he slammed the table, overturned his chair, and left the council chamber.

Angus remained composed, quietly saying:

“Very well, let the meeting continue...”

...

Late at night, Cohen changed into a dark mage’s robe, his magical power surging. Using Shadow Step, he activated his spectral crab and vanished from the palace.

As night swallowed the twilight, the magical lamp at Count Middleton’s mansion suddenly flared to life. A drunken Snape Middleton kicked open the door.

The servants hurried to greet him: “Master...”

“Leave!” he barked.

Snape staggered toward his bedroom. His wife had long passed away, and he had not remarried, dedicating his life to the Corleon dynasty.

Mumbling indistinctly:

“Late king, this old servant failed you, unable to protect Your Highness, nor fend off the wolves of the Angrion family... I am sorry!”

This world-weary man showed the weight of years as he pushed open the bedroom door drowsily.

Suddenly, a cold, stern voice rang out, sobering Snape from his drunken stupor:

“The late king... was he only meant to be disappointed?”

Snape snapped upright, a murderous aura emanating from him.

Someone had silently infiltrated his chamber?

Could it be the Angrions?

That pack of wolves, already moving against him?

The lights flared on, revealing a tall, handsome figure standing with hands clasped behind his back, his features resolute and cold, eyes sharp and severe.

Seeing the familiar face, Snape’s pupils constricted in disbelief:

“Your Ma... Majesty?”

Cohen replied calmly:

“Count, were you hoping everyone here would know I had arrived?”

Snape immediately fell silent, stepping back to call his personal steward. After a brief whispered conversation, he returned to the room.

His thoughts raced, emotions tangled as he gazed expectantly at Cohen, voice trembling:

“Your Majesty, it truly is you... This old servant... I thought...”

Cohen sighed softly:

“I carry a life-saving ace bestowed by my father. The memory freeze means nothing to me.”

Snape’s face lit with joy, then he seemed to consider something, asking:

“If Your Majesty is unharmed, why then did you speak so in the council today?”

Cohen shook his head:

“If I had not pretended to be affected, I would have been assassinated in the inner palace gardens. Next time, they would come for my life.”

Snape sighed deeply:

“Alas, it is still this old servant’s failure. Now that Your Majesty is entangled by the Angrion wolves, even your personal safety cannot be guaranteed!”

Cohen raised an eyebrow:

“Count, do you suspect the Prime Minister was behind this?”

Snape’s expression grew fierce:

“Of course! Who else but them has the power and motive?”

Cohen frowned slightly but did not dwell on the matter, continuing:

“Very well. I will investigate this thoroughly. I came here tonight with a matter to entrust to you.”

Snape quickly replied:

“Please, Your Majesty.”

Cohen said:

“After today’s council, I understand that without preparation, my assumption of power will be indefinitely delayed. I need to secretly gather strength.”

Snape responded immediately:

“Your Majesty, rest assured. I have several capable subordinates who can help recruit allies outside.”

Cohen waved him off:

“Count, you are one of the few loyalists left. Many eyes watch you inside and outside the capital. If you show yourself, it will not be long before you are framed for treason.”

Snape sighed:

“Your Majesty’s foresight is as always thorough.”

Cohen continued:

“This kind of work is best not delegated. I will handle it personally. I came to you because I need something from your mansion.”

Snape urged:

“Speak, Your Majesty!”

“The black-veined mask your father bestowed upon you.”

Snape pondered:

“The black-veined mask is a legendary magical artifact. It can conceal one’s aura and alter the voice. Surely Your Majesty intends to use it to hide your identity and build your power personally?”

Cohen nodded. Seeing Snape about to speak again, he cut him off:

“Count, do not worry. I have my plans. Besides, the fact that I was able to come here silently from the palace already speaks volumes.”

Snape’s expression shifted to realization. Seeing Cohen’s resolve, he ceased his objections.

Soon, Snape brought forth a jet-black mask etched with strange dark veins.

Cohen donned it, and his aura vanished instantly.

Snape stood nearby, explaining:

“The mask’s design and color can be changed at will.”

Cohen nodded slightly, concentrating. The black-veined mask transformed into an ordinary silver one.

This way, no one would associate it with the black-veined mask.

Cohen continued:

“Also, I need some absolutely trusted confidants within the palace to cover for me when I leave the court on errands.”

Snape nodded:

“No problem. I served as Master of the Palace for thirty years. Several guardsmen within the palace are my own nephews and can be trusted completely.”

“Furthermore, rest assured, there remain many loyal ministers devoted to the royal family at court. They are silenced only by the power of the Angrion family. I will act as a mediator to rally them and help you amass strength in the council!”

Cohen nodded in satisfaction. As he prepared to leave, he instructed:

“Do not press too hard at court, and do not recklessly confront the Angrions. Those who govern a nation must first safeguard themselves.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”