Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 55: Your Highness, The Price Must Go Up

Swordbearers.

It was an ancient term—so ancient that neither nobles nor commoners among the younger generation of the Empire had ever heard of it.

But for Xia Ya, an archaeologist who had spent half his life buried in ancient ruins and the Grand Library, the term was far from unfamiliar.

The Fresta Empire had risen to power through the Eight Oathbound Families, yet it was also shackled by them.

In the early days of the Empire, the alliance between the Oathbound Families and the Imperial Family had been solid.

However, as time passed, while some families may have remained true to their original vows—

Most had changed.

Be it in his past life or this one, human nature was the most unreliable thing of all.

The thirst for power, the fantasy of immortality, the ambition for dominance, the unwillingness to remain beneath others, the influence of foreign forces…

Some motives were justifiable. Others were driven by pure self-interest.

But regardless, the seeds of rebellion had already been sown from the moment the Empire was founded.

With the ebb and flow of national strength and the arrival of external threats, these seeds began to sprout, growing into sturdy branches that cracked the once-mighty structure known as the Fresta Empire.

The Imperial Family had long foreseen this possibility and had prepared countermeasures.

"The crimson blood that guards the Holy City and the pure white sword that upholds justice."

This was an oath etched into the walls of Camelot—a pact sealed at the Empire’s founding.

The Crimson Blood represented the Oathbound Families, while the Pure White Sword represented the Swordbearers.

A force equal in status to the Oathbound Families.

As the name implied, they wielded swords and oversaw the realm.

From the lowest barons to the highest nobles, from power-hungry ministers to Transcendent Organizations and Hidden Orders—all fell within their jurisdiction.

They were the Damocles’ Sword that hung above the entire Empire.

As long as this sword remained, the seeds of rebellion could never truly bare their fangs.

But such a blade was bound to draw resentment.

Thus, at a time when both an incompetent emperor and a weak Swordbearer coexisted, the term Swordbearer was erased from history.

Today, the Military Department, the Order Bureau, and even the Imperial Inspectors who monitored the nobles were all remnants of the Swordbearers…

But they were mere shadows of what the Swordbearers had once been.

—

Xia Ya’s gaze swept across Isadella’s face.

This silver-haired princess's ambition was far greater than he had imagined.

Despite her youth, she wasn't content with simply patching up the crumbling Empire and playing the role of a temporary repairman.

What she sought was the Empire’s original glory.

Perhaps even surpassing it.

"First," Xia Ya raised a finger and spoke slowly.

"Your Highness, you are currently still just the Second Imperial Princess."

"I know that many believe you will win the Royal Selection Ceremony."

"But most of those supporters are commoners or mid-to-high-ranking members of the Military Department and the Order Bureau. If we're talking about sheer power, then yes, you are formidable."

"However, when it comes to political influence within the Imperial Capital, you are far from rivaling the high-ranking nobles."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"From what I know, due to some of the iron-blooded methods you’ve displayed in the past—"

"A vast majority of the high nobility within the Imperial Capital consider you an eyesore—a thorn in their flesh."

"And your ideology will never gain the approval of foreign nations or Transcendent Organizations."

"To them, a fractured and unstable Empire is far more beneficial."

Xia Ya gestured toward Diris, drawing a confused look from the girl’s seemingly innocent eyes.

Of course, after having seen her succubus form, Xia Ya no longer believed in that innocence.

"If President Diris’s true identity were to be exposed, Your Highness would immediately become an enemy of the Church."

Isadella simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Xia Ya was stating facts.

She had absolute confidence in herself—in her mindset, her political acumen, and even her Beastmaster talent, all of which far surpassed her competitors.

But there was no denying that, within the Imperial Capital, her support was still limited.

Several Oathbound Families and high nobles had already pledged allegiance to their own chosen candidates, and both the Noble Alliance and the Church would never back her.

"Before the Royal Selection Ceremony is over, placing bets too early comes at a cost—"

Xia Ya waved his hand dismissively.

"And that cost might be steep."

"If a noble with political backing places a bet, even if they lose, it won’t cost them much. There are too many vested interests at play, and even the victor would hesitate to punish them too harshly."

"But for someone like me—a commoner—one misstep and there’s no turning back."

Though Xia Ya’s tone remained respectful, there was an implicit hint of rejection in his words.

This, of course, was something Isadella had anticipated.

As the Second Imperial Princess, she understood how difficult it was to recruit talent.

Based on her intelligence reports, Xia Ya Egut was not someone particularly driven by power or fame.

Or rather, while he did value power, it was only for the practical benefits it brought him—he had no interest in the thrill of ruling.

This meant that the traditional methods used by emperors to recruit capable people—grand promises of power and status—were completely ineffective on him.

"Join me, and we shall rule this Empire together."

"Yeah… but what would I even do with an Empire?"

And thus, yet another legendary tale of an enlightened ruler and his loyal minister ended before it even began.

However, Isadella had come to see Xia Ya in person because she did have leverage.

Ceylan.

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His Winter Flower lineage, the cataclysm that destroyed Ceylan—

And the shadowy presence of the Crimson Rose, the Borgia Family.

Given his past, they shared a common enemy, meaning there was a foundation for cooperation.

After all, the Borgia Family was one of Isadella’s greatest threats in the Imperial Capital.

Even so, she estimated that she had only a fifty percent chance of winning Xia Ya over.

A man who carried such grand ideals—

Who could say how much his past grievances actually mattered to him?

If he truly was a selfless saint—aside from his rather questionable tendencies—then hatred alone might not be enough to sway him.

But just as Isadella was about to play her Ceylan card—

She heard the boy’s voice again.

"So, Your Highness—"

"What I’m saying is—"

"The price must go up."