The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character-Chapter 48: Servant Cedric (14). The Firstborn’s Dagger

“...Still gaudy enough to make me sick.”

Staring at the Marquess of Redvell’s estate—the Redvell family’s ancestral home—Claudia furrowed her brows.

She’d spent over a decade of her life here before being appointed as the Lord of Eched, but returning to this place always left her feeling uneasy.

Not because it was filled with painful memories.

On the contrary—it was because she had too many happy ones.

Back when her mother was alive...

When the Marquess of Redvell had acted like a "good father," and she'd believed it was genuine... remembering those times only made her current self feel hollow by comparison.

She stood outside for quite a while, unable to bring herself to go in, simply staring at the estate.

“What a spacious residence. It must be rewarding to manage something like this.”

A casual remark, light in tone—unclear if it was sincere or teasing.

The moment Claudia heard Cedric’s voice, her feet—frozen like they were glued to the ground—felt suddenly light.

She curled her lips into a smirk and replied,

“You’re probably the only servant in the world who’d dare to call the mighty Redvell estate merely ‘spacious.’ The property alone rivals the royal family’s.”

“Considering you’re destined to stand somewhere far greater and grander than this, it’s only natural that I, your servant, should share that mindset.”

“Talks a good game. Always has.”

Her tone was grumbling, but her mood had visibly lifted.

Yes.

She wasn’t the same Claudia she had once been.

She wasn’t that sullen child heartbroken over the lie of her father’s affection. She was here now as a lord with real accomplishments and reputation.

Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, she stepped boldly into the estate.

Inside, Claudia found two people who had arrived before her. Upon seeing them, she greeted them with a nasty smile.

“Long time no see, Mira. Ervin.”

The well-built young man with a muscular frame twisted his face in displeasure, and the noblewoman clad in an unmistakably expensive dress did the same.

“I’m your older brother. How many times do I have to tell you to show some respect, Claudia?”

“Honestly. Must you make it so obvious you were raised without proper manners and drag the family name through the dirt?”

“Respect? Tarnishing the family name?”

Claudia let out a scoffing laugh, completely unfazed by their scolding.

As if their words were utterly beneath her.

“Do you want the entire kingdom to find out who really doesn’t understand respect and who’s really staining the family name?”

At her ominous words, the two siblings’ eyes flickered for just a moment.

But they were nobles who had long learned to breathe the politics of high society.

Mira responded with a cool expression,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wasn’t it you who’s done the most to disgrace the Redvell name?”

With her tone and face showing nothing but polite confusion, no one would suspect she was the one who had sent assassins after her half-sister.

Ervin backed her up without missing a beat.

“I’d heard you’ve been doing decently as a lord lately, so I expected a little more. But I see that unruly nature still hasn’t left you. Have you no shame?”

Their shamelessness could’ve been called bold—but in truth, they had their own calculations.

She’s bluffing. We sent in overwhelming force—there’s no way she managed to capture them alive.

The ones we used are all tight-lipped. They won’t talk. Even if they did, if we admit anything now, we’re done. Deny everything, no matter what!

They weren’t entirely wrong.

In noble society, truth mattered little, and right and wrong could flip at any moment.

If Claudia had truly secured witnesses and wielded that as leverage, the siblings would have to brace for losses. But that would also mean she needed something from them—and she’d have to leave room to negotiate.

But there was one thing they had misjudged.

Claudia had never been a particularly "political" noblewoman.

“Oh, is that so?”

Claudia narrowed her eyes at their shameless behavior, then snapped open her fan and covered her mouth before ordering,

“Bring them in. The ones we loaded into the carriage.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Several servants who had followed Claudia turned and exited the room.

The siblings looked puzzled at first, not understanding what she was doing—until they saw what the servants were carrying back in.

Men slung over shoulders, tightly bound like silkworm larvae, limp as if all resistance had long since fled their bodies.

They glanced around nervously—until their eyes met those of Ervin and Mira. Then, heads lowered in shame.

The siblings froze, stunned.

They had never imagined Claudia would bring the assassins to the main house.

Claudia turned to them and declared,

“I figured these guys were probably connected to you two, so I wanted to have a little chat. But if you don’t recognize them, I guess there’s no helping it. I’ll just have to put them to other use.”

“O-Other use?”

“I’ll take them to Father. Tell him these men dared to attack a Redvell blood relative. That we must get to the bottom of who’s behind it. He’s far more experienced with that kind of thing than I am—don’t you think? Hmm?”

The siblings couldn’t get a word out.

They couldn’t let these men end up in the Marquess’s hands.

If he got them to talk—and he would—their plot would be fully exposed.

But they couldn’t protect them either.

Trying to take them back now would be no different than openly admitting guilt.

That insane bitch...!

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

She’s flat-out blackmailing us in broad daylight!?

There was no refined backroom negotiation here.

Just raw, in-your-face coercion—“Too bad, choke on it”—delivered without shame.

For all their experience, the siblings couldn’t keep up.

Who else would ever dare corner Redvell children like this?

“Well, seems you’ve got nothing more to say. I’ll be off then. Later—if there’s anything worth seeing.”

“W-Wait! Claudia!”

“Y-You’ve got it all wrong! Let’s talk! We need to talk!”

In the end, they had no choice but to swallow their pride and cling to Claudia.

They chose the lesser evil to avoid the worst-case °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° scenario.

And the display didn’t go unnoticed by the household retainers.

...That’s basically a submission. It won’t be the talk of the capital or anything, but with this many eyes on it, everyone in the house will know.

Crude as hell, but incredibly effective. Even a tyrannical personality can become a weapon if used right.

The retainers of the Redvell family—pillars of one of the kingdom’s most powerful houses—were not mere flunkies. They wielded influence and insight of their own.

They wouldn’t openly comment on the heir competition, not with the Marquess’s distaste for disobedience. But their thoughts couldn’t be suppressed.

And in their judgment, Claudia had just effectively pushed both Ervin and Mira down the family’s internal hierarchy.

They had paid the price for trying to play off a failed assassination like nothing had happened.

“Haha, I thought I heard a commotion. So this is where everyone was.”

Of course, that didn’t mean Claudia had claimed the highest seat within the Redvell family.

The Marquess himself was a separate matter altogether—but within the family, there still existed one solid second-in-command who could treat the likes of Ervin and Mira as mere afterthoughts.

Armin Redvell—the firstborn son with a gentle face and noble demeanor.

He approached them with an air of complete ignorance to the tense atmosphere and greeted them cheerfully.

Ervin and Mira, who had been visibly upset, softened slightly at his presence, while Claudia’s face immediately twisted in displeasure.

“It’s been a while, little sister. I’ve heard news of you often, but nothing compares to hearing it from you directly. Have you been well?”

“...More or less.”

“That’s a relief. It puts this older brother’s worries to rest.”

Despite her clipped response, Armin kept smiling, undeterred.

His gaze was warm, like one would use with an unruly child.

The household retainers saw in him the image of a kind, broad-minded heir—but Claudia did not.

“Slippery bastard.”

Unlike the second and third siblings, Armin had never openly shown her hostility or mistreated her.

In fact, he had even intervened a few times to rein in Ervin and Mira when they went too far.

And yet, Claudia didn’t trust him in the slightest.

Not from logic, but from instinct.

Every time she looked at Armin, she couldn’t help but recall the Marquess of Redvell—the man with a mask of warmth and dignity—especially as he had been during her mother’s lifetime.

Flowing smoothly past the tension, Armin shifted his gaze to the bound assassins.

“You brought those men?”

“I did.”

“I’m not sure what for, but bringing such people into the lord’s residence, where Father stays, doesn’t seem proper. It’d be better to keep them outside and request permission before bringing them in again.”

“What if they disappear or get silenced while they’re outside?”

“This is Redvell land. Anyone pulling something like that here would be defying Father himself. They’d surely pay the price.”

It sounded like a simple statement of protocol—or maybe a veiled warning.

Ervin and Mira’s eyes visibly trembled, likely taking it as the latter.

Claudia saw their reaction and gave a slight nod.

With such words spoken publicly, they wouldn’t dare attempt to silence the witnesses now. And if they did... well, that would make for a convenient excuse.

“Take them back.”

She gave the order to the servants, and then met Cedric’s gaze.

Seeing him carry out the task calmly and without question reassured her that she had made the right decision.

Armin, watching the exchange with a faint smile, spoke again with his ever-gentle tone.

“Well then, shall we head to the dining hall? Father said he’ll join us a bit later, so we may as well begin without him.”

***

The cuisine at the Redvell estate was of the highest quality.

The Marquess, though shrewd enough to be called a merchant noble, wasn’t a miser obsessed with hoarding wealth.

Fine bedding, exquisite clothing, gourmet food.

He spared no expense when it came to daily comfort and indulgence—and the dining table was a clear testament to that.

It was overflowing with colorful dishes made from the finest ingredients.

And yet, Claudia found none of it appetizing.

“Even Cedric’s cooking—no, even the head chef’s—is better than this.”

If she were to judge by ingredient quality or chef skill alone, the main house would win hands down.

But no matter how delicious the food, it would always taste sour when eaten at a table with people you’d rather not even look at.

“Ervin. I heard your wife is expecting your second child. How is her condition?”

“She’s doing well, thanks to the medicinal herbs you sent. She also asked me to pass on her gratitude.”

“Haha, no need for that over something so small. Mira, I heard you’ve been spending time with the Countess of Rudiole?”

“Yes, brother. I’ve been learning a lot as her junior in society.”

“She was once called the queen of Birka’s social scene. Do be careful not to offend her. If you ever need anything, just ask.”

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The clinking of silverware and the gentle murmur of conversation filled the table.

As she sliced into a chicken steak—said to be from birds raised on grains too expensive for commoners to even touch—Claudia found herself thoroughly disgusted with this farce.

The Marquess probably wasn’t even going to show up. Should she just finish quickly and leave?

She was still mulling it over when Armin, in his usual calm tone, as if commenting on the weather, suddenly spoke.

“Oh, right. Claudia. I heard the royal family would like to arrange a marriage for you. What do you think?”

“...What?”

The words were so unexpected that Claudia’s mind took a few seconds to even process them.

As she stared at him, speechless, Armin continued.

“I’m sure you know I frequently speak with His Highness, the Second Prince. When he heard you were still unmarried—not even engaged—he let out a deep sigh. Said he’d been so focused on governing the kingdom that he’d been neglectful toward you, his own family.”

Family? Who?

The same royal family that had sent her mother into this wretched house with barely any dowry and just a few servants?

Claudia’s face grew colder and colder, but Armin remained as warm and composed as ever.

“Of course, in noble families, marriages are typically arranged by the elders. Father was also pleased when the royal family personally offered to oversee the match. His Highness was quite enthusiastic. He swore he’d find you the perfect husband. You can look forward to it.”

Claudia’s patience snapped right then and there.

CRASH!

“Kyah!”

“Claudia! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Claudia had slammed her foot against one leg of the dining table as she stood, sending plates clattering and sauces splattering across the table—some of which hit Ervin and Mira.

But she paid them no mind.

Her gaze locked on Armin as she shouted,

“Who do you think you are—who do you think any of you are—to decide my marriage without asking me?!”

Armin, calmly brushing salad dressing from his sleeve, spoke to her like a child throwing a tantrum.

“That’s how noble marriages work. It was the same for me, for Ervin, for Mira. It’s simply your turn now. Why raise your voice over it?”

“I refuse! You think I’ll just let you drag me into some marriage you arranged like it’s nothing!?”

Each syllable she forced out was soaked in fury and anguish.

Why had she worked so hard?

Why had she tried to change her image, govern her territory properly, stack up accomplishment after accomplishment?

It was all to avoid being sold off like a product, just as her mother had been.

She had finally reached the point where even the Marquess seemed ready to recognize her—she had prepared herself for negotiations.

And now this? Not even a word from him directly—just a message delivered through his precious eldest son?

She couldn’t accept that.

And Armin, with that same infuriatingly pleasant smile, offered a final pronouncement.

“You seem to misunderstand something, little sister. It’s not Father or I arranging this marriage. It’s the royal family.”

He didn’t need to say anything more.

But Claudia heard the rest of the sentence loud and clear.

—Or what? You think you can defy the royal family all on your own?

Only then did it hit her.

While the second and third siblings had resorted to crude assassination attempts, Armin had dealt her a blow far more lethal—calculated, quiet, and devastating.

When the royal family “requests,” it isn’t a request—it’s a command.

And when they show “goodwill,” it isn’t kindness—it’s coercion.

If the Second Prince offered to arrange her marriage as a “favor,” and Claudia rejected it or caused the engagement to collapse, it would be seen as an insult to the crown.

The royal family, internal strife or not, was still the sovereign power of the realm.

A mere lord like her had no way to refuse.

Her face was blank with shock.

And in that moment, she thought of the one person who could always resolve any problem, no matter how impossible.

The one likely waiting quietly in the servant’s room.

...Cedric. What do I do now?