The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character

'Claudia rampaging on her own isn't scary, but if she unites with the surrounding lords she's cooperating with and raises her voice, it might get a bit annoying. Maybe I should subtly apply some pressure in the name of the Second Prince.'

'I also need a countermeasure against assassination. If she managed to stop attempts on the second and third sons, it means she has skilled swordsmen guarding her. There's also a chance she might now go for my head in desperation, so I have to protect myself thoroughly.'

'I’ll have to make sure the Redvell family understands the benefits they stand to gain from Claudia’s marriage. If the surrounding houses begin to collectively push for the marriage, then even if Claudia tries to stir up public opinion, she’ll be swept away by the tide.'

Armin Redvell’s political maneuvering was truly meticulous.

Despite Claudia's faction being relatively weaker, he didn't let his guard down ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ and systematically blocked every method and move available to her.

Rather than foolishly deploying his forces in stages like his younger siblings, he aimed for complete control from the beginning—an approach that showed exactly why he'd long since secured his position as the heir of House Redvell.

The only misfortune Armin had was that he judged his opponent within the bounds of common sense.

“Armin Redvell!! You dare stab me in the back!?”

Thus, when the Second Prince stormed into his territory, face flushed red with rage, Armin could do nothing but stand confused.

“Please calm yourself, Your Highness. Backstab? How could I ever commit such a dishonorable act toward you? First, let us speak calmly—”

“Calm? Speak calmly? Do you think I can be calm right now?! Do you even know what that damn Bartholomew said to me!?”

Duke Bartholomew.

Hearing the name of a major figure in Birka’s royal family and a contender for the throne, Armin’s expression hardened slightly.

He immediately sensed that the Second Prince’s fury wasn’t the result of a simple misunderstanding or trivial incident.

And that instinct became reality with the next words out of the Second Prince’s mouth.

“That bastard said to me, ‘Your Highness, I understand you're feeling pressured in many ways, but selling off a child of your own blood for political gain? I can’t help but question your character as a royal.’ Word is spreading throughout the entire royal court that I tried to use my niece to strengthen my political influence!! That wench Claudia is going around with Bartholomew and claiming this whole thing was my scheme!! And you still plan to feign ignorance!?”

“That’s... absurd...”

Armin staggered without realizing it.

His head throbbed as if he’d been struck with a hammer.

'They knew House Redvell was betting on the Second Prince, and still they sided with the royal contender? Are they insane?'

House Redvell and House Sarnos were respectively backing the Second Prince and the royal contender, each pouring tremendous effort into ensuring victory.

The victor would gain immense rewards as the primary contributor to the succession, but the loser would lose just as much.

If the royal contender won, there was no way he’d leave the Redvell family, who supported the Second Prince and obstructed him, unpunished.

Though the Redvell family held such enormous influence that wiping them out instantly would be impossible, if the royal family and House Sarnos—two of the three great powers in the kingdom—joined forces to crush the marquessate, the damage would be unimaginable.

And in that situation, she dares side with the enemy and stab Redvell in the back? Just because she doesn’t want to get married?

‘That... that idiotic wench!! There’s a limit to how immature one can be!!’

Even for someone as meticulous and cautious as Armin—no, precisely because he was that kind of person—he couldn’t have imagined Claudia pulling such a stunt.

Sure, she might avoid immediate danger.

But what then?

If the Second Prince wins, there's no way he'll let Claudia off the hook. And if the royal contender wins, then Claudia becomes politically useless.

Rule House Redvell by turning Claudia into a puppet? Would the retainers ever accept a family traitor so easily?

From the perspective of Armin’s logic and knowledge, Claudia’s move was equivalent to setting her house on fire just because she didn’t like the bugs inside.

It might somehow be bearable during the summer, but come winter, she’d freeze to death in the cold. It was pure self-destruction.

The real issue was that Armin now risked getting dragged into that self-destruction with her.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Please don’t misunderstand, Your Highness! This was Claudia’s unilateral action! This is absolutely not some scheme plotted by our house!”

“You’re telling me that the prestigious Redvell family had no idea a single young lady ran off to meet the royal contender? Do you expect me to believe that? Surely you’re not trying to tell me that you let your intended political marriage piece run off unsupervised?”

“That is...”

Armin gritted his teeth.

He had clearly ordered his subordinates to keep watch over Claudia, but not a single one of them had reported anything—not about this situation, nor about Claudia making any kind of suspicious move.

It was clear proof that no matter how thorough the planning at the top, if the people on the ground didn’t act accordingly, everything was pointless.

Of course, his subordinates had their excuses too.

Was it really their fault that the servant Claudia hired turned out to be someone capable of using illusion magic?

“And even if this was all that wench’s doing, it’s still a problem!! The result is the same—Redvell stabbed me in the back!!”

In a world where collective punishment was the norm.

Whether Claudia acted alone or not, the fact remained that she bore Redvell blood. Armin Redvell could not escape responsibility.

He had unwittingly become the group project leader of the most vile team imaginable—all tied together by blood.

No, in truth, the real team leader was such a powerful figure that no one dared lay a hand on her, so Armin, being the easiest target, was now stuck as the substitute getting all the blame. Which, in a sense, made it even more miserable.

While frantically trying to calm the rampaging Second Prince, Armin seethed inside.

‘Claudia... I’ll repay this humiliation one day...!!’

***

“Hahaha! The way that little brat’s face kept turning red and pale—truly the best entertainment I’ve had in a while!”

The one laughing heartily was a middle-aged man with striking platinum hair streaked with white.

He was a royal prince of the Birka Kingdom, and to Claudia, he was her great-uncle.

Claudia smiled at Duke Bartholomew.

“If I was of any help to Your Highness, I’m glad to hear it.”

“No need for stiff titles like ‘Your Highness.’ Just call me Great-Uncle.”

“Then I’ll call you Great-Uncle, sure.”

“Huh, most would hesitate and try to be humble first, but you snatched it up right away?”

“I guess I’m just a straightforward person.”

“Hahaha! Good, very good! I’m truly relieved you don’t take after that scheming bastard, the Marquess of Redvell!”

Claudia’s behavior was undeniably bold.

Even for someone as brazen as her, she wasn’t so far gone as to speak informally to a royal family member—her great-uncle, no less. So she at least maintained minimal formal speech. But just that much.

And the royal prince seemed to like it, grinning with obvious amusement.

“When my older brother—your grandfather—decided to hand over his niece, meaning your mother, to that snake of a marquess as his second wife, I was deeply unhappy. I told him: ‘Is it really right to dump a child on someone barely older than I am?’ Especially since she was sickly on top of that.”

“Political marriages are a huge nuisance to the ones being sacrificed.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let the same thing happen to you. I’m not some shameless bastard who tries to sell off his own niece.”

Claudia didn’t take the prince’s bold declaration at face value.

He might act like a hearty old man who missed his niece and doted on her daughter, but in truth, he was a cunning politician who didn’t hesitate to scheme or wage political war in pursuit of the throne.

Just look at how he’d dragged Claudia around to testify about the incident—purely as a way to strike the Second Prince.

Sure, he was acting close and friendly now because Claudia was useful. But would he treat her the same way once she outlived her usefulness?

'Well, whatever. I’m using him too, after all.'

Someone like Armin might be frothing at the mouth, calling her a foolish brat, but Claudia thought differently.

Even if she switched sides to support the royal contender, Redvell and the Second Prince’s camp wouldn’t crumble so easily.

The Marquess of Redvell had already raked in plenty of gains.

For the time being, the political fight would drag on in a stalemate, and Claudia’s usefulness wouldn’t wear out for quite a while.

And with just “time,” she believed she could become more than just a political tool—she could be the very key to deciding the throne’s future.

The modified grimoire Cedric had recently gifted her was absurdly powerful.

Even if she abandoned Redvell completely, given enough time, she could raise a new faction strong enough to rival them.

Of course, that didn’t mean she needed to discard what she already had.

“Great-Uncle, I trust you haven’t forgotten that this incident was instigated entirely by the eldest son, Armin, in collusion with the Second Prince. It does not reflect the will of the Redvell house itself.”

“Hmm, since this is a fine opportunity, wouldn’t it be better to strike them both down together? Especially with the Count of Sarnos making a fuss about capitalizing on this.”

“Which leaves a deeper wound: stabbing precisely with the point of the sword, or swinging sideways with the blade? If you try to hit too many spots at once, the force gets dispersed.”

“Ha! You sure have a knack for wrapping up something ruthless in pretty words. Indeed, if the attack targets ‘Armin Redvell’ rather than ‘House Redvell,’ the retainers won’t resist as much.”

“And if that earns you a new supporter, isn’t that good for you too, Great-Uncle? If the only ones backing you are the Sarnos family, you’ll have to keep respecting their opinions even after ascending to the throne. But if your supporters are split between me and Sarnos, you can make them compete for your favor however you like.”

“Hmph.”

At Claudia’s words, the prince twitched an eyebrow.

Though the smile remained on his face, the emotion behind it had shifted.

“I’ll have to take back what I said earlier. You may look like your mother, but that mind of yours definitely carries the blood of that marquess bastard.”

“...Could you please take that back?”

Claudia’s expression twisted with visible disgust.

And at her blunt yet undeniably human reaction, the prince burst into laughter once more.

In the corner of the room where the two were talking—

Cedric, standing in silence like any other servant, wore a pleased expression.

While it was true he’d laid out the basic plan, it had been Claudia who filled in the gaps and improvised brilliantly in the field.

The spoiled noble girl, once considered a nuisance even by her own estate’s servants, had grown enough to now discuss the future with a royal contender.

This happened when only a single week remained until Cedric’s contract would come to an end.