Reincarnated as the Crown Prince
Chapter 21: So They Are Challenging Me Huh?

Chapter 21: So They Are Challenging Me Huh?

The hall towards the King’s bedchamber of the royal palace was quiet except for the low sound of rain tapping on the windows. The air smelled of rain-soaked stone and fresh ink. Crown Regent Lancelot walked down the long hallway, hands behind his back, boots echoing against polished tiles. He had been up since dawn, reading reports and signing off on orders, but now he had one more task before facing the day’s real battle.

Two royal guards in crimson stood outside the doors to the King’s chambers. They straightened the moment he approached.

"Is he awake?" Lancelot asked.

"Yes, Your Highness. Doctor Salvatierra is already inside."

Lancelot gave a brief nod and entered the room.

The scent of herbs and alcohol lingered in the warm air. Logs crackled in the fireplace, trying to push back the dampness. King Edric was sitting upright in bed, his frame thinner than before but no longer frail. His skin still looked pale, but his cheeks had regained some color. Across the room, Doctor Salvatierra was bent over a side table, checking a leather-bound case of vials and paper notes.

"Doctor," Lancelot greeted.

Salvatierra looked up and smiled faintly. "Good morning, Your Highness. The King’s fever has lowered again. The Streptomycin continues to help. He has responded well—less coughing, deeper sleep, and some appetite returned."

Lancelot stepped closer to the bed. "That’s encouraging."

Salvatierra nodded. "We’ve combined the antibiotic with liver extract and warm vapor therapy. His strength is still low, but he’s improving."

"I’m right here, you know," King Edric muttered, forcing a grin. "No need to speak around me like I’m already buried."

Lancelot chuckled under his breath. "Just making sure you know we’re doing everything we can."

The King waved a hand. "Let him speak freely, Lancelot. The man’s keeping me alive, after all."

Salvatierra smiled, bowed, and excused himself from the room. The door closed softly behind him.

Lancelot sat on a cushioned chair beside the bed and leaned forward slightly.

"I won’t waste time. There’s news."

Edric raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. The nobility is furious."

"Yes."

"That didn’t take long."

Lancelot pulled a small folder from his coat and handed it to his father. Inside were copies of the latest proclamations: the Royal Audit, the Crown Nationalization Act, and the framework of the Aragon Modern Tax Act.

King Edric glanced through them slowly, then sighed. "I knew you were planning reforms. But this—this is not just policy. This is a direct hit to centuries of tradition."

"I know," Lancelot said plainly.

"You’ve declared war on the nobility."

"No," Lancelot said. "I’ve declared independence from them."

Edric closed the folder and laid it on his lap. "And the Church?"

"They’re next. A light levy, disguised as a moral contribution. Nothing too aggressive. Not yet."

Edric rubbed his temples. "Lancelot, I understand the vision. But vision without caution becomes blindness. You’re pushing fast. Too fast."

Lancelot sat back in his chair. "That’s the point. If we give them time, they’ll strike first. I’d rather they act in response to me, not the other way around."

The King sighed. "You’ve grown colder since taking the regency."

"I’ve grown realistic."

For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the soft patter of rain.

Then came a knock.

Alicia Viremont stepped in without waiting for a reply, her coat still damp from the outside and her gloves tucked under one arm.

"Your Majesty. Your Highness," she said, bowing. "Apologies for interrupting, but this can’t wait."

Lancelot straightened. "Go ahead."

"The Council of State has formally summoned you to appear before them at noon. Figueres, Reynard, and several others are already gathered. They’re calling this an emergency assembly."

"Do they mention the reason?"

"They’re demanding a personal explanation for the audit and the economic decrees. According to the letter, they intend to ’evaluate the Regent’s judgment and direction.’"

Lancelot’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw tensed slightly. "They want to put me on trial in the court of influence."

King Edric let out a low chuckle. "They want to see if you’ll sweat under pressure. They miss the old days—when kings trembled at the sound of their names."

"They’ll be disappointed," Lancelot said.

Alicia hesitated. "There’s more. Word is, they’re planning to petition for a vote to limit your authority. Possibly reinstate shared financial oversight under the old charter."

Lancelot scoffed. "They want the fox to guard the henhouse."

He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the palace courtyard where guards were changing shifts under the gray sky. "Fine. Let them try. Prepare the royal carriage. I’ll wear the formal sash and the Regent’s sword."

"I’ll see to it," Alicia said and turned to leave.

"Wait," Edric said. "Bring Monforte with you."

Lancelot looked back. "Already planned."

Edric nodded. "Good. He’s sharp, and they respect him. At least enough not to draw blades."

Lancelot walked over and placed a hand on the edge of the bed.

"I’ll return after the session. Hopefully with peace. Possibly with a fight."

Edric gave him a tired smile. "Just return with your head intact."

"They won’t do something as careless as that, father," Lancelot smiled.