The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary
Chapter 33: Arthur of Aurenfeld

Chapter 33: Arthur of Aurenfeld

52 years ago, a great war broke out.

The Verenze Kingdom launched a brutal invasion into the lands of their neighbor, the Kingdom of Aurenfeld.

Caught off guard, Aurenfeld struggled to respond quickly enough to the sudden onslaught at its border. Their defenses, though solid, weren’t prepared for such an ambitious assault.

But even before the invasion began in earnest, danger had already slipped past their walls, hiding in plain sight within the royal palace.

At the time, Crown Prince Arthur Aurenfeld was only eighteen years old.

The kingdom’s ruling monarch, his father, lay bedridden, his body deteriorating from a powerful poison slipped into his meals. The act was carried out by a Verenzian spy who had been living among the palace staff for months, posing as one of them.

Thanks to a long-standing Aurenfeldian tradition that kept the identities of all royal heirs strictly confidential until their official public Descent, Arthur’s life was saved.

When the Verenzian assassins finally acted to eliminate the royal family, he was not among the publicly known royals. He survived the attempt. But his mother did not. His father was barely clinging to life.

In the quiet, suffocating darkness of the king’s bedchamber, Arthur knelt beside the dying man.

"My son..." the king rasped, his trembling fingers reaching weakly toward him.

Arthur took his father’s hand and held it tightly, his own hands firm but cold.

"Please say no more, Father," Arthur said, voice low, his expression carved from steel. "I swear... I will avenge our family."

His glare was fierce, sharp with fury and sharpened by grief. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only the unwavering promise of vengeance.

Arthur’s public Descent followed swiftly after.

The entire kingdom watched as the true crown prince stepped forward for the first time. And though he bore the poise of royalty, there was something unmistakable in his gaze. Something dangerous.

It wasn’t the blank calm of politics or the empty charm of court. It was cold fire. A young man who had buried his mother, watched his father wither in agony, and seen his people bleed.

From the time he could walk, Arthur had been trained in secret. He studied not only swordsmanship and diplomacy but also the lives of ordinary people: laborers, soldiers, tradesmen.

He had lived among the citizens of his country, taken up every task from farming to metalwork, and served quietly in border patrols and noble households under false names. All of it was meant to shape his mind and body, to build strength not just in arms, but in spirit.

By the time he donned the royal crest and took the reins of the army, he was more than a prince. He was a warrior forged by life itself.

He led thousands of trained soldiers into battle, not from the backlines, but the front.

His presence turned wavering hearts into unshakable loyalty.

By his side stood his closest companion, Francis Wittelsbach, a nobleman from a reputable viscount family.

Together, the two men earned renown among the troops for their coordination and bravery. Francis, with his sharp wit and unparalleled command over cavalry, became Arthur’s right hand.

They fought through ambushes, sabotage, and shifting terrain, holding the Verenzian army back from key strongholds.

A year passed. Then two. Still, neither side showed signs of yielding. The war ground on, vicious and unrelenting.

In the third year, the tide began to turn.

The Aurenfeld army, through tireless effort and strategic brilliance, broke through the Verenzian front lines in the southern region.

The soldiers pushed deep into enemy territory, advancing through Verenzian towns and securing key strongholds. It was the first major victory that hinted the war might one day end.

But just as hope began to bloom, tragedy struck again.

In the fourth year of war, a message arrived. The king’s long decline had reached its final stages. Arthur was told to prepare for the worst.

He received the news while stationed at the southern command post.

His breath caught as he read the letter. His eyes scanned the words once, then again. The paper trembled in his hand.

One month later, another letter arrived.

The king had passed away.

Arthur stared at the seal on the envelope, the royal crest now symbolizing a final farewell.

He crumpled the parchment tightly in his fist.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, reaching his lips, as his shoulders began to shake.

From the cold, unwavering look in the prince’s eyes, they could see it. He would see his vengeance through and claim victory for the sake of those he’d lost.

And he did.

After five long years of war, the Kingdom of Aurenfeld finally claimed victory.

Arthur Aurenfeld, now a living legend on the battlefield, stood tall amidst the ruins of Verenze’s royal palace. His sword, still stained with blood, gleamed under the smoke-gray sky as he raised the severed head of King Esteban before the gathered Aurenfeldian army.

The fallen king’s body slumped upon the once-magnificent throne he had clung to so greedily.

With Esteban’s head gripped firmly in one hand, Arthur stood unshaken. The cheers of his soldiers erupted like thunder, echoing across the ravaged capital. Many wept, some out of sheer joy, others for the countless comrades who had fallen along the way.

Arthur didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The sight of their victorious commander holding their enemy’s king was declaration enough.

When he returned to Aurenfeld, he brought with him not only victory, but a reshaped continent. Every region previously held by Verenze was now claimed under Aurenfeld’s rule.

To his surprise, the Verenzian citizens did not rebel.

In truth, they had little love left for their former king.

Esteban had been a ruler bloated by ambition, a man obsessed with expanding his dominion at the expense of his own people’s wellbeing. He taxed them heavily, conscripted their sons endlessly, and let corruption rot his kingdom from the inside out.

Arthur’s conquest, though born in blood, felt more like liberation to many.

As for the Verenzian nobility, their titles were stripped.

Every last one.

They were offered a choice: live as commoners or die with their former crowns.

Those who had actively supported the war, led campaigns, or funded Esteban’s tyranny were promptly executed.

The only ones spared were neutral nobles or Verenzian loyalists who had renounced their ties and sworn absolute fealty to Aurenfeld. Many now lived quiet lives far from court, humbled, tolerated, and carefully watched.

At the age of twenty-three, Arthur officially ascended to the throne.

With Verenze now under his banner, Aurenfeld’s territory stretched farther than any ruler before him. It marked the beginning of a new imperial era, recorded in history as the grandest expansion the continent had ever seen.

But victory came with a heavy cost.

The land was vast, but fractured. Reconstruction was slow. The economy staggered. Displaced citizens needed shelter. Trade routes had to be re-established. Crops had to be grown.

Arthur didn’t rest.

For ten long years, he worked tirelessly to stabilize the empire.

The chaos left behind by war didn’t simply vanish with a crown. It lingered, embedded in the roads, the homes, and the hearts of the people.

He delegated carefully, enacted new laws, established local councils, and reformed tax structures.

Only after a decade did the empire begin to settle into something resembling peace. It still wasn’t entirely stable, but for the first time in years, Arthur could breathe.

And it was only then that he could no longer avoid the topic he had pushed away for so long.

Marriage.

The noble houses had long urged him to take a wife, to secure the imperial bloodline, but Arthur had always found a reason to delay.

"The empire needs me."

"The economy must be stabilized."

"Now is not the time."

But with the war behind him and the empire finally quieting, he could no longer escape their demands.

Still...

He had already made his choice years ago.

Her name was Adelia.

She was the daughter of one of the empire’s most respected ducal families. Arthur had once served her household in secret during his hidden years before the war, disguised as a simple guard.

Even then, he had admired her for her grace, her wit, and the kindness she showed to everyone regardless of rank.

And even when noble daughters filled the palace halls with sly glances and sweetened words, hoping to steal the emperor’s gaze, Arthur never wavered.

His heart belonged to Adelia.

Their relationship stirred little controversy.

Her status as the daughter of a powerful duke gave her natural standing among the aristocracy. Their marriage was seen as both politically sound and emotionally genuine.

Yet, despite the fanfare of their union... trouble emerged.

Years passed.

And still... no child.

Even after a decade of marriage, the imperial couple remained without an heir.

The noble houses grew restless once more. Whispers crept through court. Some suggested Arthur take a concubine, urging him to secure the bloodline before it was too late.

But Arthur did something no ruler before him had dared.

He declared monogamy.

A law.

One empress. One marriage. No concubines. No exceptions.

It shocked the court. But none dared challenge it openly. His authority was absolute, and his love for Adelia undeniable.

It wasn’t until their thirteenth year of marriage that a miracle finally happened.

After twelve long years of hope and heartbreak... Adelia conceived.

And months later, the first heir to Emperor Arthur Aurenfeld was born into the world.

A healthy baby boy.

And of course, aside from the news of his birth, nothing else was revealed.

Just like Arthur once had been, the child’s identity was kept secret until his public Descent.