Regressor Of The Fallen Family [EN]: Chapter 227

The words flew through the capital like ice shards: Logan McLane had killed the King.

The rumour spread like wildfire through the capital: the King was dead. The air, already cold, turned icy. If the King could die, anyone could.

Soon, doors and windows stayed shut across the capital. People peeked from behind curtains, afraid to step into the streets. A new, terrifying thought took root: McLane was in charge now.

Everyone wondered: what would McLane do next?

But no one felt the change more deeply than the nobles locked up by McLane’s soldiers.

Peering through their prison bars, the nobles saw a shocking sight. The King’s old ministers, men they knew had suffered in dark dungeons, now walked freely. They laughed and talked, their faces bright with freedom. Soldiers wearing McLane’s flame symbol stood guard everywhere. Only nobles who had supported McLane dared to walk tall in the streets.

Days later, once McLane’s soldiers controlled every corner of the capital, the nobles were summoned. They gathered in the castle’s great hall, the very place where the King had once ruled. Logan McLane stood before them. His words echoed through the silent hall: “Today, we decide the kingdom’s future.”

A cold dread filled the room.

The meeting felt heavy, like a stone on Palman Terrich’s chest. He was an old minister, over seventy years old. Small beads of sweat dotted his forehead. *Am I even well enough to be here?* he wondered. *Maybe I should have stayed in bed, said the prison was still affecting me.* It wasn’t a complete lie. His lower back throbbed, a dull ache that had started in prison. The pressure in the hall made it worse. He straightened his back and stayed seated.

“Most of the nobles here in the capital have said they will obey,” someone announced.

“Most? So, not all?” another voice asked.

“Just a few stubborn ones. Relatives of the King’s old ministers. But McLane is dealing with them. It will be over soon.”

*Even Esperanza has given in,* Palman thought. *Who would be foolish enough to fight McLane now?* McLane was the strongest force in the kingdom. Everyone knew it, even Palman.

“Good,” Logan said. “Let’s talk about the future of Grandia.” He had called himself ‘regent,’ ruling for now until a new king was chosen. He sat in a chair just below the empty throne, the King’s seat. Silence fell like a heavy blanket over the hall. Everyone knew what was coming. This was the moment of truth.

“We need a new King for Grandia,” Logan announced. “Tell me what you think. Speak freely.”

But no one moved. *Of course not,* Palman thought. *Who would dare speak first? One wrong word, and McLane could destroy you.*

But then, Palman felt eyes on him. The other nobles were looking at him, the oldest minister still alive. They expected him to speak. Sighing, Palman stood. *I’ve been to prison already,* he thought. *Surely he won’t kill me.* He was old, he’d lived a long life. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and spoke.

“I have something to say, Lord Logan,” Palman said, his voice a little shaky.

“Lord Palman, please speak,” Logan replied.

Palman’s knees trembled. *I’m too old for this,* he thought. He took another deep breath and said clearly, “Why not find a distant relative of the old King? Someone from the royal family, but not in the direct line of succession. We could make him King.”

A stunned silence filled the hall. Then, whispers broke out.

“Did he just say that?”

“Is he crazy?”

“Maybe he’s right…”

The hall buzzed with noise.

Palman watched Logan closely. When Logan’s eyebrows drew together, Palman felt a chill. When Logan gave a small, quick smile, Palman felt a tiny bit of hope. *I just said the obvious thing,* he thought. But the air felt wrong, tense. Then, Logan spoke. “Hmm. A possible idea. Anyone else?” Logan nodded, his face showing nothing. Palman let out a quiet breath. But then, another noble stepped forward.

“Finding a royal relative is messy,” Lord Adam Morgan said. “Who has the best claim? It will cause more problems than it solves.”

Adam Morgan was a younger minister, who had joined McLane recently. Now, all eyes turned to him.

*Who is this guy?* Palman wondered, watching Adam Morgan. The young minister spoke clearly, “Wouldn’t it be best if Lord Logan became the new King? Started a new royal line?” Silence crashed down in the hall. A heavy, tense silence. Everyone had thought of it, but no one dared say it aloud. Adam Morgan had just spoken the unspoken. *Is he brave? Or just foolish? Or is this planned?* Palman’s old mind raced. McLane had killed the King. Of course, he wanted the throne. Maybe Adam Morgan was speaking for McLane. Palman glanced at Logan, then at the other nobles. Count Roberts Floyd then spoke, his voice smooth.

“I agree with Lord Adam,” he said.

All eyes snapped to Roberts.

“The old royal family has failed us,” Roberts continued. “It’s time for a new beginning. Lord Logan, ‘Grandia’s Star,’ should lead us into a new age.”

Roberts bowed, and the hall erupted in noise again.

“But the royal family has ruled for a thousand years!” one noble argued. “We should find a relative, even a distant one. Logan can rule for him, as regent, if needed.”

“Why bother?” another retorted. “It’s easier if Logan just rules directly! What if a weak king causes trouble again, like the last one?”

“Logan as regent can handle that!”

“Exactly! So why find a new king at all?”

The hall buzzed with argument. Palman saw Roberts Floyd smirk. *This is all planned,* Palman thought. *They want to make it look like the nobles want McLane as king.* He felt a pang of bitterness. He was just watching, not part of the real discussion. Even though he had supported McLane, he was ignored. *I’m done,* he decided. *It’s time to retire.* The tension of the meeting had turned into a cold, heavy sadness in his heart.

“Enough!” Logan’s voice cut through the noise. He slammed his hand on the table, twice. Silence fell instantly. Logan’s face was hard. “This is not the time to fight over who should be king! You can’t agree, so we will decide later, when the kingdom is calmer.”

The meeting was over.

But Adam Morgan spoke up quickly.

“Lord Logan! We can’t wait! The kingdom needs a king now!” Adam Morgan, the young minister, looked at Logan, still confident. But then, Digrom, the leader of McLane’s knights, stepped forward. His voice was like ice.

“Lord Adam. Did you not hear Lord Logan?” Logan nodded, his face set. Adam Morgan’s face paled. He bowed quickly.

“No, Lord. I… I apologize.”

The question of the king was put aside. The meeting ended.

Right after the meeting, Adam Morgan and the younger nobles started working. They went from noble to noble, with papers in hand. *Lord Logan McLane, Grandia’s Star! He must be our King! Only he can save Grandia!* The message spread quickly through the capital, then to the rest of the kingdom. People started to say, “The McLane era has begun.” Around this time…

A message arrived for Logan, making his mood darken. “The Sword Master is in the capital now. They fixed his worst wounds.”

“…Is he awake?” Logan asked.

“The doctors say he’s still unconscious.”

“…I see,” Logan said quietly. “Take him to the safest place.”

“Yes, Lord.”

*Safest place,* Logan thought, a bitter smile touching his lips. The Sword Master, who had fought *against* Logan, was now Logan’s prisoner. The ‘safest place’ for a prisoner was still prison, even if it was a nicer one.

“Let Esperanza visit him whenever she wants,” Logan said. “And tell me the moment he wakes up.”

“Yes, Lord.”

After the knight left, Logan sighed and stared out the window, lost in thought. Finally, he seemed to make a decision. He sent for Clayton, the kingdom’s Archmage, the most powerful magic user in Grandia. Clayton arrived at the King’s office.

“You called for me, Lord Logan?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “Something is still bothering me.”

“Yes, Lord?”

“I thought I had control of the kingdom, but there are still powerful groups outside my reach.”

Clayton looked confused. *Groups that would defy McLane? In Grandia?* he wondered. *Why is Logan telling me this?* He hesitated, unsure how to answer. Logan continued, “I mean the Magic Towers. The Magic Towers.”

“Ah…” Clayton said, understanding dawning.

“We need to bring the Magic Towers under control,” Logan said. “All of them.”

“But… the Magic Towers have always stayed out of politics. It’s tradition.”

“Traditions can change,” Logan said firmly.

“But… even so…” Clayton looked worried.

“We’ll start with the Earth Magic Tower,” Logan said.

Clayton’s eyes widened.

“…That’s… actually a good idea, Lord Logan,” Clayton said, his voice changing completely. “Yes, I will lead the way!” Clayton’s sudden eagerness surprised Logan. Logan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. *Clayton has been waiting for this,* Logan realized.