The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne Chapter 4: Punishment from the Emperor

Nolan and Elina emerged from the throne room gate, moving in a hushed manner.

Strolling slightly ahead, Nolan kept his hands tucked lazily into his trousers.

His lackadaisical posture, combined with that careless smirk, clearly annoyed the gathered princes and princesses.

Elina followed just behind him, her movements flowing with grace, her expression icy and detached.

With her hands held neatly against her lower stomach, her eyes remained locked on the path before her.

It was evident that Elina’s poise was a testament to the Imperial family’s strict etiquette, whereas Nolan’s gait appeared entirely haphazard and indifferent.

The pair navigated past their siblings, halting only a single meter from the stairs leading to the throne.

Giving the hem of her gown a subtle tug, Elina dipped her head in a bow.

"My apologies for the delay, Father," she murmured respectfully.

Ragan offered a slow, slight nod. "Do not worry, Elina. Your siblings only just arrived themselves."

He then shifted his focus to Nolan, who stood there looking bored, and arched a brow.

"Must you remain so informal, my son? Don't you feel compelled to offer an apology for your tardiness?" he inquired icily.

Nolan grinned teasingly while scratching at the side of his head. "Even if I were to apologize, nothing would change. I already know precisely what you are going to say, old man."

Ragan: "..."

A slight twitch manifested at the corner of his mouth as his grip tightened on the armrests.

His gaze grew piercing, and an oppressive, heavy aura began to coalesce around his frame.

Roswell, stationed nearby, moved quickly to intervene. "I beg of you, Your Majesty, keep your temper. Do not let the sixth prince’s antics ruffle your nerves!"

Should Ragan truly lose his composure, the safety of the entire palace would be at risk.

After all, he was a formidable emperor who had brought countless territories under his heel—his power was not something to be trifled with.

Meanwhile, the other members of the royal family eyed Nolan’s lack of decorum with open disdain. Even Elina seemed to share in their disapproval.

"Nolan, are you truly so blind to your own recklessness? Behaving this way before our Father is no different than spitting on the honor of our house," Cedric admonished coldly, his brow furrowing as he adjusted his spectacles.

"Cedric is correct, Nolan," Aldric chimed in, frowning deeply. After crossing his burly arms across his chest, he continued, "Display the dignity befitting a prince. Otherwise, you serve only to bring shame upon the Lorian legacy."

His tone was severe, frigid, and direct—and not a single prince or princess contested his words.

Each of them had been raised in the luminous glory of the Imperial lineage, and Nolan’s attitude was a stain upon the pride they held so dearly.

Nonetheless, two individuals remained unswayed by Aldric’s grandstanding—Elina and Seira.

Elina narrowed her eyes, castigating Aldric and Cedric with a sharp, piercing look.

She prepared to defend him, but Nolan silenced her with a gesture.

"I am well aware," Nolan remarked, sliding his free hand into his pocket while eyeing the brothers with a playful glint. "But tell me, do you really fancy yourselves in a position to lecture me?"

"You..." Aldric and Cedric hissed in annoyance.

Nolan’s grating attitude struck a nerve. They ached to discipline him, but they knew that doing so would constitute a violation of imperial protocol.

"We are your elder brothers. By right, that makes our position clear," Cedric retorted with a sharp edge.

Nolan let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose I cannot argue with the hierarchy. But look around you. Even Father does not seem incensed by my conduct, yet you two are ready to burst. Isn't that quite telling?"

A heavy silence fell over them, leaving them momentarily speechless. They hadn't anticipated being countered so effectively.

As much as it galled them, Nolan’s logic held fast.

The Emperor had yet to show any genuine agitation over Nolan’s slackness, while they had jumped to intervene prematurely.

According to the unwritten mandates of the Imperial family, "All matters are subject to the Emperor’s judgment so long as he is present."

"Enough of this bickering!"

Abruptly, Ragan’s cold, booming voice resonated throughout the throne room, bringing an immediate end to the murmurs.

He turned his gaze toward Nolan, locking him in a steely glare. "Nolan, your insolence is becoming a recurring theme. Have you no fear of my reprisal?"

Nolan offered a faint smile and replied, "Why would I? Besides, your punishments are rarely ever severe. That makes it quite easy for me to maintain my peace of mind."

He perceived his father’s nature with startling clarity—he was stern, formidable, and fierce. Even toward his own blood, Ragan seldom showed mercy.

But that was merely the exterior. Within his heart, he was an affectionate father who held them in high regard.

And how did Nolan come to understand this? Well, ever since the moment of his birth, he had been fully aware, perceiving the nuances of the world around him.

More importantly, his intention for this second lifetime was absolute: to exist without restraint, living lazily and entirely free from the yoke of duty.

To achieve this, he needed to cultivate an image of extreme lethargy and ensure the empire’s elite found him insufferable—the better to ensure no one dared involve him in the messy affairs of the state.

"You..." Ragan gnashed his teeth, his breathing ragged and deep.

Since Nolan was a mere child, this little delinquent had consistently found ways to push him to the brink. And yet, tethered by his paternal love, Ragan simply could not muster the resolve to truly discipline him.

Ragan reflected, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips.

The sight of that smile caused Nolan’s composure to falter. An unsettling intuition warned him that something was amiss.

"Since your stubbornness remains unshaken, I shall punish you by trimming your monthly stipend by fifty percent," Ragan declared with icy finality.

"What!?" Nolan’s eyes widened in horror. "Hold on, old man—I mean, Father! How is that a fair punishment? That goes beyond unreasonable!"

Internally, Nolan was cursing his luck and seething with frustration.

However, Ragan remained impervious to his grievances. "It is my decree, and it is not open for debate!"

"You..." Nolan stood stunned, gritting his teeth in silent agony.

The currency of the Great Empire of Velmora was Sharn. As a prince, Nolan’s monthly allowance sat at ten thousand Sharn. A fifty percent reduction meant he would be left with a mere five thousand!

That was a king's ransom to an average citizen—but for a royal prince, it was a pittance.

Ragan cast a satisfied look at Nolan’s devastated expression.

The other brothers and sisters struggled to contain their snickers. It was a rare sight to see Nolan look so truly shaken, and they could not deny the satisfaction it brought them. The punishment felt entirely deserved.

"Enough. Let us address the primary reason for this gathering," Ragan said, his tone cooling back into total indifference.

Everyone, including Nolan, who was currently receiving a sympathetic pat on the back from Elina, straightened their posture to turn their focus back to their father.

Ragan squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a slow breath, and then opened them once more.

"The reason I have assembled you here is to address a single, critical issue—the question of the imperial succession."