The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne Chapter 646 An Invitation from the Second Prince

The fiasco at the birthday celebration had cast shame over the palace and the royal house alike.

The deaths of those young nobles ignited fury among the common folk and, crucially, within the noble clans themselves.

Noble houses pressed Gulvar hard for answers about the tragedy. As king, he had faltered badly, drawing sharp criticism from every corner.

Left with no alternative, he called an urgent council with his advisors to address the crisis.

"Your Majesty, compensation must be paid. Without it, this grudge could fuel a rebellion someday."

"Sound advice, yet what price tag comes with it? The realm already teeters on the edge. The southern plague has crippled our economy, slashing wheat and crop outputs by almost thirty percent. Squandering the treasury now would spell disaster."

"Then what other path do we take? Got any superior plans?"

A fierce debate broke out among the advisors. Some backed the need for payouts, while others resisted and proposed different fixes.

Gulvar occupied the throne, observing their clash with a stoic face. Inside, turmoil raged through his thoughts.

Last night's horror surpassed his wildest nightmares.

Almost forty young nobles perished, the survivors scarred for life.

Nearly an hour passed after the chaos before he and the guards restored order.

They seized at least ten mercenaries and the corrupted servants involved in the assault.

All faced execution, their servant kin doomed to lifelong bondage serving the crown.

Yet that fell short. Half the slain nobles hailed from ducal, marquisal, and earl lineages.

These heirs held lofty positions—around seventy percent stood as successors to their houses.

The rage of those mighty clans was all too predictable.

Rebellion loomed as a real threat, capable of shattering the kingdom's peace.

"Enough!"

Gulvar pounded the throne's arm. Silence gripped the advisors as they fixed eyes on him.

"I value your concern for this crisis, but my choice stands firm," Gulvar declared gravely. "Compensation it is. Compile their demands, and grant them all. Understood?"

"Your Majesty, this risks the kingdom's health."

The economy minister spoke up fast, his fiercest resistance to draining the realm's coffers clear.

The kingdom's finances hung by a thread; added strain might topple it entirely.

Hunger could ravage the masses, traders abandon ship. Collapse would follow stagnation.

That nightmare haunted him most.

"My word is final, as I stated," Gulvar glared icily. "Obey it without question."

The economy minister quieted, exhaling deeply.

"Very well, Your Majesty. Pardon my boldness."

Gulvar dismissed with a gesture, barking further commands.

In this bind, he demanded perfect obedience from his council.

An hour on, the advisors departed the hall, stranding Gulvar alone on the throne, face etched with gloom.

"Any leads on the mastermind?" he growled lowly.

Alex materialized at his side, kneeling swiftly. "None yet, Your Majesty. The hunt continues. Those villains are sly foxes—wiped every trace from the palace."

Fury boiled in Gulvar at the report, though he merely nodded heavily.

"Understood. Hunt them down at any cost, no matter the toil!"

His gaze froze over with murderous resolve.

***

Two days flew by, royal-noble tensions still simmering unresolved.

Yet glimmers of truce emerged.

Nolan, ever the detached observer, paid it no mind. He lounged atop a limb, eyes shut in mock slumber.

Footsteps neared then, a servant girl approaching.

"Your Highness Nolan, apologies for interrupting your nap. Prince Karakh seeks an audience. Might you come?"

Nolan's lids lifted lazily, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Did he mention the reason?"

The maid offered a sheepish grin. "Afraid not, sorry."

Nolan paused briefly before rising and leaping to ground.

"Lead on," he commanded, hand sliding into his pocket.

The maid bowed and guided him to Karakh, blind to the sly curl on Nolan's mouth.

***

"Seira, forgive me. Open up, please? Let me clear the air—it was all a mix-up. One shot, I beg… Seira!"

Aldrian pleaded, rapping the door. Panic and hopelessness twisted his features.

Seira gave no reply.

"Damn!"

Aldrian smashed the wall, wincing sharply.

Head bowed, fists balled, he stewed.

"What now? Seira sees me as a monster," he grumbled, lost and bitter.

Two days back wasn't deliberate. Killing Seira never crossed his mind. But explanations fell on deaf ears.

Suddenly, that voice echoed in his head again.

"Pathetic, Aldrian. Groveling for a girl. I'd dump her if I were you."

Aldrian's eyes bulged. That same whisper had driven the blade into her unwittingly.

"Shut it!" he barked. "My act was love! Pure love! You're the culprit here! Without your goading, disaster never struck!"

"Hehehe… Blaming me now? I merely suggested. You pulled the strings—your hands, your deeds," it mocked.

"You…"

Anger and shame warred in Aldrian. Truth stung undeniable.

The voice had nudged, nothing more. Yet swallow that? Impossible.

As retort formed, it cut in.

"So devoted? Fine, I'll aid your conquest of her. Deal?"