Well, standing in this glittering tomb wasn't going to solve anything. With a long, tired sigh, Naoya, now apparently Zevrius, glanced at the still-shaking gravekeeper.
First things first, he thought. Let's get out of here.
Given the title "Emperor," he couldn't exactly go stomping around without caution.
If his memory was right, Zevrius met his end in the novel at the hands of Kaeshiru Thornecrest, the elder brother of the female lead, Kaelen Thornecrest.
That would mean the story had already reached its conclusion. If so, the empire should now be in the hands of Theron Draymoor, king of the Draymoor Kingdom and the Male Lead.
But then again… the god had mentioned Zevrius died before his destined fate, hadn't he?
"You," Zevrius called out.
The gravekeeper flinched at the single word. "Y-Your Majesty!"
"Hey, relax. I'm not a ghost." Zevrius ruffled his hair in annoyance, though the gravekeeper didn't seem convinced in the slightest.
Ignoring it, Zevrius strolled closer, his golden eyes glinting faintly in the dim, silver-speckled chamber. The gravekeeper kept his gaze glued to the floor, unwilling, or too terrified to meet his eyes.
"What's going on in the empire now?" Zevrius asked, voice calm but probing.
"T-they're going to announce your decease tomorrow, Your Majesty," the gravekeeper stammered.
Zevrius's expression froze. "…Eh?"
The odd reaction made the gravekeeper glance up for the first time, confused. It wasn't exactly an emperor-like response.
"Tomorrow? When did I die, then?"
"Today morning, Your Majesty," came the hesitant reply. The man drew in a long, deliberate breath before speaking again. "Your Majesty… perhaps there is something you regret, or something you left undone in life? Please, enlighten me. As the keeper of the royal grave, I will do my utmost to aid you."
Zevrius blinked. Was this guy pitying him? A moment ago, the man had been cowering like a cornered rabbit, and now he was giving him a heartfelt send-off?
Well, it wasn't like a lowly servant would know much about what was going on in the royal court anyway.
Still… if he had died this morning, shouldn't they have announced it immediately and prepared a mourning ceremony? Instead, they'd shoved him into a casket without any ritual at all.
Actually… that worked in his favor. It meant the majority of people probably didn't even know he was "dead" yet. That made walking out of here a lot less troublesome.
"Haa…" Zevrius ruffled his hair again. "Take me to the castle," he ordered, letting his voice drop into a commanding tone.
The gravekeeper's eyes widened. "E-excuse me, Your Majesty?"
Why does no one ever get it the first time? It was like dealing with slow clients back in the office, only now, it was in a different world. "The castle. Show me the way to the castle."
The poor gravekeeper's face went pale as his lips trembled. His posture stiffened, as though his soul had just ascended to the heavens in pure terror.
Clearly, he was imagining the "vengeful emperor's ghost" marching on the imperial palace to unleash unholy revenge on the living.
"Let's go," Zevrius said, stepping out of the grave chamber.
Beyond the massive double doors stretched a pristine marble corridor, running off in both directions. The floor gleamed white, and the walls were lined with torches, their warm light casting flickering shadows along the polished stone.
If his memory was right, the castle lay above, and the royal graveyard had been built directly beneath the imperial palace. The gravekeeper, unable to defy Zevrius's command, fell in beside him to guide the way.
They walked in silence through the underground passage, their footsteps echoing faintly.
For Zevrius, the quiet was suffocating. He wasn't exactly an introvert back on Earth, and besides, he was desperate to get a handle on the outside situation.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "What's going on outside… with the Draymoor Kingdom, say?" he asked casually.
The gravekeeper glanced at him in surprise. "Your Majesty is asking about Her Majesty the Empress?"
Zevrius tilted his head slightly. The man's face drained of color. "Oh no, I misspoke, Your Majesty!!" He dropped to his knees, trembling. "I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry!!"
This was exactly why Zevrius hated asking questions here, people are going to either faint or beg for their lives. And now he had no idea what the man thought he'd done wrong.
"What did you misspeak?" Zevrius asked bluntly. If he didn't understand, might as well get it straight from the source.
"I… I called the Queen of Draymoor 'Her Majesty the Empress.' I've committed a grave sin, Your Majesty! Please, kill me!!"
"…???" Zevrius blinked.
Queen of Draymoor? That could only mean the female lead, the former Empress of the Aurellion Empire had already married the male lead.
"Haa…" he sighed. "When?"
The gravekeeper, assuming the emperor was interrogating him over his "crime," grew even more terrified. Almost everyone in the empire knew how obsessed Zevrius had been after losing the empress.
"Hey, I asked when," Zevrius said, irritation creeping into his tone. "And get up already, will you?"
The man still didn't lift his head, but his voice shook as he replied, "T-two months ago, Your Majesty."
Zevrius rested his hand under his chin, index finger against his lips. "I see…" he murmured. If the marriage had taken place only two months ago, that meant the story was still in its early mid-arcs.
The revolutionary army wouldn't have fully formed yet, and Theron wouldn't have revealed his ambitions openly.
Which meant… he still had a chance.
A slow, knowing smirk curved across Zevrius's lips.
"Let's go to the castle," he said, "And already get up!"
________________________
"Umm… Your Majesty…" The corridor ended in a wide staircase leading upward, where a massive arched double door loomed. The gravekeeper stopped there, turning back to Zevrius.
"What now?" Zevrius asked, irritation creeping in but kept mostly in check, mostly because he'd already told the man to get up about fifteen times along the way.
The gravekeeper's gaze dropped to the floor, fingers clutching the worn fabric of his shirt. His voice came out low and hesitant. "P-please wait here a bit…"
Zevrius crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I… I will go out and c-call Sir William… and l-let him escort Your Majesty to the castle."
William Blake. Even as Zevrius heard the name, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. The head of the royal knights, loyal to a fault, even to the utter trash that was Zevrius Aurellion. In Naoya's old world, William had been one of his favorite characters in his sister's novel.
"Let's go together then," Zevrius said.
"E-excuse me?"
"We'll go to the training yard. He's usually there around this time, right?"
The gravekeeper still looked like he was marching to his execution, but he nodded. Refusing the emperor, ghost or not, wasn't an option. Strangely, the palace guards didn't seem shocked to see him.
They gave a few curious glances but, upon noticing the gravekeeper, didn't interfere. Perhaps it wasn't unusual for the royal gravekeeper to escort nobles around at odd hours.
Still, the fact that ordinary guards and servants couldn't immediately recognize their own emperor spoke volumes about Zevrius's actual presence in the empire. What a lazy, useless sloth he must have been.
They reached the training ground without incident. The night air was cool, trees whispering in the breeze, and the stars splashed across the dark sky like scattered jewels.
Divine, Zevrius thought, and instantly scowled. Damn that smug little baby god.
They stopped before the guardroom overlooking the training yard. The open space below was empty, oddly so. Normally, even at night, there would be knights drilling or sparring.
"There, Your Majesty," the gravekeeper said, pointing toward a staircase leading down. At the base stood a man in a black shirt and brown trousers, his hands clasped behind his back as he stargazed. The wind brushed through his brown hair, lending him an almost serene dignity.
Zevrius approached slowly, stopping at the top of the stairs to steady himself. He'd thought he was ready for this, but nerves still prickled in his chest. After all, how often did someone get to speak face-to-face with a character from a novel they'd read?
"William," he called in a low but steady voice.
The knight didn't flinch at the sudden address. He turned toward the sound as though he had all the time in the world. His gaze swept over Zevrius, first the regal black attire, then the golden eyes that gleamed faintly in the starlight.
William's brown eyes widened, shock flashing in them. "Y-your…" His breath caught. "What's this…?"