The council is quiet for a moment under the hard glint in Aspen's eyes.
But as always, the fangs of the mutts who have their loyalties lying elsewhere are bared against Aspen no matter what the emperor says.
A man with a cropped, military crew cut raises his hand from the very end of the table. "If I may, Your Highness. I have a few points I'd like to bring up."
Aspen flicks his hand upward carelessly, watching with well concealed smugness at the brief annoyance flashing across the man's face.
"Viscount Cliden, to whom do I owe the pleasure of having your counsel today?"
Viscount Cliden. His family has been declining for the past few decades because of the previous head's gambling tendencies.
Aspen finds it almost laughable how someone of such background would dare to speak up when his family is teetering precariously on the edge of even further decline.
Still, the Clidens have always held ownership of a cluster of iron mines on their land. They hold considerable influence over council affairs due to their status as one of the country's few sources of iron ore.
Steel produced by their factories supports a good portion of the country's construction industry.
If it weren't for their sizeable debt, their family would have better standing in high society.
It's fairly obvious why the usually passive Clidens have stepped forward now.
Marquess Grisel would never step into the limelight in such a closely monitored meeting. Even the very fact that he had petitioned against the emperor's decision of crown prince was only known to Aspen because of the work of his exceptional secretary.
Aspen sits back against his chair calmly, assessing the marquess out of his peripheral vision.
He's almost disappointed by the lack of reaction from his target. Marquess Grisel simply watches his newly acquired lackey spit out the same words he must have coached him to.
"It is indeed a joyous occasion for Your Highness to be appointed as crown prince. However, I cannot help but be concerned about the emptiness by your side."
The corner of Aspen's mouth curls in irritation as he registers where the topic is taking a turn towards.
"As everyone knows, it is customary for the crown prince to have a spouse by their side to ensure the capability of a throne candidate to continue the royal family's bloodline."
Several people sit up straight in their chairs, their interests piqued by the confrontational subject. Everyone knows that the first prince has long since abhorred the idea of committing himself to a relationship.
Attempts to win Aspen's favour through marriage with the omegas of nobility have always fallen through, and the hopeful gazes of these nobles never fail to turn sour the moment Aspen rejects the topic of engagements.
First Prince Aspen's aversion to the mere idea of marriage has been the talk of high society since his coming of age ceremony.
When he turned twenty, news of his distaste for a partner swept through both the imperial and noble factions, disappointing many who wished to forge a connection with the young prince and intriguing those who secretly desired his downfall.
Many years later, it is still often speculated that the prince's avoidance of marriage ties has a deeper implication.
Some say that he despises all omegas because of how his mother, the late Empress Charlize, abandoned him in a rural town to grow up poor. Others gossip about his preference for non-omega dynamics, and tried hard to bring his reputation down because of that.
Of course, none of them were privy to the truth: that Aspen has already selected his future mate, and that no one will be able to sway his opinion even an inch.
However, there does happen to be another, more malicious story circulating about this matter. And the moment Viscount Cliden opens his slightly smirking mouth, Aspen has already grasped the accusation he is trying to make.
"If I might say so, Your Highness, due to your repeated refusals to arrange even a political marriage with any of the omegas of nobility, I am afraid that there have been unsavoury rumours passed around in high society."
Viscount Cliden's expression dips into one of momentary and fleeting condescension.
"Most unfortunately, the rumours involve talk that you, Your Highness, might be hiding something regarding your ability to...perform, shall I say?"
Aspen's first reaction is to bark out a loud, demeaning laugh.
His voice echoes around the large meeting hall, bouncing against the walls eerily and making everyone shift in their seats uncomfortably.
Viscount Cliden stares at Aspen's violent spasms, his eyes as shocked and round as a startled cat's.
"M-May I know what has amused you so, Your Highness? I do not believe that I have said anything worth finding mirth in."
Aspen's broad shoulders shake from the force of his laughter. He puts his head in one hand, intending to compose himself before he replies.
When he looks up again, it is with a haughty gleam shining in his eyes that he speaks.
"Of all the flaws to bring into this sacred meeting hall, you choose to mention something that the nobles - with their high and mighty gossip columns and dirty whispers that even I, as first prince, cannot keep up with - have been running their mouths about?"
Viscount Cliden's face drops into one of disbelief. "E-Excuse me? Your Highness, this is no laughing matter-" he stammers, but is immediately cut off by Aspen.
"Viscount Cliden. If this is your idea of concern, I certainly would like to see what contempt means to you. Is this not what your accusation is? A contemptuous attempt at slandering my name, using the gossipmongers of high society to hold a knife to my throat? What did you wish me to say? That I am indeed incapable of bedding an omega?"
"That was not at all my intention, Your Highness! I am simply advising you-"
"To what? To show everyone here, and the entire country included, how much of a professional I am in the nighttime scene? Shall I strip right here and drag in an unsuspecting person to do the deed with, if that will assuage your fears about my supposed ability to 'perform'?"
Visount Cliden splutters in his seat, his face turning red with embarrassment and his words stumbling over each other in his attempt to rectify the situation and take back control of the reins of the conversation.
"Or perhaps you wish to gain something by mentioning this very humiliating issue about my physiology? I heard that you have a daughter who just came of age recently. She wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this bold condemnation of yours, would she?"
Viscount Cliden's face pales when Aspen brings up his young omega daughter, and he frantically tries to defend himself. "That is ridiculous, Your Highness! I have never had any intention of presenting my daughter as a candidate for your engageme-"
Aspen interrupts him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yes, yes. I'm sure you'll be sticking to that narrative now. If you are so desperate for a connection to the royal family, shall I grant you your wish? How about I have a message sent to your wife, Viscountess Cliden? I'm sure she'll be pleased if I ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. Perhaps you'd like to confirm whether your fears about my lower half are wrong on the night of consummation?"
By now, the entire table has gone silent.
The nobles can only watch, some in horror and others in quiet glee, as Aspen pokes and prods at Viscount Cliden's daring insinuation.
Aspen, on the other hand, has a barely contained smile of disdain directed at the room at large.
When he sweeps his piercing golden gaze across the room, he notes that Marquess Grisel is remaining steadfast and nonchalant about the turn in the situation, despite his henchman, Viscount Cliden, being absolutely demolished in a battle of words.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Viscount Cliden? Does my lack of engagement partner have anything to do with my ability to perform in bed?"
Cowed by the one-sided slaughter, Viscount Cliden lowers his head in submission, moving his shaking hands off the table and into his lap.
"N-Not at all, Your Highness. Your comfort is of utmost importance. I would never dare to question the greatness of your lineage and might of your mortal body."
Aspen smiles cruelly, his canines bared in a show of dominance, not just to the viscount, but to everyone in the room.
"Excellent. I would hate for your daughter to stay cooped up in her room, crying her eyes out about having to marry the tyrannical and frightening first prince. Your concern about my well being is much appreciated, although unwarranted. And, on that note, I assure you all that my body is working just fine."
Aspen sighs, projecting an image of disappointment. His fingers drum on the table rhythmically - a threatening sound amidst the bleak ambience in the room.
"I am currently at the peak of my physicality, if you all must know. You will find no other alpha in the country who works as much to maintain their virility as I. More importantly, even if you do find it hard to believe, it is hardly within your jurisdiction to harass me about it, isn't that right?"
Left with no choice, Viscount Cliden bows his head in acknowledgement, followed suit by the rest of the nobles sitting at the table.
Aspen claps his hands together once in false joy. "Good. Let's move on to the next complaint. I will not sugar coat it. Who else here has a problem with me?"