Emperor Sigmund is silent for a few moments, but it is clear that he is considering Duke Sieren's words.
In the end, it is with a heavy, resigned sigh that he gives in.
"Alright. I shall get straight to the point so that you are able to return to your duties."
Duke Sieren straightens from his bent position, his expression indicating relief as he glances between Aspen and the emperor.
Aspen keeps a straight face as he answers, blandly. "You have my thanks, Your Majesty. As expected, your magnanimous nature knows no bounds."
Duke Sieren's shoulders almost come up to his ears when he hears the mocking undertone in his voice.
Emperor Sigmund pays it no mind, however. In fact, his eyes crinkle into a fond smile.
"You always have such a way with words, my son, but it saddens me that you insist on distancing yourself with that kind of talk. Tell me, what more I must do to get you to call me 'father'?"
Aspen's eye twitches in response.
After all these years of being subjected to the emperor's shameless behaviour, he should be used to it. He should no longer be surprised by the sheer audacity that he possesses. But somehow, he still is.
What a joke.
"I wouldn't dare. As the person sitting in our country's loftiest position, how could a mere child from the slums ever address you in such a casual manner, Your Majesty? I would have to face the wrath of your esteemed concubines if I am the only one shown such favouritism." he explains, taking special care to mention the points brought up by those annoying council members.
Emperor Sigmund's face suddenly twists with displeasure. He slams a palm down onto the table in front of him, rattling the teacups and trays of food.
"How dare they! A mere child from the slums?! Tell me, son, who has been calling you that behind my back? Was it Teresa? Claudine? Did those arrogant women run their mouths again?" he barks, his scent infused with unfamiliar anger.
The emperor has always tried to keep a calm composure wrapped around his being whenever Aspen is around. His patience seems to know no limits when it comes to Aspen's less than princely behaviour, but the moment someone brings up an insult towards Aspen himself, he loses his cool.
The facade of a caring, doting father melts away, and it is always replaced with unwarranted protectiveness. Unfortunately, the display of outrage on Aspen's behalf does nothing to sway his stone cold attitude.
He smiles at the emperor, gleefully dragging in his targets. "Not at all, Your Majesty. On the contrary, it is the very council members who I just had a meeting with that informed me of this rumour that seems to be floating around the capital lately. Marquess Grisel and Viscount Cliden, in particular, were exceptionally detailed with their recounting. So much so that I might have overstepped my boundaries and caused a small incident."
Emperor Sigmund frowns. "Marquess Grisel. And Viscount Cliden, you say? Tell me what exactly they said. If it upset you so, they must have crossed the line first."
Aspen hides his grin behind a fist as he feigns a cough.
"Certainly, Your Majesty."
With that, he begins his recount of the incident in the meeting hall, sparing no details and leaving nothing out. By the end of his explanation, the emperor is seething in his chair, just as Aspen predicted.
"Those impertinent wretches! How bold they are for spitting such foul words! Do they think me a fool after I bestowed them power through their relations to the royal family? To think that they are daring enough to insult my own children in such a roundabout method and claim to have your best interest at heart. This is unacceptable!"
Emperor Sigmund fumes in his seat, and the stinging scent of fury makes Aspen wrinkle his nose.
He watches as the emperor pushes away the plates of sweet pastry in front of him and scowls.
For a split second, Aspen sees his face superimposed onto the emperor's from the familiarity of that twisted expression - one that he uses on the daily whenever something doesn't go his way - and the feeling of disdain and self-loathing that wells up in him is sudden and almost overwhelming.
He shakes it off before it can become something more, having long since been resigned to the fact that his expressions are a direct copy from the one who sired him.
"Send word to every imperial servant and guard. Inform them that-"
"My apologies, Your Majesty, but if you permit it, I would like to handle the punishment of Marquess Grisel and Viscount Cliden myself." Aspen interrupts him before he can speak his command.
Emperor Sigmund's face flashes with surprise, creating a momentary relief from the pungent smell of wet, rotting leather.
This is the first time that Aspen has asked the emperor for a favour. And not just any favour.
What he's suggesting now is the equivalent of requesting partial authority from the emperor himself. That is to say, using the emperor's name to carry out duties that would normally be dictated by the emperor himself.
It is an intrepid but very archetypal move on Aspen's part.
Before, when the succession war was still precariously balanced by the loud supporters behind the third prince, Aspen had been adamant to his associates about not tucking his tail to request the emperor's assistance.
The open support from the emperor himself would surely boost his reputation among the still undecided and neutral nobles, but Aspen loathed to have to bow his head and pretend to want help from the one he despised so.
Despite having few allies and houses behind him, Aspen had still managed to get ahead in the race due to his contributions in various imperial matters.
Where others would shy away from the thought of servicing the country through their blood, sweat and tears, Aspen threw himself into situations where his body, mind and even life were challenged.
During a particularly bad spell of drought two years ago, Aspen had volunteered to aid with the famine relief efforts, and starting then, the tides began to turn on the third prince's party.
In truth, the word of nobility was more symbolic than anything else.
Those in the imperial faction and noble faction would root for the candidate of their choice, and whether or not their support guaranteed them prestige or advantages in the future, each faction was solely focused on their own interests - the interests of the minority.
The general public was far from their minds, as the nobles are always preoccupied with lining their pockets and finding new ways to get closer to the peak of nobility.
However, for the first time in generations, a prince who viewed the commoners as his most crucial supporters emerged. That was what set Aspen apart from his other siblings.
From aiding in famine relief to putting his life on the line during border skirmishes with their neighbouring countries, Aspen has taken on countless challenges in his journey to win the favour of the impoverished majority.
And his sacrifices were not in vain, but rather rewarded with the loyalty of the commonfolk, from middle-class families to the dirt poor.
The scars he obtained while on the battlefield, the months of furious effort distributing food, drinking water, and supplies for rebuilding homes, and even the time he dug his feet in and assisted with restoring a bridge that had collapsed somewhere in the rural areas - it was all to gain the best supporters he could ever have when fighting for the throne.
His sincerity, as one who used to live the same life of a poor child, and his determination to make things better for the commoners, had reached many people's ears and hearts.
While the nobles were busy counting their bills and gold, Aspen was ankle deep in bloodied mud as he lead a portion of the royal military to victory in the battle for their northern border just a year ago.
On the other hand, the third prince, whose supporters had been the most fervent among the opposing forces, had been holed up in the imperial palace, never once stepping foot outside for what wasn't a brief reprieve.
Third Prince Cameron, while certainly cunning and intelligent, held none of the interest that Aspen had for bettering the country.
Thus, with the support of several like-minded houses, and a good majority of the common people, Aspen managed to take a step further towards his end goal, while the third prince's party, inclusive of Marquess Grisel, flailed in an attempt to recover the momentum they used to have.
It is for this very reason that Aspen now requests to have access to the emperor's authority.
When he's only a few steps ahead of the opposition, it is then the best time to strike them down with a swift blow - to ensure that they will take an even longer time to get back onto their feet and start catching up.
With the emperor's authority, no one will be able to stand in his way as he dishes out the punishment that Marquess Grisel and Viscount Cliden brought upon themselves.
It will be a spectacle for the third prince's party, as they watch their main gameplayer fall in a race where one cannot afford to be tripped up.
"Aspen. Son." Emperor Sigmund's voice is a delighted, hopeful thing. "Do you truly wish to take on this task?"
Aspen grits his teeth, annoyed by the flickering light of hope in the emperor's eyes.
"If you wish to punish the marquess and viscount, it is only right that I, as first prince and the one who was targeted in this attack, carry out your will. Please grant me permission to uphold the dignity of the royal family."
If he had a choice, he would never in his life think to rely on the emperor. After all the blood he spilled trying to get used to this suffocating life of endless frivolities and malice around every corner, he needs no help, least of all from a man who clings to the dead like a parasite.
But this is as opportune a moment as he will ever get to take advantage of his lineage.
For the sake of achieving his goal, this small concession is but a convenient stepping stone on his path. And the emperor is naught but a chess piece he will manoeuvre with his fingers to topple the mightiest of his enemies that still lie in wait to ambush him.
Emperor Sigmund is silent for a moment, as though contemplating if he should grant his request.
But Aspen is in no hurry to receive an answer. He knows the outcome is already set.
When it comes to him, the emperor's iron wall of aloofness pertaining to most matters of the royal family melts away as easily as the morning sun bleeds into the horizon.
And just as Aspen predicted, Emperor Sigmund nods eventually.
"Alright. I shall entrust you with full authority regarding this matter. Punish them however you see fit. And if anyone should protest your decisions, make it known that you are acting on my behalf. It is high time I make my support for you public. Those bitter nobles will have no say in your conferment."
Mission accomplished.
Aspen smiles to himself secretly as he bows politely. "I am eternally grateful for your generosity, Your Majesty. I shall make sure not to disappoint you."