Reincarnated as the Crown Prince-Chapter 27: Ultimatum

The next morning, the Crown Regent did not waste a single breath.

Inside the Royal Chancery, scribes were already assembling at long tables when Lancelot entered. He strode through the arched doorway flanked by his guards, Alicia at his side, and motioned for the heralds to stand by.

"Bring out the proclamation forms," Lancelot ordered.

"Yes, Your Highness," the lead scribe replied, already unrolling fresh parchment and preparing the ink.

Lancelot moved to the center dais. There, he began dictating—his voice steady, firm, and without hesitation. He knew what was at stake. The nation was a tinderbox, and any hesitation now would be taken as weakness. He needed to speak not just with authority—but finality.

"This is to be issued under the Seal of the Crown Regent. Let every noble house, ecclesiastical office, and city council receive a copy within seventy-two hours."

He looked at Alicia. "Send it by rider and by print. I want it nailed on cathedral doors, posted at every town square, and read aloud at market hours."

Then he turned back to the scribes and began.

"To the assembled members of the noble and clerical coalition, and to all subjects of the Crown of Aragon," he declared.

"There has been enough silence. Enough whispers. Enough stirring of banners and veiled threats behind the shield of tradition. So let this be made plain."

"I, Lancelot of Aragon, by the authority vested in me as Crown Regent and rightful heir to the throne, issue the following ultimatum."

"You have seven days. Seven days to disband your armed companies, to cease the unlawful assembly of private armies, and to reaffirm your oaths of loyalty to the Crown."

His voice did not waver. The scribes wrote as fast as they could, some glancing up as they realized the weight of what was being said.

"Failure to comply shall be treated as sedition," Lancelot continued. "And any individual—be he duke or bishop—who raises arms against the lawful government shall be stripped of all titles, estates, and hereditary claims. The lands will be seized. Assets will be confiscated. And the perpetrators exiled from the realm without right of return."

Murmurs rose across the room. Alicia said nothing, but her fingers tightened around the rolled reports in her hands.

"There will be no negotiation with treason," Lancelot said coldly. "The Crown will not parley with those who prefer private fiefdoms to national unity."

He raised a hand to halt the scribes, then spoke more slowly.

"I do not seek bloodshed. We are a kingdom on the edge of rebirth. The old ways are crumbling, yes—but in their place we are laying roads, building schools, unifying the law, and lifting the burdens from the common man’s back."

He stepped down from the dais, his boots echoing across the stone floor.

"We cannot do this while fighting ourselves. The foreign powers around us—Gaul, Lusitania, the Eastern Confederacy—watch eagerly for signs of weakness."

He gave one final line:

"Bend, or break."

The scribes dipped their pens once more and finished transcribing. The heralds bowed and immediately moved to prepare the dispatches.

Lancelot turned to Alicia as the chamber emptied.

"Have it sent to the foreign embassies as well," he said. "Let the world see that the Crown still rules Aragon."

Alicia nodded. "What if they call your bluff?"

Lancelot looked out the window toward the city below.

"Then it won’t be a bluff."

By the second day, the ultimatum had spread through every province.

In Toledo, a local archdeacon read it aloud outside the cathedral and was met with jeers from angry priests. But the townsfolk—merchants, craftsmen, and students—cheered.

In Valencia, a junior noble named Don Esteban burned the proclamation in front of his men. By nightfall, a detachment of the Crown’s cavalry had arrived and placed him under arrest.

In Burgos, the Duke received the letter and remained silent for hours. Finally, he sent back a sealed reply.

He would disband his levies—"for the peace of the realm"—but added that "such unity must be followed by just governance." A veiled challenge.

Still, it was a start.

Inside the war room at the palace, the generals reviewed the response map.

"Four nobles have fully submitted," General Montiel reported. "Two have partially complied. One—Don Esteban—has already been detained. Three others remain silent."

"What of the Church?" Lancelot asked.

"Bishop Alvaro is quiet, but rumors suggest he’s backing away from open conflict. The Synod hasn’t confirmed support for the noble coalition."

Alicia looked at Lancelot. "You’ve divided them."

"That was the point," he said. "Fear works best when it’s paired with choice. They can choose obedience—or oblivion."

Admiral Urrutia entered with fresh dispatches.

"The blockade licenses have been issued. All merchant traffic will now report to Crown customs agents. Any vessel found supplying rebel estates will be seized under royal admiralty law."

"Good," Lancelot said. "We’ll drain their war chest before they ever raise a sword."

By the end of the seventh day, it was clear: the tide had shifted.

Most of the coalition’s outer members folded quietly. Some issued public letters of allegiance, others did so in private. But the real blow came when Bishop Alvaro, under pressure from both Rome and his northern bishoprics, denounced any "armed resistance against the Crown" as sinful.

It wasn’t submission—but it was no longer rebellion.

Only a few nobles still held out, isolated and exposed.

Alicia entered the Regent’s chambers that evening with the final list.

"We’ve avoided a civil war," she said.

Prince Lancelot just smiled, he had expected this result.

"How...how did you know that they will concede simply?" Alicia asked, her eyes wide with amazement.

"It’s simple really," Lancelot said, setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair. "I knew they still loved their comfort more than their pride."

He gestured toward the map on the wall—one marked with banners, routes, and reports of loyalist garrisons.

"Men like them don’t mind power being taken, as long as it’s not taken all at once. They’ll bark, posture, threaten—until the cost outweighs their fantasy of control. I just made the cost clear."

Alicia studied him for a moment. The Prince truly had changed for the better, and it was so much to the point she was starting to take a liking to his character.

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