Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Fertan, dressed in his officer’s uniform, looked exceptionally striking. The sharp lines of his shoulders and the gleaming insignia on his chest suited him perfectly.
If Eleanor had seen him like this, she would have muttered under her breath, “Too handsome for his own good,” while pretending to be annoyed—but the villa where she waited was far from the 7th Division, where Fertan currently stood.
“I’ll have to show Eleanor my military uniform when I get the chance.”
He imagined her reaction with amusement. If it meant seeing her feign indifference while secretly delighted, he’d do anything.
Here, his fabricated identity was that of a deputy commander dispatched on official business from the 3rd Division. Having previously infiltrated the area under similar pretenses to assist in battles, some familiar subordinates greeted him with enthusiastic salutes.
The schedule was proceeding smoothly.
Upon arrival, they had spent the entire night preparing strategies, but as it turned out, there was no need—everything was already ready for deployment.
Count Maxium, the commander stationed here, eagerly poured out his fervent support to Fertan.
“I understand His Highness’s intention to mobilize only part of the division. However, I wish to move the entire force.”
“Will the southern front’s defenses remain stable if we do so?”
“I’ve taken precautions in anticipation of His Highness’s plans.”
“What did you do?”
“I dealt a significant blow to the Beinart forces. Minor skirmishes don’t need to be reported to the palace. They’ve lost many key strongholds and suffered numerous casualties, so they won’t dare challenge us for a while.”
“Still, it’s best not to overextend.”
“We have local militias to maintain the basic defense line. I want to take the lead in His Highness’s great undertaking.”
The count seemed ready to charge forward at any moment. Even though the planned operation wasn’t a full-scale invasion but rather an elite assault on the palace, his enthusiasm burned brighter than the mission itself demanded.
Fertan felt the familiar tug of destiny once again. It was as though he were being pushed closer to the throne against his will.
Everyone around him seemed to urge him onward.
“Very well. We’ll proceed with mobilizing the entire division as you suggest.”
In the grand scheme of the week-long coup, adjusting one piece of the plan wouldn’t make much difference. His subordinates stationed elsewhere would carry out their tasks according to schedule.
The elite mercenary units hidden throughout Solcherton were under Herod’s command. Count Ginédien was responsible for immobilizing the emperor’s forces, while Princess Lucena monitored the situation inside the palace.
Princess Lucena had exceeded expectations by taking on a much larger role than anticipated.
When Fertan heard how she had safely rescued Eleanor, he was genuinely surprised. The princess’s hidden resolve was extraordinary.
During the final assault on the palace, one of Lucena’s close aides was tasked with opening the main gates. While this measure aimed to minimize casualties, even if they failed to open the gates from within, Fertan’s forces were prepared to breach them from the outside. This adjustment spoke volumes about Lucena’s unexpected capabilities.
With an army following behind him, Fertan mounted his horse alongside Count Maxium.
Just before departure, an urgent messenger arrived.
“Your Highness, there’s a letter you must review immediately.”
The sender was Herod, who commanded the elite unit.
“We’ve detected unusual movements. Soldiers are appearing in increasing numbers across the city. They’re moving in groups ranging from three or four to over a dozen, seemingly with purpose.”
Soldiers roaming throughout the city? Such a thing had never happened before. Receiving this news just before launching their attack on the emperor was deeply unsettling.
Mounted on his horse, Fertan continued reading.
“This phenomenon has only been noticeable for a few days. These men aren’t wearing uniforms but seem to be staying at inns or renting rooms in private homes. However, their scale suggests they’re far more organized than mere gangs.”
Ununiformed soldiers? Something unprecedented was unfolding.
“Tracking them led us to discover systematic training occurring in fields outside the city. Following one of their leaders revealed a surprising connection—he visited the Roland estate.”
The Roland estate? Could it be Edwin?
If so, Edwin might be covertly recruiting combat-ready forces. This was on a completely different level than Leonard’s small intelligence network.
Troubling indeed, especially arriving just before departure.
“We’re continuing to investigate how these suspicious troops are linked to the Roland estate. A messenger will deliver updates as new information arises.
But that’s not all.
The imperial guard has left the palace and is actively patrolling. Whether this is connected to the forces tied to the Roland estate remains unclear—we’re investigating further.
The guards are operating in precisely organized squads, systematically visiting noble estates and merchant residences across the city.”
“What does it say? You look troubled.”
Count Maxium, waiting nearby, asked with concern.
“Hmm… It’s not good.”
Only one person could mobilize the imperial guard: Emperor Maximillian.
For someone as lazy and disinterested in imperial affairs as him to deploy the guard signaled an emergency. This was no trivial matter.
The only time Fertan had seen the emperor act with such sensitivity was during attempts on his life.
“The guard also visited Count Russell’s estate. He was interrogated about acquiring part of your business last year. Though he claimed it was his own work, the guards persistently questioned him about his sudden increase in wealth.
While we haven’t pinpointed your exact movements, it seems they’re vaguely tracking you.”
Despite efforts to maintain secrecy, this level of information suggested the emperor had likely discovered Fertan’s survival and mobilized the guard to eliminate him.
How had he found out? Where was the leak?
The hastily written letter bore traces of diligent investigation. Still, it fell short. With the coup looming, a massive variable had emerged.
“In my opinion, proceeding as originally planned would be unwise.”
Fertan shared the same intuition. They’d been partially compromised.
“Count Maxium.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“We need to expedite the timeline.”
A flicker of excitement crossed the seasoned commander’s weathered face. For someone accustomed to routine skirmishes, this was an opportunity to unleash his full potential. His eyes gleamed with unrestrained martial fervor as he gazed at Fertan.
“When should we advance?”
Fertan’s voice was low, almost a murmur.
“As quickly as possible. Push the horses to their limits to reach the designated position near the capital.”
“Understood. I’ll send the cavalry ahead and march the infantry day and night.”
“Ideally, the 7th Division shouldn’t enter the city… but given the current situation, I can’t guarantee it.”
Fertan handed the letter to Count Maxium, who read it with growing alarm. Gripping the reins tightly, he stared resolutely toward the capital.
“I always doubted it would go smoothly.”
“…”
Fertan couldn’t bring himself to voice agreement. The weight on his shoulders was immense; he had to project confidence. To them, he was already the future emperor, expected to behave accordingly.
“I will follow your orders without question. Just give the command.”
It was a declaration of readiness for total war.
Their strategy aimed to minimize military losses while targeting the emperor, but in the worst-case scenario, they might have to follow Maxium’s will. Fertan, too, was prepared to adapt based on circumstances.
“I’ll ride ahead at full speed. You follow with the troops.”
Leaving the saluting count behind, Fertan spurred his horse toward Solcherton.
The final paragraph of the letter lingered in his mind, tugging at his heart more than the emperor’s movements.
“Lastly, I report on Lady Eleanor’s situation. She remains quietly at the villa, showing no interest in the heavily guarded exterior. She’s virtually invisible, lying low as instructed.”
Of course. Eleanor knew exactly what she needed to do. Fertan’s only worry was her overzealousness. She would undoubtedly stay put, waiting for him to retrieve her as promised.
“According to the villa steward, she’s been wearing outdoor attire constantly. Dresses suitable for formal occasions yet not overly extravagant, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
She spends most of her time reading and taking walks according to a set routine. No signs of anxiety or impatience have been observed.”
The report ended here.
No signs of anxiety? That didn’t fit Eleanor at all. Fertan inwardly commended Herod for going so far as to assess her demeanor.
She was a woman of unshakable resolve, someone he confided his deepest fears to. Before setting out, she had even consoled and encouraged him.
“You’re doing well. Stay exactly where you are, like a portrait, and wait for me.”
His horse foamed at the mouth as he pushed it relentlessly onward. Upon reaching Solcherton, he would need to decide how much to accelerate their timeline. Speed was now the top priority, followed by assessing the situation to minimize risks.
Breathing heavily alongside his exhausted steed, Fertan spurred forward toward his destination.
---
The captain of the palace guard felt he had made a grave miscalculation. His unit was frantically scouring every corner of the city under orders, but the sheer volume of work was overwhelming. Most of the list had fallen to his team. Though he had volunteered to take on more, naively trusting Leonard’s vague promises of help and Edwin’s claim to handle the western district, he now realized the others weren’t pulling their weight.
In reality, during their search, they hadn’t encountered any other teams.
Dissatisfaction among his subordinates was mounting. By the second day of inquiries, no one had returned home the previous night, and it was clear that completing the remaining houses would take far longer than anticipated.
They divided into groups, each assigned to a specific area. Despite brandishing the emperor’s authority, many households resisted, making progress difficult.
The captain’s zone was vast and challenging, filled with retired merchants and scholars enjoying their twilight years in peaceful countryside estates. These homes were typically lightly guarded and lax in security, with residents answering his questions without hesitation.
That is, until they reached an exceptionally remote mansion.
Surrounded by wheat fields and encircled by high walls, the estate loomed ominously. As the captain’s group approached along the path, the scattered figures working in the fields turned their attention to the uniformed guards on horseback.
Though their appearance drew notice, the captain paid it little mind and knocked firmly on the gate.
“We are the imperial palace guard. By order of His Majesty, we request an audience with the owner of this estate.”
Through the iron bars of the gate, the garden appeared empty save for the shade cast by large trees.
After a long wait, a young man of sturdy build emerged.
“The master is not here.”
“Where has he gone?”
“He’s traveled abroad for business and won’t return this year.”
Having encountered absent owners before, the captain pressed on as usual.
“Then we wish to meet a family member.”
The man’s response carried a note of caution.
“Regrettably, he has no family. Whatever your business, there’s nothing here. Please move on.”
“No family at all?”
“No.”
“Then I’d like to speak with the steward.”
“There is no steward.”
This two-story house, complete with extensive farmland and likely over a dozen rooms, surely required a steward. The claim defied logic.
The captain scowled.
“There must be someone in charge—a supervisor or senior staff. We need to meet whoever oversees this place.”
“It’s just my wife and me, cleaning the house. Can’t you speak with me?”
Such a scenario was unprecedented. Every household on their list had been prominent enough to ensure someone—whether the owner or another representative—was available.
Staring through the bars at the man’s hardened expression, the captain decided this couldn’t be overlooked.
“Open the gate.”
Simultaneously, he signaled his men to prepare for combat.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir. Please, just pass by…”
“Do I look like someone you can dismiss?”
The man stammered nervously.
“If you insist, perhaps you could inspect the detached quarters behind the house?”
“Open it!”
The captain’s sharp command jolted his guards into action. Half readied their rifles, while the others unsheathed their swords. Yet the man inside continued to plead, refusing to open the gate.
Fix Public Funds
“I’ll have the lock shot off. This is the emperor’s order.”
The captain’s thunderous voice rang out. A guard stepped forward, aiming his rifle at the gate’s lock. Others kept watch.
At that moment, the captain noticed something amiss. The nearby farmers began moving suspiciously, inching closer to the guards. Their approach was anything but ordinary.
“Stay back! If you advance, we will fire.”
One of the farmers lowered his gaze.
“I-I mean no harm.”
But his actions betrayed his words. He sauntered closer, gripping what appeared to be a farming tool—but its edge gleamed too sharply for mere agriculture.
Meanwhile, the man beyond the gate remained stubbornly defiant. Such resistance was unusual, especially under threat of gunfire. Tension thickened between the guards, the man, and the farmers.
The atmosphere tightened, signaling an impending confrontation. Instinct told the captain retreat wasn’t an option.
Adrenaline surged.
When the farmer closed within ten paces, the captain finally shouted, as if on a battlefield:
“Fire! Break the gate!”
Bang—
A guard’s rifle roared, flames spitting from the muzzle.
At such close range, missing was impossible. The metallic clang of shattered metal echoed as the center of the iron gate blew open.
“Whoa!”
The man stumbled backward, collapsing onto his rear.
“Get up and guide us inside. If no one’s there, show us the empty house.”
Though the warning shot had been fired, the man still had a chance to comply. If he cooperated now, the guards wouldn’t harm him. The captain had no intention of injuring anyone who assisted willingly.
But instead of relenting, the man glanced fearfully around before grabbing a handful of dirt and hurling it at the nearest guard.
“Agh!”
The man bolted, disappearing behind the thick trunk of a tree in the garden. His movements were unnervingly swift, evading aim with ease.
The next moment, an unthinkable shout erupted from the upper floor of the mansion.
“Attack!”
What? They were ordering an attack against the imperial palace guard?
“Eliminate them all! Fire at will!”
The enemy’s command was immediate. Gunfire erupted from every window.
Reacting instinctively, the captain dove behind a tree trunk.
“Form defensive positions!”
The guards who had followed the captain took cover behind trees and flowerbeds. A quick headcount revealed they were short on men. Outside the iron gate, a wounded guard lay sprawled in a pool of blood—clearly ambushed by the farmers who had been closing in with suspicious intent.
Sporadic gunfire continued from inside the mansion. While firearms were lethal, their slow reload times made them less effective in small-scale skirmishes compared to larger battles. The palace guard’s counterattacks were sluggish as well.
The captain seized an opportunity. With covering fire, he circled around the garden and charged into the mansion, followed by a few guards.
A fierce melee erupted in the entrance hall. It was brutal hand-to-hand combat. Several guards fell, but so did many of the enemy. Though skilled, the defenders couldn’t match the refined swordsmanship of the palace guard.
Finally, after much struggle, the guards managed to secure the entire mansion.
The defeated enemies were lined up on their knees in the hall. The captain turned his attention to the man who had resisted at the gate earlier.
“What are you hiding here?”
The man remained silent.
“If you don’t speak, your life is forfeit.”
No matter how threatening the interrogation, the man refused to talk. The captain debated whether to imprison them all.
However, the search yielded quicker results than coercion. Guards combing the mansion brought forward a woman found in a secluded room—a face the captain recognized instantly.
“Lady Eleanor!”
Eleanor stood tall, her expression composed, chin raised regally. She exuded more dignity and poise than any royal the captain had ever served.
“Why are you here? Were you captured? Kidnapped?”
She didn’t correct his assumptions. Her trembling hands were hidden beneath her skirts, her rigid posture maintained solely by the weight of her reputation.
If the guards had stormed the mansion prepared for battle, there was little chance they’d retreat quietly now.
Whatever had brought them here, the tension was palpable as the palace guard stood before Eleanor—a presence that clearly didn’t belong.
“Captain, what brings you here? Why leave the palace, and why this gunfight…?”
“I’m carrying out my duty. His Majesty ordered me to find something lost.”
The captain showed her the emperor’s decree—the same document he’d brandished at every other estate. As Eleanor skimmed its cryptic wording, she murmured under her breath:
“A precious treasure passed down through the imperial family has been lost, and it cannot be overlooked. All must cooperate with the emperor’s search or face consequences.”
Searching for treasure? The phrasing was deliberately vague.
From what little she knew of the emperor’s temperament, he wasn’t the type to mobilize the palace guard over a mere trinket. Unless the “treasure” was the late emperor’s signet ring—but even then, that ring was now with Fertan, not here in this villa.
“What exactly are you searching for?”
“I cannot disclose that.”
Judging by their lack of interest in drawers or safes, they weren’t looking for small objects. Their focus seemed to be on people—Eleanor herself, or perhaps others hiding within.
“It must be something large. You’re sweeping through rooms too quickly.”
The captain evaded her question with an uncomfortable tone, his voice growing curt.
“The nature of the treasure is classified. But this house is highly suspicious.”
A chill ran down Eleanor’s spine despite her outward composure.
Could the emperor have discovered us? What exactly is he searching for? The signet ring? Fertan? Herself? Or evidence of treason?
As she probed for clues in their exchange, the captain’s unease became increasingly apparent. When a casualty was carried in, his expression darkened further, and his gaze toward those kneeling filled with hostility.
“And Lady Eleanor—why are you here?”
His tone dripped with suspicion.
Eleanor felt despair creeping in. No matter how she answered, it seemed unlikely the captain would let her go easily. Escaping unscathed from this villa appeared impossible.
Claiming alliance with the captives would mean arrest alongside them; admitting she’d been detained might lead the guards to escort her home.
Quick thinking was required, but the situation felt hopeless.
“I found myself unexpectedly trapped here.”
In the end, she chose the narrative of captivity, hoping for a chance to escape en route to the Roland estate.
Her heart ached leaving behind Fertan’s loyal guards, but this seemed the best option.
“My, you’ve endured great hardship.”
Before she could respond convincingly, the captain’s next words shocked her.
“The wedding is the day after tomorrow, yet the bride-to-be was locked away here?”
Eleanor staggered where she stood.
“What… did you just say?”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“When did you say the wedding is?”
This was news to her. No one had informed her of the wedding date.
“Two days from now—August 31st.”
It felt like a sudden blow to the back of her head. Accepting this reality sent her mind reeling.
The wedding… Could it really be that wedding?
Deep down, she knew but didn’t want to believe. Leonard’s marriage to her was supposed to be in autumn, far off. Why was it suddenly happening in two days?
Her shoulders trembled as she unconsciously pressed a hand to her temple, struggling to steady herself.
The captain’s wary eyes scanned her from head to toe, debating whether to offer support.
He wouldn’t joke about such matters. His grim demeanor and sidelong glances at the injured confirmed the seriousness of his statement. Eleanor’s panic only deepened his suspicion.
“I’ve been bedridden for some time and seem to have lost track of the days. You’re right—it’s already the 29th.”
Summoning every ounce of strength, she managed a convincing reply. It was a Herculean effort.
“We heard you’ve been unwell. From now on, we’ll ensure your safety.”
Her excuse of illness seemed sufficient for him—for now. His anger stemmed more from the casualties inflicted by the attackers than from Eleanor’s presence.
“But who are these people? Why attack the palace guard? And why was Lady Eleanor held captive here?”
Eleanor feigned ignorance.
“I can’t say. I was blindfolded and locked in a room.”
“Didn’t you overhear anything?”
“Regrettably, they were very thorough. Perhaps bandits seeking ransom? Please inform me if you uncover anything.”
The captain wanted to press further but hesitated upon seeing her pale complexion. Reluctantly, he ceased questioning.
Though guilt gnawed at her for deceiving those who had cared for her these past weeks, she knew this was necessary for the greater cause. Meanwhile, her mind raced for a way to evade the guards’ watchful eyes.
Was there still a chance? Could she escape on the way to the Roland estate?
Returning home meant becoming Leonard’s bride—a fate worse than death. Fertan had embarked on a weeklong mission, and only two days had passed. If the wedding preceded his assault on the emperor, everything would unravel.
I can’t go back.
Better to die than become Leonard’s possession.
The despair was so overwhelming that her vision blurred. Though her body felt fine, the critical situation clouded her mind, making it hard to process her surroundings.
“Uh... I, I...”
Could she claim she’d return separately without raising suspicion?
Her voice barely squeezed through her tightening throat when the loud clatter of approaching hooves interrupted.
Reinforcements from the palace guard had arrived.
Before the guards found Eleanor during their search of the villa, the captain—assessing the damage—had immediately requested backup from the palace. Medical personnel and carriages to transport the wounded now lined up outside the villa. Newly arrived guards filled the hall, leaving no space to breathe.
“Please board the carriage.”
There was no way to refuse the captain’s polite escort. Surrounded by the impenetrable guard, she had no choice but to climb into the carriage.
At that moment, a familiar voice rose from among Fertan’s subordinates, who were huddled together.
“Wait, wait! I’m not from this estate. I’m Lady Eleanor’s escort!”
Liam struggled to his feet, shouting despite being brutally beaten. He repeated the same words over and over, fighting against the guards encircling him, terrified Eleanor would leave without him.
Seizing the moment, Eleanor urgently urged the captain:
“Captain, that man is Liam, my escort. Please tell them to stop hitting him.”
“Ah, he’s one of Lady Eleanor’s people?”
“It seems he got caught up in all this. He’s indeed my protector. Could you let him ride with me?”
“Very well.”
This was a small relief. At least one person who could help her would be nearby.
Under the watchful eyes of the palace guard, Eleanor boarded the carriage. There was no chance to escape along the way. Though she reluctantly thanked the captain, her heart remained far from calm.
The procession didn’t head toward the Roland estate. It seemed completing the guard’s mission took precedence over accommodating Eleanor.
Together, they passed through the city’s central roads, heading straight for the palace.
---
One of Herod’s operatives, disguised as a farmer stationed near the villa, spotted the long line of horses and carriages from afar. The soldiers who should have been guarding the perimeter were nowhere to be seen.
The fields surrounding the villa were in disarray, and the faint smell of gunpowder and blood lingered in the air. In place of the usual guards stood palace guards in full uniform.
Soon after, the operative witnessed Eleanor boarding a carriage, guided firmly yet politely by a high-ranking officer.
Staying hidden, the operative watched until the palace guard departed. Once the commotion settled, he passed by the villa’s gate, pretending to be a local farmer. Beyond the broken gate, a few guards remained, apparently stationed to monitor the area.
With this, the situation was clear enough. Hurrying back, the operative delivered a report to Herod.
Horrified, Herod immediately penned a second letter to Fertan. While the previous letter concerned suspicious groups of soldiers roaming the city, this one carried far graver news.
The hastily scrawled opening lines were chilling:
“Lady Eleanor has left the villa surrounded by the palace guard.”
He could already picture Fertan’s reaction upon reading it.
Having observed Eleanor and his lord’s growing closeness, Herod couldn’t help but feel anxious. Watching their relationship deepen made him uneasy, as if it were his own romantic entanglement.
---
Eleanor cautiously stepped into the emperor’s gaudily ornate reception room.
Since the search hadn’t specifically targeted her, the captain’s demeanor remained calm. After briefly reporting, he left her alone, promising to escort her to the Roland estate afterward.
Some time later, the emperor appeared instead of the captain. His agitated expression suggested he’d rushed over after receiving the report. The subtle difference in tone between the emperor and the captain was striking. That he came personally rather than summoning her to the audience chamber was unusual, sharpening Eleanor’s alertness.
After exchanging formal greetings, the emperor broached an unsettling topic.
“Eleanor, I hear you’ve grown close to Fertan.”
Though she had steeled herself, his direct question left her dizzy.
She clenched her teeth tightly, deciding it best to feign ignorance.
“Are you referring to Duke Ablein? We’re merely acquaintances.”
She tried to remain composed, carefully observing the emperor while bracing herself.
Her interactions with the emperor had been minimal—limited to brief encounters at banquets or reluctantly sharing tea under Leonard’s insistence. Even then, direct conversations were rare.
From afar, he seemed indifferent to governance, unremarkable in every way.
Fertan, who interacted with the emperor far more often, dismissed him as utterly incompetent. At times, Fertan even regarded Edwin as more threatening than the emperor, viewing the latter’s presence on the throne as his sole danger.
Was that really true? To Eleanor, meeting the emperor face-to-face for the first time, he appeared to be nothing more than a middle-aged man dressed in overly flashy attire.
“Merely acquaintances, you say...”
The emperor stroked his short beard, murmuring thoughtfully.
Their gazes clashed. For a fleeting moment, a sly cunning reminiscent of Leonard flickered in his narrowed eyes. A chill ran down her spine.
“Can men and women truly be ‘just acquaintances’?”
How much did the emperor know? Had he uncovered Fertan’s impending plans?
It was impossible to tell. Eleanor couldn’t find a way to navigate this situation. Overwhelmed by a sinking dread, she bit her lip.
“...”
Only now did she understand why interrogated individuals fell silent. Speaking carelessly might reveal unintended information. Clamping her mouth shut seemed the wisest course of action.
Interpreting her silence as acknowledgment, the emperor pressed on.
“I’ve heard Fertan approached you. What reason could he possibly have for getting close to you, Eleanor?”
His gaze swept over her pale face like a snake slithering past.
This wasn’t behavior she’d expect in public. For the first time, Eleanor saw the emperor’s cunning side. His thin lips twisted into a sneer beneath his beard—a chilling resemblance to Leonard.
“The crown prince trusted your virtue, but...” He chuckled coldly. “To me, your beauty leaves a far deeper impression. What do you think about that?”
“What? Wh-what are you saying?”
“I won’t bother asking how far you’ve gone with Fertan. I’ll turn a blind eye to your pretense of chastity.”
‘Of course, I assume you’ve gone all the way.’ His mocking tone dripped with disdain.
A sharp stab of humiliation pierced her chest. Reducing her connection with Fertan to mere physical intimacy was deeply offensive.
Her neck stiffened like a wooden block. As she slowly raised her bowed head, it felt as though her joints creaked like an un-oiled doll.
But her feelings didn’t matter now. If staying silent—or enduring shame—could protect Fertan, she would bear any humiliation.
Quickly analyzing the emperor’s words, she pieced together his intentions.
Fertan had approached her. They had a relationship. They went all the way. The emperor mocked her…? This line of questioning only framed their connection in purely romantic terms.
There was no mention of Fertan leading an army. If the emperor intended to interrogate her about treason, wouldn’t he have asked about that first? Thus, it was likely he remained unaware of Fertan’s current activities.
But did the emperor even know Fertan was alive?
She resolved to tread carefully. Unlike the emperor, who had carelessly revealed his concerns, she mustn’t make the same mistake.
First, she tried to play innocent.
“I don’t know where you heard such things, but they’re untrue. Nothing happened betw—”
The emperor cut her off with an authoritative tone.
“Enough with the obvious lies.”
For someone usually perceived as calm and composed, the emperor’s aggressive outburst felt jarring and deeply unsettling.
“The duke’s handsome face is enough to make any woman fall. And Eleanor, you’re a lady who moves effortlessly through high society. If the two of you met, there’s nothing more to discuss, is there?”
The focus remained on their romantic involvement. Even under attack, this gave her some relief.
She was uneasy about how their carefully concealed relationship had reached the emperor’s ears and feared making a slip. Still, if the emperor interrogated her about Fertan, she could focus solely on that line of questioning.
“Your Majesty, I did have a brief encounter with him once, but it was nothing significant. We haven’t met recently.”
She tested the waters slightly, trying to gauge whether the emperor knew Fertan was alive.
Saying they hadn’t met recently could mean many things—perhaps they weren’t lovers, or perhaps he was dead.
“Is that so? Somehow, I doubt it. I think you’ve seen each other recently.”
“It’s a misunderstanding, Your Majesty.”
She feigned innocence, vehemently denying his claim. Her pale face appeared overwhelmed by the emperor’s accusatory tone. Internally, however, she panicked for a different reason.
The emperor knows Fertan is alive!
He wouldn’t refer to someone who died in the spring as having been “recently met.”
“Indeed? I know everything, Eleanor. Stop trying to deny it.”
Her mind tangled like a ball of yarn. How much does the emperor really know?
“I, I...”
His thin lips stretched into a sly smirk, like a snake ready to strike.
“Was his body that enticing?”
“...”
“It’s understandable. If the duke seduced you, falling for him wouldn’t be surprising.”
His harsh tone softened, as though trying to coax her into compliance.
“Eleanor, I’m not here to blame or punish you. Why don’t we have an honest conversation?”
Silence wouldn’t suffice. She needed to respond.
The emperor clearly knew Fertan was alive yet continued probing only about their romantic relationship. Perhaps admitting to some closeness would be wiser than outright denial—it might reveal more about what the emperor knew.
Eleanor placed a trembling hand over her face, lightly covering her pale cheeks. Lowering her gaze, she adopted a confessional tone, speaking calmly.
“I apologize, Your Majesty. You’re right. I’ve maintained a private relationship with Duke Ablein.”
She dreaded the repercussions of this admission.
But at least the emperor hadn’t mentioned the coup planned for a few days’ time. That alone kept her fragile composure intact.
Unexpectedly, the emperor softened, as if his earlier outburst had never happened. He leaned back, adopting a gentle demeanor, palms open to convey reassurance.
“That’s understandable. It’s perfectly natural.”
“...”
“Honestly, which noble remains faithful to just one partner? And Eleanor, you’re not even married yet. It’s no sin for an unmarried lady to entertain male companions, especially one as popular as you.”
Was he offering to overlook her relationship with Fertan?
“I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary.”
Despite her repentant act, the emperor waved it off. Why?
Casually leaning back in his chair, he sipped his tea as if they were sharing pleasant small talk.
“Eleanor?”
His low, insidious call sent shivers down her spine.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Do you know that Leonard has several mistresses?”
Of course, she knew. The question was why he brought it up now.
“I’ve heard something about it.”
“Your discretion is admirable. You’re surely aware that past empresses often kept lovers too.”
In this country, it was customary for royals to take lovers after securing heirs. As they aged, both emperors and empresses pursued affairs without interference, rarely affecting public duties.
Eleanor silently nodded in agreement.
“So, I’m not here to condemn you. A friendship with the duke isn’t such a grave matter, is it?”
“Your Majesty...”
His hidden agenda felt ominous. Why was he tolerating her private life?
“Leonard can be overly possessive, but I’ll handle that. He needs restraint.”
“...”
“Therefore...”
“...”
“I’m prepared to make an exception. I’ll permit the crown princess to keep a lover early on. If you wish, I’ll tolerate your relationship with the duke.”
“Your Majesty, that’s an unprecedented decision.”
“You didn’t refuse. Heh, who would dare oppose my approval?”
Stunned, Eleanor couldn’t find words.
“The wedding must proceed smoothly first. Afterward, the duke may visit the palace discreetly—but don’t flaunt it. Appearances matter.”
“I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Just thank me. And tell me where the duke is.”
“...What?”
As if her shock was unwarranted, the emperor repeated calmly:
“Tell me where Duke Ablein is.”
So this was it.
The emperor’s goal was Fertan’s location!
A flash of realization struck her. The emperor knew Fertan was alive but didn’t know where he was hiding. Had the villa been discovered purely by chance? If he’d been certain, the attack would’ve minimized casualties.
The emperor still didn’t know Fertan’s whereabouts.
This suggested he was unaware of the coup planned in a few days—or the 7th Division’s movements advancing from the southern front.
At best, the emperor might only have received information about Fertan being alive, along with hints of his affair with Eleanor.
No. By admitting their connection mid-conversation, she might have complicated things. If she’d insisted it was insignificant, he might have dismissed her and sent her home. Doubts spiraled. Was she handling this well? Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, glistening against her pale face.
Outwardly, she appeared a fragile noblewoman nearing her limit—a pitiable sight.
Inside, her mind raced. How could she escape this predicament? Had she made a mistake?
“As his kin, I cannot ignore the mistakes he’s made. Hiding while alive—how long does he intend to deceive us? If left unchecked, his estate will soon be confiscated. He must return to his rightful place.”
“The situation is indeed troubling, as I’ve heard.”
“First, the duke must appear for us to resolve this matter. So, help me by revealing his location.”
The emperor pressed her urgently, as if demanding an immediate answer. Though his excuse was flimsy, he persisted, assuming Eleanor’s apparent compliance meant she’d cave under pressure.
“Tell me.”
His voice grew increasingly stern.
Eleanor’s wide, frightened eyes masked her frantic search for a solution. She wracked her brain for the wisest response, buying time with trembling fingers and hesitant lip movements, deliberately projecting anxiety to make him believe he was cornering her.
Internally, the emperor congratulated himself. Using Eleanor to uncover Fertan’s whereabouts seemed the perfect strategy.
He presumed Fertan had gone into hiding out of fear or weakness, dismissing any notion of rebellion.
“How disgraceful—to abandon his royal title yet still chase women in secret,” the emperor mused inwardly, confident Fertan lacked the strength to threaten the throne.
Unaware of Fertan’s plans, the emperor believed him too powerless to breach the palace gates, let alone challenge imperial authority.
Intent on eliminating this thorn in his side, the emperor coaxed Eleanor further.
“Hmm, if you don’t reveal his location, you’ll face consequences far worse than you can imagine.”
His beard bristled around his sneering lips—a thinly veiled threat.
“...Um...”
“Yes?”
After a long pause, Eleanor finally spoke, her voice quivering as though on the verge of tears.
“To be honest... I don’t know where Fertan is.”
“What? You met him frequently—how could you not know?”
Her chin trembled with shame as she stammered through her fabricated story. “We communicated secretly when arranging meetings. Each time, we chose a different location.”
Though mostly lies, the act of revealing such details left a bitter taste. Her sole focus was protecting Fertan at all costs.
To her relief, the emperor nodded, seemingly convinced.
“Then send word immediately. Tell him I wish to meet without delay.”
“H-here?”
“Why not? Is there a problem?”
“Are you asking me to send someone from the palace to reach Fertan? He’ll never agree to meet that way. For some reason, he’s terrified of you.”
The emperor frowned, resting his elbow on the armrest as he pondered. Eleanor noticed a faint twitch in his cheek—a suppressed smirk of satisfaction.
Was he pleased to have Fertan cornered, or simply delighted by the idea that Fertan feared him?
Either way, Eleanor had successfully glimpsed the emperor’s hidden thoughts—not because of her skill but due to his lack of subtlety. As Fertan had often remarked, the emperor wasn’t particularly clever.
Still playing the part of a trembling rabbit, Eleanor fidgeted nervously before proposing a solution.
“Here... it might be difficult, Your Majesty.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Please send me back to the Roland estate. If I dispatch a trusted escort to contact him, I’m certain we’ll arrange a meeting.”
It wasn’t a difficult request, so after brief consideration, the emperor agreed.
“Very well. But ensure the meeting happens.”
With a face flushed in feigned embarrassment, Eleanor added:
“I beg you... please honor our agreement.”
The emperor clicked his tongue, looking down on her with disdain, clearly viewing her as love-struck and oblivious.
Elleanor prayed he’d continue underestimating her. Finally, she managed to conclude their perilous conversation, feeling as though she’d walked a tightrope the entire time.
---
A rare tea gathering hosted by the empress brought together the wives of prominent noble families. They exchanged pleasantries and stories of daily life, offering the empress a brief respite from the emperor’s torment. Yet even here, her melancholy lingered.
Every woman present belonged to families far more powerful than the empress’s modest lineage. Despite their outward kindness, they kept her at arm’s length, never truly welcoming her into their circle.
Her family, minor nobility operating a modest trading house in Solcherton, lacked land or influence. Her rise to empress stemmed solely from her beauty capturing the emperor’s fleeting fancy—a fact that rendered her invisible in this elite company.
She considered herself fortunate not to oversee the imperial household; her lack of education and sharpness would have made such responsibilities unbearable.
The empress was isolated.
Everyone smiled and spoke to her, but no one engaged in genuine conversation.
By the end of the gathering, she was utterly exhausted. Yet her reprieve was short-lived—it was time to return to the emperor, who’d “graciously” allowed her this outing and would now punish her more severely for it.
Her maids powdered her pale face, masking it beneath layers of toxic cosmetics.
“There’s no way I can bear an heir in this broken body.”
The slightest mistake earned her brutal punishment. The severity of her beatings increased daily, leaving her both mentally and physically shattered. The emperor’s perverse sexual preferences only worsened her condition.
He indulged in pleasures that ruined her while simultaneously demanding she produce an heir—a depraved hypocrite driven solely by base desires.
Supported by her maids, the frail empress swayed like a leaf ready to fall.
“I want to die.”
She longed to be banished to a convent, hoping for death sooner rather than later. She wished fervently to be deposed.
If only she could learn how the previous empress had died—perhaps it had been less painful.
Yet waves of terror crashed over her. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, to escape the emperor’s grasp, even if it meant crawling through dirt.
The door opened, revealing the emperor’s gilded bedroom.
He was entangled with two mistresses, their attentions lavished upon him. Nearby, lavish dishes and aphrodisiac incense surrounded him—a grotesque display of decadence concentrated in his aging frame.
This wretched man, the source of her suffering, this vile creature—
“I want to kill him.”
If only she could strangle him in his sleep. But her frail wrists lacked the strength to overpower him.
In her mind, she murdered him countless times. Yet in reality, she could only smile vacantly, enduring his cruelty to avoid further pain.
---
The palace guards dispatched from Princess Lucena’s quarters returned.
Lucena remained unaware of the mission that had called them away. With significant personnel drawn from across the palace, she assumed it wasn’t specifically targeting her.
These days, Lucena’s anxiety mounted daily. By early next month, she’d leave for the neighboring Pelos Empire to become its empress—a daunting prospect.
Fertan had promised to ensure the wedding party wouldn’t depart, but Lucena remained restless. With no choice but to wait until the coup, her anxiety only grew.
Unable to bear it any longer, she sought answers immediately. Quietly summoning one of the guards she trusted most, who had just returned from being dispatched by the captain of the palace guard, she inquired:
“It’s unusual for the palace guard to move outside the palace, isn’t it? What were they doing out there?”
The guard, who had served in Lucena’s quarters for years, reported to her as thoroughly as possible.
“First... Captain ordered us to keep this strictly confidential.”
“Of course. I’ll ensure no harm comes to you.”
“We were searching for Duke Ablein under the emperor’s orders. Surprisingly, we learned he’s alive.”
Lucena was struck with dizzying shock. Had Fertan been discovered by the emperor?
“And then what? Does completing the mission mean they found the duke?”
“We scoured noble estates inside and outside the city, but instead, we unexpectedly found Lady Eleanor. The situation was quite dire, I heard.”
“Eleanor was found?”
She was even more astonished. Lucena had assumed Eleanor was at the Roland estate, busy preparing for the wedding just two days away. She had no idea Eleanor was elsewhere.
Fertan had only shared essential information with Lucena: the date of the decisive battle and a request to open the palace gates without overexertion. Details about troop movements or Eleanor’s complicated circumstances were too sensitive to disclose.
Still, Lucena sensed something ominous was unfolding.
“What made the situation so dire?”
“There was combat, casualties occurred, and the palace guard reportedly rescued Lady Eleanor from a dangerous predicament. My team wasn’t involved in that search, so that’s all I’ve gathered.”
“And the duke?”
“There’s no word of finding him. After rescuing Lady Eleanor, we received orders to return. Perhaps we’ll go out again to search for the duke.”
This was fortunate—if grim. Though Fertan’s whereabouts remained unknown, it seemed he hadn’t been captured by the emperor.
The guard then recounted the palace guard’s detailed sweep of the city. It appeared the emperor had been particularly determined to eliminate Fertan this time.
Still, Lucena thought, it was too late.
Based on her calculations, the coup was certain to succeed. Having grown up in the palace, she knew her father’s indolence well enough to be confident.
Before openly opposing her father, Lucena had wrestled with deep inner conflict.
At times, she considered obediently accepting a political marriage like other royals. But the more she learned about the emperor of Pelos Empire, the less willing she became. It wasn’t just the age gap—the old man was as vile as her own father.
Her resentment turned into hatred. A loving father wouldn’t do this to his daughter.
She had pleaded with tears in her eyes multiple times, only to realize she was nothing more than a tool to him.
Now, Lucena harbored only malice. As she participated in the rebellion that would end her father’s life, she beat her chest in guilt—but felt no regret.
She awaited the day Fertan would ascend the throne, burdened by her own sense of culpability.
Google Sites
Report abuse