Chapter 127
Lorant’s main stance was officially neutral. Yet, between black and white—between the obvious best and second-best choices—neutrality held little meaning. Many members of the neutral faction had already thrown their support behind Terhan.
“Guildmaster, may I have a word?”
Lorant called out to Reinol, who had been slipping silently out of the meeting hall.
“Oh! I don’t have much to discuss with you personally, but Duke Hilroa asked me to relay this message.”
Reinol glanced back with a hint of annoyance, but when he recognized it was Lorant, a faint smile spread across his face as if he’d remembered his final duty.
“Duke Hilroa… is speaking to me?”
Lorant’s gray eyes widened in surprise, the question forming unspoken in them. Reinol nodded lightly, stopped walking, and faced him squarely.
Lorant focused all his attention, waiting for Reinol to speak.
“Whatever Duke Hilroa intends, his support is entirely for His Highness, Terhan Presto, the Second Prince.”
In that moment, Lorant understood why he had been so desperate to meet Duke Hilroa. They had secured a powerful ally—not only for Terhan, but also for themselves and Cassios.
The duchies of the Grand Empire of Montania numbered only three. Gaining the support of a duke carried immense influence, but with a legendary house like Duke Hilroa’s, that power was beyond imagination.
Overwhelmed with excitement, Lorant’s breath hitched briefly. His ash-gray eyes widened, trembling slightly.
But Reinol didn’t stop there. He carefully chose his words again.
“Duke Hilroa also asked that if there is anything further to convey, you should use the Artis Guild.”
A gentle closing. Clearly, it left the door open for continued communication.
“Then I must be off; I have pressing matters.”
While Lorant remained speechless, frozen, Reinol gave a light nod and turned to leave.
“…Thank you.”
Lorant murmured sincerely to Reinol’s back.
“I will relay your message to Duke Hilroa.”
Reinol glanced over his shoulder, lifted the corner of his lips in a smooth smile, and exited the hall.
Once Lorant was left alone, those who had been watching curiously swarmed him.
“What did you discuss?”
“Did you know Duke Hilroa already?”
“I suppose we can breathe easier now, Duke Brown!”
Questions came from every direction, all eyes filled with curiosity.
“I have urgent matters to attend to,” Lorant said, leaving without answering.
He had to deliver this joyous news to Cassios. Just imagining how thrilled he would be brought a faint smile to Lorant’s lips.
“Why does our Emperor test me so?”
The Empress’s lips twisted as she gazed over a luxurious garden, ablaze with crimson roses.
“But what can I do?”
She turned slowly, letting the sunlight pour through the tall windows.
“Those who dare block my path will be crushed. Anyone, without exception.”
Her piercing red eyes fixed on someone bowing respectfully before her.
“Who do you think the Emperor will choose?”
“The First Prince, perhaps…?”
The man before her, with blonde hair and red eyes strikingly similar to the Empress herself, was Duke Morrison, well-known as her brother.
“Why?” she asked.
“…His Majesty has never looked toward the Second Prince.”
Morrison’s eyes darted nervously as he spoke.
“Tch. Foolish,” the Empress snapped.
The tension between them was heavy—not a familial warmth, but strict hierarchy and a unilateral relationship.
“The Emperor will surely choose him. How foolish. If you wanted to hide, you should have avoided that look in your eyes.”
The Empress recalled the Emperor’s gaze toward Terhan. She could not be deceived; she had long seen his intentions.
There was no need to wait for the Emperor’s decision.
The time had come to burn everything down.
“If this fails, the name Morrison will be erased from all records.”
“…There’s no doubt.”
Her warning targeted not only Duke Morrison, but his entire house—though she seemed to exclude herself in that statement.
“The preparations are complete. Simply give the order.”
Morrison reported, and the Empress’s eyes narrowed in delight.
The massive bell hung high in the Imperial Palace resonated majestically.
Once.
Curious onlookers turned toward the palace.
Twice.
Gasps and murmurs of confusion filled the capital.
Finally, thrice.
“Evacuate immediately!”
“Ahhh!”
“Get out of the way!”
No one doubted the meaning of the three chimes.
Once marked national celebrations or imperial announcements.
Twice signaled the deployment of the knights.
Thrice was the warning for danger—war or rebellion.
The streets, once bustling, were now empty and desolate. The sound of urgent couriers’ hooves and frightened children’s cries echoed through the city.
Soon, the ground trembled as if from an earthquake. Objects fell, and large furniture shook. The aftershocks grew into a wave of terror.
“The ruler of the Grand Empire of Montania is His Majesty, Emperor Felix Presto!”
“Punish those who seek to weaken the Empire!”
“Bring down the emperor who has lost judgment!”
“Protect Her Majesty, the Empress, from the witches!”
Hundreds, even thousands of knights charged toward the palace. The ground shook beneath their hooves, amplifying the terror of those in hiding.
The cries of the mob barely registered. All the powerless could do was curl up, hiding even their hair, praying for the chaos to end.
“…They’ve begun to move.”
Hours before the bell tolled, Terhan, Milan, Hestia, Sonya, Hanna, and Aindek were all tense, completing their preparations.
Terhan gazed out the window, watching the sunlit garden sway peacefully—the calm that would soon be shattered.
Milan waited silently for Terhan’s command. If conflict erupted, Milan and Sonya would quickly exit the palace to assist, keeping the citizens calm. Aindek had already readied the Second Knight Squadron.
Hestia, wearing a light dress that exposed her ankles, held a thin, sharp blade in her left hand—not the blunt silver sword used in competitions.
This battle was a fight to survive; if they did not strike, they would die.
Terhan turned his gaze back from the window to those beside him.
“I will protect you, no matter what.”
Years ago, Terhan had engraved this resolution on his heart—a regret that could never be erased, a determination that could not fade.
He looked at Hestia, the one who had helped him rise again when he had fallen.
For a fleeting moment, Hestia smiled calmly, incongruous with the tense situation. Her warmth and vitality softened Terhan’s previously tense expression.
When Hestia nodded faintly, satisfied, Terhan’s lips curved into a firmer smile.
“Your lives come first. Do not sacrifice yourselves. That is my command—my earnest request.”
He surveyed everyone once more, offering his final words.
“And, Your Highness, you must value your own life as well.”
Milan forced a smile despite worry.
“The plan will proceed without disruption. Please, also take care of yourself.”
Terhan had previously used himself as bait to save Aindek, so Aindek’s concern was laced with deeper worry.
“You must not get hurt,” Sonya added softly, her trembling voice full of concern, eyes wide.
Hestia gently patted Sonya’s head in reassurance.
“Go.”
A low voice signaled the beginning of the decisive battle.
Terhan passed his companions and opened the door without hesitation. His golden eyes glowed with determination, radiating a heavy, commanding presence.
Hestia followed shortly after, giving a brief nod before moving quickly.
Her destination was the Empress’s quarters, where she was tasked with surveillance.
Blending into the shadows of the corridor, Hestia observed the Empress’s chambers. Something felt wrong.
Unlike Terhan’s palace, where all servants had been quietly evacuated, the Empress’s palace remained peaceful. Servants continued their usual duties, seemingly unaware of the impending events.
Why?
Why hadn’t she evacuated her people first? In fact, there seemed to be more servants than usual.
Hestia pressed her lips together, watching the Empress’s room cautiously. A sense of unease crept up her spine.
At that moment, the large doors, adorned with red carpet and gold, swung open. The Empress appeared, more lavishly dressed than ever.
Head maid Emily quietly followed, along with the usual attendants. The Empress walked with serene composure, giving no indication she intended to act. Even her face bore a faint hint of excitement.
