[The Imperial Court]
Towards the end of the morning session, the Emperor raised a hand, silencing the room.
"Duke Viremont, I expect you to update me on the rebel situation as soon as possible. We shall discuss the rest this afternoon," he announced, his voice reverberating off the high stone walls.
Duke Viremont bowed his head. "Understood, Your Majesty."
The court began to shuffle, preparing to disperse for the midday break. Even after a few heartbeats, the Emperor remained seated. The movement in the room paused, eyes turning back up.
"However," the Emperor spoke again, turning his heavy gaze toward the back of the room, pinning Limon in place.
"I expect Crown Prince Alden to be present for the afternoon proceedings," the Emperor stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "If he does not show himself by then, it will indeed become a matter of concern for us all."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Is that clear, Prince's Aide?"
Limon fidgeted slightly, glancing around the court, then he bowed deeply, holding the posture for a perfect count of three.
"Understood, Your Majesty. I shall convey your command."
"Dismissed." The Emperor waved a hand and rose from the throne, prompting a bow from all nobles present in the hall.
As the court dissolved into a sea of colorful robes and hushed whispers, Duke Helbart turned away, a smirk curling his lips. He signaled his personal attendant while he watched Limon's blank stare.
"Prepare my carriage. And ready the guards. In an hour, we leave for the Emerald Castle," Helbart whispered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "We must ensure my dear nephew is... safe."
Limon turned on his heel and walked briskly toward the exit, keeping his pace measured despite the panic rising in his throat.
'I have to wake Alden. Now.'
He left the Central Palace and took his carriage to Emerald Castle, the Crown Prince's residence. But as he pushed open the heavy doors of the Castle, he didn't find the bustling hallway he expected.
He walked straight into the silence of a grave.
Servants were absent. The usual station guards were gone. The corridor stretched out long and empty, the only sound the muffled drumming of rain against the high windows.
In the distance, cutting through the gloom, only two figures were visible: Captain Lut and Elara. They stood close together, heads bowed in urgent, hushed conversation.
As Limon's footsteps echoed on the stone, they snapped apart. Captain Lut bowed stiffly to Elara, bowed towards Limon once, and marched away in the opposite direction, his hand resting heavily on his sword hilt.
Limon approached, his brow furrowed. Elara watched him come, her hands clasped tightly in front of her apron.
"Elara?" Limon asked, breathless. "Where is everyone? The Emperor has demanded that the Prince attend afternoon court—"
"Oh, you worry so much for him," Elara interrupted, a small, tight smile fixed on her face. "Do not fret. Before afternoon, he will be present."
Limon paused. "Is he awake? I wish to go and check—"
"No need," Elara stopped him. "He just had a simple breakfast, My Lord."
"Just Limon," he corrected.
"Yes, yes. Limon, don't worry. He just went back to sleep after eating." She gestured down the hall, away from the Prince's bedroom. "I will prepare lunch for him shortly. Would you mind preparing his papers and waiting in his study?"
Limon nodded slowly. "The study? Not the bedroom?"
"Let him sleep a bit longer," she insisted, her eyes gentle. "Go on to the study. I will bring tea for you as well."
"Right... of course."
Limon watched her bustle away toward the kitchens. He stood alone in the empty corridor, the silence pressing in on his ears.
'Something feels off.'
Inside the velvet-lined interior of his black carriage, Duke Helbart sat, one leg crossed over the other, listening to the rain drum against the roof. The carriage door stood slightly ajar, shielding a shivering man who bowed low in the mud.
"Speak," Helbart commanded, picking a speck of lint from his trousers.
"Chaos in the Emerald Castle, Your Grace," the spy breathlessly reported, rainwater dripping from his nose. "The head maid was seen weeping. There are whispers of blood—sheets soaked in it—and Captain Lut has barred the doors. The Prince has not been seen since dawn."
A slow, cruel smile spread across Helbart's face. He uncrossed his legs and kicked the door shut.
"Perfect." He rapped his cane sharply against the ceiling. "Driver! To Emerald Castle. It seems my dear nephew requires his uncle's immediate attention."
---
Emerald Castle, Prince Alden's Bedchamber
Thunder rattled the very foundations of the castle as heavy boots stomped down the corridor.
"Your Grace, you cannot enter!" Captain Lut stood before the heavy oak doors, his hand on his hilt. "His Highness is—"
"Out of my way, dog." Duke Helbart didn't break stride. "I am his uncle, a Duke of the Empire, and acting on the Emperor's concern. If the boy is sick, I will see him."
Captain Lut did not budge. With a sharp metallic rasp, he drew his sword, the steel barring the Duke's path.
"It is His Highness's order," Lut said, his voice hard. "We cannot allow you entry. His bedchamber is off-limits."
Helbart sneered. He snapped his fingers.
Instantly, Helbart's personal guard surged forward. Lut braced himself, but he was alone in the corridor. He couldn't strike down the Emperor's own brother without branding himself a traitor, and he couldn't hold back a dozen men single-handedly.
The hesitation cost him. A gauntleted fist slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling.
"Hold him," Helbart commanded, bored.
Two guards seized Lut's arms, wrenching them back until the shoulders popped, while a third drove a knee into his gut. Lut gagged, doubling over, but the hands held him upright.
"Your Grace..." Lut wheezed, blood dripping from his lip onto his breastplate. "What you are doing... is treason..."
"Teach him his place," Helbart muttered as he walked past.
A heavy boot caught Lut in the ribs with a sickening crack. Then another. Lut grunted, his vision swimming, but he refused to cry out. He sagged in their grip, forcing his head up.
"When His Highness returns... he won't be pleased..."
Helbart paid him no mind. He threw the doors open with a violent crash. "Alden!" Helbart barked, stepping into the room.
He stopped.
The room was freezing. The balcony doors were thrown wide open, wind and rain lashing against the stone floor, soaking the heavy curtains. But the room itself was empty.
And it was pristine.
Suspiciously so. The bed was made with military precision. The floor shone as if it had been scrubbed raw. The scent of sandalwood was heavy, almost choking, masking even the smell of the rain.
Helbart narrowed his eyes. He paced into the center of the room, his boots leaving muddy prints on the immaculate floor. Elara stood by the wardrobe, her head bowed low, trembling.
"Where is he?" Helbart demanded, spinning on his heel. "Hiding under the covers? Weeping in the corner?"
"His Highness... His Highness has left, Your Grace," Elara whispered, her voice shaking. "He left early for the afternoon session."
"Left?" Helbart scoffed. "I didn't pass his carriage."
He paced toward the window, peering out into the gray deluge. He turned back, his gaze sweeping the floor like a hawk hunting a field mouse.
He froze, his lips curving upward for a split second before he forced them down.
Near the leg of the heavy bedside table, missed by the scrubbing cloth, was a single, dark red spot. Small. Stark against the pale stone.
Helbart walked over, crouching down. He touched it with a gloved finger. It was tacky.
"What is this?" His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. He held up his finger. "Blood?"
Elara gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh! Heaven forbid!" She rushed forward, dropping to her knees and frantically using her apron to wipe the spot. "Forgive this clumsy old woman, Your Grace! I... I slipped earlier while cleaning. The floor was wet from the rain. I cut my hand."
She held up a trembling hand, wrapped in a makeshift bandage that was indeed spotted with red.
Helbart stared down at her, his eyes cold. He didn't buy it. Not for a second.
"You dare stain the Prince's chambers with your filth?" He loomed over her. "You incompetent hag." He gestured to his guards. "Drag her out. Teach her a lesson about hygiene and honesty."
"No! Please!" Elara cried out as a guard seized her arm.
"Stop."
The voice was calm. Limon stood in the doorway, his chest heaving slightly as if he had run, though his face remained composed.
"Lord Limon," Helbart sneered. "Finally decided to show up."
"Release her," Limon commanded, stepping fully into the room. "Elara is the Prince's childhood guardian. Disciplining her is His Highness's prerogative, not yours, Duke Helbart."
Helbart stared at Limon, his jaw working. Finally, he waved his hand. The guard released Elara, who scrambled back, clutching her arm.
"Fine," Helbart spat. "Then tell me where he really is. Did he flee? Did he hurt himself? Or..." He trailed off, pacing the room with frantic energy.
"As Elara said," Limon replied smoothly. "He left early."
"Lies!"
"Oh my, such noise."
A soft, melodic voice drifted in from the hallway. Consort Rosa appeared, her purple silk dress rustling as she stepped over the threshold, accompanied by her own guards. She looked at the muddy footprints, then at Elara on the floor.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent. "I came to offer my support to poor Alden."
She scanned the room for a moment before asking, "Where is he?"
"Consort Rosa, he is not here," Elara replied, bowing deep. "His Highness has left for the afternoon session."
Rosa's gaze froze for a split second before returning to warmth. She circled Elara with a gentle smile. "Don't be sad, Elara. You can be honest with me. After all, he is like my own child."
Her eyes curved like a crescent moon. "Is he unwell? Is he... refusing to come out? To meet me?"
"He is at the court, My Lady," Elara said again, her voice cracking but firm. "I speak the truth."
Rosa's smile didn't waver, but the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. She straightened up, smoothing her skirts.
"Well," Rosa sighed. "If you insist on that story."
She turned to her guards. "Seize her."
"Consort Rosa!" Limon stepped forward, his composure cracking. "On what grounds? She is the Prince's head maid!"
"Precisely," Rosa said softly. "And she is bleeding in the Prince's bedchamber. It is unsanitary. And I can't help but be suspicious..." Rosa tilted her head, her expression chillingly vacant. "...of her intentions."
"You cannot do this," Limon warned, moving to bar their way. "This is not the Consort's jurisdiction! Only the Prince can—"
"Indeed, Lord Limon. But currently, the Secretariat manages the household staff."
Rosa reached into her sleeve and produced a folded parchment stamped with a heavy, familiar seal. She held it up, her voice turning to steel.
"And with the Prince absent, Aide Aldric has formally requested I take temporary charge of the Inner Palace's security. This document grants me full jurisdiction. Do not test me, Lord Limon. Unless you wish to defy the Secretariat's direct order and join her?"
Limon froze, his eyes locking onto Aldric's seal. It was legitimate. He was checkmated.
Two guards hauled Elara up.
"Lord Limon! Please—" Elara cut herself off, trying to reassure him as she was pulled into the corridor. "Don't worry! I am fine!"
Limon gasped, stepping forward to follow, but he stopped when Elara cast him a fleeting, soft smile just before she disappeared.
"Oh. You are taking her away?" Helbart blocked Limon's path, a cold, amused smirk returning to his face. He leaned close to Limon's ear. "You better have your excuses ready. If the Prince doesn't show up at court now, I will see you all hanged."
Helbart stormed out into the rain. Rosa lingered a moment longer, offering a pitying smile that didn't reach her eyes, before turning to follow the guards.
Limon was left standing in the freezing room, his fists clenched uselessly at his sides.
A moment later, a groan came from the doorway.
Lut stumbled in, clutching his ribs. His face was swollen, one eye shut, and blood painted his chin. He leaned heavily against the frame, watching the empty corridor where Elara had been dragged away.
Limon turned to him with a look of sheer, unadulterated terror.
'The walls are closing in.'
---
The Courtyard
Helbart strode out of the castle entrance, the heavy doors thudding shut behind him. He stepped into the shelter of the portico where his black carriage waited.
His steward, Beric, bowed low. His coat was damp.
"Beric... the spy was correct," Helbart said, stripping off his wet gloves and tossing them to the ground. "There was blood. And the room stank of bleach."
"Then the Prince is..." Beric trailed off, watching his master's face.
"Critical. Or dead. He was not there." Helbart stared out at the driving rain, his mind racing. "Rosa has taken the maid. We won't get anything out of her before that witch breaks her mind or silences her permanently."
"I have already deployed trackers to the city, Your Grace," Beric murmured. "We are combing the clinics and the back alleys."
Helbart turned to Beric and leaned in close.
"If you find him..." Helbart's voice was barely a whisper.
He didn't finish the sentence. He simply raised a hand and made a sharp, downward motion—a single, decisive cut through the air.
Beric didn't blink. "Understood. We will put an end to... unwanted suffering."
"Go. Before the City Watch finds him."
Beric vanished into the rain. Helbart took a breath, smoothed his cravat, and checked his reflection in the dark window of the carriage. He practiced a frown—deep, concerned, bordering on frantic.
"Showtime," he muttered.
---
The Imperial Courtroom
The heavy doors groaned open.
Duke Helbart stepped into the Great Hall. The air here was warm, perfumed, and thick with the murmur of a hundred nobles. At the far end, upon the Golden Throne, sat the Emperor.
Helbart didn't bow immediately. Instead, his eyes darted to the right of the throne.
To the right of the Emperor's throne.
The space was empty.
The murmurs in the room died down as the court noticed the Duke's entrance. They saw his disheveled hair, the water darkening the shoulders of his coat, and—most importantly—the look of utter devastation he had plastered onto his face. Two of his personal guards trailed him, stopping just inside the doorway.
He stumbled forward a few steps, then fell to one knee, ignoring proper protocol.
"Your Imperial Majesty!" Helbart's voice cracked, echoing off the high vaulted ceiling. "Forgive my intrusion... forgive my appearance..."
"Duke Helbart..." The Emperor's voice was low. "You are late."
Helbart lowered his head, his shoulders shaking as if overcome with grief.
"I went to his chambers before the session, Sire. I feared his mental state was worsening." Helbart looked up, his eyes wide. "But his chambers... oh, gods."
He pointed a trembling finger toward the doors he had just entered.
"There was blood, Sire! Blood on the floor! And the room scrubbed clean to hide it!"
A collective gasp ripped through the court.
"The guards—Limon and that brute Lut—they dared to bar my path! I had to force my way through to verify the Prince's safety!" Helbart cried out, rising to his feet, turning to address the staring crowd. "They are hiding him! Or worse! I fear... I fear the Crown Prince has been—"
He stopped.
The court was dead silent. But they weren't looking at him with shock. They were looking at him with confusion. A few younger nobles near the back were suppressing coughs that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Helbart blinked. He looked to his right, catching the eye of Duke Varik. The older Duke merely raised an eyebrow and pointed a gloved finger toward the back of the room. Toward the cluster of nobles near the western windows.
"Are you looking for me, Your Grace?"
Helbart spun around.
Emerging from the crowd near Count Devon was Alden.
He was dressed in immaculate red and black formal wear, the silver embroidery catching the sunlight. His hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. He looked pale, perhaps, but composed and undeniably regal.
"I can't quite fathom what required such urgency," Alden said, walking slowly toward the center. His footsteps echoed in the silence. "And as for my servants 'hiding' me... pray tell, were they hiding me here? In front of the entire Empire?"
Helbart's mouth opened and closed like a fish. No words came out.
Alden didn't stop. He walked right past Helbart, the hem of his robe brushing against the Duke's muddy boots. He ascended the steps to the dais and stood at the right hand of the Emperor.
He turned, looking down at his uncle with bored curiosity.
Bang!
The courtroom doors flew open.
"My Lord, you cannot enter without an announcement!" the herald's shout rang out from behind the heavy oak.
"Your Highness!" Limon was soaked to the bone, gasping for air, his usual composure shattered. He looked frantically around the room until his eyes locked onto Alden.
"Thank the gods," He breathed, sagging with relief before he dropped to his knees. "Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion, but—Captain Lut has fallen. Duke Helbart's men crushed his ribs."
Limon pointed a trembling finger at the Duke. "And Consort Rosa... she has dragged Elara to the dungeons. Your Highness, she claimed she had jurisdiction!"
A ripple of shock swept through the court. Nobles stole glances at the Emperor and the Crown Prince, whispering feverishly.
Alden went very still. The boredom vanished, replaced by a terrifying, frozen calm.
"Is this true, Duke Helbart?" The question was soft, yet it carried across the hall.
Helbart stepped back, sweat and rain dripping from his brow. "I was merely worried, nephew! There was blood!"
"Answer the question." Alden locked eyes with him. "Did you assault the Captain of the Royal Guard?"
"You misunderstand. It was self-defense! Your servants refused me entry!"
Alden nodded once. "That is exactly what they are ordered to do. You seem to have forgotten, but my Captain has no reason to grant you entry to my bedchamber on unverified grounds—and certainly not without an Imperial decree."
Alden turned to the Emperor and bowed low. "Your Majesty, it appears the Duke has acted on paranoia. In his confusion, he has battered my Captain without permission, while another one abducted my head maid."
The Emperor raised a hand, silencing the room. "Calm yourself, Crown Prince."
The Emperor shifted his gaze to Helbart. It was a look of silent, crushing contempt. "Duke Helbart. What is the meaning of this behavior? You disrupt my court to accuse the Prince of vanishing, while he has been standing in this very hall for the last ten minutes?"
"My apologies, Your Majesty." Helbart bowed politely, looking around for support, but no one would meet his eyes. "I did not see him enter! I was merely concerned for his safety!"
"I have been here discussing military strategy with Count Devon since before the session began," Alden said, enunciating each word. He glanced at the Count.
Count Devon stepped forward, bowing. "It is so, Your Majesty. His Highness has been with me."
Helbart looked around, meeting Limon's accusing gaze, then turned back to Alden.
'He is not making any mention of the assassination attempt,' Helbart thought, his eyes narrowing. 'It seems my nephew has something to hide. But...' He studied Alden's upright posture. 'How is he standing here unscathed?'
Then, a tremor.
For just a heartbeat, Alden's posture faltered. His left hand twitched violently at his side, and he immediately clenched it into a fist to stop the shaking. It was too sudden, gone before anyone else could observe it, but Helbart saw the knuckles turn white against his thigh.
'The boy is injured. Hiding it. But how badly?'
The flush of indignation vanished from Helbart's face, replaced instantly by a small sneer.
"I see," Helbart rasped, the words scraping against his dry throat. "Then... it was a misunderstanding. A grievous error born of love for my nephew."
He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he forced the next words out. "I will offer compensation. One million Imperial gold coins for the trouble caused to the Prince's staff."
The Emperor looked at his son. "What say you, Crown Prince? Is this sufficient?"
Alden looked at Helbart. Then he tilted his head, a dark, predatory smile touching his lips.
"The gold will suffice for the emotional distress," Alden said. "But money cannot pay for the blood spilled by your guards."
He turned back to the Emperor.
"Your Majesty." Alden's voice dropped. "Would it be permissible if I executed the offenders? On the spot?"
The court held its breath.