[Western Wing — Holding Cells]
Darkness filled the center of the room where Elara stood, hands clasped loosely in front of her gray dress.
A sharp, metallic snap.
The heavy door swung inward.
Consort Rosa swept across the threshold, her rose-colored hair perfectly pinned. The scent of crushed flowers instantly overpowered the damp mildew, creating a fresh and pleasant aroma.
Rosa halted. Her skirts rustled softly, her gaze raking over the old woman to assess her.
"Miss Elara, how are you faring?" she asked politely.
Elara kept her expression serene. "I am fine, My Lady. Thank you for asking."
A single nod followed. Closing the distance, Rosa invaded the older woman's personal space. She leaned in, voice dropping to a low whisper.
"Fear not. I am not foolish enough to hurt the Crown Prince's surrogate mother. Well... At least not yet."
Elara nodded once. "That is a wise decision, Consort."
"A wise decision, you say? Indeed." The Consort drew back to restore the distance between them, though her pink eyes remained fixed on Elara's face. "You do understand that I can execute you right here and now, call it an accident, and get away with it?"
"How could I not know that?" Elara's face remained gentle, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I have been in this palace for over twenty years. There are very few things I have not seen by now."
Amusement lit Rosa's eyes. She studied Elara's posture once more—completely perfect, as if ready to serve tea in a drawing room rather than rot in a cell. A smirk touched her lips. "Elara... Why not become mine? I quite like you."
Elara shook her head. "My Lady, this old woman does not have much life left to live. At such a time, what point would there be to change allegiances? Also, I am quite happy to serve the Prince."
With a dismissive flick of her hand, Rosa scoffed. "How regrettable. Well, this is not the first time I am being rejected by you... Just so you know, you are always welcome."
"I will keep that in mind, My Lady," Elara responded quietly.
"So now, would you mind telling me where the Prince actually is? Did you hide him? Or... his body?"
Elara opened her mouth, but the sound of frantic running cut her off.
A servant skidded into the doorway, clutching the frame for support. His chest heaved.
"Consort... Consort Rosa!" he gasped. "The Prince has attended the afternoon court."
Rosa's eyes widened a fraction. For a second, the silence stretched, tight as a bowstring. Then, a slow, amused curve lifted her lips.
"He did?" A breathy laugh escaped her. "Oh my... What a misunderstanding."
She dismissed the servant with a wave, her gaze turning back to Elara. Her eyes narrowed, gleaming with sharp malice.
"It seems you were not lying, Elara," Rosa said smoothly. "Well, I expected nothing less from you. Thorough as always."
Elara replied, "You praise me too much, My Lady. It is all because I serve a wonderful person."
"Oh...?" Rosa opened her fan before her face. "Now that you are here with me, what do you think your amazing Prince will do?"
She laughed softly. "Will he come here? Confront me? To free you?"
Rosa began a slow circle around the older woman, her voice light and teasing.
"Or... will he not even bother to come, instead sending a servant or some guard to fetch you?" She stopped in front of Elara. "I am curious. What do you think, Elara? How much does the Prince value you? Will he take the risk and damage his reputation for you? Or is it simply..."
Rosa smirked again. She called out toward the corridor.
"Vera."
"Yes, My Lady."
"Dress me properly," Rosa commanded, checking her fingernails. "I must be prepared to receive the Prince... that is... if he does come here."
She beamed one last time and walked toward the exit before pausing at the threshold. "Elara..."
Over her shoulder, she glanced at the old woman. "If you ever plan to switch sides, my doors will be open for a loyal and competent servant like you."
Then she walked out of the cell.
Elara remained standing in the dungeon, head bowed in the silence.
---
[The Imperial Courtroom — The Same Time]
"Your Majesty." Alden's voice dropped. "Would it be permissible if I executed the offenders? On the spot?"
The Emperor closed his eyes for a few heartbeats, then waved a hand. "The law is the law."
Alden descended the stairs. Heavy and deliberate, his boots struck the marble, closing the distance to where Duke Helbart stood. He stopped directly in front of his uncle, but his eyes drilled past the Duke, fixing on the three guards standing behind him—the same men who had beaten Lut.
"Uncle," Alden said, his voice polite. "You agree, surely? You wouldn't harbor criminals who assault the Royal Guard?"
Helbart glanced back at his guards.
Instantly, the three men stiffened. They were loyal. They had done exactly what he ordered. A desperate, silent plea filled their gaze—an expectation of protection.
To his left, Duke Ashvale watched with narrowed eyes. To his right, Duke Varik and Duke Viremont exchanged glances. Above them all, the Emperor silently observed from the throne, and directly in front of him, the Prince stood tall, chin lifted, waiting for him to slip.
Defending them meant defying the Crown's order. It meant implicating himself.
Helbart's jaw tightened until his teeth ached. He would look weak if he said no here, but...
He averted his gaze, breaking eye contact with his men.
"No," Helbart said flatly. "I would not. Do as you see fit, Your... Highness."
The guards froze. Drained of color, their faces instantly turned gray.
"My Lord?" the first guard whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. "But... you said—"
Refusing to acknowledge them, Helbart stared straight ahead at the Prince's chest.
"How wise of you."
Alden drew his sword. The blade slid free with a sharp ring that cut through the silence.
Alden stepped around the Duke, closing in on the men. The guards stumbled back, eyes darting from their master's turned back to the Prince's advancing steel.
Alden raised the blade. Squeezing his eyes shut, the first guard let a whimper escape his throat.
"Hold."
The single word from the Golden Throne stopped Alden mid-motion. He paused and turned his head slowly toward his father.
The Emperor leaned back. "You are the Crown Prince—the future of this Empire."
He shifted his gaze towards the deepest shadow of the hall, behind his throne. "It is beneath your dignity to stain your hands."
After a heartbeat, Alden lowered the sword.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
Shoulders sagged as the guards let out a ragged breath. For a second, they thought they had been spared.
"Denzel." The Emperor's voice was low, yet the name fell into the silence with crushing weight.
The temperature seemed to plummet. From the darkness behind the dais, a figure emerged. He was clad in full, dark plate armor that swallowed the light. A heavy black cape flowed from his shoulders, bearing the crest of the Imperial Vanguard.
Denzel. The Emperor's Shadow Guard.
"Your will, Sire?" Denzel's voice was deep, like stones grinding together.
"Dispose of them," the Emperor said.
Denzel simply turned, descending the stairs. He moved with a speed that shouldn't be possible for a man of his size.
Discipline evaporated. Helbart's guards scrambled for their weapons.
"No! Wait!" one screamed, fumbling for his hilt.
It was useless.
Denzel didn't even draw a sword. At the bottom step, he blurred into motion. He seized the first guard by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand as easily as a doll.
The guard clawed at the gauntlet, kicking his legs wildly. His eyes bulged, searching for Helbart one last time. Helbart didn't blink, though a bead of sweat traced a line down his temple.
With a sickening _crack_, Denzel crushed the man's windpipe and tossed the limp body to the floor like a sack of grain.
Duke Ashvale turned his face away. Near the pillar, Marquis Blackwood trembled, his face draining of blood.
The second guard turned to run, slipping on the polished floor. Denzel lunged, gripping the man's head in both gloved hands. He twisted sharply. The wet snap echoed through the silent hall.
The body crumpled to the carpet, dead before it hit the floor.
The aged Duke Varik closed his eyes, a grimace etching deep lines into his face.
The third guard, trembling violently, backed away until he hit the pillar. He raised his hands in surrender, tears streaming down his face.
"Please! I just followed orders! Duke Helbart, please!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Tell them! I only did what you—"
Denzel didn't pause. He kicked out.
His steel boot shattered the guard's knee with a wet, heavy crunch.
The guard shrieked, collapsing into a heap of agony. "My leg! Oh gods, my leg!"
Countess Alderton pressed a perfumed handkerchief against her lips, violently gagging. She spun away, terrified to witness the unfolding scene, yet unable to depart during the Emperor's presence.
The Shadow Guard towered over his victim, silent. He reached down, grabbing a fistful of the screaming man's hair. He yanked the head back, exposing the terror-stricken face to the ceiling, then slammed his armored fist down.
_Squelch._
The impact splattered bone and brain across the pristine marble. The screaming stopped instantly.
It was over in seconds.
Helbart flinched violently. A droplet of gore had landed inches from his boot. Staring at it, his stomach churning, a cold sweat broke out beneath his heavy robes. He stood paralyzed, staring at the ruined flesh that used to be his enforcers.
Marquis Ashford's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the corpse to avoid looking at the Shadow Guard.
Denzel wiped a speck of blood from his gauntlet, then looked up at the Emperor. He offered a single, silent nod before stepping back into the shadows.
Alden sheathed his sword and looked at his uncle.
Helbart stared at the floor, his face the color of old parchment. The arrogance was gone, even if for a moment, replaced by a hollow, vibrating fear.
"A pity," Alden whispered coldly.
---
"Marquis Ashford," the Emperor spoke again, his voice filling the hall.
The crowd parted instantly. Marquis Ashford—father of Consort Rosa—stood exposed. He smoothed the front of his velvet doublet before stepping forward and bowing low, though his hands betrayed a slight tremor.
"Your Imperial Majesty."
The Emperor's gaze turned to Alden, who remained quiet.
"Your daughter," Alden began, his voice deceptively light, "has abducted my head maid. On what grounds?"
"Your Highness," the Marquis said quickly. "Please understand, Consort Rosa was acting under official authority. She holds a document from Aide Aldric, granting her temporary control over the Inner Palace security."
Alden's eyebrows shot up. He took a few steps forward and stopped before the seat of Marquis Ashford.
"Is that so?" A dark chuckle escaped the Prince. "Then, it seems the Marquis is right to point that out."
Ashford let out a breath of relief, but Alden wasn't finished.
"The problem lies with the Secretariat," Alden continued, his voice hardening. "If Aide Aldric is so overwhelmed that he must delegate his core security duties to the Consort, then he is far less capable than he claimed."
Alden turned to the Emperor. "Even if he had to leave for urgent matters, the work should have been given to Imperial Advisor Callum, not Consort Rosa, who is untested."
The Emperor turned slightly toward the empty seat of Aldric Corlen, then at Callum Beaumont, who remained seated, taking notes.
Alden's voice echoed again. "As for this mess, Your Majesty, I accuse both Aide Aldric and Consort Rosa of gross negligence, abuse of power, and unverified, baseless interruption of the Inner Palace."
"Baseless?" Marquis Ashford interjected, trying to rally. "Your Highness, surely you understand? A commoner found in a compromised room... it is standard procedure to take them for inquiry when the Prince is missing."
"When I am missing?" Alden loomed over the Marquis. "My staff repeatedly informed them of my location. They told the Consort I was at court. Yet she chose to ignore them."
Leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that echoed like a scream in the silent hall, Alden drove the point home.
"I cannot understand this suspicion, Marquis. It is almost as if... I was supposed to be missing."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
The Marquis went pale. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
"Absolutely not!" Ashford finally stammered.
"Then how do you explain this?" Alden pressed, relentless. "Let me ask both His Grace and the Marquis: What prompted this urgency? Was there something planned for today that I was unaware of? Something that made you certain I would not be present in the court?"
"Your Highness!" Ashford cried out, desperate. "Refrain from making groundless accusations! Rosa... Rosa always cares and worries about you!"
Alden straightened up, his smirk returning. "Oh..."
Marquis Ashford turned to the Emperor and fell to his knees. "Your Majesty! His Highness is clearly agitated over a minor incident. Let me make amends! Since the maid is clearly important to the Prince, I will ensure she is returned immediately!"
The Emperor looked down at the Marquis, his eyes half-closed.
"That is not enough after causing such a disturbance. You will match Duke Helbart's compensation," the Emperor declared, tapping a finger against the golden armrest. "One million gold coins, payable to the Prince."
Ashford pressed his forehead to the cold floor, his shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you, Your Majesty!"
"Furthermore," the Emperor added, his gaze sharpening. "Aide Aldric is to be brought to trial immediately upon his return next week. We shall see if his incompetence is merely negligence... or something worse."
"Commander Maris."
The Commander of the Royal Guard stepped forward and saluted sharply.
"Go to the dungeons," the Emperor ordered, his tone brooking no delay. "Retrieve the Crown Prince's maid. Immediately."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The Commander turned on his heel.
"And Commander."
Alden didn't raise his voice, yet Maris froze mid-step, his boot hovering inches above the floor.
Alden slowly turned his head. He didn't look at the Commander. His gaze was fixed solely on Marquis Ashford, dissecting the man where he knelt.
"Check her condition carefully. If she has been harmed... if even a single hair on her head has been touched..."
"Understood, Your Highness," the Commander replied, bowing deeply before rushing out of the hall with a squad of men.