[West Annex, Consort Rosa's Chamber]
The porcelain cup clinked against its saucer. It was a delicate sound, almost swallowed by the wet crack of a whip and the strangled scream that followed.
Rosa sat still in her plush armchair, the steam from her jasmine tea curling around her manicured fingers. In the corner of the opulent bedchamber, Lisa lay bound on the floor.
"Please, My Lady! I beg you!" Lisa sobbed between strikes, her back already stained red. "Forgive me!"
A slow sip followed, Rosa savoring the floral notes before lowering the cup. At her slight gesture, the whipping stopped.
"It seems you've outlived your usefulness, Lisa," Rosa said, her rose-colored eyes half-lidded. "The Crown Prince never called you to his bed. You haven't offered a single scrap of value from the Emerald Castle. And today... today was quite the humiliation."
She paused, examining a nonexistent flaw on her fingernail. "All because of your bad intelligence. You have completely disappointed me. Tell me, what am I to do with you?"
Struggling against her bonds, tears streaming down her bloodied face, Lisa cried out. "Please! Give me one more chance. I am still inside the Emerald Castle—I still have access. I can get you information no one else can..."
Rosa laughed, a mild, melodic sound chillingly devoid of humor.
"Did you mistakenly end up thinking you are irreplaceable?"
The teacup rose again in her hand; she looked past the girl. "Vera."
Another maid silently stepped forward and bowed low. "Yes, My Lady."
A smile curved Rosa's lips. "It seems Lisa has been displeased with her workplace here. Oh, and add this: she personally desired to serve Prince Jeremy from now on. So, effective immediately, she is his exclusive maid."
Rosa pulled a sealed letter from her sleeve, extending it between two fingers. "Deliver this to Imperial Aide Callum. Tell him to see the transfer done."
Without so much as a glance at the servant on the floor, Vera accepted the missive. "At once, My Lady."
Lisa went rigid. Realization filled her eyes before she began to convulse, thrashing wildly against her ropes.
"No... No! Please!" Lisa shrieked, hysteria seizing her voice. "I beg you! Not Prince Jeremy! I swear I'll be useful—just don't send me to him!"
Her screams fell on deaf ears. With a dismissive wave of Rosa's hand, the guards untied the girl, dragging her thrashing form out of the chamber. The heavy doors slammed shut, muffling the fading cries.
After several heartbeats, silence returned to the room. Rosa sighed, the sound one of pure contentment. Her two remaining maids moved into action; one silently removed the tea service while the other knelt with a basin of steaming, scented water to remove Rosa's slippers.
Leaning her head back against the velvet chair, Rosa closed her eyes. Once the tea service was cleared, the first maid moved behind the chair to comb Rosa's hair, while the second began to massage her feet. Steam, thick with the scent of lavender, drifted up around her.
"How does Prince Jeremy occupy himself?" Rosa murmured, her rose-blonde hair cascading over the back of the seat.
"He is attending his history lectures, My Lady," the maid combing her hair replied.
"And Jenna?"
"At her embroidery lesson," the girl massaging her feet answered.
"Good."
The Consort's head lolled back against the velvet, exposing the pale, arched line of her throat. "He didn't come," she murmured.
She stared at the fresco on the ceiling—a lion tearing into a gazelle—until her gaze locked on the predator's bloody jaws.
"That boy... he has finally grown teeth," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the lapping water.
"Oh dear... silly me."
She studied the lion's piercing stare.
"He is now a man."
With a slow, deliberate motion, she licked her upper lip.
"I was too heavy-handed," she murmured, her fingers curling slowly, digging like claws into the armrest. "Too crude."
A soft, breathy laugh escaped her lips, dissolving into the steam.
"A million gold to see his true face?" She sank deeper into the cushion, closing her eyes again. "A bargain."
After a few minutes of silent contemplation, her voice cut through the quiet, sharp and commanding.
"Call my father. He must have left the court by now. Tell him I require his presence."
***
[Emerald Castle, Crown Prince's Study]
Limon stood rigid outside the Crown Prince's study, staring intently at the heavy oak doors. His jaw clenched.
Footsteps echoed against the stone, snapping him to attention.
"Your Highness." Limon bowed.
With only a curt nod, Alden swept past and into the study. Clutching a thick leather folio to his chest, Limon followed, shutting the heavy door to seal them away from the castle.
Inside, the tray Elara had prepared again after her return sat waiting on the side table. The steam had long vanished, but the scent of honeyed tea still lingered in the air. The smoked fish—a favorite of the Prince's since childhood—lay arranged carefully beside the bread.
Alden took his seat behind the desk without a word, pulling the tray closer. His movements became mechanical as he picked up the utensils.
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them.
"Were you really going to kill them? With your own hands?" Limon asked. "If the Emperor hadn't intervened?"
Alden simply nodded once, without looking up.
A long, helpless sigh escaped Limon's lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "I see. Then... thank goodness Elara is safe. That is the only mercy in this madness." He studied the Prince's stoic expression, hesitating. "Are you sure you don't want to meet her right now? She is shaken, but safe."
Alden gave no response. He didn't even pause in cutting the bread.
Taking the hint, Limon cleared his throat, shifting his tone. "Regardless, the outcome was favorable. You secured a massive sum in compensation, and the message was delivered clearly. And regarding Captain Lut..." Limon's voice brightened a fraction. "He is already back at his post. He is a Swordsmaster, after all. It takes more than a few broken ribs to keep a man of his caliber down. His recovery is progressing rapidly."
Alden lifted the glass of honeyed tea to his lips. He tilted it, letting a single drop hit his tongue.
He froze.
Slowly, the glass lowered back to the tray, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the liquid.
"Limon," Alden said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Bring me a poison antidote."
Cold flooded through Limon's blood.
A faint smile formed on Alden's lips. He tapped the desk loudly twice, then ordered: "Everyone who had been around my study today. Bring them."
"At once." Limon strode to the door and signaled the guard outside. "Guards, His Highness requires everyone who's been near his study. Immediately."
The guard's face went pale. "Yes, my lord. Right away."
Limon followed him out of the study.
Within minutes, the heavy doors opened again, and Limon returned.
Captain Lut stood tall despite his injuries, ushering in a small group. Three kitchen staff appeared: a scullery maid with flour dusting her apron, a pastry cook, and Kael, the man responsible for carrying the trays. Joining them were Miela, the cleaning servant, and two junior guards from the afternoon patrol.
Limon passed the vial of antidote to Alden. In one smooth motion, the Prince swallowed the contents. As the empty vial came down, Limon moved to position himself behind the desk, his expression stone cold.
"From left to right," Alden began, his voice flat. He gestured at the plate. "Tell me your duties regarding my meal."
The pastry cook's voice cracked as he spoke first. "Your Highness, I baked the small honey bread. Tested it myself, as always. Straight to the tray."
Limon mentally verified the protocol.
Curtsying, the scullery maid held out her flour-dusted hands, which were trembling. "I prepared the fruit and arranged the plate exactly as Miss Elara instructed. I touched nothing but the fruit and plate."
The cleaning servant, Miela, curtsied as well. "I dusted the corridor, Your Highness, and ensured the study was aired. I saw nothing. Absolutely nothing unusual."
Limon studied the Prince carefully. His Highness was paying attention—to their hands, to the subtle shifts in their posture.
When Kael—the man who delivered the trays—spoke, the deception was evident. The man stood too still. His face was pale. His lips pressed together until they nearly disappeared.
"Your Highness." Kael swallowed hard. "I placed the tray on the side table, exactly as Lady Elara instructed."
Alden leaned forward, his forearms resting on the desk. "Captain Lut. Have their persons searched. Every one of them. And then their rooms."
The group stiffened. Captain Lut signaled the two junior guards, who moved forward. Limon watched as they checked everything—pockets, belts, and the lining of their tunics.
While patting down Kael's tunic, the guard paused. His hand felt something—a small, hard object tucked into an inner pocket near the ribs.
With a sharp tug, the object came out.
A glass vial. It was empty, save for a sticky amber residue coating the bottom.
Limon's face flushed hot, then went cold.
"Your Highness," Captain Lut reported, presenting the vial. "We found something suspicious."
Alden showed no recoil. He leaned forward a fraction, inspecting the vial. "Who sent you?"
Color drained from Kael's face. Stuttering, his eyes darted around the room. "That's... I don't know, Your Highness. It... must have been put in my pocket by someone else! I... I am innocent."
"If you tell me the truth," Alden spoke again, his tone softer, dropping to a whisper, "I'll let you live. And ensure your family's safety."
Limon's eyebrows rose.
Kael's knees hit the floor. His head dropped. His shoulders shook. "Your Highness, please trust me. I never wanted to do this. My child... they took my child hostage."
Limon's breath caught in his chest.
"Who is 'they'?" Alden asked, his expression remaining open. Patient. "Can you tell me so that I can help you save your child?"
Kael's voice came easier now, though a tremor remained.
"Ye... yes. They wore heavy cloaks. But one man had a mark. It looked like... a pot on fire? Inside a blue ring. I saw it peeking out from his sleeve when he gave me the bottle."
Limon frowned. 'A pot on fire?'
"I see." Alden stood up slowly.
His face went blank. Empty. The softness vanished like a door slamming shut.
Limon's shoulders stiffened.
"Take him away. For now," the Prince ordered, looking at Captain Lut.
Captain Lut moved quickly, grasping Kael's arm and hauling him up. The servant's eyes widened as he was dragged toward the door.
"But Your Highness! You promised!" Kael screamed, his voice cracking. "You said you would save us!"
"I did say I would let you live... _if_ you told me the truth."
Alden's voice sliced through the servant's screaming, sharp enough to silence the room.
"But you didn't, did you?" He looked down at the sobbing man, his expression flat. "A cauldron in a blue ring... indeed."
The door slammed shut, cutting off Kael's wailing. Alden sat back down, his expression returning to its previous mask of neutrality.
Limon stared at the Prince, confusion knitting his brow.
'How did he know?'
The man's story carried weight. The fear in his eyes, the shaking hands, the specific details of the coercion—it all seemed genuine. And that symbol...
'A cauldron on flame inside a blue ring.'
Limon's eyes widened as the description clicked into place.
'The Arcanum.'
It was the crest of the Alchemists' Conclave. A direct implication. Yet the moment it left Kael's lips, Alden had discarded the testimony.
'What detail gave it away?' Limon looked from the empty doorway to his Master's cold profile, his head shaking in disbelief. 'Because it's too convenient? They lack motive? Resources? What exactly...'
Alden faced the remaining staff, who froze in terror.
"Also, from now on," he announced, his tone pleasant and light, "all my meals will be tasted by all those who prepare them in layers. If one refuses, execute them on the spot."
Limon's spine went rigid. His eyes widened.
For months—months—he'd been arguing for more stringent food testing protocols. He'd begged the Prince to allow human tasters, to implement the layered testing system used by the Emperor himself. But His Highness had always refused, shaking his head, unwilling to risk others' lives even to protect his own.
Three times already, that compassion had nearly gotten him killed.
And now, suddenly, the Prince was ordering exactly what Limon had recommended all along. Limon's mouth closed, tasting copper. Without realizing it, he'd been biting the inside of his cheek. 'After being betrayed this many times, even His Highness must change...'
"Your Highness, I should be the final taster before any meal reaches you." Limon stepped forward.
"Don't." Alden looked up at him sharply. "Only do what you are ordered. Do not try to sacrifice yourself uselessly."
Limon's voice died in his throat. He looked down at the leather folio in his hands, feeling its weight like a leaden anchor. The Prince stretched his arm, picking up the schedule parchment before looking at the remaining servants and guards. "Dismissed."
Once the room was clear, Alden set the glass vial—that damning proof—in a locked drawer of his table. The lock clicked. He refocused on the documents before him. "The Rosewick Incident."
Limon opened the folio, smoothing the first parchment with a slight tremor. "Yes, Your Highness. The investigators have submitted their preliminary findings."
He paused, his voice heavy. "It was a massacre, Sire."
At the address, Alden paused reading, lifting his head to meet Limon's. He remained silent, observing Limon for three heartbeats.
Ignoring the stare, Limon continued reporting, his head lowered. "An explosion tore through the Rosewick Market while the village was preparing for Veyra. The blast originated in the northern warehouses near Gretencer. It didn't just scatter debris—it ignited the entire district."
Limon's brows knitted together. "Around thirty villagers were injured. Fifteen killed instantly... and twelve more are likely to follow. Two of the dead were children. They didn't stand a chance."
Drawing a deep breath, he added, regaining his professional composure. "The pattern isn't right for a common fire. It points to alchemy. Traces of refined Bavarium were found on-site. Bavarium, Your Highness. That metallic compound the alchemists use for high-yield ordnance. It's unstable, cruel, and nearly impossible to extinguish. This wasn't an accident."
He flipped to a supplementary page. "Both the Silver Star and the Arcanum are shifting blame. Neither will accept responsibility or offer a copper for the families."
His fingers tightened on the leather edges. "However, primary suspicion falls on the Arcanum. Records show a large purchase of Bavarium that they can't account for. Now, their leadership is pushing a narrative to clear their name."
Limon looked down at the name written in the margin.
"They claim it was the independent action of Tower Master Hadrian—who has been in a coma for months—and the disciple he took in before his collapse, Logan Valecrest. Witnesses placed him near the scene."
The Prince tilted his head. "Where is this member being held?"
"In the Palace Underground Dungeon, Your Highness. He has been there for the past three weeks, but has yet to confess. My men have been questioning contacts throughout the capital, but... even after a full day, nothing has surfaced."
He paused carefully, then ventured, "Would it not be wiser to request an extension for your trial? A single week is far too short for a case of this complexity."
Silence settled over the study. The Prince looked toward the window, unfocused for a moment.
Then Alden rose, pushing his chair back with smooth precision.
"Call my carriage, Limon. I am heading to the Central Palace now."
Limon's eyebrows rose. "You yourself?"
The Central Palace dungeons—where the most dangerous prisoners were held, where interrogations were conducted under the Emperor's direct authority.
Alden nodded once, his expression unchanged.
Limon hurried to arrange the carriage, already calculating the requirements. The Prince would need an escort—appropriate guards, a small retinue to maintain dignity without appearing weak. The interrogation chamber would need to be prepared, the prisoner brought up from the deep cells, proper documentation of whatever confession or information was extracted.
As he stepped into the corridor to summon the carriage, Limon glanced back at the Prince. His Highness stood by the window, silhouetted against the afternoon light, looking every inch the royal heir.
"No need to follow me." Alden added, noticing the gaze. "I will take Captain Lut with me. Meanwhile, prepare the details of the next hearing."
Despite the reluctance visible in his hesitation, Limon's spine snapped straight. "As you wish, Your Highness." He bowed sharply.