At the Royal Court, That Night
The grand hall of the royal court glowed under silver chandeliers, but the atmosphere was frigid. The marble floor echoed with tension as nobles whispered among themselves. Something was wrong. The Emperor had called an emergency audience, and no one knew why.
Seated high upon the obsidian throne was Emperor Reinhardt, clad in his formal red and gold robes. His spear rested against his shoulder like a statement. His fingers rhythmically tapped the metal shaft as he hummed to himself, the melody too calm for the gathering storm.
The large doors creaked open.
Everyone turned.
A line of guards entered, and at their front—Duchess Elric Caen Vaelthorn. But what stole the court's breath was not her presence. It was what—or who—she dragged in behind her.
Count Govert. Bound in chains. Kneeling. His robes disheveled. His face was pale and sweaty with terror. Behind him, a handful of trembling servants in similar condition. The entire court erupted in murmurs.
Elric walked with precision and silence. She bowed to the Emperor.
"Your Majesty," she said coolly. "As requested."
Reinhardt smiled. "Good job, my loyal servant. Duchess Vaelthorn never disappoints."
"Your Majesty, this is a mistake!" Count Govert's voice cracked. "I swear, I've done nothing to harm the Empire! This is a setup! I'm loyal! My record is clean!"
Elric stepped beside Reinhardt and handed him a stack of scrolls—documents she had recovered from the hidden chamber. Reinhardt unrolled one and scanned it lazily.
"Then why are these here?" he asked, voice like velvet over steel. "Merchant routes, encoded communications with the Demon Cult, forbidden enchantments, weapons smuggled through the northern gate... all signed in your hand, Count."
He hurled the scroll. The parchment smacked Govert's forehead. A thin line of blood dripped down his temple.
"Father!" a scream pierced the room.
Lady Ariya burst through the crowd, tears in her eyes. She ran to her father, collapsing beside him. "Your Majesty, please!" she cried. "He didn't mean to—he's not—please, spare him!"
She tried to approach the throne, but Reinhardt raised his spear in one swift motion. The blade halted just inches from her chest.
"Don't take another step," he warned coldly. "You think I'd fall in love with a little fool who can't even read a court's air?"
Then, without warning, he slashed his spear downward—not at her, but at her gown. The sharp metal tore through the rich violet silk, stripping it down the middle. Gasps echoed across the hall as the inner layers were exposed.
Lady Ariya screamed, covering herself as whispers spread like fire.
Elric said nothing. She didn't flinch. She merely stood still, watching as the Emperor displayed his wrath—not with passion, but with chilling detachment.
"What do you think I should do with this criminal, Duchess?" Reinhardt asked, eyes not leaving the Count. "He trespassed on your territory. Spoke ill of your house. Threatened our peace."
Elric stared back. Her expression is unreadable.
"You already know what you want," she said simply.
A thin smile curled on Reinhardt's lips. "Exactly."
He raised one hand and spoke with no emotion.
"Kill them."
Gasps filled the hall.
Steel rang out.
The guards moved with silent precision. In one swing, the blade met the Count's back. Then another for his servants. Blood spilled across the court floor, seeping between the cracks of polished stone.
"Nooo!" Ariya wailed. "Father!"
She scrambled toward Reinhardt, crawling, shaking, her voice choked in sobs. She clutched his leg desperately.
"Please, Your Majesty… I'll do anything. Just… just let me live…"
Then, in her terror—her eyes crazed—she suddenly smiled. A twisted, broken smile. She reached beneath her torn gown and ripped her last underlayer. Her bare chest was exposed as she pressed herself to him.
"I'm yours… Take me, please… I'll be good—I'll be useful—I'll do anything…Just don't kill me"
The court fell into dead silence.
Reinhardt's eyes did not blink.
With a single thrust, he drove his spear through her chest.
Blood erupted.
Ariya gasped, her eyes wide with pain—and disbelief.
He kicked her corpse off his boot with disgust, watching as her body collapsed beside her father's, soaking in blood.
Servants rushed to clean the mess. Reinhardt took the cloth one handed him and wiped the blood off his face.
"The court is dismissed."
He turned to his silent guards. "Burn everything that woman ever touched. Clothes. Hair. Jewelry. I don't want her stench anywhere in this palace."
The nobles, still stunned, scattered like frightened sheep. Whispers would fill the empire for weeks. But none would dare question it aloud.
Before turning to leave, Reinhardt gave one final command—low, casual, and only Elric could hear:
"Come to my room."
She nodded without expression.
-----------------------------------------
At Reinhardt's Private Chamber
The thick doors closed behind Elric. The room was dim but warm. Reinhardt had changed from his formal attire. His crimson robe was now charcoal black, and his hair—usually tied back—hung slightly loose.
He sipped from a goblet. "They'll burn the dress. And her body. Nothing will remain."
"I don't want to see even a strand of her hair ever again," he muttered darkly.
Elric remained by the door. "Why call me here?"
He gestured for her to sit.
"Because," he said, voice softer, "you're not talking to the Emperor now. Just Reinhardt."
She sat cautiously. He offered her a glass of wine.
"Then can I smack you?"
His eyes flicked up. "Do you dare—?"
BANG!
Her palm connected with his cheek before he finished the sentence.
He stared at her, stunned. "Why?"
She leaned back. "Just needed to make sure you were still human."
Reinhardt chuckled, rubbing his face. "It still hurts, so I guess I am."
They sat in silence. He poured wine into both glasses.
"You're a cruel man," Elric said. "You know the entire court thinks you're a tyrant."
"I am," he said simply.
"Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swirled the wine in his goblet and looked into its depths.
"It's hard to trust anyone when you sit on this throne," he muttered. "Everyone wants something."
He took a slow sip.
"And Kael?" she asked.
At the name, his hand paused.
"I spread news of his death because of the curse," he said. "The Demon King's last act wasn't to destroy the empire. It was to damn him."
Elric's heart froze. "You were cursed too?"
He didn't answer. Only smiled—quiet and bitter.
"I've already sent Viscount Jaesper to your mansion," he said. "As promised. He will monitor Kael's condition."
He stood, setting down his goblet.
"But don't block me, Elric. Don't prevent me from knowing the truth. I need to know… what he becomes."
Elric looked down at her wine, untouched.
"Is that an order?"
"No," he said. "It's a plea."
There was a long silence between them.
Finally, Reinhardt turned away.
"You can go home now. Thank you… for your service."