Shikuro's journey through his duchy had been progressing smoothly, the initial apprehension slowly giving way to a sense of normalcy and enjoyment. The archduke was finally allowing himself to relax, his concerns gradually fading into the background. However, this brief respite was abruptly interrupted when he received an urgent message, sealed with a dark blue wax – a symbol of top-secret and urgent communication within his duchy.

As he took the letter, Shikuro immediately noticed the fatigue etched on the messenger's face, a clear sign of the haste and urgency with which the message had been delivered. "How old is this letter?" Shikuro inquired sharply, tearing open the seal with a sense of foreboding.

"Two and a half days, my lord," the messenger replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I'm afraid I even lost three horse in my haste to reach you."

Dismissing the messenger, Shikuro's eyes quickly scanned the brief, yet ominous contents of the letter. Written in Ingrid's concise, no-nonsense style, the message was clear and dire: "Shikihime estate was attacked. Shikihime seriously injured. Return at once."

Handing the letter to Bjorn, Shikuro's expression hardened with resolve. "We leave in two hours," he announced, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Only pack the essentials."

Bjorn and Sagar sprang into action, efficiently organizing the necessary arrangements for their expedited departure. The atmosphere among the entourage shifted palpably, the weight of the news casting a shadow over the previously light-hearted mood. Shikuro's thoughts were consumed by concern for Shikihime and the implications of the attack on his estate.

Shikuro's journey back to Frostgard was marked by a sense of urgency and anticipation. Traveling light with a small, handpicked group, they made swift progress, stopping only when absolutely necessary. As they approached a rest point just five hours' ride from Frostgard, Shikuro received another message, one that brought a mixture of relief and trepidation.

Shikihime had finally regained consciousness. The news that she would survive was a balm to his anxious heart. Yet, as he absorbed this information, Shikuro found himself unable to fully embrace the relief. He was acutely aware of the gravity of the situation awaiting him in Frostgard, the complex web of political and personal repercussions that Ingrid, despite her capabilities, could not untangle alone.

With renewed determination, they resumed their journey, the final leg to Frostgard feeling both interminable and fleeting. As they neared the gates of the city, Shikuro was taken aback by the heightened security. The gates were firmly closed, with a heavy guard presence on the walls, a testament to the seriousness of the recent events.

Without hesitation, Shikuro blew his horn, a signal familiar to the guards. Recognition dawned on the captain's face as he spotted the returning archduke. Immediately, he barked orders, commanding his men to open the gates and prepare for Shikuro's entry. Another horn sounded, distinct and resonant – the horn that heralded the archduke's return. The gates began to creak open, and the soldiers on the walls shifted, their posture changing from alert defense to respectful welcome.

As Shikuro rode through the gates, the weight of leadership and responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders. The city that had always been a haven now felt like a battleground, its peaceful facade marred by the shadows of conspiracy and betrayal. The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, and Shikuro steeled himself for whatever lay ahead. The survival of Shikihime, though a relief, was just the beginning of a long and arduous path to restoring peace and stability to his realm.

Shikuro, upon his arrival at the castle, was immediately intercepted by Erik. The urgency in Erik's voice was unmistakable as he informed Shikuro that Ingrid was currently at Shikihime's estate. Without delay, Shikuro changed his course, his entourage following closely as they headed straight to the estate.

Upon reaching the estate, the scene that greeted him was one of weariness and tension. Ingrid and Kage were waiting at the entrance, both showing clear signs of the stress and exhaustion from the recent events. Ingrid's eyes were particularly telling, red and swollen, evidence of sleepless nights and constant worry. Kage, on the other hand, appeared not just tired, but visibly thinner, her usual stoic demeanor laced with fatigue.

Shikuro greeted them briskly, his concern for Shikihime evident. "I need to see her immediately," he stated, his voice firm and unwavering.

Kage, however, protested. "It's not advisable at this moment. She needs rest."

Shikuro, known for his usually calm and rational demeanor, was uncharacteristically insistent. "If you don't lead me to her, I will find my way," he declared, his resolve unshakable.

Kage argued against his decision, citing the potential disturbance to Shikihime's recovery. But Shikuro was adamant. "I will go alone, without my guards," he offered as a compromise.

Ingrid, however, disagreed with this approach. In response, Shikuro, in an uncharacteristic display of defiance, drew his sword, pointing it first at Ingrid and then at Kage. "I am the Archduke of Frostgard. My authority is not to be questioned. I am willing to compromise, but do not test my patience. You, Ingrid, are not here to command me. And you, Kage, are tasked with the welfare of Shikihime. She lies injured and nearly lost her life under your watch. I will not be barred from seeing her."

His voice rose with each word, echoing the gravity of his position and his determination. "I am going to see Shikihime now, and I will not be stopped. Stay here. I will go alone," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Shikuro's strides were determined as he made his way to Shikihime's chambers, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. Kage and Erik followed close behind, mindful of the delicate situation. The guards stationed at the door remained steadfast, their loyalty unwavering, even in the face of their archduke's evident irritation.

As Shikuro reached the door, he was momentarily stalled by the guards' hesitation. Kage, sensing his growing impatience, intervened, instructing them to allow his passage. Shikuro, not waiting for the formalities of the door being opened for him, pushed through himself, entering the chamber with a sense of urgency.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was tense. Yoru and Sora, ever vigilant, drew their weapons instantly upon his entry. Yoru positioned herself protectively between Shikuro and Shikihime, her eyes unwavering and her stance resolute. Kage, sensing the escalating tension, quickly tried to defuse the situation with a reassuring gesture.

Shikuro, observing Yoru's boldness, commented dryly, "Your courage to draw a weapon against the archduke himself is noteworthy. I'm torn between admiring your bravery and questioning your wisdom."

He then turned his attention to Shikihime, who lay in the bed, her appearance strikingly frail. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and she seemed to have lost a noticeable amount of weight. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state visibly affected Shikuro, a mixture of concern and sorrow crossing his features.

His gaze shifted to the room around him, taking in the details – the bloodstained bandages, the medicine vials, the quiet but heavy air of convalescence. Turning to Kage, he inquired about Shikihime's condition and the extent of her injuries.

Shikuro's gaze met Sora's as he asked directly, "Tell me, what is Shikihime's condition? Detail her injuries for me."

Sora, maintaining her composure, replied, "Shikihime sustained multiple injuries, my lord. The most serious one is a arm wound from a crossbow bolt, which narrowly missed vital arteries. She also suffered a deep laceration on her right shoulder, self-inflicted with her short sword during a crucial moment of the battle."

Shikuro's expression grew grimmer as he listened, a sense of urgency in his stance. Sora continued, "Additionally, she has bruises and cuts across her body, indicating close combat. One of her legs is injured, limiting her mobility."

The archduke's jaw tightened, a visual testament to his concern. "Were there any internal injuries?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of worry.

"No internal injuries that we can detect," Sora answered. "However, she lost a considerable amount of blood, which has left her weak. She's been drifting in and out of consciousness."

Shikuro absorbed the information, his mind racing with the implications. "What is the prognosis for her recovery?" he inquired, looking for a glimmer of hope amidst the grim details.

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Sora hesitated for a moment before replying, "With proper care and rest, she should recover. But it will take time, and she must not be subjected to any stress or strain."

Shikuro nodded solemnly, his eyes lingering on Shikihime's frail form. "Ensure she receives the best care possible," he said firmly. "I want regular updates on her condition."

Shikuro gently lowered himself beside Shikihime's bed, his voice softening as he spoke to her, "I'm here now, Shikihime. I've returned to make sure you're safe. Don't give up. Get well soon."

As he stood up to leave, thinking she was still unconscious, Shikihime's eyes fluttered open. With a feeble voice that carried a hint of her indomitable spirit, she whispered, "I won't go down that easily. You won't get the chance to be rid of me," trying to muster a smile, but visibly struggling even to speak. "Water, please."

Yoru was instantly at her side, gently lifting Shikihime's head and bringing a bowl of water to her lips. Shikuro watched the exchange, a mix of relief and concern in his eyes. Deciding it was best to leave her to rest, he turned to exit the room.

The door closed softly behind him as he stepped into the hallway, where Ingrid and Kage awaited. He addressed them with a stern expression, "Both of you, come to my office tomorrow morning. We have much to discuss." Without waiting for a response, he strode away, followed by Ingrid and Erik.

Outside the estate, a carriage was already prepared. Shikuro, Erik, and Ingrid climbed inside and headed towards the archduke's office. The ride was silent, each lost in their thoughts about the events of the night. As they arrived, the seriousness of the situation was palpable. Inside his office, Shikuro initiated a thorough discussion, dissecting every detail of the enigmatic and tragic night.

The dawn of the new day brought with it the continuation of intense discussions in Shikuro's office. After hearing Kage recount the events of the harrowing night, Shikuro sat in contemplative silence. The notion that Shikihime could withstand an attack from eleven gifted assassins seemed almost beyond belief. He pondered over the complex web of circumstances: attendant warriors, assassins, military training, and a series of failures by his own men.

Finally breaking the silence, Shikuro turned his attention to Kage. "Regarding Torsten and the five guards who failed in their duty, I leave their fate in your hands," he said, considering her involvement and insights from the interrogations. Kage, who had learned of the poisoned beer's origins and the manipulation that led to the guards' incapacitation, weighed the decision heavily.

After a moment of reflection, Kage voiced her thoughts, "In the Dynasty, the one who introduced poison into our ranks would face severe consequences. But the guards were off duty; they are allowed to drink. As for Torsten, his negligence cannot be overlooked, yet I do not wish for his death. Perhaps he should execute the one responsible for bringing the poison, and face a few whips himself as penance."

Ingrid interjected with a slight frown, "We don't employ whipping as punishment here. A person is either found guilty or not."

Kage, looking around at Shikuro, Erik, Ingrid, and Bjorn, sensed their agreement on this point. "Then, what if Torsten's punishment is to carry out the execution of those who failed their duties? How many would that be?" she inquired.

Erik responded, "Seven in total."

"Could that serve as his punishment? He is capable, and it should be a lesson for him," Kage suggested, looking for a nod of agreement from the others.

Erik gave a thoughtful nod, while Bjorn, though clearly uneasy with the idea, conceded along with Ingrid. There was a collective sense of reluctant acceptance in the room as they settled on this course of action, a decision that, while unpleasant, seemed necessary in the face of such grave events.

After Kage's departure, Shikuro, visibly agitated, summoned Bjorn and instructed him to bring Torsten to his office immediately. As Bjorn hurried off to fulfill the request, an uneasy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the tense exchange between Shikuro, Erik, and Ingrid.

Shikuro's gaze was stern as he addressed Erik. "You promised me, Erik, that you would ensure her safety," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment and frustration. Erik, unable to meet Shikuro's eyes, stared at the floor in silence, his expression one of deep remorse.

Turning to Ingrid, Shikuro's tone grew sharper. "And Ingrid, you assured me of her protection as well. I broke with tradition to heed your advice, and now the King himself is pressing me for answers, while all I have to show for it is a trail of bodies, incompetent guards, and a city governor who allowed assailants to escape. Your position is now under scrutiny by the King himself. I can't guarantee your safety if he demands action."

Ingrid, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly. She was painfully aware that her position hung by a thread, dependent on the King's discretion.

Breaking the tense atmosphere, Shikuro pulled out another letter, this one bearing the open seal of the Kurayama Dynasty. He relayed its contents to Erik and Ingrid: the Dynasty's demands for increased warship presence in their docks, more soldiers to safeguard Shikihime, and inquiries questioning the effectiveness of their intelligence services. The letter even suggested the possibility of bringing Shikihime back home temporarily and demanded answers that Shikuro did not have.

"What's more," Shikuro continued, his voice rising with each word, "they've provided information we were unaware of. According to this, the assassins were from the Stardust Kingdom, linked to nobles within the Stardust court. How is it that they know more than we do?" His frustration reached a boiling point as he yelled out in anger, his voice echoing through the room.

In a sudden outburst, Shikuro hurled the glass he had been holding against the wall, shattering it upon impact. The sharp sound of breaking glass seemed to punctuate his fury and disbelief. Erik and Ingrid remained silent, absorbing the weight of Shikuro's words and the enormity of the situation. The tension was palpable, as they all grappled with the harsh reality of their predicament and the daunting task that lay ahead.

The atmosphere in the room was somber as Bjorn entered, escorting Torsten. Joining them were Sagar and Astrid, all key members of Shikuro's inner circle. The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to their usual camaraderie.

Shikuro's gaze fell on Torsten, piercing and solemn. "Tell me, Torsten, what do you think I should do with you?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of authority and expectation.

Torsten, meeting his lord's gaze with a sense of resigned determination, knelt on one knee. His voice was steady, his eyes unflinching as he replied, "My honor has been compromised, my lord. There is but one appropriate action for my failure."

Shikuro held Torsten's gaze, a mix of sternness and regret in his eyes. "Death would be an escape, too easy for what is required," he stated firmly, dismissing the notion of an easy way out.

Torsten remained silent, his posture unyielding, ready to accept whatever judgment Shikuro deemed fit. He understood the gravity of his failure and the expectations of his lord.

Shikuro, after a moment of contemplation, spoke with resolute authority. "You will have a chance to redeem yourself, Torsten. You will execute those whose incompetence exacerbated this tragedy. Additionally, you will work doubly hard, maintaining your duties as her attendant while also seeking answers for me. I need information about the assassins, their origins, and any rebellious nobles involved. You will gather names, places, anything that can aid us. And you will not stop until every conspirator responsible for Shikihime's plight has faced justice. Until then, you remain dishonored."

The room was silent as the weight of Shikuro's words sank in. Torsten understood the severity of his new task and the long road ahead to regain his honor. He bowed deeply, his voice resolute. "As you command, my lord. I will embark on this quest and will not fail to deliver results."

Shikuro's decision was a difficult one, especially for a friend, but necessary for an archduke. The message was clear to all present: failure would not be tolerated, and redemption could only be earned through unwavering dedication and results.

Interlude: Hidden Enemies

In a dimly lit chamber, shrouded in secrecy, two cloaked figures faced each other, the air thick with tension and unspoken animosity. The room, hidden away in the labyrinthine corridors of a forgotten castle, was a perfect setting for their clandestine meeting.

The first figure, his cloak a deep shade of midnight, broke the silence with a mocking tone. "Your grand plan was a resounding failure," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "The best your esteemed assassins could manage was to kill a mere servant girl, and even that required my group's intervention."

The second figure, enshrouded in a cloak of shadowy gray, retorted coolly, "Do not underestimate the chaos we sowed. My assassins struck fear into their hearts and thinned their ranks significantly. It was your task to ensure the princess's demise, yet here we stand, with her still drawing breath."

The first figure's eyes, barely visible beneath his hood, flashed with anger. "Your arrogance blinds you. We inflicted the heaviest casualties, striking with precision and leaving a trail of corpses in our wake. It was your overconfidence that led to this debacle."

A moment of tense silence passed between them, the only sound the faint crackling of a lone candle flickering in the drafty room.

The gray-cloaked figure shifted, breaking the standoff. "Regardless, it's time for a tactical retreat. With the archduke's imminent return, the island will turn into a bloodbath. Any further action on our part risks exposure and ruin."

The midnight-cloaked figure nodded in begrudging agreement. "Your counsel, for once, is sound. We must cover our tracks and lay low. The archduke's wrath will be unyielding, and we cannot afford to be caught in its wake."

A sly grin spread across the face of the gray-cloaked figure. "Remember, our alliance is one of convenience, not loyalty. Once the dust settles, we must regroup and reassess our strategy. Our goals align for now, but let us not forget that we are ultimately rivals in this game of shadows."

The midnight-cloaked figure's eyes narrowed. "Indeed. Our meeting today remains between us. Officially, we are but diplomatic acquaintances, nothing more. Let the archduke play his game. We will bide our time and strike when the moment is ripe."

With a final, lingering look of mutual distrust, the two figures prepared to part ways. The gray-cloaked figure paused at the doorway, his hand resting on the cold metal handle.

"One more thing," he said, turning his head slightly. "Keep an eye on the Dynasty. They know more than they should. Their intelligence network is proving to be a nuisance."

The midnight-cloaked figure nodded, a dark plan already forming in his mind. "Agreed. The Dynasty's meddling cannot be ignored. They will be dealt with in due time."

As the door creaked open, the two figures disappeared into the night, their cloaks merging with the shadows. Their alliance, fragile and fraught with hidden agendas, would continue to shape the events unfolding on the island. But for now, survival and subterfuge were their primary concerns. The game of deceit and betrayal would go on, with each player waiting for the opportune moment to make their next move.