The Empress, who had been eagerly awaiting the sound of a baby’s cry and preparing herself to act as a compassionate figure, deeply disturbed by the suffering of the innocent child, instead heard a loud cry from an adult. She assumed it must have been Agatha, overwhelmed by the state of her daughter, and waited for the next stage of her performance, ready to play her part.
Meanwhile, in the underground dungeon, Alexander was interrogating the culprit. The maid refused to speak, even under torture. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t faced this before. Back in the mercenary guild, she had been nothing more than a nameless figure—number 86. She had no family, no friends. Even though mercenaries worked together, there was no true camaraderie. They served their master, and that was the only bond that mattered. The guild, like many others, adopted orphans and subjected them to daily beatings in the name of training. Whether it was an elder member in a bad mood or the master himself, punishment was inevitable.
As a child, she had often dreamed of escape, but the thought of leaving was far more painful than living as though dead. Over time, she had lost any sense of emotion or morality, becoming nothing more than a blade—ready to kill and die for the mission. This was her first time being caught. Death could have been her fate, but that cursed prince and his wife had been relentless in their efforts to save her.
The prince was sharp. She knew he had already noticed the guild emblem branded on her wrist. It was only a matter of time before he traced it back to her employer and master. None of it mattered anymore. She had done what she was told, and that child hadn’t died—not because of her. She even had proof that the poison had worked. There was no going back. Whether she stayed here or returned to the guild, she saw only one ending for herself—death.
Compared to before, she felt unusually calm and resolute.
As she was lost in thought, Prince Alexander entered the cell, the captain of the knights following closely behind. “Your master has abandoned you,” Alexander began, his voice steady but firm. “He’s already confessed to supplying mercenaries to the palace. While he didn’t know the identity of the insider, he confirmed it’s someone within the palace walls. My men are scouring the palace as we speak, rooting out every rat. Now, do you have anything to say?”
She looked up at the prince with an unreadable expression, her face betraying no emotion as she met the gaze of the handsome man standing before her. “If you’ve already found a lead,” she replied evenly, “shouldn’t you focus on investigating that instead of wasting your time here?”
The knight captain scoffed at her defiance. “If you confess and reveal the mastermind behind this, your sentence could be reduced. You wouldn’t face execution but imprisonment for life.”
For a moment, she seemed to weigh his words carefully, her eyes distant as though calculating her next move. Finally, with a tone of quiet resolve, she spoke. “We mercenaries may not have the honor or titles of knights, but we live and die by our own code. I won’t betray that.”
The captain’s frown deepened, frustration evident in his features. “As you wish,” he muttered coldly, signaling the end of the conversation.
While the events in the underground dungeon unfolded, the Empress, unaware of it all, was seated in the royal garden with a cup of tea in hand. Today’s tea tasted sweeter than usual, and a radiant glow of happiness seemed to envelop her.
In a cheerful tone, she called out to her maid. “Emily, should I gift all my maids with gold?”
Emily, who was carefully tending to the Empress, responded with a lighthearted tone. “No, Your Highness. If you do that, the Emperor might suspect something amiss.”
The Empress looked at Emily with a barely contained smile, her joy almost palpable. “But I want to celebrate! What should I do?”
Emily paused, deep in thought, before offering a suggestion. “You could wait until the Emperor announces the incident. Then, you can use it as an excuse to reward the maids, saying it’s for the princess. You could claim it’s to help her earn merit and dispel any lingering misfortune.”
The Empress’s eyes lit up with satisfaction as she clapped her hands lightly. “Oh! That’s a wonderful idea, Emily. Thank you!”
After a while, the Empress felt a strange emptiness in the garden. Every time she visited, at least a dozen maids would be present, fluttering around her, ensuring her every whim was attended to. The Empress believed one could only maintain power if surrounded by underlings who would do anything for her. To bolster her authority, she had even hired mercenaries. But today, the garden felt unusually quiet—neither her mercenaries nor the usual maids were in sight.
“Emily,” she called out, frowning. “Why is it so quiet? Where are all the other maids?”
Emily, trying to suppress a hint of unease in her voice, responded, “Oh! The head maid called them all away urgently. Only the personal maids were left behind.”
The Empress’s expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Seeing this, Emily hastened to reassure her. “Perhaps they were summoned to speak about that maid,” she added, attempting to downplay the concern.
But the mention only deepened the Empress’s unease. “What if they found something?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.
Emily stepped closer, lowering her tone. “No worries, Your Highness. She’s a mercenary. She knows what to do when caught. There will be nothing left for the prince to investigate.”
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The Empress’s worries eased, though the unease lingered beneath the surface.
As the Empress sipped her fragrant tea, savoring her perceived victory, she noticed a group of maids running toward the execution grounds. Their faces were pale, and their expressions filled with terror. Intrigued, the Empress’s curiosity was piqued. Emily, ever attentive to her mistress, stepped forward and intercepted one of the fleeing maids.
“What’s happening? Why are you all in such a rush?” Emily asked firmly.
The maid, panting and disheveled, replied between breaths, “The Emperor… he’s interrogating some of the maids at the execution grounds. One of them—she tried to harm the princess today.” Without waiting for further questions, the maid hurried off, disappearing into the growing crowd.
Emily turned back to the Empress, confusion and unease evident in her eyes. The Empress, catching her maid’s expression, raised an eyebrow and spoke sharply. “You were the one who told me not to worry, Emily. So, what is this?”
Emily stammered, her face paling under the Empress’s glare. “I… I don’t know, Your Highness. I truly don’t know.”
The Empress, now visibly agitated, rose from her seat. With Emily trailing nervously behind her, she made her way toward the Royal Execution Grounds, determined to see for herself what was unfolding. As her steps grew closer to the execution ground, her mind began to spin uncontrollably. She was all too aware that the Emperor held no affection for her or her son. In his eyes, his late wife was a saint, and his son, Prince Alexander, was the apple of his eye. She knew she was to blame for the Emperor's cold indifference and disregard. In his eyes, she and her son were nothing but parasites, clinging to him with the help of the council elders. If he discovered her involvement in this incident, he wouldn’t hesitate to ensure her death. The thought of that fate filled her with growing terror.
Under the glaring sun at the execution ground, a row of maids stood on a raised platform. Surrounding them in the gallery were members of the royal household—staff, maids, and servants—some seated, others standing, their expressions ranging from shock to fear.
You could see the sun of the Empire—none other than the Emperor—seated on the dais in his golden throne, his regal attire gleaming in the light. His once-handsome appearance had twisted into a stern and menacing expression, his face etched with anger and severity.
Throughout his life as a member of the royal family, he had faced numerous threats to his life, but the first time someone plotted to kill him, he was around 10 years old. When his beloved wife passed away, enemies also tried to kill his son, the first prince Alexander—he was just 5 at the time.Now, for the first time, he witnessed someone attempting to kill an infant not once, but twice. What angered him the most was knowing the true mastermind still lurked in the shadows. He was deeply saddened for his son, Alexander, who had lost his mother and never known a life of peace. The Empress had ensured that, but he could do nothing—caught between his roles as both father and ruler of a nation. When his son married Agatha Bellatrix, amid the Empress’s schemes to marry her off to Zelus, he felt a rare sense of relief, knowing Alexander now had someone to stand by him and offer him love. Upon learning that Alexander was expecting a child, his joy mirrored his son’s, but deep down, he knew showing too much concern would only draw further danger to Agatha and their unborn child. Yet, even with caution, his granddaughter had been harmed twice. How could he face his son, knowing he could not guarantee the safety of his own granddaughter?
The Emperor's loud voice echoed across the execution ground. “Do you know why you are here? Do you understand the charges brought against you?”
Number 86, who had long since accepted her fate, sat in the execution ground, devoid of any expression, while the other maids glanced at her as if accusing her of exposing their cover. But Number 86 no longer cared; she desired only for this to end as swiftly as possible.
“Captain of the Royal Knight’s Order, read the declaration,” commanded the Emperor. At his word, Captain Aloysius Batair, the commander of the Royal Knight’s Order, began to read the royal declaration.
“To the People of the Kingdom,
By the authority of His Majesty, Emperor Theodore Alldynn Arcane, and in his name,
I, Aloysius Batair, captain of the Royal Knight’s Order, hereby address you with these solemn words:
It has come to my attention that Rosie, also known as Number 86, Maria, known as Number 72, Lucinda, known as Number 82, Brenda, known as Number 98, and Viola, known as Number 89, have violated the laws of this kingdom by entering the royal palace while concealing their names and true identities. The evidence provided clearly demonstrates that Maria, Lucinda, Brenda, and Viola were impostors, thereby breaching the established laws concerning the safety of the members of the royal family, and Rosie, who not only impersonated but also attempted to endanger a royal family member.
Therefore, in accordance with the authority bestowed upon me by His Majesty, I hereby declare that Rosie, Maria, Lucinda, Brenda, and Viola shall be held accountable and face the appropriate punishment for their crimes. Let it be known that Maria, Lucinda, Brenda, and Viola are to be subjected to life imprisonment, and Rosie is to be subjected to execution, effective immediately.
Should Rosie, Maria, Lucinda, Brenda, and Viola wish to appeal this judgment, they may do so by presenting their case to His Majesty now.”
The Emperor spoke again, his voice echoing across the execution ground. “As you can see, these maids made a grave mistake by infiltrating the palace and attempting to endanger the princess. But thanks to the grace of the gods Ausra Nevaeh, the princess was saved without a single scratch. I refuse to believe they acted alone. From the evidence we have gathered, it is clear there is a mastermind behind this. Citizens of Arcane, there is a traitor among us, and we will do whatever is necessary to root out this traitor.”
As the last words left his mouth, the Emperor’s gaze lingered on the Empress for a brief moment before shifting to the crowd. The Empress who was already in an emotional turmoil was shaken by the revelation that the princess had suffered no harm. Her barely held composure cracked beneath his penetrating gaze. Fear gripped her as their eyes met.
That night, after pacing in agitation like a restless animal, she contacted the apostle once again, but there was no response.
She was spiraling into madness, consumed by the obsession of holding onto power. She hadn’t come this far just to have others take the throne from her. No one could understand the lengths she had gone to secure her place at the top and savor the taste of authority. All those who once mocked her now grovelled at her feet, desperate for her favor. It was a twisted sort of addiction, one that was slowly eroding her sanity. She had come too far, and she would never let her dark secrets be exposed to the world, reducing her to the laughingstock of the Empire once again.
With newfound resolve, she swore she wouldn’t act recklessly like she had before. Patience had always been her strength, and she would wait for the perfect moment—just as she had done in the past. "You wait and watch from your grave, Athena," she whispered. "I will show you what I’ll do to your precious granddaughter this time. I will take my time, and when I strike, it will be with precision."