TOPWL 241

It felt like someone had poured cold water over him, and his drowsiness vanished. As Yudit sat up, Khalid frowned and spoke.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Who killed him?”

“Prince Hiore.”

His head was a mess, and he couldn’t collect his thoughts. How had Prince Azil looked the last time he saw him? Too much had happened, and he could hardly remember his face. In his hazy memory, Azil’s voice gradually became clear.

‘Brother, are you going to kill me?’

‘…What?’

‘I don’t want to die.’

That gentle voice, that relaxed attitude, that mild tone that still managed to get under his skin. Yes, he remembered that the boy’s lips had reached his own height.

‘There’s a pair of twin brothers who often fight, but they’re still close. I was jealous of that. I wished I had a brother too.’

‘…’

‘That’s all.’

A young boy who only wanted to play brothers with him.

‘Isn’t it pitiful?’

‘…’

‘He’ll never be emperor, and all he’ll do is follow Reginald’s orders like a puppet. That assassination attempt wouldn’t have reached me. I just spared him because I pitied him.’

That arrogant young prince had spared Hiore, the one ​stolen content​who tried to assassinate him. And that prince was eventually killed by Hiore’s hand.

“Tell me more in detail.”

Yudit spoke to the man, who began reporting calmly. 

Prince Hiore led soldiers to Prince Azil and requested a private audience. Because he had already tried to assassinate him once, the request was refused. But Hiore insisted he could no longer endure Reginald’s tyranny and declared he would join Azil’s side. The soldiers, he said, were only for protection. Pleased, Prince Azil accepted him. The next morning, the two shared breakfast. Before that meal could even digest, Azil was dead.

“How could that happen…”

Yudit muttered in despair.

“He was stabbed in the throat with a dagger. There was nothing anyone could do. Prince Hiore claims Prince Reginald and Empress Katarina ordered him to assassinate Prince Azil, saying they’d kill him otherwise.”

“When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“How did news travel so fast?”

Yudit looked suspiciously at the scroll in the man’s hand. Khalid answered for him.

“I placed a spy near Prince Azil. Skilled physicians are always scarce on the battlefield.”

If the spy was a physician, it wasn’t strange that such information reached them so quickly. Yudit already knew how formidable Khalid’s network was. Back then, Khalid had known everything about him, even things that were trivial.

“Leave us.”

At Khalid’s order, the man bowed and left. Yudit felt nothing. Not the warmth from the hearth, not the cool touch of the blanket.

“Pull yourself together, Yudit. What comes next is what matters.”

Khalid placed his hand on Yudit’s shoulder.

“Azil is dead, and Hiore is his killer. Neither of them can be emperor now. So who do you think can become emperor?”

“Reginald and… me.”

“That’s right, Yudit. Now only you and Reginald can be emperor. But the emperor will never appoint Reginald as his successor. And Reginald must already know that.”

Because he once loved Hiore, the emperor knew him well enough to guess that greed alone wouldn’t have driven him to kill Azil. He would have realized Hiore was forced into it. The emperor would never forgive the empress and Reginald. And that meant only one thing, war.

“There’s going to be a war.”

“Yes, there will. Yudit, what do you want to do?”

Khalid met Yudit’s eyes. Looking into those dark blue eyes like the night sea, Yudit’s confused mind began to sort itself out. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Azil’s death, Hiore’s confession, and the looming war all tangled together, and he began to sort them out carefully.

Yudit finally spoke.

“We must keep the Emperor alive.”

“That’s the right answer.”

Reginald had stayed in this farcical contest until the bitter Read onend because legitimacy mattered more to him than one might think. But now that his path to the throne through the competition had been cut off, he was left with only two choices: kill the Emperor or take the crown by force at the tip of a blade.

“The Emperor will want to hand the throne to you now. Or rather, he’ll have no choice but to give it to you.”

Yudit remained silent for a moment, deep in thought, before finally speaking.

“They’ll all be heading for the capital. Reginald’s army, Hiore’s, and even Azil’s.”

“Yes, they’ll be moving with everything they have.”

“Since the enemy forces have cleared out, our allies will head to the capital where the opposition remains.”

Unlike the others who were stationed on the outskirts, Yudit and Khalid were already inside the capital of the Gotha Kingdom. Even if they fled this second, they risked being cornered the moment they crossed paths with enemy reinforcements. Yudit looked up, his mind made up.

“I won’t run. I’d rather reclaim the castle as soon as possible.”

He reached out his hand to Khalid.

“Will you stand with me, Khalid?”

Without a second of hesitation, Khalid took his hand. Yudit could feel the distinct texture of his palm, calloused from years of wielding a sword; pressing against his fingertips. Khalid leaned and kissed his brow.

“To the very ends of hell.”

***

“…that is all.”

The sound of a voice jolted Yudit awake. Perhaps it was because of the warmth of the hearth or the approaching dawn, he had drifted off without realizing it. He looked around, worried someone might have caught him nodding off, but half the room already had their eyes closed, while the other half looked pained in their struggle to stay awake.

The meeting had resumed after Azil’s death was confirmed, but they had yet to find a breakthrough for retaking the castle. On the battlements, the enemy used whistling arrows to spook the horses. If they charged the walls on foot, the casualties from arrows and pitch would be catastrophic. Yet, if they did nothing, reinforcements would arrive within three days and wipe them out.

They had to eliminate the First Prince and place Darham on the throne within that narrow window. The impossible timeline left everyone with a throbbing headache. Just as Yudit was about to suggest a short break, the tent flap opened and a man entered.

He was in his early thirties, dressed in the uniform of the Gotha Kingdom’s army. He had thinning brown hair and a build that sat somewhere between soft and muscular; his timid, downturned eyes gave him a gentle, almost weak impression.

“Um, I was told I was summoned…” he said, his voice small.

As Yudit looked around in confusion, Darham, who now sported a rough patch of stubble, raised his hand.

“I called for him. I have something to ask.”

The soldier blinked and stood before Darham. Darham studied him for a moment before speaking.

“Do you remember me? We trained together a few years back.”

“I… I’m not sure, sir. My apologies.”

The soldier’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. The denial caused Darham to frown.

“Well, no matter. I remember you.”

“May I… may I ask why I was summoned?”

The soldier seemed exceptionally skittish for his size. He shifted his gaze nervously, trying to [unauthorized copy]read Darham’s expression.

“Nothing major. I just wanted to ask about something that happened during our training days.”

“Please… speak? I am at your service?”

The soldier stumbled over his words, unfamiliar with how to address a superior, and blurted out what he thought was a formal response. His flustered behavior managed to take some of the edge off the tension in the tent. A small smile played on Darham’s lips.

“Before midnight, you used to slip away saying you had to use the latrine, and you’d always stay gone for over thirty minutes. You always came back smelling of something delicious. One day it was stew, another day it was cookies. At first, I thought you had a lover in the palace, but you had no connections here; you said your wife was outside the walls.”

“How… how do you remember such things? That was years ago…”

“I remember most things I hear. And I have a very keen sense of smell. I also remember you bragging about how good a cook your wife was. You were leaving every night at midnight to see her. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s…”

The soldier stammered, unable to find an answer. Realizing he might be pushing too hard, Darham softened his voice.

“I’m not trying to blame you. I’m asking because it’s important, so answer me honestly. At the time, I thought you were using a crawlspace [stolen content]or that your wife was sneaking in through one. But I was wrong. Your knees were always clean, not a blade of grass on them, and you occasionally smelled of stagnant water. You were using the underground aqueducts. Right?”

Darham delivered his conclusion like a detective closing a case. The soldier lowered his head in defeat.

“Yes… I used the sewers to see my wife.”