When late evening fell, the Imperial Palace was wrapped in deep silence.
Chancellor Ardelio slowly ascended the stairs, each step burdened not only by fatigue but by a torrent of thoughts. All official matters for the day had finally come to an end. After all, the upcoming ceremony to elect the Crown Prince was drawing near, and preparations were in full swing.
But as always, the Chancellor's workday didn't end with sunset. Gregory Ardelio still had a few matters to resolve, which is why he had come to his office at such a late hour.
The official sighed and approached his desk, cluttered with documents and other important papers. He didn't sit down but placed both hands on the polished surface, as if trying to catch his breath.
At that moment, the door creaked slightly. One of the Chancellor's subordinates quietly entered the room.
"My lord, you summoned me?" the servant asked in an emotionless tone.
Chancellor Ardelio didn't even turn to look at him.
"How is it progressing?" — the fatigue in his voice was barely noticeable beneath his usual cold restraint.
The servant bowed.
"My lord, he reports that the matter is nearly concluded. However, a bit more time is needed to settle everything properly."
Gregory Ardelio snorted.
"Time? I've given him enough time. This must end. Besides, the coronation of the Crown Prince is fast approaching — we can't afford any loose ends. Tell him to hurry up."
"...Yes, my lord."
"This time, it truly has to be finished. Do you understand me? Tell him that no more mistakes will be tolerated."
The servant nodded again and turned to leave. But at that moment, an unusual noise echoed outside. Suddenly, the door to the office burst open with a loud crash, and guards stormed into the room. It happened so abruptly that the Chancellor was momentarily struck speechless.
When Gregory Ardelio came to his senses, his voice was stern:
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked coldly. "What is this intrusion?!"
The captain of the Imperial Guard stepped forward and declared:
"First-rank official Gregory Ardelio, you are under arrest on suspicion of high treason," he announced clearly and unexpectedly.
Silence thickened in the room like fog before a storm. The official was truly stunned by the accusation.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" the Chancellor said in an icy tone. "This is a mistake. Complete absurdity!"
"Lord Ardelio, this charge is not subject to appeal," the captain cut in mercilessly. "We have evidence of your involvement in an attempted coup. According to the report we received, on your direct orders, a prisoner convicted of murdering the Crown Princess was released from the Imperial dungeons. Tonight, that same man infiltrated the Empress's chambers and killed her. Therefore, you are charged with both complicity in the Empress's murder and potential involvement in the assassination of the Crown Princess. This case has been officially handed over to the Inspection Bureau for investigation."
The Chancellor's face twisted with tension—first from the sudden intrusion, then from the news of the Empress's death. It all sounded so absurd and implausible that the official couldn't believe it. After all, he had seen the Empress only a few hours ago. How could she be dead so suddenly?
Gregory Ardelio slowly straightened, a glint of steel flashing in his eyes.
"You have no idea what you're doing," he growled. "I've served this empire for over thirty years. Do you really think you can shake my position with some falsified report?"
"Orders are orders," the captain replied calmly. "We're acting in accordance with the law. Are you going to resist?"
The silence that followed was crushing.
"Get out," the Chancellor hissed. "You... miserable pawns. I said—get out of here at once!"
He grabbed the nearest object from his desk—a heavy bronze statuette—and raised it above his head. But he didn't even get the chance to strike. Three guards lunged at him simultaneously. They grabbed the Chancellor and twisted his arm. The metallic clink of shackles echoed through the room—an utter humiliation.
The guards began dragging him out, while the official resisted desperately. He couldn't believe this was really happening.
"How dare you... How dare you treat me like this!" he shouted, his voice distorted with rage as he hurled curses at the guards.
***
That day, the air in the North felt especially harsh.
The cold seeped through chainmail, bit into skin beneath fur, and turned every breath into clouds of mist. Remesis led a small unit along a narrow path winding through snow-covered mountain passes, descending toward the base of the mountain where the village of Morka lay.
According to the commander of the northern fortress, barbarians from the Askuld tribe had staged an uprising, seized the village, and taken all its inhabitants hostage. They were demanding immediate negotiations with the Lord of the North, refusing to acknowledge his authority in the region. And although the princess was far from home, Remesis couldn't allow the flames of rebellion to spread across their land.
With that thought, she had set out without hesitation on a dangerous journey to resolve the matter herself.
"We're almost there, Princess," said Hannes, riding ahead.
Remesis simply nodded and spurred her horse to catch up with the knight.
Together with a detachment of ten of the northern fortress's best soldiers, they veered off the main road and descended a slope that led into the gorge where Morka was located. But as the princess entered the village, something seemed off. The houses were untouched, and the villagers were walking calmly through the streets. There were no screams, no fire, no sign of invaders.
"Where are the barbarians?" Remesis asked in confusion, scanning the area.
The snow lay smooth and undisturbed — no footprints, no signs of struggle.
She abruptly reined in her horse.
Hannes Wrightly rode up beside her, saying nothing.
Finally, Remesis dismounted, carefully stepping onto the crisp snow. She moved slowly through the street, looking around with growing suspicion, but found no evidence of a recent attack.
"Hannes, what is the meaning of this..." she murmured in confusion, turning to question the knight — but she never got the words out.
At that moment, she felt movement behind her.
A sword hissed from its sheath, and before she could turn, cold steel touched the back of her neck, digging lightly into the skin just above the collar of her fur cloak.
"Princess, I suggest you don't move."
That voice — it was familiar, and yet to Remesis, it sounded like she was hearing it for the first time. Calm. Ruthless.
Hannes Wrightly, who had drawn his sword against her, gave her a cold smile.