After spending the better part of the day reviewing all the construction records from the past two or three years in the capital, Charles stood beside a massive map, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
His mind instinctively began to shift into analytical mode.
Years of accumulated experience surfaced naturally.
After a moment of contemplation, he picked up a pen and spoke softly to Jaemar, "Let's start with the more conventional locations—someplace discreet, with low foot traffic, but not too far removed from the public."
As he spoke, he began marking the map, drawing circles around various regions and labeling them with numbers. Most of these places were old sites within the capital—areas that had been abandoned over time and repurposed into slums or storage depots.
After circling seven or eight such places and listing them in order, Charles continued, "Next are the better hiding spots—these are either extremely remote, making them hard to detect, or they're located amid heavy foot traffic, using the crowds to conceal unusual activity. The former is easier to investigate—any dark ritual in such isolated areas will leave traces. But the latter is more dangerous. Such locations are usually protected by powerful locals, otherwise they'd have been discovered already. The mixture of people also makes these places harder to track."
He resumed marking the map, starting from the city center and working outward, circling nearly ten locations before stopping and labeling each.
"These places are tough to investigate. Multiple factions are tangled up here—mostly old hands who know how to cover their tracks. It's best to have the Church handle these. After all, they already owe you a favor."
"And because they're outsiders, they'll act more ruthlessly and won't fear offending anyone. Plus, they have a much keener sense for heretics—far better than your average soldier. They're more likely to find something."
Jaemar thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
"Alright. They've been looking for an opportunity to establish their presence in the capital anyway—this will let them show their strength to the local powers. I doubt they'll refuse."
Seeing Jaemar accept his suggestion, Charles nodded with a serious expression. "Next are the most important—and dangerous—locations. If a search is necessary, I strongly suggest going in with the Church. Otherwise, it could cause a massive political fallout."
Though a little confused, Jaemar saw the seriousness in Charles's expression and simply replied, "...I understand."
"These final locations are both the best and worst possibilities. If any heretic cult is hiding there, even if they're not part of the Profane Convenant, they're definitely up to something major. That would make them a future threat to the Mardain. If anything is found, I advise you to eliminate them on the spot—at any cost."
At this, Jaemar realized just how problematic these upcoming targets might be.
Charles's first mark was the Royal Palace. Next came the Beast Arena, the Central Library, and the Estate of Count Atter...
Each one was highly sensitive—either occupied by people of great authority or backed by complicated political power.
Jaemar instantly felt a headache coming on.
If they had to search all of these locations, along with the previous ones, he'd basically be offending a quarter of the capital's aristocracy—including members of the royal family. That would be a serious complication for his upcoming coronation.
Seeing his hesitation, Charles sighed and said, "Now's not the time to be cautious. If we fail here, everything will be lost. So if blood must be shed, then let it be shed—no matter whose blood it is. If something's wrong at one of these critical locations, show no mercy. Strike hard and fast. That's the safest way."
The implication was clear—Charles was telling Jaemar: if you detect anything unusual, kill first, ask questions later. Don't give them any chance to respond.
If a summoning ritual had been secretly arranged inside the Royal Palace, that could only mean someone among Jaemar's siblings had allied with the Profane Convenant. There's no way it could happen without an insider.
Likewise, if the cult's main base was the Beast Arena or Central Library, then their collaborators must be among the capital's top elite—possibly with even higher status than some of the princes and princesses. That would make Jaemar hesitant to act.
Not because he was softhearted.
As a prince—especially one about to wear the crown—Charles knew full well that Jaemar hadn't risen above his siblings by being merciful. He might not be a master strategist, but he was ruthless when needed. That ruthlessness was the foundation of his current stability.
The problem was that those in power often had more to weigh—politics, alliances, public opinion. And those concerns could easily spiral out of control.
Charles had seen similar situations in other countries before.
Jaemar understood what Charles meant. After a long silence, a flash of cold resolve flickered in his eyes as he made up his mind.
"...In that case, we'll leave the final targets for last. We'll clear the rest first.
"If necessary... even if the capital runs red with blood, so be it."
Just as Charles had said—hesitation only leaves loose ends, and those loose ends can unravel everything.
So rather than strike half-heartedly, it would be better to purge everything in one swift blow. The capital was rotten enough—it was time to clean house. He'd use this opportunity to wipe out everything that had long given him pause.
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll deploy my loyal troops into the city. We'll flatten everything with the simplest, most direct method."
Hearing Jaemar's firm decision, Charles finally smiled.
"Good. Now that's what a crown prince should look like. Without a ruthless heart, the throne is just a seat waiting to be taken."
He raised his wine glass and toasted him.
"To a smooth day tomorrow."
"Let's hope," Jaemar replied with a sigh.
But in his heart, he was already calculating how to stabilize the capital once the purge was complete.
---
Early the next morning, before dawn.
The sky was still dark and gray.
"Don't come any closer! Identify your unit and bring out your commanding officer!"
Cross, the officer in charge of the city gates, gripped his weapon tightly as he stared at the large force gathering outside the gates. He couldn't help but mutter to himself:
'What the hell is this? Sending so many troops to the city in the middle of the night—are they planning a coup!?'
Just as he was debating whether to sound the alarm, the troops below suddenly parted to form a path. A rider holding a torch on horseback came forward to the front.
He raised the torch to illuminate his face.
Jaemar spoke in a deep voice, "Cross, it's me."
"Your Highness Jaemar?"
Seeing the face lit by the flickering firelight, Cross immediately recognized him and let out a quiet sigh of relief. If the leader was the crown prince himself, then the worst-case scenario could be ruled out.
After all, no one stages a rebellion against themselves.
Jaemar gave a firm command. "Yes. Now open the gates."
"At once, Your Highness!"
Without any hesitation, Cross obeyed immediately.
He was, after all, one of Jaemar's own men.
Since the days when Jaemar was still locked in fierce competition with his siblings for the throne, he had been placing loyal supporters in key positions—and Cross was one of them.
As the gates slowly creaked open, Jaemar gave a satisfied nod.
It was just a minor move, but it still proved useful. If he hadn't taken precautions, even as the uncrowned prince, he would've had to consider a lot more.
He gestured with his hand.
The troops surged forward like a tide and began entering the city.
---
Silence. A deep, unsettling silence.
There was no nightlife to speak of.
In an age with little entertainment, the first half of the night might still see some people about—but after midnight, the streets were utterly deserted. There weren't even any 24-hour pleasure houses.
Even in the capital city, it was the same.
At this hour, in the gate district, only the sound of boots and hooves echoed in the darkness.
"Cross."
Jaemar exhaled lightly as he gazed at the darkened cityscape.
Cross straightened in alarm. "Yes, Your Highness!"
Jaemar shot him a glance and said grimly, "The nation is at a moment of crisis. I've received intelligence that heretics are hiding within the capital and plotting something that threatens the entire Nation. From this moment on, you are to guard the gates. No one is allowed to enter or leave without authorization. Anyone who disobeys—kill them on the spot."
At the sound of this order, Cross's face tensed. With the limited manpower under his command, it would be almost impossible to control the entire city's comings and goings. If chaos broke out, he wouldn't be able to contain it. But an order was an order—he had no choice but to accept it.
"With respect, Your Highness—I swear to carry out your command!"
Seeing Cross's anxious expression, Jaemar chuckled lightly and added, "Good. I'll assign you a few hundred soldiers. Just make sure to keep the situation under control—no large incidents. Understood?"
Cross was overjoyed. "Yes, Your Highness!"
He had never imagined he'd one day be given command over troops.
Even if the authority was temporary and restricted, it still felt good to wield.
He immediately followed a knight to receive his new soldiers, his face filled with eager anticipation.
After all, what man hasn't dreamed of a moment like this?
_____
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