"An unfamiliar wind swept me off my feet—I couldn't land on my own anymore… It had left a swirl, a whirlwind, a tempest… I must search for you again."
An hour passed. Another 30 kilometers. Cold, sharp winds laced with dust and scattered debris lashed at them. The thunder of hooves pounded the earth as the horses surged forward, cutting a relentless path toward the Viscount's mansion.
They stopped briefly, letting the horses drink and breathe, their sides heaving, sweat streaking their coats.
"I'll leave my horse at the town stables," Lila said, her voice low, deliberate. "But you—you'll knock on the Viscount's door as the emperor's envoy. Loud. Unapologetic."
She glanced at Jaxon, eyes gleaming with controlled intensity.
"Cause a scene. A disruption. Big enough to drag the whole mansion's attention out front. Meanwhile, I'll enter with the food supplies—they're expected exactly thirty minutes from now. The Viscount eats breakfast at 6:30 sharp. He despises being interrupted during meals, no matter who the guest is—even an envoy of the emperor or a king."
A small smirk tugged at the edge of her lips before fading into something grim.
"Once inside, I'll trade places with one of the maids. Then I'll wait. He always calls for a maid to help him in his bath. That's when I'll kill him."
She paused. The wind swept across her face, her hair lifting just slightly as if the world itself leaned in to listen.
"He lingers in the bath for at least thirty minutes. No one will notice anything wrong for twenty minutes after I leave."
Her fingers moved swiftly, sketching lines in the dirt with a stick—paths, angles, positions. A full layout, etched in mud.
"I'll handle the documents and his will. I've already forged it. Once I emerge, dressed in the commander's uniform, I'll gather the staff. I'll give them two choices: submit to the new lord—or die. You'll do the same on your end. As soon as they declare their side, we strike those who stand with the Viscount. You'll need to eliminate the treasurer and three of the butlers. Clean, quick, final."
She stood, brushing the dust from her knees, then pointed at a mark on the map.
"We settle everything in one day. Then we move straight to Baron Waber's territory. Head-on ambush. With any luck, some of the Viscount's knights will join us after we reveal what filth their lord was hiding."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Once we've taken both domains and stabilized them as managed territories, we must return by dawn on the third day. That's when the other Viscount and the Marquis will strike Zakir's lands, hoping to eliminate the Empress."
Her voice dipped slightly, steel wrapped in sorrow.
"They've learned of her… of her situation. But what they don't know is that Sir Alen is with her. And so am I— am the wildcard of the Emperor."
She straightened, meeting his gaze head-on.
"The Empire already knows the limits of the three of you. They've studied your styles, your past setbacks. They think they know exactly what to expect. But me? They have no idea what I'm capable of. They'll never see the assassination of the main piece—or his inner circle—coming."
Her tone sharpened, cutting through the air.
"Two territories. All their assets. Their manpower. Will be Ours. Do you have any objections?"
A pause.
"Or suggestions?" she added, with a raised eyebrow. "I'm all ears…"
Lila finished her breakdown by drawing the final figure in the mud—a clean strike through the Viscount's bath chamber.
Jaxon had been silent the entire time, his gaze fixed on her face. Dumbfounded. Astonished. And, somewhere deep beneath the quiet, impressed. Like every name she had mentioned, he had underestimated her. Until now. Completely...
Lila looked at him.
"…So, none?" she asked, almost surprised. Her voice softened—perplexed, braced for disagreement.
Jaxon gave a small nod and looked away, his expression unreadable.
Lila let out a long breath, exhaling the tension from her shoulders.
"I had planned to do this alone, like always. The original strategy was built for one. But Sir Alen insisted that you were vital to the mission… So I revised everything. In an hour."
She hesitated, eyes distant.
"I asked myself—what am I missing? What am I lacking?"
She smiled faintly, almost reluctantly.
"Then I realized… I was missing a comrade named Jaxon."
She mounted her horse, giving him a smile—not warm, not soft, but solid. Earnest. The kind shared between soldiers who trust each other with their lives.
"Ughh," she muttered under her breath, kicking off toward her path. From here on, they'd take separate routes.
Jaxon stood still, watching the stream flow nearby, the light glinting off its surface. His face reddened, a faint smile blooming. His eyes glistened—subtle, but there.
He mounted his horse, the same driven expression returning to his face—the one he used to wear when he first joined the knighthood. Eager. Fearless. Excited. Zealous.
Maybe that's what following a true commander does?—It drags your best self to the surface and dares you to be worthy of it.
---
Three days had passed since Tharion read Sir Alen's letter.
In that time, Elijah had functioned entirely on survival instinct. Tharion's mood was like a sword's edge—sharp and unpredictable.
"My Emperor," Elijah said, his voice taut with exhaustion, yet with caution, "all duties requiring your presence here are complete. You can return now. Maybe rest. Or… visit your Empress."
He threw the line like a last card on the table, out of breath and out of courage.
Tharion froze mid-signature. He stared at the document, then slowly stood, pulling on his cloak and buckling both swords to his side.
"Return in a week after completing the duties here," Tharion ordered, his tone cold and final as ever. Then he turned and left without a glance back.
Elijah exhaled in relief; the hard days had finally paused—at least for the next four.
Not long after, two lords appeared outside the Emperor's office.
"Elijah, may we enter?" one of them asked.
"Enter," Elijah replied authoritatively.
They stepped in, looking as nervous as always. Their expressions had become familiar—anxious, hesitant, trying not to breathe too loud.
Elijah motioned toward the sofa. "Sit."
They obeyed, almost relieved.
"Since I am the Emperor's personal secretary," Elijah began, "speaking to me is the same as speaking to him directly."
The lords exchanged a glance, silently agreeing this was preferable to facing Tharion in person.
"Before we begin," one of them asked cautiously, "has His Majesty left for the capital?"
Elijah nodded.
It was a lie.
He knew exactly where the Emperor had gone.
And he knew exactly why, since the Emperor had left alone.