[Emerald Castle, Prince Alden's Study]
"What are you doing here, Limon?"
Prince Alden stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, still dressed in evening attire.
"Your Highness," Limon said, not moving his hand. "I can explain."
"Go on."
The study seemed to cool. Alden closed the door behind him and let the lock click.
Limon rose, legs trembling. He glanced from the Prince to the open drawer, then let his caution spill out.
"Your Highness, you were right. Her Majesty might have been poisoned. I'm here to check and confirm the traces in the vial."
He straightened his back, finally seeing the empty drawer.
"I went through the files you gave me before. The… the late Empress's paralysis. The symptoms match: the Empress's and Tower Master Hadrian's coma. They might be connected."
He took a deep breath before continuing.
"The Arcanum refines Bavarium, while Silver Star ordered an excessive quantity. Someone silenced anyone who dared to reveal the chain's involvement. These two towers might be part of a larger conspiracy. All the clues point to the black market, which is legally untraceable. If everything I believe is true, the test itself is a trap. The moment we attempt to investigate using illegal means, we'll be convicted."
Alden listened attentively, his expression unreadable. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth before disappearing.
"That's quite a hypothesis, Limon. Do you understand the implications?" He drew nearer, their faces mere feet apart. "If your accusation is false, you'll be the first to fall." Alden turned away, breaking eye contact. "Go back. I'll pretend I didn't hear you."
"My apologies, Your Highness," Limon said firmly. "I must disobey."
Alden paused. "Won't you regret it? You could die. Not only you, but everyone you hold dear. Will you risk it all for me?" He added, his voice dropping an octave. "Think again. Is it worth it?"
Laughter shattered the silence.
Alden finally turned. Limon was chuckling loudly, wiping a tear from his eye. He stepped back and struck a pose, bowing with exaggerated, sweeping grace—a jester's courtesy in the face of death.
"Alden... did you just ask me that?" Limon straightened, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his serious expression. "After all these years together? After the hits I took because of you? Hell, I even promised not to marry before you. Thanks to that, my future with fair maidens seems bleak."
Alden remained motionless. Neither spoke.
After a weighted silence, Alden unbuckled the sword from his belt and drew the blade.
"Do you swear?"
Limon's smile vanished. He immediately pressed his fist against the floorboards, sinking to one knee.
"My liege." His voice was low. "I may not have a blade of my own, but I will be your shield."
Alden stepped forward. The sword lowered. He rested the flat of the cold steel heavily onto Limon's shoulder.
Limon, feeling the weight of the sharp edge inches from his neck, let out a shaky breath.
Finally, Alden lifted the sword and slid it back into its scabbard with a sharp clink.
Limon got up, dusting his pants.
"You know... Usually, people use a dull ceremonial prop for this part," he whispered. "With a real edge... for a second there, I thought you were actually going to cut me."
"Follow me," Alden said, already turning towards the study door.
[Emerald Castle, Prince's Bedchamber]
At the threshold of the Royal Wing, posted guards snapped to attention, armor clattering against stone as Alden passed. The guards didn't question why the Prince's aide trailed him at such an hour. They simply bowed lower.
Alden thrust the heavy double doors open. Signaling for Limon to enter, he sealed the room behind them.
The lock turned with a heavy thud.
Limon blinked, glancing from the bolted door to the massive four-poster bed, and finally to the Prince. He took a sharp, theatrical step backward, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Your Highness," Limon said, his voice trembling with feigned scandal. "I know I have pledged my loyalty, but I feel compelled to clarify—I am not into men."
Alden kept walking.
Limon retreated, squeezing his eyes shut as the prince swept past him towards a concealed compartment in the bedside table.
"Stop your act and take this."
Alden turned back, thrusting a thick, wax-sealed packet into Limon's chest.
Limon's eyes snapped open. Fumbling, he pinned the documents against his tunic before they could strike the floor.
"These are your instructions for the next four days," Alden said. "Every movement, every meeting, every act you need to perform. Follow it to the letter."
Limon, frowning, turned the packet over in his hands. "Four days? That's the Emperor's deadline. Did you find any solution to the case?"
Alden's only response was a single, brisk nod. He approached the tall, draped window, its casement firmly shut.
"Your role is paramount, Limon. Ensure no one suspects you." He fixed his gaze on the heavy fabric, as if peering beyond. "I may not be able to see you during this time. In case of an emergency, report to Captain Lut."
Limon straightened, his spine rigid. "Isolation now? With the court eagerly awaiting bloodshed?" He approached him. "What duty demands complete isolation, Your Highness?"
Alden turned away from the window. Moonlight, leaking through the gap in the drapes, illuminated his face, revealing a mild smirk.
"I will be fighting poison while entertaining a fair maiden."
Limon froze. The second half of the sentence slipped from his mind the moment he heard the word "poison."
"What?" A choked gasp escaped his lips. The packet slipped from his numb fingers and hit the carpet with a muffled sound.
"Are there lingering effects?" Limon's voice rose, frantic. "Didn't you take the antidote before my eyes? Was it weak?"
He didn't wait for a response. Lunging forward, his hand snapped out to test the heat of Alden's brow.
Alden shifted left, and Limon swept through empty air, passing over the Prince's shoulder.
Limon stumbled, losing his balance and staring at his empty palm. Panic surged in his eyes as he looked up.
"Limon…" Alden adjusted a cufflink, his gaze momentarily drawn back to the moonlit gap in the curtains. He appeared bored. "I also don't have that orientation."
Limon searched the Prince's face for the signs of the toxin: graying pallor, tremors, and delirium.
He found nothing.
Alden stood immaculate, breathing evenly, and watched Limon with an unreadable gaze.
"He's fine," Limon whispered, a sigh escaping him. But the next instant, his gaze sharpened.
"What in the…?" Limon lowered his hand, staring at the Prince's back. "Is this another joke, Your Highness? Why do you keep doing this?" He gestured vaguely at the empty air. "You speak of a 'fair maiden,' yet this wing stands desolate. You don't even keep a chambermaid."
Alden leaned closer to the high arched window, clicking the latch and pushing the casement open.
A biting wind swept into the chamber, carrying the high altitude's freeze. Limon hissed and hunched.
A violent urge to hurl the sealed instructions at the future Emperor stirred within him. He gripped the parchment tightly to control his hand. Then, remembering his original goal, he straightened. "And the vial? Do you want me to test its contents, Your Highness?"
"No," Alden replied, standing firm against the gray light.
Limon sighed, taking in the immaculate chamber—lifeless and orderly. His mind drifted to Captain Lut, who hadn't been at his usual post in the hallway.
"Your Highness," Limon said, his voice softer now. "Regarding Captain Lut… Although he insists he's fit for duty, I don't believe him. He looked pale as death. Shouldn't we urge him to leave and rest?"
Alden finally turned his gaze.
"Captain Lut's condition is secondary to the schedule," Alden said, adjusting his gloves. "He has other duties."
Limon stared at his liege, his eyes widening in disbelief. 'Three days… Her Majesty passed only three days ago,' he thought. 'And His Highness… he feels like a completely different person.'
Limon's lips curved into a wide, absurd grin as he dramatically threw his hand over his forehead and leaned against a high-backed chair, swooning.
"What if I fall ill, Your Highness? Would you kindly grant me a luxurious vacation with a villa to rest in? I would also appreciate the company of some beautiful maidens to fan my brow."
Alden pressed his lips together into a thin line. He didn't reply.
Limon straightened up with an exaggerated sigh, holding the pose for a moment longer. "A Crown Prince who can't afford a villa for his aide? That's a first."
Limon observed Alden's gloved hands clench into fists and the distant, vacant gaze that refused to focus.
"Alden," Limon said, dropping the title. "What happened? You suddenly look... pale. Are you concealing something?"
"…"
Alden remained silent, his jaw tense as the only sign of his hearing. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I will be counting on you, Limon. Do your task. That's the only way for all of us… to survive."
Limon took in his childhood friend's expression one last time before yawning. The wide, plastic smile snapped back onto his face. "Oh… since you have everything planned, this aide will take his leave. Take care, Your Highness. I'm going to take a 'veeery' deep sleep."
He turned on his heel and yanked the heavy door open.
Captain Lut stood on the threshold, fist raised, inches from Limon's nose.
Limon jolted, stumbling two steps back. He clutched his chest, then straightened his jacket. Without a word, he gave a stiff nod and hurried into the corridor.
Captain Lut watched Limon disappear and then stepped inside, clicking the door shut behind him. He bowed deeply.
"Your Highness. Should I set out now?"
Alden gave a single, slight nod. "Ensure that no one knows."
"Understood." Lut paused, choosing his words carefully before asking, "Your Highness, Lord Limon entering your study—"
"He was telling the truth," Alden cut him off. "Dismissed." His voice trembled under gritted teeth.
With another bow, Lut turned and left the room.
The instant the latch clicked shut, Alden's strength drained away. He slumped heavily into his chair, his composure shattered.
A convulsing cough racked his frame. He clutched a handkerchief tightly, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. A crimson stain marred the pristine white fabric when he pulled it away.
His hand clawed at his chest, trying to steady the frantic, broken rhythm of his heart. A high-pitched whine drilled into his ears, drowning out the wind outside.
"Code 239 is dead," he whispered, the words wet and ragged. "A blade at a thirty-degree angle... it pierced the heart. Instant death."
He forced his gaze toward the window, seeking stability in the darkness, but the glass blurred into a haze. The room teetered dangerously. He clung to the armrests, his knuckles turning white, as he battled vertigo.
"I don't have much time," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Ignoring the spinning room, he stripped the tainted clothes and waited for his vision to clear. Once it did, he filled the bathtub and submerged himself, forcing his body to remain steady beneath the water.
Some time later, dressed in fresh robes, he sank back into his chair.
A solitary oil lamp flickered on the desk, casting a weak, dancing glow. It was fragile, too small to hold back the suffocating shadow that loomed over the room.
He watched the lamp flicker as shadows deepened around him, consuming the light.