How could a woman who turned on her comrades the moment she surrendered possibly be loyal?
When that woman's head was presented on a platter, the remaining courtiers were utterly terrified. What must one do to avoid death?
Resisting fiercely led to death. Sycophantic flattery also led to death.
Everyone fell into a terrified silence; no one dared speak another word.
This was precisely the effect Isolde desired. They didn't need to speak or think—only to obey.
It was then that Isolde finally delivered her verdict. Her tone was flat and calm. "I believe this Lord Sylas is not a good man. He is a seductive fiend who brings disaster to nations and suffering to the people."
Sylas closed his eyes, a smile of relief appearing on his lips. He seemed to have guessed what Isolde intended to do.
She had likely had her fill of fun and now planned to tarnish his reputation before having him executed.
A ruined reputation would devastate the morale of the remaining Lyonesse loyalists in the south. A vicious strategy, indeed.
So be it. Death was finally at hand.
As his life reached its end, Sylas's mind became clearer.
Even though the artifacts on his body continuously disrupted his thoughts, he felt an indescribable sense of relief.
After Isolde spoke, the Lyonesse courtiers understood the situation.
One by one, they became filled with righteous indignation, hurling endless insults at Sylas.
When Lyonesse still stood, Sylas had been immensely influential.
A mere man, he had overshadowed all the women in court. This had naturally sparked jealousy and resentment.
But back then, the King valued him, so no one dared say anything. Now the kingdom had fallen—how could he still climb to a high branch?
We are all conquered slaves, so why do you get to rise?
Furthermore, everyone present harbored a strange desire: they wanted to see this lofty, unattainable flower fall.
Perhaps watching him be the first to corrupt would make them feel better about their own capitulation.
"Sylas, you wretch! How dare you seduce our wise and mighty Queen?"
"Sylas, you bring disaster to the nation and suffering to the people! Your crimes are unforgivable!"
"Lyonesse treated you well! Your family enjoyed great favor for generations! And now you become a turncoat? "
"..."
The courtiers had finally found an outlet, pouring all their venom onto Sylas.
Fortunately, the watchful guards with drawn swords kept them in check, or they might have rushed forward to physically attack him.
The weak could only vent their hatred on those weaker than themselves.
Sylas was now the target of everyone's animosity.
He watched the ministers who had once sung his praises now regard him with pure hatred, wishing him dead instantly.
He, however, felt little reaction. The necklace on his chest, the pearls at his waist, the iron bands on his legs—each released a disorienting magical energy that tormented him.
The cacophony of curses filled his ears. Sylas felt his soul was about to leave his body.
He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the hem of Isolde's gown, and muttered, "Do it... just do it!"
Hurry up, I truly can't take it anymore!
"Oh? Can't hold on anymore?" Isolde bent down, cupped his chin, and seized the chance to press him. "Who is your betrothed? Tell me! Speak!"
"Kill me! Tyrant! Kill me!" Sylas shouted with all his might. He knelt on the ground, his limbs beginning to tremble.
His cries silenced everyone in the hall. They realized that Sylas didn't seem to be showing submission.
He was just a prisoner, and he was begging for death. But… a beautiful face that ruins a kingdom—wasn't that everyone's consensus?
"Truly, there is no one?" Isolde, seeing his resolve, actually began to waver.
Could he really have just misspoken? Did I misunderstand him?
She lessened the intensity of the artifacts' effects.
Sylas let out a long breath. Staring at the red gown on the floor, he thought he might at least die somewhat comfortably.
But then, the Royal Censor stepped forward from among the courtiers. Her body trembled, her eyes filled with a desperate craving for wealth and status.
In a shaking voice, she said, "Your Majesty, this guilty subject knows who Sylas was betrothed to! Though they had no formal contract or betrothal gifts, it was mutually understood by both families!"
Hearing this accusation, Sylas was so furious he collapsed face-first onto the floor.
Informants are truly despicable. Either speak up early or not at all. I held out until now, and you come out with this? Testing me, is it?
Isolde could naturally sense his fury. But she smiled cheerfully and asked, "Speak. I wish to know which young lady dared to take in this fiend."
"Reporting to Your Majesty, it was Chancellor Jade's daughter, Crystal!"
"Heh. Understood." Isolde, who had raised the issue so high, now gently set it down.
She gestured to the female guards beside her. Two guards stepped forward.
Sylas's body tensed.
This is it. They're going to execute me. Good... good... it's finally over.
He swallowed repeatedly, his mouth parched and dry.
Is this the fear before death? Don't be afraid! Don't be afraid! Sylas kept reminding himself.
The two guards hauled him to his feet. But instead of heading for the main entrance, they escorted him deeper into the royal harem quarters.
Arriving in the rear chambers, Sylas was utterly confused.
What's happening? Why are we back here?
In the great hall, Isolde spoke coldly to the assembled courtiers. "If you wish to live, you will spread word of Sylas's wickedness. Ensure the former dynasty's remnants hiding in the south learn that Alaric's son is now selling his body. Understood?!"
"Understood!" Everyone bowed and scraped in agreement.
From that moment on, Sylas's reputation was thoroughly ruined.
Isolde then had them all imprisoned to be transported back to Lorynth.
At that moment, a female general entered the hall from outside.
She presented a military dispatch, then knelt on one knee before Isolde to report: "Your Majesty, Marshal Victoria has led the Paladins and engaged Alaric's rearguard. It should not be long before all the Lyonesse remnants are captured."
"Excellent! Truly worthy of being Aethelred's God of War! To catch the Lyonesse stragglers in just four days... ah, such fortune for our great Aethelred!" Isolde was overjoyed.
Since Marshal Victoria had already caught up with Alaric, Isolde decided it was time to return home.
This military campaign had been launched under immense pressure from within Aethelred.
Many in her court had opposed a decisive war with Lyonesse, believing the kingdom wasn't so fragile. But who could have predicted the King of Lyonesse would die so easily?
"And they said Lyonesse was full of knights-errant! To end up killed by one... truly laughable," Isolde sneered, her contempt for Lyonesse reaching its peak.
So weak. Truly. And we fought such a weak nation for three years.
Upon her return, she was determined to purge the parasites within her own court. Someone must have been muddling the waters, not giving their full effort.
Of course, returning early also meant she could sooner tame that seemingly soft yet inwardly stubborn individual.
Isolde could no longer restrain her violent tendencies. She wanted to get her hands on Sylas and viciously release the killing intent pent up within her!
Sylas was delivered by the guards to the harem quarters. A young pageboy was there, who timidly bowed upon seeing him enter. "Greetings, my lord. My name is Page. I am to serve you from now on."
Sylas stood in the room, his heart filled with vexation. He softly said to Page, "Please wait outside the door. I wish to rest."
Exhausted, he moved to the bed and lay down on his side.
Page naturally didn't dare object. He went out, closing the door behind him.
This room belonged to the Queen Consort—naturally, a man's chambers.
As for the Queen Consort himself, he was now imprisoned, awaiting Isolde's judgment.
Sylas had no energy left to wonder why Isolde had sent him here. He only felt unbearable agony.
The moment he closed his eyes, the curses of the crowd echoed in his ears.
A man who valued his self-respect above all, being insulted by so many acquaintances wounded his pride deeply.
He had thought that after the verbal abuse, he would die, and it would all be over. He could disregard the infamy left behind.
But now, Isolde still refused to execute him.
Why? he wondered. You've killed so many already, can't you chop one more head?
His current reality was this: his ears rang with insults, and the Servant's Chain prevented his death.
"Agh..." Sylas clutched the bedsheets, letting out a soft moan.
The artifacts had tortured him beyond endurance, and his inner humiliation caused even greater pain.
When will this torment end?
Just then, the door opened again. Sylas saw Isolde's red gown appear before him.
She's here again...
This Queen of Aethelred was truly like a haunting spirit.