As the two slaves were released from their cages, Victor lingered in thought. He began to question his role—merely an envoy, yet granted privileges to this extent.
It was far from ordinary.
Could it be that the Emperor wishes me to defect to the Blood Empire? Perhaps he intends to use me as justification for liberating and annexing the Republic of Venn.
Yet even so, Victor could do nothing. With so many factions already in motion, he could not simply stop walking his path now.
His fingertips tapped his trousers.
No… that's not it.
He seized the collar of the young male slave, whispering:
"Are there others from the Republic of Venn here as slaves?"
"I'm not sure. But when I was captured, aside from many journalists, I also saw civilians chained and hauled away."
"Do you know where you are right now?"
"I don't. No… I don't know what lies ahead, that's all."
Victor released him.
Perhaps the Emperor seeks to legitimize himself. These people could serve as industrial labor for the empire. All that remains is to play the saint, win hearts, and use my presence to sway Venn's citizens into allegiance.
Their knowledge and skills—warships, weapons, architecture, media, oil-fueled machines—these are surely the targets of his ambition.
Though bound in war to the east, the Emperor's vision reached far.
Such a man could never be trusted. Those who think so broadly will do anything for gain, their moves impossible to predict.
The two slaves were collared in iron. The butler then led Victor back toward the upper castle. At a fork in the passage, he stopped, bowed, and issued a warning.
"Those slaves are filth. You may keep them only in your chamber or your private hall. If they wander to the training yard, the princess will be enraged."
"I understand."
Victor led the slaves along the guest wing. The young man hurried up beside him.
"Thank you, Victor. Without you I'd have died here for certain. But… where are we? I don't understand at all."
"The Blood Empire. But fear nothing—for now, you are my temporary property."
"What? Don't joke about that!"
Victor's sharp gaze froze him.
"What is your name?"
"I… I'm Brian."
Victor turned to the golden-haired girl.
"And you? What is your name, and where are you from?"
Her vacant eyes wandered, mindless. She darted behind Brian like a frightened child.
"Answer me now, or else—"
Brian raised a hand to stop him.
"Please, calm down. You're being too harsh."
Victor placed a hand on her trembling shoulder. She collapsed weakly.
He noticed a mark beneath her collar—an emblem etched into her flesh: a blooming flower ensnared in thorns, bearing the words Holy Knight of Rollrien.
This girl is no ordinary slave. Has she lost her memory—or is she merely pretending?
"Brian, the baths are to the left. Take her there. Wash her thoroughly, leave no trace of stench. Then bring her to my chamber on the right. We'll discuss your case there."
"Alright. Wait—me, bathe her?"
Victor's eyes narrowed with displeasure.
"I won't waste time. Do it quickly, and return."
He strode back to his chamber. Anxiety gnawed at him—an uneasy weight pressing his chest until he nearly gagged.
At times, he felt eyes upon him. From windows. From unseen places. It was no different from the first day he arrived in this strange world, where every person hid schemes too dangerous to ignore.
His breath came heavy, then eased into calm.
When the two returned in their tattered clothes, Victor offered his spare suits. Ill-fitting though they were, the woman's figure in men's attire radiated a beauty that surpassed some men.
Brian admired the fine suit, staring into the mirror until tears welled.
"How long… how long have I been trapped in that cage? The pain—it was unbearable."
Victor crossed his legs, clasping his hands.
"Let's discuss your situation. Why were you taken here?"
"Many news outlets opposed the council's decisions. When the Revolution rose, they rounded up all dissenters along with the citizens who supported them."
"And what was the state of affairs when you last knew?"
"They were reorganizing the city—hunting the Revolution in every corner. Beyond that, I know nothing more."
"And what did you oppose the council on?"
Brian's eyes hardened.
"The press. They sought to seize control of everything, consolidate all power into their hands. Our papers resisted by preparing to publish the letters of negotiation we'd received. But before the day of print, I was taken in the capital."
So Daniel's purge was part of this 'reorganization.' Damn it… everything comes crashing back again.
"Your story was published. And I am the result."
Victor's words were cold, yet Brian sensed the tension hidden beneath. In those cunning eyes, striving for survival, he glimpsed something else—faith.
"You'll help me, won't you? Help all of us?"
"No. I won't risk my life for you."
"But you'll have to, won't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You need allies. Returning won't be easy, right, Victor Weber?"
Victor's eyes froze.
"…"
"I received a letter today, smuggled through many hands. From another prisoner."
He unfolded it. Midnight struck. The violet glow outside slowed, suspended.
Signed: Oliver Dengart.
Victor tore it apart without a glance. The man had foreseen this, shaping Victor into one who could return in glory.
So you mean to forge me an intelligence network? Don't think I don't see it. This isn't about ideals or legacy—it's about creating a successor. And in the end, the one who holds everything will still be you.
Yet I do need allies. If this boy is a journalist, then once I escape, he could indeed serve as the foundation of a network.
He smiled at last.
"Yes. I need comrades. I'll find a way out of here, and you'll bring back information from outside. You know escape is impossible on your own."
"A temporary slave, then?"
"Exactly. Don't forget. When these negotiations end, I'll return Venn to the hands of its people. That is the pact."
"Yes, Victor! I'll give everything for change—for all of us. Right, Rose?"
Brian turned to the golden-haired girl, who gnawed at her nails.
"Rose? That's her name?"
"No. I only called her that, from the flower on her neck. She deserves a name."
"Don't diminish her worth. If she won't speak it, you've no right to name her."
Brian swallowed hard, bowing his head.
"I'm sorry."
Victor ignored him, rising to leave. His eyes swept the castle's lines and corridors.
There was no time for rest. No peace in sleep.
He must act.
The front gates were guarded by dozens. The dining hall and kitchens led to the lower castle. Outside paths revealed sheer drops to the land below.
One way remained.
He entered the baths, steam thick in the air. At the stone floor's drain, he pried open the grate and slipped into the sewer.
The air was heavy, choking. The stench clung to his throat. Three paths lay ahead.
From the right-hand tunnel, light filtered through.
He crawled toward it, emerging at a balcony near the castle armory. Once a flower garden, now abandoned and ruined, the balcony overlooked a vast waterfall crashing below.
The roar was deafening, shaking the stones.
Victor gazed toward the fading sun at the horizon.
He reached out a hand, smiling softly.
All that's left… is finding my way back.