*Huff... Huff...*
In a dimly lit chamber, two snow-white bodies were intertwined, writhing restlessly. Low gasps mingled with the scents of incense and sweat, hanging in the air with an air of debauchery. The panting grew more ragged, the movements more frantic—until a guttural roar of release burst forth, and the two forms froze abruptly. After a long moment, they collapsed back onto the soft bed, limp as putty.
"Your Majesty..."
The woman beneath him was in her early twenties, her delicate, beautiful face flushed with a faint pink. Her striking green eyes blazed with youthful allure, and her snow-white skin, full breasts, and slender waist bared her mature charm for all to see—she was a rare beauty, without a doubt.
She lay there beneath the man, wrapping her arms around him, giggling softly as she pressed her chest against his.
"Your Majesty... it is very late... you must rest. Tomorrow, you have a court assembly to attend."
"A court assembly? What court assembly?"
The man atop her was none other than King Wester V. His complexion was sallow, and though his features bore the satiation of carnal pleasure, a faint unease lingered between his brows.
"To hell with the assembly! To hell with the nobles! Damned beasts, every last one of them!!"
Wester V cursed under his breath, then sighed heavily, rolling onto his side and pulling the woman tightly into his embrace. His position as king was teetering on the brink of collapse. Ever since Ophelia's reappearance and the three archdukes' proclamation of secession from the royal family, his days had grown infinitely harder. The archdukes' declaration had shifted the mood within the royal capital entirely. The Mage's Guild, once bound to the crown by secret pacts, had cut off all contact. The Holy Grace Church, for its part, had not acted openly, but had privately severed all ties with the royal family to voice their discontent. This alone had been enough to plague Wester V—but what followed had been even more unforeseen.
Ordinarily, most great nobles, despite holding their own fiefs, resided in the royal capital. It was the political heart of the realm, after all, and as nobles, they needed to be the first to learn of political tidings. It also served as a form of hostage—whether they lived there or not, their presence (or a token of it) reassured the crown of their loyalty. But now, two-thirds of these great nobles had fled the capital outright, returning to their fiefs lock, stock, and barrel. The remaining third, though they had not left, lingered in a state of uneasy watchfulness. Wester V had once considered using an iron fist to keep them in line, but he was not entirely foolish. He knew his position was fragile, and brute force would only make things worse. So he had swallowed his anger—though no monarch could stomach such humiliation. The nobles' actions were a blatant snub, a refusal to acknowledge him as their king!
Preposterous!
Every time he thought of it, Wester V's jaw tightened with rage. And his troubles were not limited to the outside; even within the royal family, discontent simmered. Princess Ophelia had worked tirelessly to win hearts in the palace during her time there, beloved by the elder statesmen and adored by many a young lord who had pined for her. Time had aged those young men, but their affection for the princess had not faded. Now, learning that she had been murdered, they had leapt to demand answers from Wester V. After a few futile attempts to defend himself, he had abandoned all pretense of reason, letting their protests rage on unheeded.
Wester V was not yet completely abandoned by all, but he felt the cold breath of ruin on his neck. The court assembly, which should have been held long ago, was repeatedly postponed. Countless officials either found excuses to stay away or resigned outright, returning to their homes. For Wester V, the assembly was a meaningless farce—he might as well skip it entirely, out of sight, out of mind, clinging to his power for as long as he could.
It was for this reason that he had cast aside all his official duties and retreated to this small courtyard, losing himself in the embrace of his lover, savoring what little joy remained to him.
"Sigh... you have no idea, those nobles are all bastards! Hmph, once they would cower before me, too afraid to lift their heads. Now? The moment that bitch hints at returning, they cast me aside like a rag!"
Wester V slammed his fist against the wall beside the bed.
"Damned traitors, not an ounce of loyalty among them! I am their king, and they dare treat me like this!"
"Do not anger yourself, Your Majesty—you will sicken yourself."
The woman patted his back gently, her voice soft and consoling.
"Let me sicken myself, then! No one cares for me anyway. Hmph, they think I do not know what they are plotting? They are wrong! Terribly wrong!"
Wester V snorted again, but heeded her words, relaxing into the bed. He stared at the woman beside him, his brow twitching slightly.
What was that whore up to now, he wondered. Hmph, even dead, she haunts me—nothing but a bitch in heat! She probably spread her legs for that bastard Blake to win his support. The **Doomsday Knights** are nothing! I am a king! That whore—she is the cause of all this! All of it!
At the thought, Wester V's brows furrowed, and he raised his hand, slapping the woman hard on her rear. She whimpered in pain, staring at him in surprise.
"Your Majesty? You..."
"Nothing. I let my temper get the better of me."
Wester V shook his head, pulling her tightly into his arms.
"I am sorry. In the end, only you remain by my side, only you choose to stay with me."
"It is my fate, Your Majesty."
Nestled in his embrace, the woman smiled sweetly, no trace of fear in her eyes—only deep, unwavering devotion.
"I love you. Whether you are king or not, I am your woman, Your Majesty."
She paused, then spoke in a low, soft voice.
"Actually, things are not as dire as you think. There is still hope."
"Oh?"
Wester V's eyes lit up, and he turned to gaze at her.
"What do you mean?"
This woman was not, in truth, one of his concubines. She had been a humble history scholar, born of common stock. She had first crossed paths with Wester V in the royal library, researching ancient texts—and unlike every other woman in the palace, she had not fawned over him, but kept a cool, distant air. It was this very indifference that had piqued his interest, sparking a fierce courtship. In the end, she had accepted his love.
But royal law forbade the king from marrying a commoner, and she had not borne him an heir as Ophelia's mother had. So even though Wester V loved her deeply, he could not make her his queen. He had no choice but to keep their relationship a secret. And what made him cherish her all the more was that she had never once complained about this. She stayed by his side quietly, listening to his woes, never interrupting, never meddling. To him, she was nothing like the loathsome noble women who fawned over him with empty flattery, who sought to manipulate and control him. Wester V trusted her implicitly—and now, her words had stirred a flicker of hope in his heart.
"What? Do you have a plan?"
"A plan... not exactly. But Your Majesty, I believe there is an opportunity for you to reclaim your throne."
"Speak! I command it!"
Wester V's interest was fully piqued now. It was strange, he thought, for this woman who had never cared for politics to speak up like this—but his trust in her was absolute, and her silence on such matters until now only made him believe her words held great weight.
"This is only my humble thought..."
"Never mind that. Speak freely."
Wester V cut her off.
"The fools around me have no ideas at all—they are likely far less clever than you. Speak, and it may well be the answer I seek."
"Then I shall speak my mind, Your Majesty."
The woman smiled softly, furrowing her brows in thought before she spoke.
"Actually, Your Majesty, I believe the root of your troubles is not the woman named Ophelia. Whether she is dead or alive, real or a fraud—none of it matters. It has been so many years. You have sat on the throne long enough to forge your own order. If the nobles oppose you now, they oppose that very order—and that would harm their own interests. They are not foolish enough to do that. After all, that woman may have once held some influence, but to think that alone could topple your reign is pure naivety."
"Exactly! What is she but a nobody?! A pretty face and a silver tongue! Continue."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Flushed by his praise, the woman bowed her head shyly, smiling before she continued.
"So I believe the true cause of their fear is the **Doomsday Knights** at her back. This order has left a legacy of terror in the history books, and it is their power the nobles fear most now. You must rally yourself, Your Majesty. Show them you do not fear the Doomsday Knights. If you can do that, those wavering nobles will surely reconsider their loyalties."
"Hmm... that makes perfect sense."
Wester V fell into thought, then nodded slowly.
"But I cannot think of any way to stand against them right now..."
"The way is right in front of you, Your Majesty."
The woman leaned in, pressing her lips to his ear and speaking in a soft whisper.
"The Twilight Forest. If I recall correctly, the man who claims to be the leader of the Doomsday Knights recently announced his intention to reclaim control of that fief. This is no trivial matter, Your Majesty. I think it was your willingness to yield on this matter that first sowed doubt in the nobles' hearts."
"But it is a royal pact."
Wester V frowned.
"You were not there, but I saw it with my own eyes. It is a treaty signed by the Wester royal family. To go back on it..."
"Not at all, Your Majesty. The treaty was signed by the previous king—you knew nothing of it until recently, did you not? Then it is not your burden to bear. You developed the Twilight Forest and the Golden Trade Route tirelessly, in ignorance of this pact. Now this man, a stranger from nowhere, seeks to take it all from you with a single demand. That is something you cannot allow."
"Hmm... you are right."
Wester V mused on her words, then nodded.
"So what is your advice?"
"Right now, the Doomsday Knights are stationed at Crimson Fortress—the Twilight Forest is all but undefended. I believe you should announce the reclamation of the forest's governance. Declare that while the treaty may exist, the Wester Kingdom has labored to develop it for so many years, and we deserve our due reward. Take back control first, then negotiate a new distribution of interests with the Doomsday Knights. The treaty says nothing of this, after all. And treaties are dead things—men are alive. Change is inevitable, is it not?"
"Hmm... when you put it that way, it does make sense."
A glint of light flashed in Wester V's eyes. He had long resented Blake, but had never found a legitimate excuse to strike at him—especially after the man had brandished the Doomsday Knights to cow him into submission. But this plan... it was perfect, and entirely justifiable.
"But how? How do I do it?"
Before he knew it, Wester V had come to rely entirely on the woman in his arms. In his eyes, she was his guardian angel, his one true love, the woman he had always sought.
"A mere proclamation is useless—it will only make them think you are bluffing. So I believe we must act on two fronts. Dispatch your army to seize control of the Twilight Forest first, and only issue the proclamation once the fief is firmly in your grasp. That way, there can be no doubt."
"Dispatch the army?"
Wester V's face darkened at the words.
"If I send troops now... what if that damned order finds out..."
"So we must act in secret, Your Majesty."
The woman pressed a single finger to his lips, silencing him.
"Send the army to the Twilight Forest under the cover of darkness. The royal capital is far closer to the forest than Crimson Fortress is. Even if the Doomsday Knights learn of it, we will have seized the fief long before they can race back. And if they move faster than we anticipate? Simply recall the army. No one will know your true intent, not when we act in secret. If the Doomsday Knights abandon Crimson Fortress to rush back, you can accuse them of breaking their word, of ingratitude. Let the whole continent know they are untrustworthy—and that woman will be branded a fickle, treacherous schemer. Then your prestige as king will be fully restored."
"Absolutely!! Well said! Perfectly said!!"
Wester V's mind cleared in an instant, and he laughed aloud, patting the woman's body in delight. He had searched endlessly for a way out of his predicament—and now, at last, he had found it. Yes, this was it. The Doomsday Knights were not without honor; to brand them as oath-breakers would destroy them utterly! And that woman would fall with them. Hahaha, she had always pretended to be noble and selfless in front of the nobles, claiming to serve the realm and its people! Hmph! If she abandons the fortress now, letting the invaders march in unopposed, what kind of princess is she? She is no better than a traitor! When I spread the word of this, those nobles will dare not stand by her any longer!
"This is brilliant! You are truly my guardian angel. I will make preparations at once. Remember—this stays between us. No one else must know. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. I understand. It is our little secret."
The woman's eyes crinkled into a soft smile.
Emboldened by her advice, Wester V sprang from the bed, his spirits renewed, and hurried out of the chamber. As the door closed behind him, the woman rose, still naked, and walked to the window. She watched as the gilded royal carriage sped away into the night, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"It seems Her Royal Highness the Sith Princess was right after all."