"Is she really about to die?"
Inside a luxurious mansion on the east side of the Royal City, Barrett swirled the red wine in his hand, his fat fingers rubbing against the rim of the glass.
He was one of the nobles with the most seniority in the Kingdom of Mason, and also the greediest 'vampire' from the era of the Old King.
After Sophia succeeded the throne, she did not fully reuse those former nobles and ministers, resulting in them not being able to scrape even a bit of profit.
But even so, the 'family assets' he had scraped together in the past were far more abundant than the national treasury.
"Answering my Lord, it is absolutely true."
An informant lurking on the periphery of the Palace lowered his head, his tone certain.
"That little maidservant Willow has already cried her eyes red. Minister Victor has locked himself outside the Bedchamber all day; even the meals were removed exactly as they were brought in.
"Most importantly, that Inventor named Irene has been smashing things in her laboratory like a madwoman for the past two days.
"Someone heard her wailing, saying things like 'Without Your Majesty, what meaning do these machines have left?'"
Earl Barrett sneered, a flash of greedy ferocity passing through his eyes.
"That little bastard. She wanted to ride over our heads relying on just a few fire-breathing tubes.
"Killing her kin to seize the throne; sure enough, she has suffered retribution."
He stood up abruptly and drained the wine in his cup in one gulp.
"Send a message to Morton and those others. Tomorrow morning, we will enter the Palace under the guise of a 'visit'.
"If she is truly unconscious, we will have no choice but to 'take over' the Royal Court, for the sake of the Kingdom's stability.
"At a time like this, it must be us old bones who presume control over the overall situation.
"Presumably, that old thing Valery will also want a share of the pie."
He did not know that at this very moment, in the darkness of the Bedchamber, Chancellor Valery was facing a long list, using red ink to heavily draw crosses over those very names.
Inside the Bedchamber.
The light was dim, and the heavy smell of medicinal herbs mixed with the scent of incense, creating a suffocating, sickly atmosphere.
Sophia leaned against the stacked soft cushions. Her left arm was bandaged like a giant white pillar, and her face appeared morbidly pale under the dim yellow lamplight.
This was not an act; the weakness from excessive blood loss and the throbbing pain from the wound made it so that she couldn't smile even if she wanted to.
Moreover, having lost so much blood, she didn't know how long it would take to replenish it.
It hurts so much I want to hit someone.
Sophia stared expressionlessly at the tassels of the bed canopy, roasting him frantically in her heart.
Valery, that old fox, insisted on making the act realistic. He didn't even let me eat my fill for dinner, claiming that heavily injured people have poor appetites.
I'm so hungry right now I could swallow a whole cow. This is harder to bear than the knife wound!
Irene sat on the carpet by the bed, holding a warm towel in her hand, mechanically wiping Sophia's right hand.
Her eyes were still red and swollen. Although she already knew this was a 'plan', every time she saw that thick bandage, her heart would still violently clench.
After all, the injury His Majesty suffered was real, and her crying was also out of genuine emotion.
"Your Majesty, they are here."
Irene lowered her voice, a trace of restraint in her tone.
"According to your orders, all the Musketeers from the West Tower have been transferred back to the side hall to stand by. I have also prepared some 'new little gadgets' to give to them."
Sophia moved her eyes, looking toward Delilah standing in the shadows.
Delilah remained silent, but the longsword at her waist was already half-unsheathed. The chilling sword aura caused the room temperature to drop a few degrees.
She currently looked at everyone as if they were assassins. This kind of over-protectiveness born of guilt filled Sophia with a bit of helplessness.
"Delilah, your eyes are too terrifying. You'll scare the fish away like that."
Sophia sighed helplessly in her heart.
"Let them in."
Sophia's voice rang out—cold, weak, and intermittent—like a withered leaf ready to drift away at any moment.
A moment later, Barrett led seven or eight old nobles, and under the 'escort' of a squad of private soldiers, they barged aggressively into the side hall.
Minister Victor blocked the doorway, his face full of sorrow as he stopped them:
"My Lords, His Majesty needs quiet recuperation. You cannot..."
"Get lost! Victor!"
Earl Barrett shoved the old butler aside, his face full of hypocrisy.
"Precisely because His Majesty is heavily injured, we, as the pillars of the Kingdom, should personally confirm His Majesty's safety even more!
"If something were to happen to His Majesty, are we to expect an old servant like you, who only knows how to hold a rag, to protect the Kingdom of Mason?"
The crowd knocked open the heavy doors and filed in.
When they saw Sophia lying on the bed, her face like white paper and her breathing appearing extremely weak, their last shred of doubt dissipated.
"Your Majesty, your subjects have arrived late."
Earl Barrett performed a hypocritical bow, then straightened his back, his gaze greedily patrolling over Sophia's ruined left arm.
Although it looks like only the arm is injured, since it is this severe, there must be significant internal injuries elsewhere.
"I heard His Majesty was injured by rogue bandits?
"It seems the Royal Palace's guards were truly too negligent.
"For His Majesty's safety, this subject suggests that the defense duties of the Palace be immediately handed over to this subject's private soldier battalion.
"As for those fire-breathing tubes, they should also be handed over to us subjects for 'safekeeping', to avoid them falling into the hands of thieves."
He seemed to have lost all scruples.
A dying little Queen, an Inventor who only knew how to weep, a little girl playing tough with a sword nearby, and two old things advanced in age—what was there to fear?
The Bedchamber was dead silent.
Chancellor Valery stood to the side, his eyelids lowered, the corners of his mouth hooking up into an imperceptible arc.
Sophia slowly opened her eyes, her pale golden pupils flickering with a dim light in the darkness.
She just looked at Barrett quietly like that. Even though she was weak to the extreme, that indifference carved into her bones caused Barrett's heart to skip a beat inexplicably.
"Barrett."
Sophia's voice was extremely light, yet it pierced into the heart like a fine needle.
"Do you think I... am about to die?"
"This subject... this subject dares not say such a thing."
Earl Barrett stuck out his belly, his tone carrying contempt.
"But His Majesty is young and has suffered such heavy trauma; it is inevitable that your mind is unclear.
"If you sign this 'Regency Decree' now, we subjects will ensure you a lifetime of glory and splendor, to spend the rest of your life in peace in that East Tower.
"Just like when you were a Little Princess before—isn't that quite nice?"
He fished out a roll of parchment from his bosom and threw it onto Sophia's brocade quilt.
Irene looked at that parchment with dissatisfaction, suppressing the urge to throw it down.
Oh, so they want to usurp the throne.
Sophia looked at the roll of paper expressionlessly, her heart completely calm.
Sophia struggled to raise her right hand. She did not reach for the paper; instead, she gently made a downward pressing gesture.
"Valery, is this all of them?"
Valery bowed slightly, his tone turning sinister once again.
"Answering Your Majesty. The eight people on the list—not one is missing, they are all here."
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