Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety-two

Few days later~

"The Emperor has decreed that every Imperial soldier must bear the brand—or relinquish his post," Reginald said grimly, standing before the Marquis's desk. "I, along with many others, have chosen to resign."

The Marquis exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. "I don't know what His Majesty is trying to achieve, but I have a dreadful feeling about all this."

Reginald folded his arms. "He's spreading the cult's message under the guise of unity, that this so-called 'Supreme One' offers peace and unity. We should never have allowed that black mage to go in the first place."

"Even noble houses are being advised to adopt the brand now." The Marquis scoffed bitterly. "It's madness. The cult has slaughtered countless innocents, and yet the Emperor dares to paint them as saviours."

Silence fell for a moment before Reginald spoke again. "Your daughter... she knows what she's doing, doesn't she?"

The marquis hesitated, then nodded faintly. "I want to believe she does. Victoria's strong — stronger than most give her credit for. She has changed a lot, and I am proud, but whatever she's involved in... I just hope it turns out okay."

"Speak to her — find out what's truly going on," Reginald urged. The Marquis gave a solemn nod.

Later that evening, the Marquis went to her chambers, knocking softly before stepping inside.

"Victoria," he began, his tone firm but gentle, "we need to talk."

She set aside her cloak and turned to him. "What is it, Father?"

"I'm worried," he admitted, pacing slowly. "About the empire... about everything that's happening. It feels as if the ground beneath us is shifting."

Victoria sighed. "You're not alone in that feeling, Father. But I promise — I'll put a stop to it."

He frowned. "How, Victoria? The emperor himself is driving this madness."

Her gaze sharpened. "That's just it. The emperor isn't truly himself. He's been possessed by a dark spirit — something ancient, something that's using him to spread its influence through the cult."

The Marquis stared at her in disbelief. "Possessed? That's a grave accusation."

"Yes," Victoria said, stepping closer. "He is, his body is taken over by something far much worse than we can imagine."

The Marquis asked again. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only a few of us," Victoria replied. "We're hoping we could find something to do about it before next month."

Her father's voice hardened. "Then you're walking a dangerous path, my daughter. If the court learns you're plotting against the emperor—"

She interrupted calmly. "I know. But if I do nothing, the empire will fall."

The Marquis regarded her — not merely as his daughter, but as someone burdened with the weight of the realm itself. After a long, heavy silence, he spoke quietly. "Then you won't face this alone. Whatever comes, this house stands with you."

Victoria's expression softened, her eyes glimmering faintly in the lamplight. "Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome," he said, his tone gentle before turning to leave. The door closed softly behind him, leaving her in the quiet hum of the evening.

Victoria sank onto her bed, fingers absently tracing the embroidery on the coverlet as her thoughts spiralled. Everything was happening too fast — the cult spreading its influence, the emperor's corruption. She decided to leave her room and stepped out into the courtyard and saw the prince already practising with his sword under the moonlight.