"Hey, Count," a middle-aged man approached Vellian, his demeanor suggesting authority. He was the Minister of the Interior.
Resting his hands on the desk, the man's presence seemed to agitate Vellian, evident in the furrow of his brows.
"Why do you—" Vellian began, but was abruptly cut off.
"What the hell is going on?" the Minister of the Interior demanded, his tone betraying frustration.
Vellian's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he prepared himself to deliver the same response he had reiterated countless times in recent days.
"This is the order of His Majesty the Emperor," he stated firmly, his words carrying the weight of authority.
Upon hearing this, the Minister of the Interior visibly tensed, biting his lip in dissatisfaction. Vellian understood the man's reaction all too well; the situation was indeed fraught with complexity and uncertainty.
Vellian had been enduring days of turmoil and distress.
The Emperor's decree to reinstate Princess Reston as Empress had sent shockwaves throughout the capital, leaving the nobles in a state of disbelief.
While it was undeniable that Astelle possessed all the qualities necessary to ascend to the position of Empress, the presence of her child complicated matters greatly.
Moreover, the child was illegitimate, with the identity of the father shrouded in mystery.
'It was truly shocking,' Vellian muttered to himself, his thoughts consumed by the memory of Astelle's composed and regal demeanor.
'Who is his father?'
Upon learning of Astelle's status as the child's biological mother, Vellian couldn't help but entertain the possibility that Theor might be the son of His Majesty the Emperor.
Given Astelle's reserved and principled nature, Vellian found it difficult to believe that she would engage in a romantic with someone after her divorce.
'But his eyes...' Vellian mused, his thoughts drifting to Theor's striking blue eyes.
Historically, there had never been a member of the imperial family with blue eyes. Yet, upon closer examination, Vellian couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity when comparing Theor's features to those of the Emperor.
Nevertheless, the incongruity of Theor's blue eyes dashed any hopes of him being the Emperor's son.
'In the end, it's impossible,' Vellian concluded, resigned to the fact that Theor couldn't possibly be the Emperor's offspring.
After all, if Theor were truly a prince, there would be no reason to conceal his identity.
"How did this happen? What were you doing while you were there? You must ensure His Majesty's well-being!"
For the past few days, the Interior Minister, along with other ministers and some nobles, had made Vellian endure their grievances, all echoing the same sentiment.
They couldn't reconcile with the Emperor's decision to elevate a princess who bore an illegitimate child to the position of Empress.
Regardless of a princess' high status, the notion of a single mother of an illegitimate child ascending to the throne seemed unfathomable to them. It was deemed impossible, especially considering the princess' father, the Duke of Reston, had already been stripped of power in his clashes with the Emperor.
In every aspect, the princess appeared unfit to be Empress, even if she had held the title before.
Vellian, too, harbored a desire to halt this union if it were within his power to do so.
"How dare I disobey His Majesty's will," Vellian muttered, a sense of resignation evident in his voice.
Despite his best efforts, Vellian had repeatedly failed to sway Kaizen from his course of action.
"In any case, this is an order from His Majesty the Emperor. If you have any grievances, I suggest you address them directly to him," Vellian asserted firmly.
Silence greeted his words; the minister had no retort.
In the wake of the Emperor's decisive victory in the civil war and the expulsion of the great nobles, there remained no one bold enough to openly defy the Emperor's commands.
With the weight of everyone's anger directed towards him, Vellian released a weary sigh and resumed his duties, knowing that resistance against the Emperor's will was futile.
• 🍁 •
As Kaizen ascended the stairs, his heart weighed heavy with a mixture of emotions.
He was preparing himself to deliver the news to Astelle regarding the Marquis and Theor. With each step, his thoughts lingered on Astelle, knowing all too well the anguish she must be experiencing in the absence of her child.
His footsteps echoed with a solemnity as he traversed the stairs, his mind consumed by the image of Astelle and the longing she harbored for her beloved son.
Astelle sat in the study on the second floor, a room where she often sought solace in moments of idleness.
Kaizen approached the door to the study with trepidation, hesitating briefly before entering. Upon seeing him, Astelle rose from her seat by the window, her expression weary and fatigued.
"Your Majesty?" she greeted him, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
Kaizen couldn't help but notice the toll that her worries had taken on her. Her usually porcelain complexion appeared pallid, and shadows darkened the corners of her eyes.
He had instructed the courtiers to attend to her every need, ensuring her comfort and well-being. Yet, it seemed that Astelle's concern for her child weighed heavily on her heart.
'It must be because she's worried about her child,' Kaizen reflected silently.
In his mind's eye, he pictured Astelle's tender care for Theor, their shared moments of happiness together. The memory brought a pang of sorrow to Kaizen's heart, knowing the pain of their separation must be unbearable for Astelle.
As Kaizen observed Astelle, he couldn't help but be struck by the stark contrast between her current state and the vibrant affection that once emanated from her light green eyes when she looked at Theor.
In their presence, there had always been an aura of tranquility and joy, a stark contrast to the weariness and loneliness that now clouded Astelle's gaze.
A pang of guilt tugged at Kaizen's heart as he witnessed Astelle's exhaustion and isolation. He longed to ease her burdens, to provide her with the comfort and solace she so desperately needed. Yet, in his efforts to protect her, he had unwittingly confined her to this lonely existence.
Despite his remorse, Kaizen knew he couldn't simply release Astelle from her obligations. The preparations for their wedding in the imperial palace were already underway, and he couldn't back down now.
Taking a deep breath, Kaizen resolved to proceed with caution as he prepared to share the news with Astelle.
"I have something to tell you," he began, his voice measured as he carefully selected his words.
Despite his unwavering resolve to never let Astelle go, Kaizen found himself faltering in the face of her exhaustion and distress. He hesitated, knowing that sharing the news would only add to Astelle's burden and shock her further.
"Your Majesty? What's wrong?" Astelle's voice broke through his thoughts, her concern evident in her tone.
With a heavy heart, Kaizen approached Astelle, his expression reflecting his sadness.
"This is about the Marquis and Theor," he began solemnly, bracing himself for Astelle's reaction.
Instantly, Astelle's face drained of color, a cold dread settling over her features at the mention of their names.
"What's going on?" Lyndon's voice cut through the room, prompting Kaizen to hesitate momentarily.
Astelle's heart clenched with apprehension as she sensed the gravity of the situation.
"I think there was an attack before my knights arrived. The Marquis was injured," Kaizen explained, his words sending a chill down Astelle's spine.
An attack? The realization struck Astelle like a blow, threatening to knock her off balance. Kaizen rushed to her side, offering his support and comfort as Astelle struggled to regain her composure.
"Astelle, it's fine. He is safe now," Kaizen reassured her.
"How hurt is he?" Astelle asked anxiously.
"It's not serious. It's at a level that can recover quickly," Kaizen replied, his words eliciting a sigh of relief from Astelle.
"How about Theor?"
"Your Majesty, is Theor safe?" Astelle pressed, her concern evident in her voice.
Kaizen hesitated, choosing his words carefully before responding, "I believe your father took Theor."
"I beg your pardon?" Astelle's voice trembled with disbelief, her eyes darkening at the mention of her father.
"Did my father take Theor?"
"The Duke's men were spotted near the inn. I've dispatched Lyndon to investigate," Kaizen replied, attempting to reassure her. "Please try not to worry too much."
With those words, Astelle pieced together the situation.
Her father, the Duke of Reston, had orchestrated Theor's abduction in an attempt to coerce Astelle into accepting the role of Empress once more.
Fury surged within her at her father's heartless and manipulative actions. Yet, beneath her anger, fear lurked.
If her father had indeed taken Theor, it wouldn't be long before he discovered Theor's distinctive red eyes—a trait shared only by the imperial family.
Astelle shuddered at the thought of her father uncovering Theor's true identity and the consequences that would follow.
Hiding her anxiety behind a composed facade, Astelle questioned, "Are you certain? What if it was someone else's...?"
"Why would someone else kidnap Theor?" Kaizen asked.
"Perhaps someone harboring resentment toward me..."
Astelle refrained from explicitly mentioning Florin and her mother, opting instead to allude to 'someone with a grudge against me.'
However, Kaizen understood the implication behind her words.
"Even if the Marchioness of Croychen held a grudge against you, she wouldn't dare to abduct the child of a future Empress. The Marquis of Croychen wouldn't allow it," Kaizen asserted confidently.
Astelle fell silent at Kaizen's assurance, acknowledging the truth in his words.
Kaizen's logic was sound. Unless Theor's true parentage was revealed, no one else would dare to kidnap him except the Duke of Reston.
"Don't worry too much. Your father probably didn't kidnap him to harm him," Kaizen offered reassurance, his voice gentle as he comforted Astelle, who trembled slightly.
However, Astelle couldn't fully ease her worries. The thought of her father discovering Theor's true eye color loomed ominously in her mind.
That would be the worst possible outcome.
Despite her lingering anxiety, a glimmer of hope flickered within Astelle. She remembered that her older brother, Fritz, had also stationed men near the inn where her grandfather and Theor had stayed the previous night.
Perhaps the individuals near the inn weren't her father's men at all, but rather Fritz's? Could there be another explanation for Theor's disappearance?
As Astelle contemplated the possibility that Fritz's men had intervened to save Theor from her father's grasp, a glimmer of hope sparked within her.
Even if Fritz had taken Theor, he would inevitably notice the distinctive color of Theor's eyes. Yet, in Astelle's mind, this outcome seemed less dire than the prospect of her father discovering Theor's true identity.
"Your Majesty, may I go see my grandfather?" Astelle requested.
"Don't worry, your grandfather will return to the capital once everything is resolved," Kaizen reassured her, his tone gentle yet firm.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Astelle expressed her gratitude, her thoughts turning to Fritz as her only beacon of hope.
Turning to gaze out the window, Astelle caught sight of her own pale reflection in the glass.
Kaizen's reflection appeared beside her, his hand reaching out to gently touch her ear.
Kaizen's soothing words and gentle touch momentarily eased Astelle's anxieties as he stroked her platinum hair.
"Theor will surely come back. Don't worry too much," he whispered softly, his warm breath caressing Astelle's ear.
Despite his comforting demeanor, Astelle couldn't shake the sense of unfamiliarity that occasionally crept over her in Kaizen's presence since their reunion six years prior.
She couldn't help but wonder if this kind and gentle Kaizen truly resembled the man she once knew. The Kaizen of the past had always maintained a facade of sweetness, yet beneath it lay a cold and calculated demeanor.
At the time, Astelle hadn't fully realized the stark contrast between the Kaizen of the past and the present.
Was this newfound kindness genuine, or merely another facade?
Though her feelings had wavered in the face of Kaizen's friendly demeanor, Astelle's heart remained guarded, frozen by the memory of his former self.
Frustration and anger bubbled within her as she pondered the chain of events that had unfolded, blaming Kaizen for his perceived inaction.
Taking a step back, Astelle distanced herself from him, offering a polite yet distant acknowledgment.
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty," she murmured, her voice tinged with unresolved emotions.
Kaizen's gaze lingered on Astelle as she bowed her head respectfully in response to his words.
"I'll be back soon, so if you ever need anything, just tell me," he offered, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
Astelle remained steadfast, her head held high in a display of unwavering resolve.
For a moment, their eyes met, conveying a multitude of unspoken emotions.
Then, with a heavy sigh, Kaizen turned and departed, his figure receding as he walked out the door.
Once alone, Astelle swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry with apprehension. She turned her gaze back to the window, watching as the capital city gradually darkened with the approaching nightfall.
Now, all she could do was pray silently in her heart that Theor was safe and unharmed.
• 🍁 •
Theor stirred awake to the sound of rattling, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings.
'Where is this place?' he wondered, his eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar landscape that greeted him.
The interior of the carriage was adorned with a patterned roof, and he could see windows situated a short distance away. Despite lying still, his body continued to sway with the motion of the carriage.
Unable to recall how long he had been asleep or where he was headed, Theor blinked slowly as he processed his surroundings. It gradually dawned on him that he was inside a moving carriage, the rhythmic rocking motion indicating that he was on a journey to an unknown destination.
Through the glass window, Theor could see glimpses of the blue sky and tree branches, a stark contrast to the unfamiliar interior of the carriage.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice disrupted his thoughts. Startled, Theor turned his head to find two men seated across from him, their presence unsettling.
"Are you awake?" one of them asked, their gaze fixed on Theor.
Theor regarded them with surprise and confusion. They were strangers to him, bearing an intimidating demeanor unlike anyone he had encountered before.
Though one of them appeared to be around the same age as His Majesty the Emperor, their intimidating aura set them apart.
Who were these men, and why was he here with them?
As Theor scanned the cramped confines of the carriage, his heart sank as he realized his grandfather was nowhere to be found.
"Grandpa..." he called out.
A third man, who had remained silent until now, spoke up solemnly. "The Marquis is not here."
Theor's breath caught in his throat as a chill ran down his spine.
In that instant, memories of the events from the previous night flooded his mind with clarity.
He remembered the terrifying moment when the closet door was forcefully opened, revealing the ominous figure of a man shrouded in a black cloth.
Fear gripped Theor's heart as he realized that the man who now spoke in the carriage was none other than the same individual who had discovered him hiding in the closet.
Theor's heart raced with fear and confusion as he relived the traumatic events of the previous night.
"No!" he cried out in protest as the man forcefully dragged him away, his voice muffled by the cloth covering his mouth.
His cries fell on deaf ears as another man instructed his accomplice to handle Theor with care.
Theor's senses were overwhelmed by the strange smell emanating from the cloth covering his mouth, clouding his thoughts and leaving him disoriented.
As he fought to suppress the rising panic within him, Theor bit his lip in an attempt to stifle his tears.
The realization dawned upon him that he had been kidnapped by these strangers.
Though he was familiar with the concept of kidnapping from stories he had read in children's books and seen in plays, experiencing it firsthand filled him with a sense of dread and vulnerability.
As Theor's tears began to flow, his thoughts swirled with worry and uncertainty.
"Where am I going now?" he wondered silently, his mind grappling with the realization that he was at the mercy of his captors.
The carriage continued its rapid pace, but the men surrounding Theor remained tight-lipped, offering no clues about their destination.
Theor's heart clenched with concern as he realized that he hadn't seen his beloved grandfather since the terrifying events of the previous night. Memories of the violent commotion outside the closet flooded back, filling him with dread at the thought of his grandfather being harmed.
Tears streamed down Theor's cheeks as he grappled with a mixture of fear, confusion, and sorrow.
Despite his young age, he understood the harsh reality that fairy tales and reality often diverged, leaving him to face the harsh truth of his current predicament alone.
Witnessing Theor's tears, the man opposite him grew irate. "Stop making noise. A crying child is repulsive," he snapped, his tone harsh.
Theor was compelled to suppress his tears, his emotions stifled by the man's callous words.
Another man, who had remained silent until then, intervened. "Please, show some manners. He is a cherished young master," he chided gently.
He reached for a small paper box from the carriage drawer and retrieved a bite-sized biscuit from within. The scent of butter wafted from the biscuit as he offered it to Theor.
"I'll give you this, so please don't cry," he said softly, his tone far gentler than the previous man's.
Theor glanced at the biscuit box with tear-filled eyes, touched by the gesture of kindness amidst his distress.
Though Theor had no appetite for the biscuit in his current state, he adhered to the lesson instilled in him by his elders: never refuse a gift from an adult.
With his tears barely quelled, Theor accepted the biscuit from the man's outstretched hand and offered a polite bow of his head. "Thank you," he murmured softly.
The man's response was unexpectedly blunt. "There's no need to thank me like that."
Taken aback by the man's brusque remark, Theor raised his head to meet his gaze. Upon closer examination, he noticed that this man appeared older than the one seated beside him.
Despite his initial impression of the man's stern demeanor, Theor couldn't help but notice the warmth in his eyes, a stark contrast to the harshness exhibited by his companion.
As their eyes locked, the man's expression shifted from shock to disbelief. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off in astonishment.
Theor tilted his head in confusion, prompting the man to grab his shoulders and draw him closer. Theor met his gaze, uncertain of the reason behind the man's surprise.
With trembling eyes, the man scrutinized Theor's face, his astonishment evident in every movement.
Suddenly, realization dawned upon Theor. In that moment, he understood the source of the man's shock.
He hadn't applied the eye color-changing medicine since the previous night.