"Good thing you are awake, my Lady." Maurice said as he assisted me to sit on my bed, my arm still aching due to the burn it suffered from.
"How long was I out?" I asked, looking at the window. The daylight shining warmly, a sight so rare in Clye. "A week." He gave me a reassuring smile and handed me a glass of water which I took as my throat is dry and needed rehydration. I tried standing up but Maurice stopped me. "No, absolutely not. You need to rest." He said.
"Everything's alright, Mau. I am fine. I need a little stretching for laying in bed for too long." I explained, he let out a deep sigh. "Alright, just let me get Azrael at least to-" I stopped him mid-sentence. "I am fine by myself, really." I said and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulders and stood up, showing him that I could stand up and walk without anyone's supervision.
Maurice left the room to give me privacy to change my clothes which I did. After changing, I went out of my chamber and walked outside the manor. I had a feeling that Azrael isn't here but on the training grounds. Once I left the premises of the manor, I crossed-paths with some Clyian happily enjoying their days. "Good Morning, your grace!" A mother and her child waved at my direction which I returned with a warm smile.
As I approached the training grounds, I spotted Azrael surrounded by three men who clearly weren't Clyian. "Oh, you're alive," Azrael remarked upon seeing me, drawing the attention of the men. It was then I recognized them: Arthur, Elizor, and Felipe. It seemed they were fully recovered.
What caught my eye, however, were their armors. Though reminiscent of their old uniforms, they were now crafted from tears of cerce, casting a crimson hue and adorned with the Clye crest.
"Looking good," I said, smiling. The three of them beamed at my words, clearly proud of their new uniforms.
"Thank you, Lady Gle- I mean Duchess. Maurice made it for us," Arthur replied.
"What about me?" Azrael interjected, stepping in front of me to display his ordinary attire. I simply shrugged him off and settled onto one of the vacant benches at the training grounds.
They all made their way towards me, settling on the nearby benches, with Azrael choosing the spot beside me. "Aren't you guys supposed to be training?" I inquired. Felipe scratched his head, chuckling, "Are we?" he replied.
"Yeah, you should get back to training," Az commanded, prompting groans from the three knights, but they obeyed their general nonetheless.
"Is Az giving you a hard time?" I asked. The trio exchanged glances before turning back to Azrael, who shot them a death glare, warning them to keep quiet.
"If he's giving you a hard time, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll kick his ass for you," I teased, giving Azrael's shoulder a playful hit, to which he just rolled his eyes.
Just as they were about to resume their training routine, Gerald, a Clyian trader, approached us. "Here you go, General Az, your daily tabloid," he announced, handing Azrael a newspaper before departing.
"Since when do people call you General?" I teased with a smirk, interrupting Azrael before he could respond.
"And since when did you start reading?" I added, earning a death glare and an eye roll from him. "I'm kidding. Let me see that," I said, snatching the newspaper from his hand.
"That's for Mau, he likes reading it," Azrael explained as he stood up to do his stretching.
As my eyes scanned the pages of the Yeoris tabloid, most of the news focused on Yeoris itself. However, a shocking headline on the last page caught my attention.
"A new emperor will be crowned, huh?" I murmured, drawing the attention of the three knights. "There is? Who?" Arthur asked, his apprehension evident.
"Please, let it not be Cyn," I silently prayed before reading further.
"It's Zion," I announced, feeling a mix of shock and relief. Zion had never shown any interest in being emperor, but it was preferable to Cyn and Celine seizing the throne.
"Thank Astarte," Arthur sighed in relief, while Felipe and Elizor's faces brightened upon hearing the news. Relief rushed upon them as they can now rest the the Empire fell on a great hand.
♠ ♠ ♠
The news of the crowning ceremony spread like wild fire not just in Bluistain but also in Yeoris. A letter bearing the Yeoris' emperor fear came in Gleis' territory.
"Seems like our little Emperor is scared." Augustus let out a chuckle as he read through the Emperor's letter, Luca whose reading the latest newspaper of Yeoris just smirked. "Well, they did their part." He said without looking away from the tabloid.
A knock interrupted their small conversation, Pierre entered the room, "Lord Emyr and Caspian are ready to depart." He announced. Both of them stood up promptly and walked out of the office as they have a crowning ceremony to attend to.
Caspian and Emyr, resplendent in their formal attire, stood poised at the entrance of the Gleis manor, awaiting the arrival of the Duke and Luca. "Ready?" The Duke's inquiry hung in the air, met with a solemn nod from Caspian. With that silent affirmation, they embarked on their journey, two carriages cutting through the night toward the heart of the Capital.
As they approached their destination, the bustling streets of the Capital greeted them with an energetic fervor. Nobles adorned in their finest garments mingled amidst the throng, anticipation palpable in the air as they awaited the coronation of their new emperor. But for Augustus, the exuberant atmosphere grated on his nerves. The lively celebrations, the cacophony of music and revelry-it all served to fuel his simmering irritation.
"Everything good, father?" Caspian's inquiry echoed down the long hall of the palace as they made their way forward. Augustus offered a terse nod in response. Together, they passed through the towering doors, entering a vast chamber teeming with nobility from every corner of the empire. Duchy heads dotted the expanse, a testament to the significance of the occasion.
Amidst the grandeur, a live orchestra serenaded the assembled guests with jazz melodies, while a flurry of activity engulfed the hall as maids and servers attended to the needs of the attendees.
Seated in their designated places, the four of them took in the spectacle before them. Luca's gaze swept over the gathered throng, his thoughts drifting to a certain white-haired girl who once graced these very halls.
It had been too long since he last saw her, and he couldn't shake the memory. Despite his best efforts to track her movements, she had vanished without a trace, eluding even his most skilled operatives. But Luca was determined. Amidst the chaos of the present, he harbored a silent vow: he would find Serena, no matter the cost.
Trumpets blared, heralding the commencement of the ceremony. Duke Clox strode confidently toward the podium, his countenance radiating pride as he surveyed the gathered throng.
"Greetings, my brothers and sisters. We stand united today to witness the dawn of a new era, the birth of a revitalized Bluistain," he proclaimed, his words met with resounding applause.
"Celine and Luca are nowhere to be found." Luca's hushed statement reached Augustus and Emyr, who exchanged knowing glances. Prepared though they may be, the absence of Celine and Cyn loomed as an unsettling uncertainty.
Amidst the anticipation, Zion and Liese made their grand entrance, hand in hand, capturing the attention of all present. Murmurs rippled through the room, questions lingering about the princess's unexpected escort of Zion instead of Saoirse. Yet, as Duke Clox resumed his address, the whispers faded into the background, eclipsed by the gravity of the moment.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the court, and citizens of our beloved empire, Today marks a momentous occasion-a chapter in our history that shall forever be etched in the annals of time. For today, we stand witness to the crowning of a new emperor, a leader chosen by destiny and embraced by the will of the people..." Liese stood beside the former Empress as Zion walked towards Duke Clox who's holding the crown and the Emperor's sword.
"In the name of Astarte and the blessings that was bestowed upon me, I hereby declare Zion Dumeire as the Empire's new Emperor!" The crowd cheered as the crown touches Zion's head. Zion smiled as he watched how happy the people looked. His mother and Liese gave him a comforting smile.
Zion stood resolute upon the solitary podium, his heart heavy with the weight of his impending speech. With trembling hands and a soul burdened by the weight of expectation, he sought to summon the words that would define his reign. But fate, in its cruel caprice, had other plans.
Before he could utter a single word, a sinister arrow, forged from the shadows of treachery, found its mark, piercing his chest with a vicious accuracy. A collective gasp echoed through the hall as Zion crumpled to the ground, agony contorting his features.
In an instant, chaos erupted. The former Empress, her anguished cries rending the air, rushed to her son's side, her heart shattering with each beat. Liese, her own grief eclipsed by a fierce determination, attempted to soothe her mother's anguish amidst the frantic rush of knights converging upon the fallen emperor.
"Protect the Emperor!" Esmeralda's command cut through the tumult, rallying the knights to form a protective barrier around Zion's prone form.
"Swiftly! Summon a healer!" Liese's voice trembled with desperation, her plea echoing through the hall as she implored for aid to save her brother.
"Varka," August's voice, a solemn whisper amidst the chaos, invoked a name shrouded in mystery. With a silent nod, the enigmatic figure emerged, donned in the guise of a healer. With gentle hands, he cradled Zion's broken form, bearing him away to the sanctuary of the palace's hospital wing.
Amidst the pandemonium, the populace trembled with fear, torn between the urge to flee and the compulsion to bear witness to the unfolding tragedy that threatened to engulf their empire in darkness.
Amidst the turmoil that gripped the palace, a tense silence settled over the captive throng, each soul weighed down by suspicion and fear. With the knights' steely resolve, the once-grand halls of the palace transformed into a fortress of uncertainty, every gaze a potential accusation, every whispered word a shadow of doubt.
"The devil works swiftly, doesn't he?" Luca's wry smirk betrayed a simmering anger, his eyes scanning the crowd for any trace of the elusive Celine and Cyn. Beside him, Augustus remained stoic, his demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.
"Liese..." Caspian's voice, barely a whisper, carried the weight of sorrow as he watched his friend guide her mother, trailing behind the healer bearing Zion's unconscious form.
"It will be alright," Emyr's reassuring touch offered solace to his brother in their darkest hour.
As Augustus moved to lead them towards the exit, a barrier of knights halted their progress, their resolve unyielding despite the presence of the Duke of Gleis.
"No one may depart the palace grounds," the knight's words quivered with apprehension, yet his determination remained resolute in the face of Augustus's scrutiny.
Augustus's brow furrowed in incredulity, his gaze piercing as he sought understanding. "What did you say?" His voice, a quiet command, held an undercurrent of authority.
The knight, though visibly shaken, repeated his decree, bracing himself for the Duke's inevitable ire. Yet, to the astonishment of all, Augustus merely offered a terse nod of acquiescence.
"Very well," he conceded, his resolve unyielding as he turned away, leading his companions toward the chambers designated for Gleis.
♠ ♠ ♠
In the hushed confines of the hospital wing, Varka's solemn visage betrayed the gravity of the situation as he ushered the Empress and Liese outside, a silent plea for privacy in the face of impending tragedy.
With practiced hands, he examined the wound inflicted by the sinister arrow, his heart heavy with dread as he beheld the extent of the devastation wrought by dark magic. The flesh, once pristine, now marred by the malevolent touch of sorcery, burned to an abyssal blackness-a testament to the insidious nature of the poison that coursed through Zion's veins.
As the moments stretched into eternity, Varka emerged from the chamber, his countenance etched with sorrow, bearing the weight of a truth too cruel to bear. His voice, a harbinger of despair, shattered the fragile hope that lingered in the air.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his words a dirge for the fallen emperor, "the emperor is dead."
In that moment, the world stood still, the echo of his proclamation reverberating through the hearts of all who bore witness. Tears flowed freely, grief a relentless tide that threatened to consume them all.
Author's Note:
Sorry for the delayed update, I thought I published this chapter yet I just found out that it was saved on draft. Took me too long to realize because I was busy with work lately. As a token of my apology, I will try to update this book twice a week. Again, Sorry and Thank you for supporting Ink! Happy 60k reads ya'all! (っ.❛ ᴗ ❛.)っ