Chapter 54

Elise appeared to have finally grasped Genovia’s true intentions. Initially, she had believed that Genovia was merely giving her a tour of the castle, feigning the desire to impress her. Genovia seemed intent on making it abundantly clear to everyone Elise’s inconspicuous pregnant belly, to fuel rumors suggesting there was no child. But there was more to it than met the eye.

It was a cunning plot to use the Rotiara people as pawns, tightening the noose around Elise’s neck, preventing her from ever finding respite. Even if the emperor were to be fully aware of the scheme and was caught Rezette Kyrstan shielding her, it wouldn’t pose a significant threat. He was the emperor’s only saving grace. However, the regular Rotiara citizens were a different story.

Could the Emperor genuinely care about the lives of each and every one of his subjects? What about Ivetsa at this very moment? What about her doctor, Freya?

No, they belong to Rezette’s people. He won’t allow innocent lives to be sacrificed like that, Elise reasoned with herself.

I should have insisted on including a clause in the contract to safeguard those who hold the secret… She regretted not advocating for their safety. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to address this now. Elise felt like a puppet with her strings cut, stumbling in various directions as Genovia continued to manipulate her.

In the beginning, the servants couldn’t conceal their curiosity, but as Genovia and Elise continued their explorations of the castle, their concern began to overshadow their interest.

“Is the Princess alright? She’s perspiring quite heavily…”

“Someone, please fetch Lady Petisson. She fainted in her office yesterday, and Alfred had to carry her upstairs.”

“If anything were to happen to the baby, what would become of them…”

“When His Highness returns, he’ll surely hold them accountable.”

The hushed voices of the kitchen staff reached Elise’s ears. She caught Genovia’s soft chuckle, who no longer bothered her, but that fleeting sound left Elise feeling even more drained.

***

Ivetsa cast a concerned glance at Elise, who sat in contemplative silence. Her slender fingers, elegantly arranged on her lap, quivered sporadically. The weight in Ivetsa’s heart deepened.

It had been a span of eight long days since the Duke’s departure from the castle. Initially, his words had hinted at a possible absence of up to ten days, and it seemed he intended to honor that commitment. Elise’s letter should have reached him by now, but even if it had, there was little solace to be found in a situation where his swift return was impossible. The Duke, whose madness had yet to fully recede, remained a more formidable menace than any monster.

Elise, however, appeared oblivious to her trembling state. Her distant gaze seemed to pierce through the walls of the chamber.

“Your Highness,” Ivetsa murmured softly as she knelt before Elise’s chair, her touch enveloping the trembling hand. Slowly, Elise’s wandering gaze regained its focus, and after a moment’s hesitation, she managed a fragile smile.

“I’m fine,” Elise replied weakly.

“Don’t lie. You haven’t been able to sleep, and you can’t even eat properly. This is far from fine. You’re losing weight…”

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Elise uttered softly, her voice bereft of its usual vitality.

“I don’t want to provide them any grounds, but… I fear I may need to eat something,” she continued, her words tinged with resignation.

“Please, stop,” Ivetsa pleaded. “Remember what happened yesterday when you forced it down? They’re preparing a mild white mushroom stew in the kitchen with jujubes. Please hold on a little longer.”

Elise nodded faintly. “Yes, alright.”

Nevertheless, a heavy silence enveloped Elise for a while. After she finished a bowl of stew, her mind once again drifted into contemplation before she abruptly broke the silence.

“Ivetsa.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” came Ivetsa’s reply.

“Even though I believed I was holding up well, there are moments when I falter like this.”

Ivetsa concealed her surprise, although her thoughts raced. Had Elise just hinted at… could it be? She’s not implying that she wishes to leave Rotiara, is she? Ivetsa wondered.

Elise mumbled to herself as if counseling her own thoughts. “It feels like everything was wrong from the beginning.”

Ivetsa remained silent, allowing Elise to continue her introspection.

“I’ve even heard such sentiments in my dreams,” Elise added, her voice distant. “But I don’t know how to leave.”

In the depths of the night, Andrei appeared in Elise’s dream, a haunting vision of his former self. One eye concealed behind a bandage, and his right arm severed below the elbow, he appeared dirtied and wretched, his form smeared with mud and straw. In this cruel manifestation of her dreams, Andrei cradled the weeping Elise in his remaining arm.

“Sister, where are you now?” he implored. “Just tell me.”

“Rotiara,” Elise whispered through her tears.

Though the dream world appeared hazy and obscure, her brother’s voice cut through with startling clarity. Even in her half-dream state, Elise couldn’t help but find it unusual.

“I can’t go there to fetch you, sister,” Andrei continued, his voice filled with a deep sorrow. “Please wait a few more months. Until autumn, yes, until autumn…”

Could it be that their twin bond allowed them to feel each other’s emotions so intensely? In the dream from the previous night, Andrei had held her and whispered to her, his words etched vividly in her memory.

Their earlier conversation echoed in her mind like an unshakable memory.

“You can do great things, Elise,” Andrei assured her. “There are no obstacles in your way now, so you can fully realize your potential.”

“I am nothing without you, Andrei,” Elise admitted, her voice tinged with a sense of helplessness.

“That’s not true. You already know the way, Elise,” Andrei encouraged. “Just stay away from that man.”

“That man…?” Elise queried, perplexed.

“The dragon,” Andrei disclosed, brushing her hair aside as he spoke with a grave seriousness. “The descendants of Galian cannot love the child of Sameshita, Elise. You know that all too well…”

“You must depart from there before your feelings grow deeper,” Andrei urged with a tone of concern. “Don’t allow unrequited emotions to devour you, and don’t let him erode your magic. Do you comprehend, hmm?”

“But, Andrei,” Elise responded with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know how to leave. Right now, I can’t even remember how to release my emotions.”

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“I just… at this very moment, all I wish for is his swift return to me,” Elise confessed, closing her eyes in despair. She felt like a fool, incapable of spending a single day alone without him by her side. Self-loathing welled up within her; she despised herself for her own weakness. Yet, even as she recognized the folly of her desires, she longed to see him, to be enveloped in his embrace. At the very least, she needed the reassurance that everything would remain safe until autumn.

Elise lowered her head and whispered mournfully, “Why isn’t he returning…”

***

Ruben observed the solitary figure in the desolate black expanse, suppressing his unease. Nearly two weeks had passed since he descended into this wild southern region of the Grenthren Mountains. As the sun gradually dipped below the horizon, long shadows stretched across the ground, the landscape punctuated by sporadic black thorn trees.

A man clad in dark armor stood amidst the desolation, facing the setting sun. A flock of crows took flight from above the vanishing sun, their dark silhouettes contrasting against the fading light. The scorching wind carried away the odors of decay and the acrid tang of blood.

“It seems he’s finally starting to calm down,” Ruben remarked to himself.

Rezette Kyrstan’s madness, which recurred every two to four months, typically abated within a week.

When he sensed that the moment had arrived, he would gather a small punitive unit and depart from Rotiara. This unit was modest in size, consisting of just five members, himself included.

The four subordinates had a specific role: not to engage in combat but to seek refuge in a place where they wouldn’t attract the Duke’s attention, waiting patiently for his episode to subside. Their sole duty was to remind him when it was time to return, and nothing more.

Ruben carefully retrieved a small wooden box from his pocket. It exuded the distinctive scent of the Duke, a concoction designed to alleviate the lingering fever in his body. After presenting this box to the Duke, he would ignite the mixture, and once the Duke had reveled in the aftermath of the carnage, this outbreak would conclude without any mishaps.

“Not yet, Ruben,” Isaac cautioned in a soft, prudent tone. “His arm hasn’t returned to normal yet. It’s wiser not to approach at this moment. You might meet your end.”

“…No one knows,” Ruben replied with a hint of determination. “But I want to witness it myself.”

Lowly dragons. The bloodlines of the dragons that had been mutilated in Grandel were considered closer to beasts than humans. They were believed to possess limited intelligence, unable to think or learn, and driven solely by the instinct to kill or prey upon humans. They were perceived as monsters devoid of pleasure or pain.

But Rezette Kyrstan was different.

As the man, his gaze once fixed on the setting sun, turned his head toward them, a faint, unsettling satisfaction danced upon his lips.

From his foot, something still pulsed with life. Twisted talons extended like menacing hooks, slashing through the air with an eerie vitality.

Incomprehensible screams and the jet-black ichor reverberated in all directions. The time of slaughter was not over yet.