Eileen could clearly sense the distance and arrogance lurking beneath the surface politeness of those imperial nobles.
In their eyes, she was ultimately an outsider from a defeated kingdom, someone who had secured her position only by the Empress’s favor.
Their flattering words sounded more like an endorsement of the Empress’s authority than genuine recognition of her as a person.
Eileen understood this perfectly.
Her face maintained a proper smile tinged with a hint of aloofness, her golden eyes calm and unreadable.
To most attempts at conversation, she merely offered polite nods with few words.
She only exchanged a few brief words with General Horn — the relatively straightforward soldier who had fought alongside her in the Holy Capital — about the progress of the war and the development of magical weaponry.
She also confirmed with Chancellor Otto that the experimental subjects for the augmented soldiers were securely housed in the special custody section of the Royal Research Institute.
Otto’s attitude had grown significantly more respectful than when they first met, and a trace of reverence flickered deep in his eyes.
Just as the banquet reached its peak and the nobles’ gazes became increasingly brazen in their focus on Eileen, Frederica cut through the crowd like a burning red lotus.
Clad in the scarlet imperial robe symbolizing supreme power, the emerald hues sweeping around her instantly silenced the noise, and no one dared to meet her eyes.
She strode directly to Eileen without regard for the surrounding stares and naturally extended her arm: “Eileen, come with me for some fresh air.”
Eileen did not refuse, gently placing her hand on Frederica’s arm.
Under countless complex gazes, the two of them passed through the crowd and headed toward the carved archway leading to the massive terrace.
Outside, the imperial city’s dazzling nightscape stretched out.
The glow of the magical network traced the outlines of buildings, and the distant arcane towers shone like stars.
A cool breeze rustled their hair, scattering the cloying atmosphere and suffocating noise inside the hall.
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
Leaning on the white marble railing, Frederica did not look at Eileen, her gaze fixed on the brightly lit cityscape beyond.
Her voice was low and rough, carrying a rare weariness: “Eileen, you must hate me, right?”
She finally broke the silence. “Everything I’ve done to you… forcibly ‘summoning’ you here, using your existence to achieve strategic goals, making you bear the slander of treason, dragging you into the mess that is the imperial capital…”
Eileen said nothing, quietly watching Frederica’s perfect profile soften slightly in the night.
Frederica gave a self-mocking smile and continued, as if confiding in Eileen but also confessing to herself:
“Honestly, I hate this version of myself, too. I hate the bloodstains on my hands that will never wash clean.”
Her voice grew heavier with memories. “From before my ascension… those ‘relatives’ and ‘allies’ who tried to strangle me in the cradle, their blood stained the palace carpets. After I took the throne, they treated me, a young Empress, like I was nothing. It took me three whole years, wielding the coldest iron fist, to…”
“Do you think the Empress’s throne is easy to sit on? The power of the warlords, the local nobles with their private armies — I uprooted those old foxes entrenched in the capital who tried to manipulate me, one by one, sending them to the guillotine.”
She paused, a cold gleam flashing in her eyes as if reliving that blood-soaked era:
“Then came the provinces… those fools who thought the capital’s emptiness meant opportunity to secede. Years of unending campaigns, suppressions, purges followed. Each time I raised the executioner’s blade, I felt something inside me die a little more. I’ve stepped over countless corpses to get to where I am now, to truly hold the empire in my hands and make it strong.”
Her voice dropped lower, filled with a bone-deep exhaustion and barely perceptible vulnerability:
“What kept me from becoming a cold machine… Eileen, was you. The gentle warmth of your hand holding mine when the kingdom’s borders were on the brink of collapse — that warmth is still vivid in my memory.”
“That was the only light in the darkness, the only proof I had that I was once ‘alive’. So… that’s why I was so desperate to hold onto you, no matter how ruthless my methods, no matter if it made you hate me.”
She finally turned her head, her crimson eyes locking tightly onto Eileen’s, swirling with complex emotions — deep self-loathing, heavy fatigue, and an almost obsessive yearning for the person before her:
“Now that you’ve arrived in the capital… you are free. I won’t force you to do anything anymore. As long as you don’t leave the empire’s borders, you can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. The Royal Research Institute, the Magic Academy, any corner of the capital… even other provinces of the empire, if you wish.”
The night breeze carried the scent of the garden’s foliage below the terrace.
Eileen listened silently to Frederica’s confession, her heart a tangled mix of emotions.
Resentment? Of course.
But at this moment, hearing the iron-blooded Empress reveal her blood-soaked past and the fragile obsession that kept her going, the pure hatred softened somewhat, transforming into a more complicated, heavy sigh of understanding.
She looked at the almost “humble” plea shining in Frederica’s eyes, and after a moment, she finally spoke in a calm, steady voice, cutting straight to the point:
“I need people. The top talents in magical engineering, experts skilled in life magic, energy stabilization, and construct analysis. The more the better, and the faster, the better.”
Her golden eyes fixed on the Empress. “The victims in the Holy Capital don’t have much time left. I need the best resources and teams if there’s any hope of reversing Cerelore’s desecrating modifications on them.”
Frederica seemed unsurprised that Eileen didn’t respond to her emotional outpouring, and instead relaxed slightly at her practical request.
She immediately nodded, regaining the Empress’s sharp efficiency:
“No problem. The Royal Research Institute’s resources and personnel are at your disposal. Otto will fully cooperate. Also…”
She hesitated slightly, a probing glint flashing in her red eyes:
“The empire’s top magical research forces are concentrated at the Manaria Magic Academy. It houses the oldest magical traditions in the empire, as well as the most cutting-edge arcane workshops. Both the Life Magic and Construct Disciplines there are formidable. Would you like… to visit the academy yourself? Perhaps you can find the people you need directly.”
Manaria Magic Academy.
The name was like an ancient key, instantly unlocking a sealed gate deep within Eileen’s soul.
Fragments of the Sacred Arcane King’s memories surged like a tide — not as the supreme being who looked down upon all life, but as a curious and passionate young apprentice leaving warm footprints in that grand, ancient tower of wisdom and exploration.
Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows onto the rune-covered stone floors, the air filled with the scent of parchment, magical dust, and the excited chatter of young apprentices; the wise and tolerant gazes of mentors; herself gently patting her little sister’s head, who scowled in protest.
That was where the “King” first perceived the beauty of magic, where she tasted the pure joy of knowledge — a rare, warmly glowing fragment in her long life.
Her heart seemed to be gently squeezed by an invisible hand, and a long-forgotten mix of nostalgia, melancholy, and indescribable flutter overwhelmed Eileen in an instant.
Her long silver lashes trembled slightly, and almost unconsciously, she gave a faint nod to Frederica’s suggestion.
“…Mm.”
A voice as light as a mosquito’s hum, drifting away in the night breeze of the imperial capital.