Morning.
The first ray of dawn pierced the clouds, transforming into thousands of golden threads that spilled through the stained glass windows into the dining hall.
Agnes Veid, the Duchess who truly gripped the economic throat of the Valoran Kingdom, sat with stately elegance upon a velvet sofa.
Her slender fingers, adorned with a large Emerald Ring, delicately held a Silver Spoon.
Her raised little finger drew a perfect arc as she gently stirred the rich-hued tea in her cup.
‘Tear of the Sun’s Kiss.’
A supreme tribute from the southernmost Elven Forest of the continent—each tea leaf handpicked at dawn, with dewdrops still clinging, by the fairest Elf youths. Its value measured in gold, and beyond price.
Yet at this moment, the Duchess’s sharp, intelligent eyes were not admiring the amber tea, but instead gazed coldly out the window at the awakening Royal Capital.
The Eldest Princess Astreia executing the Supervisor and marching her troops to the gates?
That certainly exceeded expectations.
But only just.
‘All is proceeding smoothly, milady.’
A middle-aged woman in a crisp housekeeper’s uniform, bearing a neat and capable demeanor, stepped into the dining hall like a ghost, bowing respectfully.
‘All key positions in the city’s defense forces have been replaced with our own people. The fresh recruits on the city walls are useless, but they’re sufficient to fool those Northern Region bumpkins outside the gates.’
‘Good.’
Agnes took a light sip of tea, her eyelids never flickering, letting the rich aroma linger between her lips and teeth.
‘And the reinforcements? When will Grant’s Southern Legion arrive?’
‘A message came via carrier hawk. General Grant himself is leading thirty thousand Heavy Legion elites and will reach the Royal Capital gates by dawn tomorrow at the latest.’
Excitement, born of inevitable victory, edged the housekeeper’s tone.
‘When the time comes, with inside and outside forces combined, the Eldest Princess and the Northern Army will be nothing more than turtles in a jar!’
‘Excellent.’
Agnes nodded slightly, a faint trace of mockery curling at her lips.
Astreia Valoran?
That muscle-brained fool who knew nothing of political maneuvering—did she really think a so-called ‘great victory’ could shake the Veid Family’s century-old foundations in the Royal Capital?
Even defeating over a hundred thousand orcs…
Agnes couldn’t even be bothered to expose such a lie.
In the Kingdom’s hundred-year history, not even all the invading orc tribes combined could reach such an absurd number.
Naive—enough to make one laugh.
War had never been limited to charges and slashing on the battlefield.
Once Grant’s Lion Legion arrived, and the Queen herself issued a Decree, placing the ‘rebellion’ crown upon the Eldest Princess’s head, accusing her of leading an army to threaten the throne—
No matter how great her merits, she’d only end up a ruined, disgraced figure nailed to the pillar of history’s shame.
‘And what of that old stubborn fool from the George Family?’
The Duchess set down her teacup and finally turned.
Her well-preserved face bore no traces of age—only the cold dignity unique to those who held true power.
‘Has Claudia yielded yet?’
‘Not yet.’
The housekeeper shook her head.
‘Grand General Claudia remains defiant, cursing us as traitors. But rest assured—her Royal Guard have been disarmed, and she herself is under our ‘proper protection’ in the manor. She can’t stir up any trouble.’
‘Hmph. Childish loyalty.’
Agnes scoffed in contempt.
Once the Eldest Princess and the Northern Army were dealt with, she’d have all the time and means needed to show that old relic who truly ruled the Kingdom.
Then, both the military and the treasury—the twin lifelines of the realm—would fall completely under the Veid Family’s control.
As for that so-called Prince Wendy Black of the Fallen Cavalry Kingdom…
Just thinking of that face—famed for beauty and rumored to move even the gods—a burning heat flickered in the Duchess’s eyes.
Such a supreme treasure—if she could chain him to her bed, collar him, and tame him as her own forbidden pet…
Just the thought sent a pleasurable shiver through her body.
As Agnes Veid indulged in visions of her glorious future, a sudden, panicked rush of footsteps shattered her thoughts.
A guard burst in, anxiety etched across his face, and knelt on one knee.
‘Master! The Royal Palace has sent a Decree from Her Majesty the Queen!’
‘What’s all this fuss?’
Agnes’s brows knit in displeasure.
‘Panicking over a trifle—how unseemly. That puppet can’t even stay quietly in the Royal Palace. What does she want now?’
‘Read.’
The Duchess waved her hand impatiently.
The guard quickly unrolled the parchment scroll, reading loudly and as steadily as possible:
‘By order of Her Majesty Yekaterina Valoran! With the Northern Army at our gates and the nation in peril, a Supreme Audience Meeting is hereby convened this morning in the Throne Hall to discuss state affairs! All registered Nobles of the Royal Capital are to attend on pain of treason for absence without cause!’
‘What?’
The housekeeper’s smile froze.
***
The entire dining hall fell into a dead silence.
A Supreme Audience Meeting?
All Nobles required to attend?
Absence without cause to be deemed treason?!
This…
The laziness and comfort on Agnes’s face vanished without a trace.
A chill, icy and sharp, shot up her spine.
Something was wrong—very wrong!
That Little Queen—these years, she’d been docile as a lamb for slaughter, obeying every word.
When had she ever shown such resolve?
To dare summon a meeting of this level without even consulting her?
And at a time like this, no less!
With the Northern Army poised outside and unrest brewing within the city…
What did she intend by gathering every Noble?
Was she planning to surrender to Astreia in front of everyone?
Impossible! She didn’t have the guts!
Or was there another faction in the Royal Capital supporting her from the shadows, trying to seize power amid the chaos?
A name slithered through Agnes’s mind like a venomous serpent.
Allison Visseran!
That damned old fox—the Prime Minister who’d been openly and covertly opposing her for years!
Could she be trying to use the Northern Army as a blade against her?
The Duchess’s expression turned venomous.
She shot to her feet, pacing across the carpet, the ring on her finger flashing with a cold light.
Was this a trap?
A snare laid specifically for herself and the entire Veid Family?
But…it made no sense.
Even if Allison wanted to move against her, what could she use?
A bunch of civil officials who couldn’t wield magic and were only good for paperwork?
Or the few hundred ornamental guards in the Royal Palace?
On her side, tens of thousands of loyal ‘defense troops’ stood ready to flatten the Royal Palace at a single command!
The balance of power wasn’t even close.
Unless…
The Duchess froze mid-stride.
A more absurd—and yet, pulse-quickening—possibility flooded her mind.
Unless, the Queen and Allison had already colluded with the Eldest Princess outside the city!
The thought barely formed before she forcefully crushed it.
Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
The Royal Capital’s defenses were impregnable.
The gates tightly shut. How could they have communicated?
Carrier pigeons?
Don’t be ridiculous.
She’d already woven a Magic Warning Web across the skies of the Royal Capital— not even a fly could get through!
No matter how she reasoned, Agnes couldn’t find a plausible answer.
Maybe…she really was just overthinking it?
Maybe this really was the desperate, irrational struggle of a frightened Little Queen?
‘My lady, should we…go?’
The housekeeper’s cautious voice finally broke the suffocating silence.
Agnes stopped and turned back to the window.
Sunlight bathed the mighty Royal Capital in a warm yet false gold.
She slowly rubbed the icy rings on her ten fingers, a cruel smile returning to her lips.
Go!
Why not?
Since the little girl and the old fox had already prepared the stage themselves…
How could she refuse to play the starring role?
Perfect.
She would use this gathering of every Noble in the Royal Capital to rip off their masks and reveal to all who truly ruled the Kingdom!
She was eager to see the expression on that disobedient Little Queen’s face when she marched into the Throne Hall surrounded by fully armed Guards.
‘Prepare my Obsidian-Set Dress.’
The Duchess commanded the housekeeper beside her, her tone regaining its usual calm and pride.
‘Today, I’ll make sure the entire Royal Capital remembers what it means to defy the Veid Family!’