Low murmurs began to whisper as the red folds were drawn apart, revealing the stage beneath the open night sky. At the front corners, iron torches flared with fury, swelling as the flames climbed higher and higher. And soon the murmuring nobles fell into a hush.
At the center of the stage stood Ben. His hat was carefully adjusted on his head as he bowed down before lifting his upper body in a slow, steady motion, letting himself be gracefully bent by the cold, chilling night wind.
A hand to his chest, he screamed.
"My beloved people, honored citizens of the Victoria Kingdom.
Before us stand those who have devoted their lives to our prosperity and protection. First among them, our High Lord, Edward Victoria, a name spoken with trust, a leader whose resolve anchors this kingdom!
Beside him stand the great and steadfast Dukes and Duchesses of our lane."
Ben lifted his hand slightly and his gaze past the sea of heads and up toward the opposing structure. Its curtains drawn back, and at the center of the balcony sat Edward, no disdain, his face remained rigid. To his right, the Prince of the Rosette Kingdom and his father, the King, sat. To his left sat Duke Renardo De Lysandre and his daughter. In the far corners of the balcony, half-shadowed and silent, stood two faceless men.
Ben's eyes swept downward to the crowd.
"Percy Norman, Duke of Victoria City, a homeland sanctified by the blood of its defenders. True to his words, unyielding in duty. He is the shield of our homeland, the vanguard who stands between our people and the shadows beyond our borders, guarding us from the outsiders and the evils that would see us undone.
Yet no triumph is achieved alone.
We owe our advancement to Duke Cassian O'Brien, beloved and revered, whose vision and ingenuity shaped the progress of our society. Through his creativity and mastery, he lifted us beyond survival and into greatness!
And to the Duke of Bosque, guardian of our most cherished lands—without his courage, we would not have endured the fires of past wars. To the people of
This does not end here, because for centuries our great wall has stood unbroken, thanks to the wisdom and vigilance of Duke Dosmond Grey of Win-rey. Under his guidance, peace prevailed while savages hurled themselves against our defenses.
Had it not been for his hand, our ancestral wall, blessed by the gods and raised by those who came before us, would have fallen, and terror would have reached our children and our homes! We thank Duke Dosmond Grey for his unwavering justice and for punishing those who dare threaten what is sacred!
And finally, we honor our one and only duchess, Kyrovia Selena, Duchess of our oldest and most ancient of our lands—Kyrovia itself! The land that birthed us! The beginning of our story! A land of life and sanctity, so pure and eternal, bearing the weight of our ancient history and carrying our identity of who we are!"
"We do not stop there, my beloved sisters and brothers! Because unity is our greatest weapon against our enemies—and tonight, the queen—"
The guard held Mei tightly, their massive arms gripping her weak, fragile body. They climbed the small steps, their massive arms chained around Mei's ankles clinking heavily with every movement. Her face was hidden behind tangled hair, but as the wind blew, the crowd caught a glimpse of her shattered state: blood smeared across her skin, deep purple and black bruises marring her face and body.
Her eyes were completely dead, as if no light dared to reflect within them. Her cheeks were swollen, her lips dry, pressed tightly shut.
The guards dragged Mei to the center of the stage, a few meters away from Ben.
Ben turned to her—then back to the crowd.
"—Who rose to the throne through King Joseph. Like her master, she chose to rebel against our perfect system and spread chaos throughout the peaceful cities of Victoria, all in search of her half-blooded daughter! A disgrace! Filthy Animal!"
The crowd roared.
"Alas! It seems this mockery has influenced many. The teaching of evil! From the very beginning, history has repeated itself over and over, as if no one has learned the consequences of betrayal. Thus, as of tonight, the High Lord has decreed that anyone who dares to question his authority—or the absolute words of the High Lord and the
The spotlight on Ben shifted in the direction of his outstretched arm. At the back of the stage, two men kneeled, chained to an iron bar.
"Witness with your own eyes, my people! Once a great man—now a filthy traitor, conspiring to betray his people in favor of savages and a fugitive queen!"
Victor slowly lifted his head, only to shut his eyes against the harsh beam of light. The crowd erupted into disappointed murmurs.
"This man shall not be spared—even though he was once one of us! A great captain of the
The crowd erupted into chaos—half protesting, half cheering for his execution.
"And while he served as a professor, he spread the teaching of evil to his students. One of them—Cody Carmen! The queen's bodyguard, the messenger, and the noble soldier who won
Ben crouched and seized Cody by the chin, lifting his half-conscious, battered face. His glasses hung crookedly, blood streaming from his nose.
"Once a devoted soldier. Now a cowardly traitor who betrays the very land that welcomed him—the land he once protected during
The crowd went silent, then Ben opened his mouth again.
"Cody Carmen shall face the same punishment!…However…"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Some have claimed Cody Carmen is a victim."
"How so?"
"The answer is simple: I, myself, did not know until a colleague revealed it to me. Cody has been cursed. Ensnared by a spell cast by witches!"
The crowd gasped.
"Our greatest nemesis—the witches! The
Ben stepped closer to the edge of the stage, the tips of his shoes stopping just short of the drop. He scanned the crowd—nobles, high-ranking officials, figures whose authority rivaled or surpassed the people sitting at the top. His gaze drifted toward the balcony beside Edward.
Then, near the front building's gate, something caught Ben's eyes—a glint of glass.
The same woman he had noticed earlier while descending the stairs. A lady-in-waiting to Lady Marguerite. She waved at him with exaggerated cheer.
Ben stiffened. Then Lady Marguerite's words echoed in his mind.
He shifted his attention to the balcony. Behind the High Lord and the rosette royalty family, half-hidden behind the curtains, stood two men—the Duke and the King of Rosette's bodyguards. Then he looked at Lady Marguerite herself.
At first, nothing seemed unusual… until he focused.
Then, just behind the lace curtain, a tall figure emerged.
Ben whispered, barely audible.
"The butler …"
He stepped back and gestured sharply to the guards.
They dragged the queen toward the guillotine, removing the chains from her wrists and ankles before forcing her onto her knees. Liquids splashed against her skin. Objects—liquids, stone, insults—were hurled at her.
Ben turned his attention to Victor. His eyes were lifeless. Ben had witnessed many betrayals but never expected Victor to be one of them. It was embarrassing, almost pathetic.
The High Lord had not wanted this information public. They would have quietly slaughtered Victor and claimed he died unexpectedly. But now? He was no hero—just another traitor like Joseph, Mei, and Cody. All destined for the blade.
Then, from the balcony, a subtle movement caught Ben's breath. The figure behind Lady Marguerite slid a gloved hand along the leather of her chair. His white mask was plain except for a single black line—painted in one rush, violent stroke.