Darkness. An absolute, suffocating void that consumes every inkling of light.
Through the pitch-black silence, the faint, mocking chime of a jester's bells echoes, vibrating through the cold air.
Princess Elsbeth stands frozen in a thick pool of shadow. The bells ring louder, faster, frantic and then, a wet, heavy object comes rolling out of the dark, stopping right against her bare feet.
It is Luan's severed head.
His face is still coated in smeared white paint and crimson tears, his dead, glassy eyes locking onto hers. His jaw cracks open, and a voice that sounds like grinding bone recites a haunting melody:
Oh Princess, why leave me to rot in the flame?
I carried your burden, defended your name.
I died like a martyr with love in my chest,
Yet you turned all my suffering into a jest.
The final word twists into a deafening, reality-shattering shriek. Elsbeth recoils, screaming as she falls backward, clawing at the dark to get away. Before her eyes, Luan's head dissolves into a cloud of cold, grey ash, vanishing into nothingness.
Elsbeth scrambles to her feet, sprinting blindly through the void, only to collide with a warm body. Her hands are suddenly gripping the hilt of a blade. She looks down. The steel is buried deep into Leonard's stomach.
Leonard gasps, dark blood bubbling from his lips as he stares at her in profound betrayal. "Why... my Lady?" he wheezes, his knees buckling. "I was... only protecting you..."
He collapses. Elsbeth falls with him, her hands frantically pressing against the gaping wound, trying to stop the torrential flow of blood. "No, no, no! I didn't mean to! Leonard, please! Wake up! Open your eyes!"
But Leonard's body dissolves into mist beneath her fingers. Elsbeth looks down at her palms, completely coated in thick, warm blood, and unleashes a scream that tears through the fabric of her reality.
Downstairs, the frantic scream shatters the silence of the parlor.
Azik, Erwin, Leonard, and Grace freeze for a fraction of a second before rushing toward the staircase in a desperate, chaotic stampede. Leonard, ignoring the agonizing pull of his own stitches, throws his weight against Elsbeth's door, bashing it open so hard the wood splinters.
On the bed, Elsbeth's body is thrashing violently. She is trembling, her limbs arching in unnatural, rigid spasms. Her body convulsed so violently it looked as though her soul was trying to claw its way out of her skin. Her eyes are wide, unseeing, and she screams without breathing, a raw sound of pure terror.
"Bring water! Now!" Leonard roars, throwing himself onto the bed to pin her flailing shoulders down.
Erwin pivots on his heel, racing back down the stairs.
Azik steps up to the other side of the bed, his aristocratic composure cracking as he grabs her face, tilting her head back to check her pupils. "Calm down, Elsbeth! Look at me! Everything you are seeing is a lie! We are here! Wake up!"
Erwin bursts back into the room, handing a wooden cup to Leonard. Without hesitation, Leonard flicks the cold water directly onto her face, wrapping his heavy arms around her torso and slamming her trembling cheek hard against his chest.
"Everything is alright, my Lady! Wake up! I'm right here!"
Inside the fading nightmare, Elsbeth hears the echoes. The voices of Leonard and Azik sound distant, muffled by miles of deep ocean. The dark world around her begins to crack and splinter like brittle glass. The bells fade.
But as the darkness collapses, she looks into the distance of her mind. A tall, shadowy figure with a crooked, malevolent smile stands in the ruins, staring directly at her. It speaks her name in a jagged, unnerving hiss that makes her blood turn to ice.
She tries to run toward the light toward Leonard's voice—but her legs instantly turn to lead. She cannot move. The crooked figure begins to glide slowly, effortlessly toward her across the abyss. Desperate, she drops to her hands and knees, crawling through the mud of her subconscious until the floor beneath her completely disintegrates. She falls into a bottomless trench, screaming one last time.
Elsbeth wakes with a violent, agonizing gasp, her chest heaving as she fights for oxygen that refuses to enter her lungs.
"Everything is alright. I'm here. I've got you," Leonard mutters continuously, his arms locking around her like an iron vice to steady her violent shaking. "Breathe, my Lady. Slowly. Just breathe."
Grace steps forward quietly, her sharp expression softening with a rare touch of pity. She fills another cup with water and gently presses it to the princess's pale lips. "Slowly open your eyes, Princess. Look at the room. You are safe."
Elsbeth's eyelids flutter open. The blurred silhouettes resolve into the wooden beams of Rowan's house. She reaches for the cup with fingers that shake so violently she nearly knocks it over, but Leonard places his calloused hand over hers, steadying her grip. She takes a clumsy sip. The water misses her throat, spilling down her chin and soaking the collar of her tunic.
Her gaze is entirely hollow. The stubborn fire that once lived in her eyes is gone. What remains looks human only in shape, empty vessel, her eyes completely unfocused as if she is looking through the people in front of her.
Suddenly, she throws her arms around Leonard's neck, burying her face into his shoulder. She weeps—a quiet, pathetic sound that breaks the hearts of the men in the room.
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...she whimpers, her fingernails clawing weakly at the fabric of his shirt as she struggles to fill her lungs. I couldn't do anything... I just watched... I'm so sorry...
Leonard shuts his eyes tight, swallowing the lump in his throat as he strokes her matted hair, wiping the tears from her cold cheeks.
Everything is fine, my Lady. Look at me, I am alive. I am right here. You need to calm your heart.
Elsbeth slowly pulls back, her eyes wandering across the small bedroom. She sees Sir Azik leaning against the wall, Erwin standing by the door, and Grace—a strange, unfamiliar face.
She looks back at Leonard, her voice dropping into a hopeful, desperate whisper. Where... where is Luan? You saved him... didn't you, Leonard? Tell me you brought him back.
The question hangs in the air like a executioner's axe.
Azik immediately turns his face away, staring out the window into the black night. Leonard's breath hitches, his gaze dropping instantly to the floorboards. Nobody speaks. Nobody dares to break the silence.
The suffocating stillness gives her the answer.
Elsbeth's lips part slightly, trembling. "Oh..."
It is just one word. One tiny, breathless sound. Yet Leonard looks as though a physical blade has been driven straight through his sternum and twisted.
We will find him, Lady Elsbeth,Leonard promises frantically, his voice breaking as he grips her shoulders. No matter what it takes, we will find him. You have to stay strong. Sir Azik has already deployed his entire network to track him. We will bring him back very soon, I swear it to you! Just keep yourself together!!
He pulls her back into a fierce embrace, but Elsbeth doesn't move. She doesn't cry.
Azik walks over from the window, his expression grim as he places a heavy hand on Leonard's shoulder. "She is not here, Leonard. Let her go."
Leonard pulls back and looks at her. Elsbeth is completely zoned out, her eyes staring blankly at the wall, her mind having retreated deep into a catatonic sanctuary where the pain cannot reach her. She cannot hear them anymore.
Erwin sinks into a nearby wooden chair, burying his face in his hands. "Oh Lord... please have mercy on us."
Grace steps up to the bedside, her voice calm and authoritative. "Why don't you men head downstairs? You are only fueling the panic in this room. I will take care of the Princess."
Azik gives a solemn nod, catching Leonard's eye. Slowly, reluctantly, Leonard relinquishes his hold on Elsbeth and follows the men down the stairs.
The moment his boots hit the floorboards of the parlor, the volatile rage inside Leonard detonates.
"I'LL KILL THOSE BASTARDS!" Leonard roars, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. "I will butcher that bastard Theoron with my bare hands!"
He lunges forward, kicking a heavy wooden dining chair with all his might. The wood splinters under the impact. Still unsatisfied, he snatches up another chair, hoisting it over his head, and hurls it violently against the stone fireplace. It shatters into a dozen pieces.
Erwin rushes him, wrapping his brawny arms around Leonard's torso to restrain him.
Raging like a mad animal isn't going to help her, and it sure as hell won't find Luan! Calm down, Leonard! Your damn stitches are going to rip open! Stop acting like you're unbroken!
"Get off me!" Leonard screams, using his elbows to slam into Erwin's ribs, shoving the him away with a burst of hysterical strength. Erwin stumbles backward, crashing hard into the floor.
In a flash of pure madness, Leonard draws his dagger from his belt and bolts toward the front door. "I'm going to the palace. I'll take his head tonight."
Before he can reach the handle, Azik intercepts him, his hand locking onto Leonard's wrist like an iron clamp, stopping the blade inches from the wood. "Calm yourself, Leonard."
Let go of me! Leonard spins, channeling his fury into a brutal, blind left hook that strikes Azik directly in the gut.
Ughh.
Azik staggers back a step, the wind knocked out of him, but his expression hardens into something terrifying. Before Leonard can swing again, Azik lunges forward with unmatched speed. His large hand wraps around Leonard's throat, slamming him backward against the stone wall with a dull, heavy thud.
"Come to your senses, you pathetic idiot!" Azik snarls, his sophisticated mask entirely gone, revealing the ruthless warlord beneath. He glares into Leonard's bloodshot eyes. Do you think you are the only one who wants to rip the King's throat out? Look at you! You can barely stand! If you march into that palace tonight, you die, Elsbeth dies, and whatever is left of the jester dies with you!
Leonard grunts, his fingers clawing at Azik's iron grip on his throat as his vision begins to blur from the lack of air.
Seeing him finally deflate, Azik releases his grip. Leonard slides down the stone wall, collapsing into a nearby armchair, coughing violently as he clutches his bleeding side.
Erwin pushes himself up from the floor, stepping between them to keep the peace. "Sir Azik, breathe. Leonard... just please listen to him."
A heavy, oppressive silence settles over the ruined parlor. The only sound is Leonard's ragged breathing. After several long minutes, Leonard drops his head, his voice cracked with shame. "I'm sorry... "
Azik adjusts his silk collar, letting out a sharp, dismissive *tsk*. "We don't need your apologies, Leonard. We need your strength, and we need your mind.
Azik steps over the shattered remains of the chairs and approaches the long dining table. With a swift motion, he clears the clutter and unrolls a massive, detailed parchment map of the Kingdom of Liveria.
"Now that you have let your childish tantrums out of your system, come here," Azik commands coldly.
Leonard forces himself up, limping over to the table alongside Erwin.
The map depicts the entirety of Liveria, divided sharply into five major territories, each marked with distinct colored ink.
"Liveria is fractured," Azik begins, his finger tracing the borders.
"The Crown rules from The Central, the largest and most fortified sector. To the east lie Thalassia and Lunaria, centers of maritime trade and ancient noble lineages. To the south, closest to the capital, sits Astapor—a military gateway."
Azik's finger shifts sharply to the far left of the map, tapping heavily on a sector labeled in deep green.
"And here, in the west, lie Venard and Patrin," Azik says, his eyes narrowing. As you well know, Leonard, Patrin is the absolute lifeblood of this entire kingdom. It holds the fertile plains that produce ninety percent of Liveria's food, the finest vineyards, and the richest mineral mines in the mountains.
Leonard stares at the green marker, his jaw clenching. If we take Patrin, we control the stomach of the kingdom.
"Exactly," Azik replies, a wicked, brilliant glint returning to his eyes. If we manage to secure Patrin, we gain the economic leverage required to starve out the other cities. But we must be decisive, and more importantly, we must be invisible. If we openly march an army or declare rebellion, the King will see it as high treason.
The Royal Chivalry will march, and we will all be executed before we know it, including every noble who dares glance our way.
Erwin leans over the map, his mind calculating the risks. Then how do we take it without triggering a civil war?
"We play smart," Azik says, pointing to a specific insignia on the border of the western sector. "We must manipulate the political landscape. We have to bring the Viscount of Patrin to our side by any means necessary—whether through gold, blackmail, or shared hatred. If the Viscount aligns with us secretly, the King won't suspect a thing. He will think it is merely a logistical issue when we slowly begin cutting down the food deliveries to the capital."
Azik smiles, a dangerous, calculating expression. "We will systematically raise the grain and meat prices, but *only* for the major cities loyal to the Crown. Simultaneously, we will slash the taxes and food costs for the peasantry and the lower class within our territories.
This is our first trump card: weaponized poverty. The commoners will see Princess Elsbeth as their savior, while the wealthy in the Central begin to starve and riot against Theoron.
Once the foundation rots, we target the nobles of the other cities.
Azik reaches into his vest, pulling out a small leather ledger containing notes written in Grace's precise handwriting.
"Grace has already verified the ground details," Azik continues, showing them a specific tactical marker she placed near the border. Patrin is already highly unstable. The Viscount utterly despises the Crown's recent taxation policies, which have been bleeding his merchants dry to fund the Holy Knights.
If we approach him with the right leverage, he will back Lady Elsbeth's claim to the throne.
Azik looks up, his voice dropping into a tone of absolute finality.
"And once Patrin sides with us... the food supply of the capital becomes ours to choke."
Azik taps the parchment one last time, his finger resting heavily over the dark green territory of Patrin. He lifts his gaze, locking his sharp eyes onto Leonard.
"This is our first step toward claiming the throne," Azik says, his voice dropping into a low, echoing baritone. "But do not mistake this for a triumphant march. Your journey in Patrin will be harsh, Leonard. It will be bloody, lawless, and the Crown will try to cut your throat at every turn."
He steps back from the table, folding his arms across his chest.
"That is why you have to go back. That is why you have to find them, i know you agreed to go before I'm telling you again before you have any second thoughts."
Leonard flinches, his jaw clenching so hard a sharp pain shoots up his temple. The phantom weight of a dozen buried memories faces of people he had abandoned, blood he had tried to wash from his hands—presses down on his chest like a lead weight.
Azik cuts him off before he can speak.
"We need all the trustworthy people we can get on our side if we are going to survive this," Azik murmurs, the cold reality of his words hanging heavy in the dim parlor. "And you know, deep down... besides them, there is no one left in this wretched world you can truly trust."
Silence returns to the house, thick and suffocating.
Downstairs, the map remains unfurled under the flickering candlelight a blueprint for a beautiful, desperate treason. Upstairs, a broken princess sleeps in the dark, her mind still haunted by the echoing chimes of a jester's bells.
Leonard looks down at his trembling hands, finally closing his eyes as the bitter truth settles into his bones. The road to the throne has begun, and it starts in the one place he swore he would never return.