Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 95
>Chapter Title: The King's Silence
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*
The Krasilov Royal Palace is also known as the Amber Palace. This is not to say it was built of amber, but rather to convey its splendor.
At least, before the war, the Amber Palace was one of the most extravagant royal castles in the Allied Kingdoms.
“You’ve come.”
Elizaveta stood at the palace entrance, her face haggard. She studied the bloodstains on Ivan’s body before raising her gaze.
Ivan quietly knelt on one knee. Beside him, Pavel and Dmitry prostrated themselves as well.
“Are you injured?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“That is a relief.”
An undeniable sense of relief was present in her otherwise calm words. It was only natural; the man before her had, by her command, fought the strongest of the elves to the point of collapse, then immediately purged the capital of its seditious elements.
If he had suffered a fatal wound in the process… Elizaveta suppressed a dizzying thought and turned her head.
“I will receive a detailed report later. Do not send Dmitry; come to me yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I have much to say… but not today. Vanka, raise your head.”
Ivan lifted his bowed head. Elizaveta, standing before him, leaned down slightly.
A hand gently cupped his cheek. The warm touch lingered on his parched skin for a moment.
The tips of her pale fingers trembled faintly.
“You have endured much. Thank you for indulging my whims. From the moment we first met until now. Always.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I will now give you your final mission for the day. You may all rise.”
Elizaveta turned and walked toward the royal castle.
Between the grand stone pillars of the Amber Palace, Elizaveta faced the castle’s corridor with cold eyes.
The Royal Guards stood by with their heads bowed. All of them were her people, so no one stood in their way.
“Follow me. We are going before the throne.”
At her words, Pavel’s body went rigid.
Seeing his hand twitch unconsciously toward his waist, Ivan slowly lowered his own hand to grip the handle of his axe.
As if sensing this, Elizaveta continued without turning her head.
“Sir, do you still despise the king of this country?”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
Pavel’s low voice seeped through his clenched teeth.
Even if he had sworn his allegiance to Elizaveta once more, even if he had pledged himself to the well-being of this nation…
Even so, Pavel’s feelings were of a kind that could never be fully resolved. It was only natural. His hatred was trapped in the past.
It was an unquenchable rage. All those he had cherished were long dead and gone.
And in that, Ivan was no different. Sensing Pavel’s emotions flaring, Ivan slowly moved closer to Elizaveta’s side.
So that he could intervene at any moment should Pavel have a change of heart.
“That is why I have summoned you here today. Today, I will give you no more commands. You may do as you wish.”
The strength drained from Ivan’s hand on the axe handle.
Did he not feel it, too? The anger was still there. His fury toward the current king, Kirill, still smoldered like embers in his chest.
But he had endured it. He had suppressed it, deeming it worthless. He had let it go, thinking it meaningless.
Was he not, after all, just a stranger in this world? He had told himself he had no right to pass judgment, and so he had endured.
But now, Elizaveta was affirming his feelings.
If you want revenge, then take it.
Even as he entered the throne room, armed, Ivan mulled over the princess’s words.
‘Why now?’
Elizaveta was already the de facto ruler of this country. Ever since the Crown Prince had disappeared, she had held absolute power, shaking the capital to its core.
She had already succeeded in one coup. As a result, the king was confined, all authority had passed to the princess, and the royal family was subject to the constitution.
But why now, of all times?
She could have removed the king and succeeded to the throne herself right after the first coup, and there would have been no issue.
To suddenly say, after all this time, that it was all right to kill the king.
This was surely not the soft-hearted sentiment of a young daughter who couldn't bring herself to kill her own father. That was impossible.
Ivan followed Elizaveta in silence, lost in thought.
*
—The Lord watches over you.
At the entrance to the long corridor leading to the king’s audience chamber, this sentence was inscribed alongside a massive tapestry.
It was the last legacy of the Amber Palace, the sole testament to its former dignity. The palace had already lost all the glory of its past.
Elizaveta remembered the great sculptures and all manner of treasures that had once adorned these walls. Now, in the corridor, only dusty, empty spaces remained.
“Does it look shabby?”
Elizaveta asked with a smile. Wasn’t it amusing that the palace where the nation’s king resided was devoid of any luxury, yet was still called the ‘Amber Palace’?
But Ivan simply shook his head.
“It is glorious.”
“Glorious? This ruin, you mean?”
“It is not ruin, Your Highness. It is sacrifice.”
Ivan had been a member of the Royal Guard. Naturally, he remembered what the Amber Palace looked like during the war.
The Amber Palace had been at its most magnificent during the early reign of the previous king, when the wars of conquest were in full swing.
At that time, Great King Ivan’s nicknames were the ‘Conqueror,’ the ‘Thunder Lord,’ and the ‘Bear of Krasilov.’ Such titles are never earned in times of peace.
Until the Demon King instigated the Great War, Krasilov had been the most belligerent nation in the Allied Kingdoms. Under the rule of its young, conquering monarch, it was a nation that sowed fear across vast territories.
In those days, the Amber Palace was the most splendid in the Allied Kingdoms, filled with treasures gathered from every region. All who passed through this corridor willingly showed respect for the Great King’s authority.
And then the Demon King was born. Half the world went up in flames.
Until the Hero appeared, the nation still preserved itself through war. But it was a different kind of war from the ones waged against humanity—a continuous series of defeats.
The authority built on victory crumbled with defeat. The Great King remained strong, but the royal family’s authority did not. In that situation, to preserve the nation, the Great King had to sell the royal treasures.
That was not a symbol of decline.
The empty pedestals in this hall were a chronicle in themselves.
The marks left on the dusty stone did not signify lament for lost treasures and past glory.
They were a chronicle of the traces left by a man who was always great, a man who brought down his own house for the sake of his nation. They were a tribute to a man who, rather than giving up in the face of defeat, took everything he had and charged back to the front lines.
Therefore, if one were to name this corridor, it could never be ‘ruin.’
“Thank you, Vanka.”
Elizaveta murmured, looking up at the ceiling with reddened eyes. Ivan followed her in silence.
The long corridor came to an end. They had finally reached the audience chamber.
Before the empty, chilly chamber, they walked the path laid with a worn carpet, finally reaching the throne.
An old man he had never seen before sat there, staring down at them blankly.
*
“Do not kneel.”
Elizaveta, standing before them, spoke curtly. Her voice was devoid of emotion, yet steady and unwavering.
To not prostrate oneself before the throne was an act of high treason, punishable by death. But everyone present stood tall, looking directly at the throne.
“No one in this country can force you to your knees in my presence. Especially not now. So raise your heads and look forward. Look at the one who stands before you. What do you see?”
Elizaveta spoke calmly as she continued to walk.
Councilor, Herald, Scribe, Inspector-General, Chamberlain, Captain of the Royal Guard, Minister of State, Master of Ceremonies, Lord-in-Waiting, Lord Chamberlain, Master of the Hunt, Chief Cupbearer.
She passed by each of the seats, elegantly engraved with the titles of the nation’s ministers.
Lord High Steward, Minister of Military Affairs, Minister of Public Works, Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Marshal, Prime Minister.
And at last, she stood before the king.
“Your Majesty, I trust you have been well.”
Without stopping, Elizaveta ascended the dais. No one stopped her. The royal guards present merely bowed their heads as if this were a common occurrence.
The king, too, simply stared at her without a word.
“Do you see him? Do you all see this man?”
Standing beside the throne, Elizaveta playfully touched the crown resting on the king’s head.
“Do you see this man who has lost his words, his thoughts, his very will? Do you see this majesty, the master of all people?”
“What happened to him?”
It was Pavel who answered her. He was desperately clutching his waist with a trembling hand.
A violent rage seeped from his lips, as if he might draw his spear and throw it at any moment.
“It is my brother’s handiwork. Do not ask when it started. I do not know either. However, even in the days when the previous king sent his personal letters, I suspect this man was no different than he is now.”
“But I… I remember King Kirill’s coronation.”
“Yes, did he not walk and speak without issue?”
“…He did.”
“Having had his fill of playing king back then, is it not why my brother has now left this country without a second thought?”
Pavel flinched at her words.
You mean the king was nothing but a puppet even back then? That he was being manipulated by the Crown Prince?
That this entire country had already been in the Crown Prince’s grasp?
“So, to speak of a succession struggle is laughable. This country was already Aleksandr’s, and it has been for at least a decade. Therefore, I was not fighting for succession, but for usurpation. Pavel, you may call me your senior. As a rebel, I have fought for far longer than you.”
“Why was this fact…”
“To whom could I have told? Who would have fought on my side? The military? The House of Lords? The Royal Court? If they heard this story, who would truly stand with me?”
The ambitious would want to overthrow a monarchy in such a state, and the royal loyalists would not hesitate to side with the Crown Prince.
To whom could she tell this story? To have controlled the king was no different from having controlled the entire nation.
This country had belonged to Aleksandr in both name and substance. Her fight had been to take it back. That was how she had spent the past years.
“So, Vanka, when you said you were leaving, I was both relieved and saddened. I was relieved that you would finally be safe, and I was saddened that you would leave at the most dangerous moment.”
“Your Highness.”
“Is it not a great relief that you have returned now? I am not bothered at all.”
Elizaveta smiled gently and turned around.
“So, will you do as you wish? Will you execute the king of this nation and quench your rage? Will you avenge the late king and our many heroes, and raise high the banner of justice?”
Pavel lowered his head without a word.
If all the orders from that time had come from the Crown Prince’s hand, then executing this old man would be nothing more than venting his frustration.
As Pavel remained silent, his teeth clenched, Elizaveta descended from the dais and spoke.
“Do you still desire revenge?”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
“As do I. I want revenge on that lawless man who grasped everything in this country for himself, only to cast it all aside and leave. I want revenge on the man who buried all of this nation’s greatest people, only to abandon the throne he won as his prize, as if it were worthless.”
Elizaveta looked at Ivan.
“I want revenge on the man who swept away everyone I loved beneath the dust of a distant land, and who threw everyone who loved me before the maws of demons. Will you join me?”
Ivan met Elizaveta’s eyes. Longing, anger, self-reproach, fear, and perhaps… affection.
Reading the emotions flowing through her eyes, he quietly bowed his head.
“Do not ask. Simply command us.”
Before the bowed heads of the men, Elizaveta looked up at the ceiling.
Her eyes burned hot. Words she could never confide in anyone, the shame of this nation’s royal family, were finally being released.
Not anymore. Frichenkaya was finally under her control, and the regional lords would soon follow.
Aleksandr’s influence had been completely purged. Now, no one would dare defy her authority.
Krasilov would rise again. Grander than ever before.
She would make it so. She would. And then, she would demand payment. From her brother, from that man, wherever he might be.
Without fail.
Beneath the king’s silence, the royal house will rise again. So brilliantly that no one could ever deny it.
Ep14. The King's Silence