Part 2, Chapter 36
Part 2, Chapter 36
Translation: godsn
"It means there's no need for Your Highness to dirty your precious hands. Especially not here, of all days—when Valdina's grand celebration will be remembered for ages?"
A faint crease formed between his handsome brows, as if he couldn't comprehend her actions.
His tone suggested he was fully aware Medeia had just tried to kill his cousin—and that even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered in the slightest.
"When you have countless men waiting to bare their blades at your slightest word, why trouble yourself to wield one?"
If anything, he seemed almost offended that Medeia had considered handling the matter personally. His generous lips still didn't bother to conceal his displeasure.
Separate from her surprise, Medeia recognized the validity of his point. At Valdina's imperial proclamation ceremony, during the Continental Festival's unrepeatable joy, she'd nearly spilled that insignificant wretch's blood.
The only thing truly startling—and awkward—was that the man having this conversation with her was both Iason's flesh and blood and the First Prince Cesare.
Though this ceremony marked their first face-to-face meeting, Medeia knew the true nature of Kazen's First Prince Cesare quite well.
Or rather, she'd thought she did.
A conqueror born to reign.
One who stood atop the summit looking down. Thus, a man who walked a parallel line that would never intersect with her own.
"Your Highness, even the finest sword rusts if left unused."
"Your Highness? Please refrain from such excessive honorifics."
Had Perdiccas II heard his own son addressing the princess of a rival nation—and Valdina's princess at that—with such deference, he'd have flown into a rage.
This affectionate demeanor, so irreconcilable with the man who'd ruthlessly pressured Iason moments ago, kept defying her expectations.
'Was he that grateful I freed him from his death sentence?'
But Medeia knew better.
She couldn't afford to thoughtlessly accept this kindness he offered now, no matter how much he might pretend she'd been his savior.
Because the moment she let her guard down, he'd sink his teeth into her throat. Just as countless fallen magnates had learned before her.
"...I thank Your Highness once more for the kindness you've shown me."
Medeia feigned ignorance as she gave a slight bow, deliberately omitting any mention of their past dealings from public record.
She acknowledged his point—but this was where the assistance ended.
This was the line she drew. The boundary that needed to exist between Valdina and Kazen.
The First Prince paused, as if recognizing her intent.
How would he react? Would he rage at having his goodwill spurned? Or would he make some new demand?
Their eyes met.
The First Prince's golden irises resembled both the dazzling sun and the swirling maw of an abyss that devoured all.
Then—a laugh escaped his shapely lips like wind through a crevice.
Only when his eyes narrowed into crescents did Medeia realize the First Prince was smiling.
"Your Highness need not fear me. Simply focus on how to wield your newly acquired weapon."
"......"
"Not that you'd believe me even if I swore it."
With flawless etiquette, he took his leave.
Though the parting was light, the lingering weight he left behind was anything but.
His presence had utterly erased every trace Iason left in his wake.
Medeia swallowed a sigh.
'Just what kind of... person is Kazen's First Prince?'
Every judgment she'd formed in her past life about Cesare Deisler Kazen was twisting itself inside out.
The temple basement.
"Where exactly is the supposed problem?"
Samon scowled as he scanned the area.
To his naked eye, the installed explosives appeared completely intact.
"Apologies. The devices simply... refused to activate."
A subordinate scratched his head.
CRACK!
"Useless fool! You drag me here on a day like this for such incompetence? Shall I mount your severed head as decoration?!"
"Forgive me, my lord."
Samon brushed past the subordinate who was bowing his head while clutching his cheek. Dang. Dang. The heavy tolling of bells echoed from afar.
"Enough, let's go. If we waste any more time, we'll get caught up in this mess too."
"......"
Samon turned around. But there was no sound of footsteps following him.
"What are you doing, why aren't you— Ghk?!"
Just as he was about to snap in irritation—Thwack!—a pain so intense it whited out his vision slammed into his back.
"Y-you bastard... Keuk..."
Why? How? He wanted to demand answers from his subordinate.
But thwack!—another wave of agony silenced him.
'No, this can't...'
This place was about to become a scene of disaster. If he stayed here, he would die screaming in agony, not even his bones left intact.
But Samon's frail body betrayed his reason, his consciousness fading further and further away.
"......"
Without so much as a word, the subordinate stepped over him, sprawled on the cold basement floor.
Click.
With the metallic sound of the basement door locking behind him, Samon finally lost consciousness.
Dang. Dang. Dang. The temple bell tolled three times.
"Hurry to your positions!"
"We're starting!"
It was time for the ritual to pray for the Continental Festival's safety. Though the festival was a celebration, it was also a week of prayer in honor of the saints.
After this ceremony, five days and nights of prayers to Saint Augustine would commence.
For this Continental Festival, Pelleus had ascended the altar in place of the Pope to oversee the ceremony.
Instead of the Emperor's crown, he wore a laurel wreath, and clad in white ceremonial robes, he looked every bit a member of the Holy Kingdom.
"O God, let our names rise from Your fountain, and guard our journey from death to life, from darkness to Your wondrous light."
From the silver chalice he tilted, blue Holy Water trickled out, soaking the flowers adorning the festival.
"Guard our journey!"
"Guard our journey!"
The crowd chanted in unison.
His composed movements, his silver hair reflecting the light, his noble features accentuated by the white robes—there was something about him that stirred the people's piety.
High Priest Paolo scowled at the ceremony, which was being conducted with more fervor than even the Holy Kingdom's own priests.
"Why... does it feel like I'm looking at His Holiness the Pope?"
"Tch, you fool! Stop your nonsense and pray already! You'll chase away all the good energy!"
Inside the temple, the festive atmosphere was still in full swing—until—
Whoosh!
"W-what's that?!"
Flames erupted simultaneously from the pillars supporting the temple.
"Why are there flames...? There's smoke over there!"
As people panicked and looked around frantically, someone with sharp eyes muttered,
"Smoke?"
At that moment—Boom!—an explosion sounded from behind the altar.
"Your Majesty!"
"Protect His Majesty!"
Agemas rushed toward Pelleus. Only then did the crowd realize the gravity of the situation.
Then—Boom!Boom!—as if urging them on, explosions rang out one after another throughout the temple.
"Run! Get out! Evacuate!"
"Kyaaah—!"
"Agh!"
The people inside the hall stampeded toward the exit in a frenzy, desperate to escape the raining debris.
But Medeia remained rooted in place, unmoving as if nailed down. Her emerald eyes swiftly scanned the crumbling altar.
'Where is Samon?'
Had he fled already?
Her delicate brow furrowed. There was still a little time left before the final explosion that would bring the structure down.
'I need to be sure.'
Medeia gripped the arrow hidden in her sleeve. If the plan had failed, she was prepared to eliminate him here and now.
That the blast might reach her too was of no concern to Medeia.
She was confident she could finish Samon and escape before the final explosion.
'Even if I get slightly injured, it wouldn't be a bad thing.'
If even the imperial princess was harmed in the incident, no one would dare suspect Valdina as the culprit.
Like a hunter preparing for the kill, Medeia's emerald eyes darkened.
'Samon. You must fall here.'
She had to break the most dangerous—the only—unifying force holding together Claudio's faction.