Chapter 72
Chapter 72
Translation: godsn
"Of course everyone would be afraid. That's precisely why we must be even more ruthless. We must cut off any sprouts of betrayal at their roots. After the Minister was imprisoned, surely there are those who doubt whether this grand plan can succeed? Can you truly be certain that no one will waver in their loyalty?"
The Regent remained silent.
In truth, he had been concerned about that very point.
"Enough of that—what do you mean they were attacked by assassins? Don't tell me there's someone else who knows the location of the signature document?"
"There were others who targeted the estate."
Samon cautiously gauged his father's reaction as he continued.
"According to reports, they were the elite among elites. We captured one alive for interrogation—turned out to be an Imperial."
"The Empire? Who in Kazen would—?"
"Well... he took his own life before we could finish the interrogation, so we couldn't find out. My apologies."
For an elite to commit suicide, it meant they were likely a significant figure in the Empire. But why would the Empire—?
The Regent couldn't make sense of it at all.
Noticing his father's puzzled expression, Samon quickly added, "It must be someone from Valdina trying to use the signature document to exploit our weakness. After all, while we've joined hands with the Emperor of Kazen, we've also built bridges with Grand Duke Iason. Who's to say others wouldn't do the same?"
Moreover, not long ago, the Regent and the Minister had been at each other's throats over the banquet incident.
"It's entirely possible the Minister had a change of heart and planned to betray us outright."
Samon's expression turned grave.
"Father, you must decide. We need to eliminate the Minister now. We must act before they do if we want to survive. Before they extract more information from Etienne, we must silence him—permanently."
The Regent pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples.
The thought of eliminating Etienne—his greatest ally—with his own hands was as painful as cutting off his own flesh.
But in this deadlock, there was no other choice.
He raised his head. His gaze was drawn to a faded shield emblem hanging on the wall—the crest of Duke Claudio's house.
"Joaquin. As your brother's shield, you must protect this nation steadfastly. With sons as dependable as you two, this father can die without regrets."
The words his own father had spoken to Joaquin—when he had been driven from the palace after his brother's ascension—flashed through his mind.
He bit his lip as if chewing on the memory.
'No, Father. I refuse to remain merely a shield.'
Duke Claudio's expression hardened with resolve.
"Very well. Make it so."
That night, a man clad in black slipped out through the back gate of the ducal estate.
Valdina's Special Prison.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed against the damp floor. The Minister, dozing fitfully, jolted awake as a sharp pain pricked at his neck.
"Ghk—!"
A cold blade pressed against his throat.
"Larc Etienne. How dare you betray your master."
"W-what nonsense is this?"
Etienne's face dripped with sweat as he frantically scanned his surroundings.
'Where are the guards? The sentries? Why is no one here?!'
"Claudio! Y-you're trying to kill me again—! You vile bastards, you never learn! You're trying to silence me!"
The assassin scoffed at his hysterical shrieking.
"Has old age addled your wits? You hid yourself so well, we barely even knew you were here."
"Th-that can't be! No one could have gotten close!"
The Minister's eyes widened as realization struck.
'Damn it all—I fell for the Princess's trap.'
But it was far too late.
By the time Etienne understood everything, the gleaming blade had already slit his throat.
"Extra! Extra!"
Newsboys sprinted through the streets.
Etienne's bloated face filled the front page, emblazoned with a bold red headline:
[LARC ETIENNE DIES IN PRISON!]
"Is it true? Can it really be?"
"Calling himself a Minister, stuffing his pockets with bribes wasn't enough—he had to play with children and sell them off to foreign lands? Scum like this always gets what's coming to them!"
"Damn bastard, good riddance! spit!"
The Minister was dead.
As a criminal awaiting execution for violating military law, there was no funeral to speak of—his corpse was unceremoniously dumped beneath the city walls.
People cursed his name and spat whenever they saw the word "Etienne."
For a man who had lived his entire life clinging to the pride of high nobility, it was an unbearably wretched and pitiful end.
His assets were confiscated, his title revoked.
The House of Count Etienne, having lost its head, collapsed pathetically, yet not a single soul remained to mourn its fall.
Still, there were those who questioned the suddenness of his death.
"A sudden illness? What nonsense! How long had he even been imprisoned to fall ill so quickly? And a robust man like Etienne, no less!"
Coincidentally, the misfortunes that had befallen House Etienne just before his death only deepened the suspicions.
A slaughter—a one-sided massacre.
People clicked their tongues at the excessively brutal cleanup.
"But wasn't the Minister effectively the Duke's right hand in all but name? After all those years together, to be discarded in an instant..."
"Ha, did you not know the temperament of the man we serve?"
Members of the Regent's faction felt an oppressive weight pressing against their chests.
"This is a warning. A demonstration of what happens when you step out of line. What awaits those who dare disembark from his ship."
"......"
Just as Samon had intended, the Minister's downfall served as a clear message of what the Regent demanded.
Absolute loyalty. Flawless execution.
A stern warning that even the slightest hint of dissent would not be tolerated—perfection in all things.
The nobles remained silent, but their thoughts diverged.
Some, witnessing the Minister's fate, might have reaffirmed their loyalty.
Yet human nature tends to yearn for freedom over oppression.
Among those trembling in fear, doubts began to sprout.
'If I were in his place, wouldn't I end up just like the Minister?'
'If I could be cast aside like that at any moment, wouldn't it be better to turn my back first?'
Distrust and suspicion seeped into what had once been the unshakable unity of the rebels.
The Princess's Palace.
Beneath a sacred painting of the goddess, Medeia rose from where she had been kneeling in reverence.
Upon the long altar below the painting lay dozens of small angel figurines, each no larger than a palm, alongside tiny candles—a modest memorial service.
"Forgive me. I will not ask you to wait for vengeance. May you find peace, however belatedly."
It was a small rite to comfort the souls of the children sacrificed by Etienne.
After finishing her prayers, Medeia carefully placed each angel figurine into a coffin.
They were Valdina's children. And so, she could not remain untouched.
'I promise. I won't let this happen again.'
With this, both of Claudio's arms controlling Valdina's royal palace had been severed.
And one of them had been cut off by his own hand—how his insides must be roiling.
"Uncle acted uncharacteristically rash. Entrusting capable subordinates to that foolish son of his—this is the result."
Her calm tone belied the cold assessment.
After burying the children's coffins in the sunniest spot of the Princess's Palace, Medeia turned away, her figure as unshakable as an ancient tree weathering storms.
Having shed her grief and returned to her usual self, Medeia summoned Saya and ordered,
"That slush fund Etienne gave us last time. Bring it."
The embezzled funds secretly siphoned from the dead Etienne amounted to several times the entire fortune Medeia had once offered to establish the Veterans' Village.
Had he known that the princess who deceived him into death would also strip him of his remaining wealth, Etienne would have coughed up blood in the afterlife.
"If that thick-skinned toad knew we snatched this fortune, he'd be shaking with rage in the underworld."
Saya giggled.
Neril shushed her and remarked,
"With the Head Maid gone and now the Minister fallen, the Regent won't wield the same influence as before."
"It's too early for that. The Imperial delegation will be arriving soon."
Medeia replied flatly.