The Price of Arrogance
“You took quite the gamble yourself,” the Empress said. “Had things gone sideways, you could have been the one torn to shreds by that demonic beast.”
“A gamble worth braving,” I replied smoothly. “Besides, I was fairly certain that the princes would be in far greater danger than I was.”
“And what made you so sure?”
“I reasoned it would target someone older, stronger, and closer to the throne—someone who hasn’t yet received an official crown.”
No matter how I looked at it, that trap had to have been laid by an emperor terrified that civil war might breach the palace walls, or that his own siblings might mount a rebellion right under his nose. Whether an officially invested Crown Prince would fall within its crosshairs remained uncertain, but the current Emperor had never officially bestowed the title of Crown Prince on anyone. In other words, both of his sons were legitimate rivals to imperial power.
Still, it felt rather odd. The demonic beast in the Maze Garden would never harm me, only attacking to eliminate other intruders. Yet the beast concealed within the Hall of Glory prioritized Imperial blood above all else. Given that it was likely set in place back during the First Emperor’s reign, shouldn’t the imperial family of that era have possessed an overwhelming abundance of the Power of Light? They wouldn't have succumbed to a mere beast so easily. Perhaps instead of slaying royals on the Emperor’s behalf, an absolute restriction simply forbade the beast from touching the reigning Emperor and Empress while leaving every other royal fair game. In fact, that seemed far more plausible.
“Besides, there was always the chance it might have attacked Prince Adrian instead of me or Prince Brian,” I pointed out gently. “Your Majesty took just as much of a risk as I did, didn’t you?”
“I merely came to a fresh realization,” she replied, her gaze unreadable as she studied me intently. “That clinging desperately to keep everything from slipping through your fingers is precisely how you end up losing it all.”
A faint sigh lingered in the Empress's voice.
“Even so, your composure is remarkable. Adrian and Brian have at least received training in swordsmanship. You, on the other hand, have never swung a blade in your life—and only recently escaped a demonic beast with your skin intact.”
My expression stiffened. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t worried. Fearing the beast might indeed turn on me, I had borrowed a little insurance.
“……”
I couldn't quite conceal the troubled glance I cast toward the pristine white cloth draped over my shoulders. None other than Gloriana’s Insignia.
Having endured countless ages, it truly lived up to its reputation as a divine relic. Even if the Insignia hardly resembled an actual weapon, it gleamed with an immaculate, radiant white sheen. It looked part decorative tapestry, part light mantle meant to rest effortlessly across one's shoulders. The delicate strip of white fabric was just large enough to wrap snugly around my shoulders, its golden tassels glimmering softly with every slight movement.
After the Emoticon Sword had babbled on about trials and worthy masters, I hadn't wanted to touch the thing at all. Frankly, I had expected my request to be flatly ignored, or met with sneering contempt—something along the lines of, Did you really think we would just hand over such a priceless treasure on a whim?
Who knew they would just hand it over the moment I tentatively asked if I might borrow it? What on earth was I supposed to do with this level of trust?
At any rate, the tome I had borrowed back then noted that this relic afforded its bearer a modest degree of protection. More accurately, it seemed calibrated toward those who had awakened the Power of Light. Still, figuring that having it was vastly better than having nothing, I had slung it on.
I gave a light shrug.
“I simply put my faith in Prince Brian’s utter foolishness. Unlike me, he has never faced a true crisis in his life.”
Naturally, there were informants planted at Prince Brian’s side, courtesy of the Empress and the Castrein Duchy. And Brian was notoriously impressionable. If someone remarked on the lovely weather and proposed a hunt, off to the woods he went; if they later murmured that the game seemed dreadful today and suggested drinks instead, he would eagerly ditch the hunt to go carousing.
Consort Cleo, who had intended to bring the High Priest to the Empress’s Palace to determine whether I was cursed—purifying, healing, and waking me in the process—rarely involved her son in her schemes. That was hardly surprising; Brian possessed even less wit than his mother. Though he tried his best to flatter and appease the Emperor, his attempts were laughably clumsy. Had the Emperor not viewed him through rose-tinted glasses—doting on him as his darling, precious boy—the prince’s shallow incompetence would have been laid bare long ago.
Furthermore, whenever a crisis erupted, the consort took the brunt of it upon herself, fiercely insulating her son from the fallout.
Well, that’s not how the world works.
Did she truly think she could pull every dirty trick in the book while keeping her precious boy completely untouched? Ridiculous.
What Prince Brian had experienced today unfolded precisely as follows.
Heeding Consort Cleo’s warning to keep a low profile, Brian had intended to spend the day resting in his quarters. Come morning, however, a hunting companion arrived in a flurry of excitement, spinning a clumsy, perforated tale: ‘I spotted a wolf with the most breathtaking golden mane! A beast unlike anything anyone has ever seen! But it was wounded in the hunting grounds near the palace and fled. It might even have slipped past the palace gates!’
By all reasonable logic, how could that make any sense?
Well… fine. The Imperial Palace was vast. It was conceivable that a wild beast might slip over the perimeter walls under cover of night, evading watchful eyes to hide somewhere in the expansive gardens. But then the instigator skillfully stoked Brian's vanity: ‘Because its trail vanished right near the palace, of all places, the other avid hunters are beside themselves with regret. After all, no one is permitted to draw a weapon inside the palace walls, are they?’
A creature whose striking coat hinted at demonic blood, already critically injured. A quarry hidden within the palace grounds, entirely off-limits to ordinary nobles restricted to the royal hunting preserves. If only he could bring it down, it would be a triumph worth bragging about to the Emperor.
Yes. If only he could catch it.
And so, Brian walked straight into the snare.
‘It would be such a pity if such a magnificent quarry were simply slaughtered by some mindless sentry or palace guard. They wouldn’t understand its true worth at all!’
With that final bit of flattery thoroughly priming him, Prince Brian slipped out without a word to his personal escort or the stationed guards, armed and prowling the palace corridors entirely alone. The Empress had timed the release of the demonic beast to coincide with the precise moment his calculated path brought him closest to the Hall of Glory—while I, of course, had already fled far from the scene.
The beast bolted straight for Brian.
The instant the magnificent wolf with the golden mane materialized, Brian drew his blade in sheer delight. Contrary to the rumors, however, the creature bore not a single scratch. Worse still, the ferocious aura radiating from it was far too terrifying for an ordinary beast. Brian couldn't even manage a single proper swing.
This was a prince whose hunting experience consisted of bringing an entourage of dozen men to loose arrows, terrify, herd, and trap quarry until it was cornered and helpless before stepping in to slit its throat. Taking down a demonic beast that had closed the distance on him alone? It was impossible.
Terror seized Brian instantly, sending him scrambling in flight.
Naturally, when a screeching prince ran past wailing, “Is anyone there?! Somebody save me! Please! Aaaaargh!” there were guards and knights who rushed forward to intercept the threat. Cleo’s hand-picked personal guard, having just realized their charge had slipped away, threw themselves between the prince and the beast.
Brian bolted without looking back, leaving his personal guard to be butchered in his stead. But the beast was overwhelmingly powerful; it tore through the escort in the blink of an eye and resumed its relentless pursuit of the prince.
Consumed by blind panic, Brian sprinted forward with zero regard for his surroundings, plunging headlong toward the Maze Garden—his retreat having been subtly cut off according to a precalculated route.
Thanks to the Castrein Duchy pouring blood and sweat into maintaining the Barrier and holding the absolute front lines against the horrors of the north, the major cities and the imperial capital enjoyed relative safety from demonic beasts. The sight of nobles leisurely enjoying driven hunts in royal preserves and noble ladies hosting lavish outdoor banquets spoke volumes of that peace.
Yet that did not mean demonic beasts were completely absent. Faintly mutated creatures—weak enough that ordinary city constables could easily dispatch them—appeared from time to time. They were so close to ordinary wild beasts that people barely classified them as demonic threats, possessing scarcely enough dark essence to even form a core.
Under such circumstances, how could Consort Cleo or Prince Brian ever comprehend the true horror of a demonic beast?
They were reckless enough to smuggle an artifact saturated with dark power into the palace just to fabricate a curse. They hadn't the faintest idea what they were meddling with.
For generations, the members of the Castrein family had learned how to combat demonic beasts through harrowing, bone-carving discipline, accumulated know-how, and sheer experience. The same held true for their mastery of power—they understood intimately how to wield their abilities to minimize civilian casualties and efficiently exterminate their foes. The Castrein Duchy could track beasts down like vermin, dissect their behaviors, and even orchestrate strategies to turn beast against beast precisely because they were, in every sense of the word, specialists.
Whoever Consort Cleo had allied herself with, there was no way they possessed the depth of knowledge the Castreins commanded. Yet driven purely by the obsession to strike down our side, Cleo had struck a bargain with exceedingly dangerous entities.
The Castrein Duchy had acted swiftly to identify the nature of the ‘cursed evidence’ Cleo had obtained. More accurately, they had deduced it—and arrived at the conclusion that it was extraordinarily hazardous.
It was essentially an explosive, densely packed with dark energy.