Queens District.
The vast Loen royal palace had suffered widespread destruction and collapse during last night's clash — all of it the work of demigods from the Castia and Tamara families.
The Loen royal family and MI9 had deployed their own demigods too, but had taken heavy losses, because, according to the original plan, Sequence 2 Lord Derek Augustus should have arrived as reinforcement — and yet, all the way to the end of the fighting, he'd never once shown up.
That left the ones who'd fought and bled feeling betrayed, abandoned — though none of them dared show it openly, resentment simmered beneath the surface all the same.
Inside the half-collapsed Sodolak Palace, George III sat on his throne in Loen's royal robes, his expression cold, saying nothing for a long stretch of time as he stared at the Earl of the Palace before him.
"Your Majesty, representatives from the three great churches are waiting outside for your explanation," the Earl said, sweat beading on his forehead.
"An explanation? Prince Edsac, seduced by a witch, conspiring with a cult, colluding with foreign powers to attempt rebellion — that's the explanation! I've already issued a warrant for his arrest. What more explanation do they want?!" George III's fury erupted suddenly.
His tone abruptly softened. "Tell them I'm agreeing to everything they've previously demanded. If they want a new order — fine, I'll give them a new order."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Once the Earl had withdrawn, George III's eyes lowered slightly, and he said, flat, "Ancestor. Any luck identifying that man's true identity?"
William Augustus flickered into view beside George III, shaking his head. "He used the Faceless's ability to alter his appearance — every identity he'd shown before was fake."
He paused, then added, pointedly, "When he first appeared, he used a connection through Earl Hall to secure a position as a Prosecutor, working out of the East District's Prosecutor's Office — where he worked alongside your daughter for a time."
"Later, your son invited him back to Red Rose Manor."
"???"
George III froze. He'd assumed Edsac's actions were purely him being set up to take the fall — but now it seemed his own son might not have been entirely clean in all this, either.
"Have Edsac and his sister been found yet?"
"You'd have to ask MI9 about that."
"How is Duke Derek doing?"
"Alive. But not much better than dead. The two of us only got grazed by that flame, and it still left us in agony, damaging our very souls. Derek had his entire body burned away outright — his soul still carries a heavy residue of that fire, burning through it, unceasing, to this day."
"..."
George III pressed a hand to his forehead.
"None of that actually matters, in the end."
William Augustus said, low. "What matters is the tomb that got destroyed. Feysac will declare war on Loen within six months at the latest. Without that tomb, how exactly do you plan to ascend to Black Emperor?"
After a long silence, George III said, "Could we make use of that underground tomb Tudor left behind, beneath Williams Street?"
"All I can say is — it's worth trying."
George III made his decision. "Then let's prepare both paths."
He lifted his head, his face set with resolve. "I will succeed at this. No matter what."
...
South Bridge District, the Harvest Church.
Emlyn White, dressed in a priest's robe, stood in the kitchen, tossing various herbs into a large iron pot from time to time, stirring, then pouring the mixture into glass cups, handing them out one by one.
It had been a while now since he'd walked free of that dungeon.
But damn it all, he couldn't seem to stop himself from wanting to come back here, somehow ending up transformed from a noble member of the bloodline into some priest doing odd jobs around the church.
Emlyn swore he absolutely hated this role.
"Father White, thank you so much — I feel so much better already!"
A frail, shabbily dressed woman bowed repeatedly to Emlyn in gratitude. Emlyn lifted his chin, replying with a dismissive air, "This is a trivial matter, hardly worth thanking me for. Honestly, you people have no sense of perspective at all."
With that, in noticeably good spirits, he sped up his pace, handing out the potion faster.
Nearly every time he handed one out, he was met with a wave of gratitude and praise, and gradually, he found himself losing track of his own resentment entirely, working like a tireless ox, without a hint of fatigue.
That was, until he made his way to the very front of the church, closest to the holy radiance, and spotted a woman in a black dress, hands clasped together, forehead bowed in devout prayer.
He hesitated a moment, then cleared his throat. "Ma'am, care for a cup of medicine?"
The woman in black lifted her head. "No need, thank you."
Even Emlyn, who typically only had eyes for dolls, found himself genuinely taken aback at the sight of her face — not because it was beautiful to some extraordinary degree, but because she seemed utterly unlike any woman he'd ever encountered before.
"I hear the priest here is a follower of the Mother Goddess?"
Luna asked, quiet.
"Huh? Is that right? I wouldn't know."
Emlyn scratched his head, pointing toward the church's inner courtyard. "You could just go ask him directly — he's over there, preparing food for the believers... oh, here he comes."
Father Trafsky hurried over, his expression urgent, and instructed Emlyn first. "Go keep an eye on the kitchen for me for a bit."
"???"
Emlyn was stunned. "You're asking a vampire to help you cook?"
Father Trafsky reached out a hand the size of a fan and gave Emlyn's shoulder a light push, the way an adult might shoo away a pestering child, sending him stumbling forward a few steps. "Go on, Emlyn."
Furious, Emlyn shot back over his shoulder, "Fine, I'll go!!!"
"Your Highness, the Mother Goddess has told me why you've come."
Father Trafsky said, looking at Luna with kindly warmth. "She says the man you're looking for disappeared while planning something of tremendous importance — and that he must have left some kind of contingency behind at the time, though even she doesn't know exactly what."
"..."
This much, she already knew. She looked toward the Earth Mother Goddess's holy radiance, as if asking directly: "What kind of important matter would make him abandon his own child without a second thought?"
Father Trafsky said, quiet, "Saving himself."
"Saving himself?"
The answer genuinely caught her off guard — hard to make sense of, even. But the priest clearly wasn't planning to explain any further.
Luna gave a small nod. "I understand. Thank you."
She rose, walking at an unhurried pace toward the church's entrance. A ray of morning sunlight spilled down, casting a faint golden glow across her face, making her already striking beauty even more radiant.
Just as she was about to leave, she noticed a carriage pull up, and a familiar figure step down from it — Emperor Roselle's daughter, Bernadette.
Their eyes met. Vincent's body went rigid for a moment, then, from a distance, gave a small, polite nod in greeting.
Luna returned the nod, and her figure blurred, vanishing.
"Scared the hell out of me!"
Vincent let out a breath. "For a second there I thought she'd seen through who I really was."
"What's so scary about it? She's your daughter. What's she really going to do to you?"
"Heh."
You never know.
To be continued…
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