Chapter 356 - 343: Shadow before the Throne
"Let him in."
Morne withdrew his gaze from the blizzard, turning to resume his seat on the throne. All emotion drained from his face, his customary composure returning.
A travel-worn messenger, his cheeks flushed red from the biting cold, hurried into the tent. Dropping to one knee, he held up a letter sealed with a wax emblem, his voice trembling from both the chill and his excitement.
"Your Majesty! By order of Her Highness Princess Gloria, I present an urgent message!"
Morne nodded slightly. Enrique stepped forward, took the letter, and respectfully presented it to the King.
Morne’s gaze fell on the unique wax seal. He ran a fingertip over it gently before neatly breaking the seal and opening the envelope.
The tent fell silent for a moment, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the letter being unfolded and the ceaseless howl of the blizzard outside.
Morne’s eyes quickly scanned the elegant yet firm handwriting of Gloria on the parchment.
Unlike Enrique’s concise report, the letter was extremely detailed.
In just a few moments, the King had grasped the full picture of the war in the East.
"The Abyss..."
Morne muttered to himself, his gaze shifting from the letter to the wound on his left arm, which still ached faintly and was shrouded in an ominous aura.
A smile, a mixture of cold mockery and understanding, touched his lips.
"Heh. To think that besides those deluded Beastmen in the north, there are humans who would willingly worship such a foul Power. That fellow Anno... is a complete and utter fool."
His voice was low, yet it carried an icy decisiveness.
He then looked up, his gaze sweeping over Enrique who stood waiting for orders, and his command was clear and firm.
"Send the order: the entire army is to prepare. At dawn tomorrow, we march back to the Royal Capital."
「Almost at the same moment, far away in the heartland of the Golden Valley Kingdom, within the magnificent Golden Ears City, a city rife with undercurrents, another storm was brewing.」
The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across the heavy atmosphere of the council hall.
Several elderly nobles sat like statues on either side, their faces looking unusually pale in the flickering light.
Prince Lucius, nearly seventy years old, tightly clutched a secret report just delivered by a trusted subordinate.
The color was slowly draining from his well-preserved face, now etched with fine wrinkles.
News of the rout on the Eastern Front, Duke Anno’s unknown fate, and the unstoppable advance of Gloria and Duke’s combined forces struck him like a series of thunderclaps.
"Useless! Anno, that useless fool blinded by greed!" Lucius hissed through his teeth.
"To fall so easily into the trap set by Gloria and Duke!"
But his loss of composure was fleeting.
He took a deep breath, quickly regaining his usual icy expression, and turned to a soldier standing by, ordering in a low voice.
"Go to the tower at once and ask those bookworms how much longer they intend to delay the matter I assigned them."
The soldier bowed, accepted the order, and quickly withdrew.
The hall fell into a dead silence again, leaving only the soft CRACKLE of firewood in the hearth.
Lucius scanned the nobles seated before him, their undisguised alarm clear to see. He knew exactly what was on their minds.
The true source of their fear was not from the East.
Gloria and Duke’s combined army was nothing to be afraid of.
Although many elite troops from the Royal Capital’s heartland had been dispatched to support Anno on the Eastern Front, the standing legions and Transcendents loyal to the Royal Family who remained in Golden Ears City and its surrounding areas still held an absolute advantage in numbers and combat strength.
That force, cobbled together from border guards and the remnants of the Church’s soldiers, could not possibly shake the heart of the Kingdom.
The real threat had always come from the north.
Lucius knew better than anyone that the spies he had planted and the rumors he had spread could, at best, only create some insignificant trouble for his lion-like father and delay his return south.
He had meticulously planned this, hoping that Anno’s forces would clash with Morne’s returning army first. With two tigers fighting, he could then sit back and reap the rewards.
He had paid a hefty price for this, weaving what he believed to be an intricate web.
However, with Anno’s defeat and the successive loss of territories in the East, the web had torn before it could even catch its true prey.
His once-meticulous plan had now vanished into thin air.
A cold sense of failure and a strong premonition of crisis quietly tightened their grip on his heart.
Lucius’s icy gaze swept over the nobles present, his voice betraying no emotion.
"So, in the face of this situation, what brilliant ideas do you all have?"
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally, the most senior Count, a man with graying hair, spoke hesitantly.
"Your Highness... perhaps, we could take the initiative to confess everything to His Majesty the King and beg for his forgiveness. You are, after all, his eldest son, bound by blood... His Majesty surely wouldn’t be too harsh."
These words immediately drew murmurs of agreement from the others, as if they had just grasped at their only lifeline.
Lucius watched the group before him in silence, a sharp, cold sneer rising in his heart.
’I know them all too well.’
’For these nobles, the King might show leniency to maintain stability. At worst, they’d be stripped of their titles and imprisoned, but they would at least keep their lives.’
’Their earnest agreement now is only because they’ve already planned their escape route, ready to turn and wash their hands of me completely.’
’These turncoats. Have they ever had an ounce of true loyalty?’
’But for me, the eldest Prince who orchestrated everything, Morne will show no mercy.’
Lucius knew that in the eyes of his lofty father, the stability of the Kingdom and the sanctity of its laws were always paramount.
Any act that endangered the nation, regardless of who committed it, would never be tolerated.
In the face of the cornerstone of his iron-fisted rule, familial bonds seemed so pale and insignificant.
His thoughts drifted back many years.
To his younger brother, Adrian, who had once been hailed throughout the court as a "military genius."
For a single attempted rebellion, even though Adrian had already died during the pursuit, his body was brought back to the Royal Capital, dragged to the public square, and subjected to a public, symbolic flogging as a warning to others.
To this day, Lucius could still clearly remember the humiliating marks left on that cold body. A chill crept silently up his spine.
’If...’
’If all of Morne’s other children were dead, perhaps—just perhaps—the King might spare my life for the sake of his only heir.’
’But there just had to be one exception still alive.’
’A person I had never taken seriously, now closing in on the Royal Capital, riding a wave of victory.’
"Gloria..."
Lucius practically spat the name through clenched teeth, his tone thick with deep, repressed venom.
He had never imagined that this very young sister of his, who had almost no presence in the royal court, would one day become the deadliest sword hanging over his head.
Just as Lucius was lost in his bitter and resentful thoughts, a messenger hurried in, knelt on one knee, and reported.
"Your Highness! A small party has appeared outside the city! The man leading them claims to be Duke Anno and is demanding entry!"
Lucius’s eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flashing within them.
He did not believe it immediately, instead ordering in a deep voice.
"Confirm his identity carefully. Find out the number of his entourage and their condition."
A moment later, the soldier returned, confirming that the arrival was indeed Duke Anno himself, accompanied by only a few retainers.
Lucius mulled it over for a second, then waved his hand.
"Open the city gate. Let him in, and have him come see me directly."
The wait in the council hall stretched on, until an elderly noble couldn’t help but yawn. It was then that the sound of unhurried footsteps finally came from outside the door.
Lucius looked up.
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the doorway.
His silhouette was somewhat blurry in the dim light, but Lucius could vaguely make out Anno’s tall frame.
However, when the man stepped fully into the council hall and the bright candlelight clearly illuminated his face, Lucius couldn’t help but let out a low, questioning grunt.
The Anno before him was completely different from the defeated, disheveled fugitive he had imagined.
His clothes were neat and clean, showing almost no signs of a long journey.
Not only was his face not haggard, it held an unnatural rosy complexion. His eyes were sharp, and his Spirit seemed even more vigorous than ever before.
What made Lucius even more vaguely uneasy was the feeling that there was an indescribable difference about the Anno standing before him.
On that face, usually stern and unsmiling, there was now a faint...
...elusive, mocking expression.
The curve of his lips held a playful quality, as if he were enjoying the lingering panic on the faces of everyone in the hall.