The old butler stared at Helio, his weathered face stilling as the raw weight of those words settled over the corridor.
There was no hesitation in Helio's posture—no flicker of second thoughts. He stood there bathed in the faint golden light of the upper hallway, looking every bit the ruthless partner Aefia had chosen to stand beside her.
"A silver platter..." the butler repeated softly, letting out a heavy, solemn breath that sounded half like a prayer and half like a sigh of resignation. "Then I shall pray the royal court has a sturdy table prepared for it, Your Grace."
Helio didn't offer a smirk this time. He simply gave a single, quiet nod, turned the key in the heavy iron lock of the second-floor vault, and pushed the door open.
Inside, beneath velvet cloths and sealed glass cases, lay the true reserves of the Archduchy—not gold or ornamental jewels, but refined magic stones, emergency communication arrays, and high-tier military movement maps that had been meticulously drawn by Aefia's own hand over the past three years.
He didn't waste time admiring the collection.
Helio moved with swift, practiced efficiency, gathering the necessary deployment scrolls and sweeping a heavy, dark travelling cloak over his shoulders. Slipping the iron border token into one pocket and the violet vial into the other, he felt the cool, contrasting weights against his ribs—one representing the empire's shadow, the other representing Aefia's sheer, uncompromising spite.
Cindy hovered near his ear, letting out a low, vibrating hum of anticipation as Helio stepped back out into the grand hallway and made his way toward the stables.
Meanwhile, miles away across the dense treeline of the eastern border, George rode under the cover of the gathering dusk, his mind a chaotic, burning storm.
The wind howled against his face, but he barely felt the chill. His fingers were clamped so tightly around his horse's leather reins that his knuckles were stark white.
"I know you are that person... That ###### Aefia keeps hearing... and the one she has even seen."
Helio's voice kept echoing in his mind, persistent and agonizing.
George slammed his eyes shut for a brief second, his heart thumping violently against his ribs. He had spent years maintaining the image of the dutiful, slightly aloof First Prince—the once golden heir who stayed far away from the dark, bloody underbelly of imperial politics. He had built layer upon layer of deception to ensure that no one, especially not his adoptive sister, ever linked him to the shadow network that quietly executed the Mides King's dirtiest directives.
And yet, Helio had seen right through it. Or worse—Aefia had known all along, silently carrying that knowledge with her into the enemy's lair.
"You arrogant, reckless fool," George muttered into the wind, unsure if he was referring to Helio, Aefia, or himself.
He pulled up on the reins as he reached the crest of the south-eastern ridge, looking down into the fog-draped valley that separated the Empire from Mides. Below, hidden among the pine trees, the campfire smoke of the third imperial border unit rose in thin, gray wisps.
George pulled his hood low over his face, his purple eyes gleaming with a cold, desperate resolve in the darkness. He had handed over the seal. He had set the dominoes in motion.
Now, all that was left was to ensure that when Helio crossed that river with an unbranded army, the Imperial Palace remained blissfully blind until the blood had already dried.
***
Deep beneath the royal palace of Mides, the heavy iron lock of the cell turned with a slow, grinding screech.
Aefia didn't open her eyes immediately. She remained seated on the edge of the stone cot, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her breathing slow and measured as the cold dampness of the dungeon seeped through her dark straight-leg trousers.
"Still maintaining that pathetic composure?" Kazimir's voice drifted in, laced with a smug, intoxicating high.
He stepped into the cell, his stride lighter, his posture brimming with an unnatural, soaring energy. His eyes carried a faint, iridescent crimson sheen—a grotesque, unstable reflection of the Guardian magic he had injected into his veins earlier that afternoon. He looked like a man drunk on power he hadn't earned, completely blind to the slight tremor in his own fingertips.
"You look well, Kazimir," Aefia said softly, her voice raspy yet smooth, opening her eyes to look at him with complete, detached boredom. "Though your pulse seems a bit violent. Answer me this... Is your heart pounding from triumph, or is it struggling to pump fuel that is far too heavy for your mortal veins?"
Kazimir's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening before he forced a dark, arrogant laugh. "It is the sound of absolute strength, Princess. A strength that will soon belong entirely to me."
He stepped closer, reaching out to grip her jaw, but Aefia didn't flinch. She simply stared up at him, her garnet eyes hollow, containing that quiet, predatory glint that made his skin prickle.
"Enjoy the high while it lasts," she whispered softly, her lips curving into a thin, chilling smile beneath his grip. "Because when the host finally rejects the graft... the fire doesn't just burn the blood. It consumes the whole house."
Kazimir scoffed, shoving her face away as he turned back toward the door. "Save your riddles for the scaffold, Aefia. Tomorrow, we take twice as much."
The iron door slammed shut, and silence reclaimed the ward once more.
Puppet popped its plush head out from under the blanket, looking toward the door and then back at her pale face. "He is getting worse, Aefia. He is actually going crazy."
Aefia leaned her head back against the stone wall, her eyes closing as she let out a low, barely audible chuckle.
"Let him," she murmured softly into the dark. She sighed, then stood up, dusting her clothes. She tapped her chin, deep in thoughts. "Helio should be arriving at the border right about now... and he never keeps a king waiting."
***
"Two floors left..."
Scratch. Tap. Click.
"Then five steps to the right. Three to the right... We are here." Aefia whispered, clenching her cloak tightly as she reached out her hand towards a tree that was positioned beside a certain room.
"What are you even planning to do?" Puppet quietly asked.
Without answered, she dug her fingers into the soil in the pot. Her fingertips touched something heavy and metallic. Her eyes widening slightly in excitement as she yanked it out.
"The key to the room."
Just as she was about to reach the key to the lock, multiple pairs of footsteps came from the end of the hall.
Without even thinking twice, she rushed towards a dim alcove and hid there.
"I heard that the Princess in the dungeons is bound to be executed soon. But no one knows when. Although... The public is worried after the mess she had created the last time. I doubt it will even be safe to have her killed." A guard spoke.
"Well, we don't know what other trick she has up her sleeves. But I am thinking that since she clearly meant it that she was going to destroy this Kingdom to the ground... We ought to take things seriously." The other spoke.
Aefia held her breath, pressing her back flush against the cold stone of the alcove until the rough surface bit through the thin fabric of her cloak.
Puppet froze inside the inner lining of her hood, going completely limp and still, pretending to be nothing more than an ornamental cloth doll.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of armored boots echoed through the hallway, slowing down just a few paces from where she stood hidden in the shadows. The pale moonlight filtering through the high arched window caught the glint of their iron pikes, casting long, swaying shadows across the corridor floor.
"If she dies, she becomes a martyr for the Archduchy," the first guard grumbled, his voice low and laced with an underlying thread of genuine anxiety. "Trinvina's ports are already closed down tight. I heard from my cousin at the southern outpost that the border troops are pulling back... but not to retreat. They are gathering."
"Let them gather," the second guard replied, though his tone lacked any real confidence. "His Majesty has the Guardian's core now. What can a bunch of duchy knights do against that kind of power? Once the execution is finalized, Mides won't need to fear Trinvina—or the Imperial Palace."
Aefia's dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of the alcove, her lips curving into an almost imperceptible, cold smile.
So Kazimir is already parading his stolen high to the guard, she thought, her fingers tightening around the cold, mud-caked iron key in her palm. How remarkably predictable.
They didn't realize that the power Kazimir was so proudly flaunting was currently rotting his veins from the inside out. Nor did they know that the "bunch of duchy knights" they dismissed were being led by a man who had brought a bottle of her own specialized violet poison directly to their doorstep.
The footsteps finally began to fade, drifting down the west wing toward the central guard post.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
Silence reclaimed the hallway.
Aefia waited five excruciating seconds, listening to the faint whistling of the mid-autumn wind against the windowpane before stepping smoothly out of the shadow.
"That was close," Puppet squeaked softly, its tiny plush head popping back up from her hood. "Are you sure this key even still works? You hid it here almost two years ago during your first embassy visit!"
"I had placed a preservative magic onto the metal, so it should work even now," Aefia whispered calmly, stepping back toward the potted tree and sliding the iron key into the small, brass keyhole hidden beneath the door's decorative molding. "Kazimir may have changed the palace guards, but he never had the intelligence to rewrite the underlying schematics. I doubt he even checks this room. Only Cedric knows what is inside for now."
Click.
The heavy oak door unlocked with a soft, satisfying release of tension. Aefia slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind her until it latched without a sound.
The room was dark, smelled faintly of stale parchment and dried lavender, and remained completely untouched—exactly as she had left it.
"Now then," Aefia murmured, walking toward the center of the dark room where a large, velvet-covered table sat beneath the moonlight. She pulled her hood back, her garnet eyes fixing on a rolled up log of paper resting on the desk.
With a flick of her wrist, the paper lifted from the ground and unrolled itself, levitating in the air just near her face.
The real map of the entire Mides territory.
The ink lines glowed with a faint, crimson luminescence beneath the silver moonlight, tracing every hidden vein, forgotten aqueduct, and ancient subterranean passage of Mides in excruciating detail.
"Woah," Puppet whispered, hovering closer to the floating parchment as its tiny plush arms reached out to touch the glowing borders. "You really mapped out the entire under-grid? Even the forgotten mountain passages?"
"No. It wasn't me. It was a trusted someone else," she answered back. "I told you before that Cedric is the one who showed me here, I did nothing to this room or to this building."
This map was no ordinary blueprint; it was an ancestral artifact bound by blood, directly synced to the life signals of the Mides royal bloodline. Small, distinct crimson dots flickered across the surface, marking the physical presence and whereabouts of every true member of the royal family.
Aefia traced her fingers along the outer edges of the map, far beyond the kingdom's borders. Three specific dots—representing Prince Cedric, the Queen Mother, and Princess Rosetta—were settled far outside the Mides territory, frozen in a dormant state deep within the neutral zone.
A faint breath of relief escaped her lips.
Good, she thought, her expression softening for a fraction of a second. Cedric was smart enough to get them out before the trap closed. That leaves only one blood dot inside the castle.
Near the center of the palace schematic, a bloated, violent crimson mark throbbed unevenly—Kazimir. The dot flickered with a dark, chaotic frequency, perfectly reflecting his frantic heart rate and the unstable, stolen Guardian magic currently decaying his body from the inside out.
She couldn't help but grin, half-excited and half-angered.
"You fucking bastard..." She whispered into the air, her fists clenching at her side. "You freaking pain in the bones... Hope you die a terrible death—no. Hope I get to wring out your neck someday, and draw out the blood inside of you like water from a cloth."
A loathsome chuckle bubbled out of her throat.
"You fucking bitch. You stole my engagement ring and sold it. You stole my blood too. Yet... It is still not enough. Is it? How about this?"
She lifted her hand and pressed her finger against the dot on the paper, just hard enough to leave a dent too.
"Since you think my blood is strengthening you... I will put more of my powers into your veins. That way... You are bound to drop unconscious and cough up blood with your body burning up in temperature. Just like how you have been doing to me in the cell for the past two months."
***
Kazimir's voice tore through the night in a raw scream of agony.
The stolen essence in his body turned instantly volatile. The delicate blood vessels across his neck and temples ruptured beneath his skin, bursting into dark, feverish contusions as his body temperature spiked to lethal levels.
He collapsed onto the marble floor of his bedchamber, clutching his burning chest, coughing up thick, black droplets of blood as his vision blurred into absolute chaos.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, what's happening?!" the captain of the guard screamed, slamming the chamber doors open, only to recoil in terror as heat radiated off the King's skin like an open forge.
"Get... get the healers!" Kazimir gasped, his nails tearing into his own throat as he thrusted himself against the floor, his lungs burning as if filled with molten lead. "She's... she's probably doing something... The bitch is—"
A violent spasm cut off his words, violently locking his jaw shut as he went rigid, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he slouched into a state of unconsciousness.