The night before the coronation felt colder than usual. In Vaine-Castell, Anne Marie Vain did not sleep. She stood before a massive map table, shifting miniature wooden pawns representing the Northern army and the Western logistics fleet.
Click.
The sound of her pocket watch echoed. Anne stared straight ahead as Julian entered, fresh from the latest intelligence report at the Cathedral.
"William knows, doesn't he?" Anne asked without turning.
Julian hesitated for a moment, then gave a heavy nod. "He allowed Harold to meet the girl. The garden guards were intentionally pulled back two minutes before the General arrived. William wants Harold to give that crystal to Rainnes."
Anne closed her eyes, her fingers tapping the wooden surface of the table. "He wants the 'Destruction' to happen. William doesn't intend to use Rainnes to siphon the people's energy forever. He wants to trigger a frequency blast large enough to erase the entire Capital, leaving only the Cathedral as the sole survivor."
"Why would he want to destroy his own city?" Julian asked, looking horrified.
"Because he wants to be a God, Julian. And a God needs an apocalypse to build a new world," Anne turned, her eyes flashing behind her spectacles. "William wants to blame Harold for the explosion. He wants Harold to be the monster who slaughtered his own people with 'forbidden magic' from the North."
Meanwhile, in a damp dungeon on the outskirts of the Capital, Harold de Croul was performing his second task. Before him, bound to a wooden chair, was Master Valerius—the Architect of the Cathedral. The old man trembled, staring at Harold's black armor, which was still stained with garden mud.
"I won't say it!" Valerius sobbed. "William will kill my family if I reveal the organ's structure!"
Harold didn't shout. He simply picked up his small dagger and began sharpening it in front of Valerius' face. The sound of metal grating on stone was agonizing for Valerius' highly sensitive ears.
"Your family is already dead, Valerius," Harold said coldly. "William executed them this morning so no witnesses would remain to explain how the machine works. You are all that is left."
Valerius' eyes widened, his breath hitching. "No... he promised..."
"A de Croul's promise is gold, but William's promise is poison," Harold leaned in, his aura crushing the architect. "Tell me where the Core Vocal is located. If I can physically destroy the heart of the machine when Rainnes releases her wave, the blast won't spread to the civilian quarters. It will consume only the Cathedral."
Valerius bowed his head, his tears hitting the floor. "Beneath the Pope's pulpit... there is a crystal of liquid mercury. It is the nerve center. If you shatter it exactly when the Saintess reaches her high note... the machine will swallow itself."
In the East Wing Tower, Rainnes sat motionless. In her palm, the blue crystal Harold had given her pulsed softly in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The door to her room opened. William entered, carrying a tray with a glass of red wine and a piece of fragrant white bread.
"Eat, Rainnes," William said in the softest tone he had ever used. "Tomorrow is a great day. You need strength to deliver 'Salvation' to our people."
Rainnes stared at the bread. In her eyes, the bread emitted vibrations of suffering. She knew where this grain came from—from fields squeezed dry.
"Thank you, Prince," Rainnes replied faintly. She hid the blue crystal within the folds of her gown as William approached.
"You seem uneasy," William stroked Rainnes' cheek. "Did your meeting with my brother in the garden frighten you? Harold is crude; he tried to poison your mind, didn't he?"
Rainnes froze. Her heart hammered, a symphony of fear she desperately tried to conceal.
"Do not worry," William smiled, and this time the smile looked so genuine that it was a thousand times more terrifying. "I already know everything. Just do exactly what Harold commanded. Use the crystal tomorrow. I want you to do it."
William turned and walked out, leaving Rainnes trembling alone in the middle of the suffocating silence.
Tomorrow was not just a coronation. Tomorrow was the day this play would end in a pool of blood.