April 4: King Paris launched Operation “Recast.” The capital’s fifty thousand elites mobilized, swept the Royal Isle, and arrested citizens and nobles under the banner of “eradicating evil.”
April 5: Duke Lucas was found dead in his manor, sudden and violent. He had defied Paris the day before; the truth was plain to see.
April 7: Paris promoted Velledo to Commander of the Heavenly Dragon Corps. Ten thousand elites fell under her command. The White Dragon Legion, steeped in shadow for years, leapt into the Royal Knights—its status unprecedented.
April 8: The old Royal Guard was dissolved and renamed “Divine Proxy.” Ginsley took the Eye of the Divine, Fast the Arm, Rams the Leg. The Erene Commander kept his post but rose to Grand Marshal, granted authority to direct the overall commanders of the Dike Guard and Erene Guard.
The Dike Guard pushed back hard. It clashed with Talant’s role, Paris’s move a naked bid to sideline and seize Dike power.
Under pressure from the Dike Guard and public opinion, Paris offered his first concession. He claimed the Grand Marshal’s rank only matched Talant’s; orders would still require Talant’s consent.
April 10: Paris didn’t slow—he surged. In a single week, over ten high-born nobles were demoted on “fabricated” charges, sent back to the islands, or clapped in irons.
That same day, Medith sent a swift missive. She briefly outlined the recent turmoil, told them not to worry about her, and offered condolences to Melia. She sternly warned the Queen not to contact the Eastern Nation’s new king for now. Don’t believe a word he says.
April 20: After half a month of blood and broom, many nobles read the wind and bent the knee. Paris had prepared everything. He took the throne and swapped the blood. Within the palace, only two kinds remained: those who obeyed Paris, and those who obeyed him to his face.
Neutral and defiant nobles were either purged or exiled in disgrace.
With terrifying methods, overwhelming force, and a grinding tide of public opinion, Paris took the palace cleanly. In barely two weeks, the Royal Capital fell into his hand.
In this, the greatest help wasn’t Erene—it was the people. Across the realm, a chorus of grievances rose. Countless grandees showed their true faces. Under Paris’s sweeping purge, by May 1 he had banked a vast store of hearts. All of Eunomia saw the new king’s thunder-bold stride and iron hand.
The people’s lost faith began to warm. Though the deaths of Ostos and Emperor Aelius set the nation wailing, as if doom hung at the door,
the killer “met justice.” The new king was royal-blooded—his lineage beyond dispute. His remedy was fierce and efficient; even Elyu and Ostos’s “accidental deaths” loosened their knot of grief.
The land began to thaw. People stepped out of mourning and returned to work under the new king’s rule.
Everything seemed to turn toward a kinder light.
...
“My father was murdered… It was definitely Paris! He dared kill his own father and brother—what wouldn’t he do?
I’ll kill him! I’ll unite every blood-allied noble and everyone who knows the truth to topple that damned hypocrite king!” A handsome, wavy-haired youth spoke, tears brimming with rage.
From his bearing, he was the mirror of Duke Lucas.
The room was drowned in shadow. Only candlelight brushed the faces of nearly twenty grandees. They looked spent, minds gnawed by relentless dread.
“We gather because our hearts align. The deaths of Ostos and Emperor Aelius were not mere accidents…”
“Agreed. Eunomia’s history spans millennia. Never have we seen a Meteor fall so precise. A natural disaster? Don’t forget who holds the commander’s banner now.”
“I concur. Hippo was seen through in his youth by His Majesty, which is why he was bound to the capital for thirty-five years. Who would have thought… His Majesty stayed kind once, granting him such power—that was the sole mistake of his life.”
“Only… the punishment for that mistake feels too heavy, doesn’t it?”
The last words dropped, and the air tightened. A chill slipped in; the candle flame wavered. That shivering light mirrored their plight—ready to gutter out at any moment.
“No matter what, we must dig out the truth. Find proof strong enough to show the world. Only then can we defeat him.”
“Mm… That man is no longer the crown prince I knew—headstrong, ambitious, yet worthy of trust.”
“Do you know the feeling of being played by one man, beaten like a drum, and never noticing? It’s terrifying. Since the Sya City Incident—no—he laid the whole war ten years ago. He simulated storm after sudden storm and every variable.
He may have foreseen all this.”
“I never believed in gods, nor in prophecy or specters. Across the world, none of us—nor any ally—can suppress him, let alone defeat him.
Only that female Sprite…”
“Medith? If it’s her… she could, indeed…”
They gazed at a scrap of reports stitched into a corner of intel. A few lines said Medith had voiced her doubts right after the siege. Back then, no one cared, not even the king.
Now her words turned prophetic. With the ending laid bare, they couldn’t help but wonder—if Medith had led the investigation herself, what then?
They didn’t know, and had no need to. Facts are facts. Lamenting yesterday changes nothing. Only fixing our errors lets us walk into tomorrow.
“Gentlemen, many of us barely know one another, or not at all. Yet darkness cannot swallow all light. Even if only dusk remains, we’ll avenge Their Majesties.
Inside the palace, tread lightly. It’s snakes and scorpions everywhere. One misstep and you’re dead. May the day come when blade in hand, we stand shoulder to shoulder and slay the Paris cur!”
“May the glory of Eunomia endure!”
...
After the meeting, a duke barely past twenty, draped in star-blue silk, crept toward a hidden alley, glancing back every third step. He pried open a warped plank, pulled out a carrier pigeon, tied a note to its leg, and lifted it to the sky. A dagger punched through his back. His eyes flew wide as he strained to look behind.
He fell forward before he could see the face.
“So, there was a rat…”
“Good thing you’re seasoned, Duke Alfred. Otherwise, the fallout would be dire…”
“Step by step, then. If possible… once that one returns, we may have a turn.”
Two middle-aged men, silent during the meeting, fished a pouch of coins from his breast. They took a handful and flung them in messy scatter, tossed the dagger by the corpse, and strode away at speed...
