Chapter 70
Intrusion
The snow-white hair itself wasn’t much of a problem.
Neither were the vacant, unfocused eyes, nor the slackened mouth.
The greatest problem was the smell.
The stench of filth that clung to the Duke.
It meant the Duke of Piellion was no longer even able to clean his own waste.
“Ah, again…”
The butler muttered with a face turned pale, before hurrying off to call the attendants.
“It clearly seemed as though he had regained his consciousness back then…”
Decan trailed off.
It was Decan who had said that Lasilia possessed the power to counter the demons’ influence. Thanks to her, both Ivet and Serven had been spared. He believed the same could be true for the Duke of Piellion.
“So it seemed,” Lasilia said as she looked down at the Duke.
Decan raised his brows.
“…Ah. Do you sense something, Your Majesty?”
“Quite the opposite. I sense nothing at all. There’s no trace of demonic power.”
“I see… Then His Grace the Duke is now…”
“Perhaps it is simply illness. Unless my eyes deceive me, he looks far older than just a few days ago.”
“To me as well. His whitened hair too… Perhaps losing consciousness so often has drained his vitality.”
“Most likely.”
Unlike what she had once felt from Ivet and Serven, there was no unnatural aura about the Duke now. He simply looked… much older.
“I have a very bad feeling about this. Could it be that when magic manifests, it consumes a human’s life force? The imperial tailor’s death could be explained that way as well.”
“But Lady Shuraiden and Sir Sigres didn’t suffer such effects.”
“The two of them were only briefly exposed to its influence. Thankfully, Her Majesty the Empress was present at the time.”
Decan was saying this when—
“…Dialena?”
The Duke’s eyes suddenly lit with focus. What he fixed them on was Lasilia.
“Dialena?”
Puzzled at the unfamiliar name, Lasilia turned to Decan. He swiftly explained.
“That is the name of the late Duchess.”
“The Duchess…?”
So the Duke could no longer distinguish between his dead wife and his daughter. Decan’s face darkened.
“Regrettably, it seems His Grace has developed dementia.”
“Dialena!”
Suddenly, the Duke grasped Lasilia’s arm with astonishing strength.
“Ugh—”
“Your Majesty!”
Decan tried to pry the Duke’s hand off her, but he refused to let go.
The Duke’s face twisted in fury as he shouted at Lasilia—no, at the “Duchess” before him.
“Tell me where you’ve hidden it! Quickly!”
“…?”
“You know it cannot be hidden! We must find it, now!”
Decan seized the Duke from behind.
“Your Grace, release your hand! That is not the Duchess, but Her Majesty the Empress!”
With force, Decan pulled him away. The Duke struggled violently, crying even louder:
“We must find it and destroy it—kill it for good!”
“…Kill it?”
His words made Decan falter.
The Duchess had hidden something. The Duke had to find it. And to “destroy” it meant killing—so whatever she had hidden was a person.
But the Duchess had died over twenty years ago. Few still lived who would know what she had concealed. Now, with the Duke’s dementia, an ancient secret of the Piellion house threatened to be exposed.
“Who is it you must find?”
Gesturing Decan to stand aside, Lasilia pressed the Duke.
It was a matter from long ago, but if he spoke of killing someone who had once threatened the throne, she could not simply ignore it.
“Is this person still alive?”
Freed again, the Duke gripped her with dreadful force.
“You know as well as I, Dialena! If that child still lives, they will always be a threat—not only to the Empress of Carthi but to our entire house!”
“What…?”
Startled, Lasilia flinched. The Duke pulled at her so hard her sleeve tore with a sharp rip.
Decan quickly shoved him back and caught her.
“Your Majesty! Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. But I need to hear more of the Duke’s words. If someone exists who threatens the throne, it’s something I must know.”
“I agree. With your permission, I will attempt something.”
“You have it.”
Nodding, Decan turned back to the Duke.
But already, the Duke’s eyes had gone vacant again.
Decan placed a hand upon his head and muttered an incantation.
The air around them rippled strangely, but only for a moment—
“Urgh!”
The Duke suddenly shut his eyes and collapsed. Decan quickly laid him down and checked his pulse.
“His body is too frail. He lost consciousness before the spell could take hold.”
“…How unfortunate.”
Both his illness and the failure of the spell were regrettable.
But most troubling of all was the ominous secret he had uttered—now left unconfirmed.
“Do you have any guesses? I know little of the Duke’s house. Was he speaking of some political rival?”
“I beg pardon, Your Majesty. If this was from the Duchess’s lifetime, then it predates even my time as the Silver Shield.”
Not just before the Silver Shield—it was before Decan had even become a knight.
“If you wish it, I can investigate. I only ask for some time.”
“Yes… I must know what happened.”
The Duke had spoken of “that child” as one who could threaten the Empress’s throne.
But how could a child possibly endanger both the throne and the entire ducal house?
It seemed far more likely that the threat lay in the child’s origin than in the child themselves.
‘Perhaps it is only the Duke’s family matter…’
Yet she couldn’t simply dismiss it. It felt like a stone in her path, tripping her every step.
‘Didn’t the Trinidad shaman say? To trust not the ears, but the heart. That answers can come in any form.’
If her heart kept stumbling here, it was for a reason. She would have to look closely.
Because the Duke remained unconscious, Lasilia was held at the Piellion estate.
As the sole heir of the house, Carthagena Piellion had the duty to hear her father’s last testament.
With no knowing how long he would linger, Serven hastily sent a messenger back to the palace, while Decan left to dig into the family’s secrets.
Twilight fell in an instant.
At the butler’s pleading, Lasilia was obliged to oversee urgent matters of the estate that required the Duke’s seal.
To suddenly entrust such things to a prophetess of Dellarta was no small burden, but the butler’s tearful pleas could not be refused.
‘Consider it the price for borrowing this body.’
She looked wryly at the desk piled high with ledgers, letters, and documents.
‘If I must live as an Empress, I suppose this is unavoidable.’
It was a quiet evening.
The Duke still lay unconscious, the guards kept their silent watch, and the only sound in the study was the scratching of her pen.
“…?”
The dull monotony was broken by a faint sound.
“Something outside…”
Rising, Lasilia opened the study’s window.
“An intruder! Catch him!”
“Over there!”
The moment she opened it, the guards’ shouts rushed in. From the third-floor study, she could see the front gates and courtyard in chaos, soldiers in frantic pursuit.
“An intruder…?”
Her brows knit. Then she heard Serven’s voice:
“Remember! The Empress is here! Her safety is the top priority!”
She spotted him running straight toward the building. Seeing her at the window, he waved furiously.
“Go inside and lock the doors, Your Majesty! And the windows too!”
“…Ah.”
At his words, Lasilia quickly moved.
Whatever the intruder’s goal, there was no guarantee it wasn’t her. Perhaps he was one of Malick’s knights who had vanished.
Clack!
She dropped the latch on the open window, then ran to the door and turned the heavy key in the lock.
Clunk!
The thick mechanism gave a firm, solid sound.
“…That other room has a window too.”
Connected to the study was a small chamber, used to sort and store the Duke’s correspondence. The attendants called it the Letter Room.
She was heading toward it when—
“…!”
She froze.
She distinctly heard the sound of the window latch being lifted—the very one she had just locked.
“Do not move. And do not scream.”
A voice spoke from behind her.
Silent though he was, she could tell the intruder had drawn a blade. A chill prickled at her back.
“Do not even try to look at my face. I only wish to speak with the Duke of Piellion. Once I am done, I will vanish quietly.”
“…And why should I believe that?”
“Because though I hold a sword, I have not struck the witness before me. For now, let that suffice. Where is the Duke?”
“You must meet him?”
“As you see. And if you mean to stall for time, I must warn you—it will not work. If you will not comply, then forgive me, but you will have to sleep for a while.”
Swish!
She sensed his hand rising to strike her neck. Quickly, she spoke:
“The Duke is unconscious.”
“…?”
The hand froze just before the hilt could strike her.
“Then it seems it is you who are out of luck. Having broken in, you will not find him able to speak.”
“…Of all times… Unless, of course, you lie. I must see for myself.”
“You do not trust me, then? Very well. That is your fate tonight. But remember—the burden of distrust lies entirely upon you.”
“W-wait—that phrase…”
Yes, she was stalling. Serven would arrive soon, and the intruder showed no intent to kill her yet.
But what struck her as strange was his reaction.
“That phrase! Where did you hear it?”
“…What phrase?”
“That distrust itself is mankind’s fate—that phrase!”
The intruder suddenly stepped around to face her.
His eyes widened in shock.
“Surely… Lady Lasilia?”
