Chapter 18: Breaking the Deadlock (Part 1)

In the palace chambers, the newly arrived General Thomas was visibly furious. He glared at the Cardinal and Lord Rodhart, unleashing a tirade of anger:

"Where is Her Majesty the Queen? Wasn't this supposed to be an urgent matter that required us to come to the palace? Why is it just the two of you? And why hold this meeting here instead of in the council chamber? What's with all the Imperial Guards and Holy Knights stationed outside the palace? They're practically ready for battle! Not allowing me to bring my attendants—is it because you're afraid we're planning a rebellion?"

"Please, General, take a seat. While the situation is indeed urgent, we'll wait for the Prime Minister to arrive before we discuss anything further," the Cardinal responded calmly. "Given the gravity of the matter, certain extraordinary precautions had to be taken. I hope you won't take it to heart. You'll understand soon enough."

General Thomas shot the Cardinal a glare. He had no fondness for this young cleric from the church and had even suggested to Commander Roland that they find a way to discreetly eliminate him. Naturally, Commander Roland and the Prime Minister had not agreed, and now this upstart had somehow stabilized his footing in the capital, using tactics like treating the Queen's illness and other maneuvers. There were even signs that he was poised to take control of the Academy of Magic. Were it not for his trust in Commander Roland's broader considerations, General Thomas might have taken action himself by now.

The Cardinal, seemingly oblivious to the hostility in the general's gaze, simply offered a faint smile before turning his eyes toward the distant view outside the hall.

The chamber was vast, and the royal bed—where the Emperor and Empress rested—was hidden behind heavy screens. The remaining space, even after being cleared, was still expansive. The Duke of Minsk, Minister Jensen, and several other senior officials had already arrived and were seated around a makeshift conference table. They whispered to one another, speculating about the sudden emergency summons. While these veteran officials did not hold the Cardinal and Rodhart in high regard, the Queen's direct command left them with no choice but to attend.

"The Prime Minister has arrived," reported a knight from the Holy Knights.

Rodhart and the Cardinal exchanged a meaningful glance; this was the person they had truly been waiting for.

Dressed in formal court attire, the Prime Minister entered, led by the knight. Simultaneously, the Cardinal and Rodhart locked eyes with her. Both felt their hearts sink. They knew immediately that something had happened.

The Prime Minister's expression was calm, her demeanor composed, showing no signs of unusual tension. But their keen eyes discerned that her calm was not that of a placid lake, but the stillness of the sea—deep, unfathomable, and potentially concealing a tempest beneath its surface.

Rodhart felt a chill in his heart. This indicated that the Prime Minister was privy to certain information and remained unharmed. Naturally, this also meant someone else was unharmed as well.

The Cardinal's emotions were far more complicated. He had full confidence in his father's strength and judgment. He believed that even against opponents like Grutt or Lancelote, the Marquis had the skill and cunning to escape unscathed. While it was unsettling that the target had somehow escaped the Marquis's grasp, the current situation was still largely under control. A single individual couldn't stir up much trouble, especially with the entire Holy Knights guarding the palace so tightly that not even a fly could get in. Thus, the source of his unease wasn't logistical—it was her.

In that brief exchange of glances, the Cardinal sensed a profound change in her gaze toward him. Without a doubt, she now knew who he truly was, what his intentions were, and what he had done.

And yet, despite this, she remained composed, masking her emotions with an astonishing depth. Such cunning and self-restraint would be exceptional even among men. And knowing that this might be a trap targeting her, and that her sister was now in someone else's control, she still dared to come alone. Her courage and breadth of mind surpassed that of many men. The Cardinal was deeply moved.

To him, strength and weakness had always been the most important metrics for evaluating a person. Women who lacked control over their emotions, who were short-sighted and petty—like her sister, the Queen—meant nothing to him, no matter how beautiful. But she was different. She might not be the only one, but she was the one who truly caught his eye and could qualify to enter his life's trajectory. There was also a sense of regret tied to her—a mark of his desire to completely surpass his former self.

Most importantly, deep in his heart, there was a place for her that no concepts of strength or value could replace. She was the warmest, gentlest presence in his otherwise cold and calculating world.

Now, however, they found themselves on opposing sides of this conflict, a situation that filled him with a strange mix of emotions. Regardless, the current crisis took precedence. With a calm, unreadable smile, he bowed slightly to the Prime Minister and said, "We've been waiting for you, Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister gave a slight nod, casting a deep but inscrutable glance at the Cardinal before taking her seat without a word.

Rodhart then signaled for all the knights and guards to withdraw from the chamber. He ordered the Holy Knights to maintain a perimeter 100 meters from the chamber, ensuring that no one could overhear their conversation or infiltrate the area. Only then did he feel slightly more at ease. With the elite knights and high-ranking mages of the Holy Knights, they could hold off even Grutt or Theodorus.

"All right, now that everyone is here, can we have Her Majesty the Queen come out?" General Thomas asked gruffly, glancing at the space behind the screens.

The Cardinal withdrew his gaze from the Prime Minister and scanned the assembled officials. Slowly, he said, "In fact, this summons has nothing to do with Her Majesty the Queen. It was entirely arranged by Lord Rodhart and me…"

"What?" General Thomas slammed his hand on the table, glaring at Rodhart. "You brat, what's this all about? Is this how Commander Roland instructed you to act? Don't think you can abuse your authority with the Holy Knights without consequences. Believe it or not, I can have you—"

The Cardinal interrupted him with an unexpectedly soft voice: "Please calm yourself, General Thomas. Hasn't someone told you before that your greatest enemy is your own impulsiveness? You yourself know that mistakes made in a fit of passion are often irreparable."

Though the Cardinal's words seemed oddly out of place, General Thomas froze, his body trembling slightly. Slowly, he sank back into his chair, his expression stunned. The other officials exchanged puzzled looks, unable to understand why the usually fiery general had been silenced by such an enigmatic statement. But General Thomas's own gaze toward the Cardinal was even stranger—it held a trace of fear.

The Cardinal smiled knowingly. Having spent 20 years in the capital and serving as the deputy to one of the most cunning politicians and schemers, he knew a great deal—like the secret of that fateful night when the impulsive general, in a drunken rage, had assaulted and killed a commoner woman. That same politician had covered up the scandal, and it was his exact words that the Cardinal had just repeated.

The seasoned and benevolent politician, who had once been the idol of Cardinal Jarvis, had imparted a crucial lesson to him: information and means were the true weapons in the political arena. That idol had once meticulously studied the personalities, habits, quirks, and even the hidden transgressions of all the nobles and ministers in the capital. Though the idol himself could no longer make use of this knowledge, it was invaluable to Cardinal Jarvis now and one of the reasons he dared to come to the capital alone.

The room fell silent. The cardinal sighed softly and said, "It may seem abrupt for me to summon you all in my name, but the situation has grown dire, far beyond what any of you might imagine. That is why Lord Rodhart and I had no choice but to act." He paused, raising his voice and speaking with gravity, "You all surely remember the vampire incident at the royal hunting grounds a year ago, don't you?"

Everyone nodded, though several faces visibly changed—some of them had witnessed the bloodbath firsthand. The horrific and brutal scene had left an indelible mark on their memories.

"Though I did not see it with my own eyes," continued Jarvis, "I heard that the vampire was destroyed by the Prime Minister's hand. Is that correct? Surely the Prime Minister must have vivid memories of the event?" He looked directly at the Prime Minister as he spoke.

"Hm," the Prime Minister replied indifferently. Her alluring but small eyes met his, calm and inscrutable. Whatever lay behind her gaze, only she and he could perceive, but it defied description.

Jarvis couldn't help but smile faintly to himself. Confronting a woman he was determined to possess in such a manner was, to him, both fascinating and bizarre. Outwardly, however, his expression remained heavy with solemnity. In a somber tone, he said, "Prime Minister, you must also recall how close that vampire came to sinking its fangs into Her Majesty the Queen's neck, correct? Surely, everyone present at the time remembers it clearly as well."

Several ministers nodded, while the Prime Minister replied plainly, "Yes."

Jarvis continued, his voice laden with sorrow, "And surely you all recall how, not long ago, Her Majesty fell ill suddenly... followed by reports of vampires appearing in the capital..."

No one spoke. Each person in the room was far from dull-witted; they all sensed the ominous undertone in the cardinal's words. Many faces showed hints of fear, yet the Prime Minister's gaze remained peculiarly calm and detached.

Jarvis's curiosity deepened. He wondered whether she had some means to resolve this crisis or had resigned herself to a dead-end beyond hope. If she had a solution, what could it be? He swept his gaze over the gathered ministers and, as they expected, spoke in a voice heavy with sorrow, "When I treated Her Majesty the Queen at the time, I discovered something unusual in her condition. Later, when reports of vampires surfaced in the capital, Lord Rodhart and I investigated further. And what we finally uncovered was... that the vampire had indeed bitten Her Majesty, and... Her Majesty the Queen had long since become a vampire."

"What?"

"Ridiculous!"

"Impossible!"

A chorus of exclamations erupted among the ministers. Though many had mentally prepared themselves, the revelation still left them panicked and distraught. The elderly Minister Jensen even stood up and roared, "If this were true, why didn't Bishop Ronis notice it back then? What right does a young man like you have to spout such nonsense here?"

"I investigated at the Magic Academy," Jarvis replied unperturbed by the accusations and shouting. "When I questioned the priests who were present at the time, I learned that Bishop Ronis did not personally examine the queen. Instead, he entrusted the task to a cleric. And that cleric was the same individual who later assassinated Bishop Ronis and Duke Murak—none other than the mastermind behind the vampire incident."

"The vampire was his creation," Jarvis continued, his tone now sharp and authoritative. "That entire act was merely a ploy to get closer to Bishop Ronis. You are all aware of this. He also observed Her Majesty's fondness for the young duchess at the time and thus turned the duchess into a vampire."

The ministers' unrest intensified. Though they were usually shrewd and calculating, the revelations left them in a frenzy. This news was not merely a blow to them but a seismic shock to the entire court and empire. Yet, despite the shock, the cardinal's words seemed plausible. The circumstances back then did indeed align with his account, making this chain of events appear inevitable.

However reasonable it sounded, no one could easily accept such a fact. The elderly Marquis Minsk said gravely, "You've said all this, but do you have any proof? Where is Her Majesty the Queen? We must question her ourselves."

Cardinal Jarvis let out a long sigh and nodded. "Of course. That is precisely why Lord Rodhart and I invited you all here... Now, please behold Her Majesty the Queen." He turned and walked toward a screen, pulling it aside to reveal the bed behind it. Her Majesty lay upon it.

The moment they saw the queen, a collective gasp filled the room. What they noticed first were the two sharp, white fangs protruding from her mouth.

The Prime Minister's expression remained as composed and resolute as ever, but tears finally spilled from her eyes.

She had known all of this before coming here. Yet, seeing with her own eyes those two hideous fangs on her sister's face broke her. Even the strongest person has a breaking point, and she knew that she bore some responsibility for this tragedy. The lie she had fabricated to protect their father's secret had become an accepted truth in everyone's minds—and now served as evidence in the cardinal's argument.

Her tear-filled gaze was laced with profound sorrow, but it only made her composed face appear even stronger.