Chapter 8 — A Terrible News

The capital shimmered beneath the midsummer sky, its spires cutting into the blue like proud, gleaming daggers. Prince Elliot rode through the palace gates with a straight spine and a silent mind, though a part of him still echoed with laughter and candlelight from Ashmille. The journey back had been swift and uneventful, but the thoughts that followed him—those were far from quiet.

He had barely dismounted before a steward informed him that the Emperor was waiting.

Inside the Imperial Palace, everything was as polished and poised as ever. Columns of onyx and alabaster lined the audience chamber like guards of stone. At the far end, seated upon the gold throne, Emperor Constantine watched his son approach with eyes like flint.

Elliot bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

"How was your visit and the banquet at the County, Crown Prince?"

Elliot straightened. "I have returned from Ashmille, Your Majesty. The banquet was a success. The engagement has been publicly confirmed and received well by the people of Ashmille."

The Emperor's expression didn't shift. "Go on."

Elliot continued, outlining the events with military precision—how the townspeople of Ashmille had welcomed them, how Seraphyne had carried herself with grace and confidence, how the market tour had revealed a sharp mind beneath her sweet exterior.

"She is not what the court expected, Father. And certainly not what I expected. She was intelligent, informed, and handled the public with ease."

"You sound impressed," the Emperor said, not unkindly.

"I am," Elliot admitted. "She is more than capable of becoming Crown Princess."

The Emperor raised one eyebrow. "And yet I hear other rumors. Of Ellise."

Elliot's jaw tightened. "Yes. She was present during the banquet and again later in town. She has changed, for the better."

"Rumors speak of strength. Defending the weak. Commanding presence. Winning the crowd. Sound familiar?"

"Yes," Elliot said carefully. "But I also know her history. Ellise is unpredictable, misbehaved, and reckless. But I saw none of those negative traits. I saw passion, dependable, and wit in her."

"And which woman interests you more?"

The question was sharp, direct. Elliot didn't flinch.

"I've already made my decision, Father," he said clearly. "I will marry Seraphyne Archwingg."

Silence lingered for a beat.

"She is suitable?"

"She is suitable. She would make a fine Empress. And—" he hesitated, "—she's also quite interesting in her own way."

"Interesting?"

"She's not as sweet as the public thinks. She has steel beneath all that light."

The Emperor leaned back slightly, as if satisfied. "Good."

Then, a voice rang out from the side of the chamber—smooth, amused, and far too familiar.

"I couldn't agree more, brother."

Elliot turned sharply.

From behind one of the marble columns stepped Prince Clad. Dressed immaculately in black and silver, his expression was as pleasant as it was unreadable.

"Clad," Elliot said tightly. "This is a private audience."

"Yes," Clad said. "And I'm very much enjoying it."

The Emperor did not move, but his gaze sharpened. "Why are you here, Clad?" with a thunderous tone.

Clad bowed with a diplomat's grace. "Forgive me, Father. I came to deliver a matter of urgent importance. I waited in the hall, but couldn't help overhearing my brother's admirable declaration."

Elliot narrowed his eyes. "Save your indecency someplace else, Clad."

"Of course, of course." Clad said with a faint smile.

The Emperor interjected. "Get to the point."

Clad's demeanor shifted, becoming precise and formal. "Your Majesty, our intelligence division has uncovered signs of smuggling involving illegal imports from the Kingdom of Revellia."

Elliot blinked. "Revellia? That's a serious accusation."

Clad nodded. "We have evidence of forbidden alchemical materials, restricted metals, and other unknown cargo being moved through unofficial trade routes. The shipments are not only unregistered but expertly disguised—buried in legitimate goods and rerouted through minor dock ways."

The Emperor's voice dropped. "And where is this happening?"

Clad's gaze slid to Elliot. "The largest trace so far leads directly to Ashmille Port"

A heavy silence settled.

Elliot's chest tightened. "You're suggesting Ashmille is compromised?"

"I'm suggesting someone is using Ashmille's volume and relative autonomy to their advantage. The port is too active to monitor everything. And the timing aligns suspiciously with Revellia's recent military posturing."

The Emperor stood slowly. "Do you believe this to be prelude to war?"

Clad's answer was immediate. "Yes."

The room chilled.

The Emperor looked down at his youngest son. "Then I place you in command of the investigation. Take your knights. Follow the trail. If these rumors prove true, take any measure necessary to shut them down."

Clad bowed deeply. "I will not fail you."

"And Clad…" The Emperor pause, Clad's waiting for whatever he may add. "Catch whoever's behind this impudence."

The Emperor added, "You are to act with full authority. Any official or noble found complicit in this will be stripped and punished, regardless of status."

Elliot remained still, but the gears in his mind were racing.

Clad investigating Ashmille meant scrutiny not only of the port—but of Seraphyne and her family.

Clad turned to go, pausing only to glance over his shoulder. "I'll be sure to visit the lovely markets while I'm there. Perhaps I'll even say hello to your bride-to-be."

Elliot's voice was cold. "You'll do your job and nothing more."

Clad smiled. "Of course."

With that, he swept from the chamber, already issuing orders to his retinue beyond the doors.

The Emperor turned back to Elliot. "Keep your eyes open. Your marriage is your top priority and must serve the Empire."

Elliot bowed. "It will."

And yet, even as he exited the chamber, his thoughts returned not to duty—but on how he would address this feelings of his for both Seraphyne and Ellise.

On the other hand, Clad prepares for his mission in Ashmille. The first thing he did before taking his leave is write and send a letter to Seraphyne. He wants to make sure that Seraphyne will have an inkling on what is about to happen if ever the rumors about Revellia is true.

"Have this letter delivered to Lady Seraphyne Archwingg of Ashmille County through Merchant Courier" Clad instructed his trusted Knight, Fladel, as he handed him the letter. "Make sure this letter will only be read by Lady Seraphyne alone and should be delivered by then before I set foot to Ashmille Port."

"As you wish, Prince Clad." Fladel bowed.

Clad raised his eyebrow upon hearing how Fladel addressed him. He took the chance to give Fladel a jestingly downward hit using one's knuckles towards his head "'Prince Clad' my ass!"

"Oww! Very barbaric!" Fladel frowned which made Clad laugh.

"I'm going to see Sir Lynne before I go. I need his seal in order for me to pass through Ashmille Port's checkpoint and conduct a warrant." Clad never misses a step before doing his mission, and that is the very reason why the Emperor could not let go a bastard son. Clad's potential surpasses that of a ruler and a decision-maker, making him the most suitable successor than Elliot, if only not because of his birth origin.

The man who is deserving of it all but could not have it all.

That's Clad Raven Truvania.