Edmund led me to the prison in the Imperial Citadel.

We climbed the spiral stone staircase, and unlike the lower levels, we found that many of the cells here were empty. Even so, the air was thick and foul, the stench pressing sharply into my nose — far worse than in the crowded cells below.

“This is the level where prisoners who are expected to die soon are kept.”

“Condemned criminals?”

“Not exactly. These are seriously ill prisoners who are expected to die soon. They’re kept in isolation here.”

Then there’s this awful stench. Is it the smell of dying bodies?”

“But most of the cells are empty.”

“Few ever contract fatal diseases here, so it’s rare.”

“And Boreas is being kept here?”

“Yes.”

Edmund pressed a key into the lock. The door was a massive iron slab covered in bolts and locks, and it took a moment for it to open with a grinding roar.

“This chamber is normally used to quarantine those stricken with contagious disease.”

His crimson eyes gleamed.

“No one would ever think to look for him here.”

Edmund’s footsteps echoed loudly as we stepped inside. At first it was too dark to make out anything, but as my eyes adjusted, a figure slowly took shape.

“Y-Your Highness?”

The man crouched in the corner was gaunt beyond recognition, nothing like the Boreas I last remembered seeing in the courtroom.

“Yes. It was you who sent for help.”

“Ha… thank goodness. My child managed to deliver the message after all.”

His voice was hoarse and ragged, nothing like the brazen and defiant man he once had been.

“Felix—water.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Felix, who had followed us, drew the water pouch from his belt and slipped it through the iron bars. Boreas seized it at once, drinking in frantic gulps. He swallowed so greedily that he began to choke, yet even then he forced the water down his throat.

“I know you’re parched, but if you drink like that, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Felix reached out, trying to stop him, but his broad arm could not pass through the bars. Fortunately, Boreas’s strength gave out; the pouch slipped from his grasp, and the desperate struggle finally came to an end.

“Khuk, khuk! F-Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”

“Enough. Just calm yourself. The entrance is being guarded—there’s no need to panic.”

Even with Edmund’s reassurance, Boreas’s eyes flicked nervously again and again toward the door.

“So. What happened?”

“I… I will tell you everything.”

Boreas bowed his head low, trembling, and began to speak in broken fragments.

“The first to summon me was my superior, Kozel Harhichman.”

“Harhichman… one of the most typical of the noble faction.”

“Yes. He called me and asked if I wished to take part in a great undertaking.”

His head bent lower still.

“And this ‘great undertaking’ was shooting a man?”

“A-at first, of course, I refused. What would a commoner like me do, meddling in such a power struggle? I didn’t even know what it was, but I said no! And yet…”

Boreas bit his already cracked lips, and blood welled at the corner.

“For some reason, it had to be me. They offered me an enormous amount of money — more than I could ever hope to see in my lifetime. For a moment, I wavered. But I still refused.”

“And then? What changed?”

“Suddenly, he recited my child’s details—every last one. My wife is gone, and my parents are raising my child in the countryside. It was then I realized… if I refused again, they might harm my child. Or my parents, too.”

Fury twisted his features as he clenched his hands against the stone floor.

“So I agreed. After that, they introduced me to Count Lorald.”

Lorald—the most trusted hand of the Empress.

“The Count asked me if I disliked any foreigners. Even an enemy.”

“So they had known, and chosen you deliberately.”

“It seems so. After all, it was no secret that Pandion and I were like cat and dog. Everyone knew—those foreigners in Umpha, even my colleagues.”

“So what did you say?”

“I told them I did… and they ordered me to shoot him dead.”

His clenched fists trembled violently.

“Then why did you shoot the Puglish representative?”

“That old man — it was purely accidental. I may be a soldier on paper, but in reality, I’m just a guard. The last time I held a gun was during my training when I enlisted. I told the Count that I wouldn’t be able to hit Pandion even if I tried. But he told me not to worry, saying that he would handle everything himself.”

That sounded strange.

‘Handle everything himself?’

“They didn’t give you any more firearms training?”

“Where would a guard like me, a commoner, get the chance? Only guards stationed at the borders get such practice. Us commoners are never given the opportunity to even fire live rounds.”

Edmund’s glance slid to Felix, who gave a small nod in confirmation.

Then Boreas’s chances of k*lling Pandion with a single shot were even slimmer.

“But then the man collapsed right before my eyes. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking uncontrollably.”

A guard in name only, who had never once aimed at, let alone shot a person. Just like me when Baron Schurhatz and his wife had fallen, he must have been stunned beyond belief.

“The pounding of my heart drowned everything else. It was all I could hear. And then—that old man interfered.”

Boreas buried his face in his hands.

“I panicked and tried to holster my gun, but I never imagined it would fire again… never.”

“Then the claim that the gun discharged accidentally when dropped—that was a lie?”

“Yes, my pistol is fitted with a shock-absorbing mechanism. It wouldn’t fire if it was dropped. However, Count Lorald told me to say that anyway.”

So Phenol, who had testified, must also have been bribed by Count Lorald.

“But if the pistol had been examined, it would have been clear that you were lying. Why did you say that?”

“Perhaps to sow deeper mistrust and resentment of the Empire among foreigners.”

The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“They promised me an unconditional acquittal. I took the money, intending to return home and flee abroad with my family. But then…”

The Count, who had lured him with promises of money, struck him on the back of the head with a weapon. When Boreas awoke, he was in prison.

“Then how did you manage to send out a letter for help?”

It seemed they had simply thrown him in here without giving him any water.

“I used a carrier pigeon.”

“A pigeon?”

“Yes, it would have been too costly to send a man. Back in the countryside where I lived, we often caught pigeons and used them to carry messages.”

As he spoke, Boreas turned his back to us, and I noticed the fabric at his waist was torn.

“I ripped my clothes and wrote with my own blood. Before carrying out the deed, I told my parents that if anything happened, I would send a pigeon—and they must deliver the message to Prince Edmund. Fortunately, I wasn’t locked in the underground cells.”

That was how the note addressed to Edmund had managed to reach him.

“Good. You survived thanks to that pigeon.”

Edmund tossed him a cloak he had prepared in advance.

“You can’t remain here. Who knows when they’ll decide to dispose you? Go.”

“But if they find out I’m gone—?”

“Does anyone even come to check on you?”

At Edmund’s question, Boreas shook his head.

“They used to come several times a day at first… but recently, not at all.”

“Then what’s the point of staying here?”

With a casual shrug, Edmund pointed to the entrance.

“You should leave right now. Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want to see your child again?”

At the word child, tears welled in Boreas’s eyes.

“Y-you’ll spare me?”

“When did I ever say I’d kill you?”

Edmund replied with a detached expression.

But said with such a face, it almost sounded like a death sentence.

“Besides, if you die, this war will never be resolved. You must testify. Is there proof that Count Lorald gave the orders?”

“Y-yes! He gave me a contract at the time.”

A contract.

“Where is it?”

Had he kept it in his own quarters? Or entrusted it to his child? If so, those men would have destroyed it by now.

“I was afraid it might be taken if something happened to me, so I put it in the soldiers’ suggestion box.”

The suggestion box? The one in the military ministry corridor?

“I’ll retrieve it.”

At Edmund’s signal, Fakel bolted down the stairs.

“Why put it there of all places…”

“No one ever opens the suggestion box. It’s just for show.”

True enough. Some things remained the same, regardless of the world you were in.

Bearing this in mind, we made our way down the stairs.