“Hela’s body was found on the riverbank.”

While wringing out the excess water from the towel, Achilleon looked at her. The shadow of the curtain wavered over the woman’s face, blank with shock.

“…She’s dead?”

“Are you still not going to tell me what happened that day?”

“I, I didn’t do anything. Are you suspecting me? Was there a witness who saw Hela and me going into the forest together? It wasn’t me.”

The woman’s face turned pale as she hurriedly poured out her words.

“There are no witnesses, so calm down, Margharita.”

But he could guess the general circumstances. Hela, following Selina’s orders, had tried to harm Margharita and got caught up in the situation herself, with Hela being the unlucky one. If what this woman said about not doing anything was true.

“Bury it.”

The woman cut in firmly.

“Duke Karnos is a loyal subject of the king, and Selina is the Duke’s only daughter. If Your Highness cannot immediately turn Duke Karnos into an enemy for the sake of a concubine of slave origin, then this incident should be buried.”

The woman’s hand clutching the sheet trembled. Her labored breathing completely disrupted by tension.

“We fell into the water together, but I swear I never intended to kill Hela. I don’t know why things turned out this way, but I truly had no intention of killing her at all.”

“Margharita.”

He couldn’t understand the woman’s incoherent words. Could she possibly be trapped in the absurd thought that the maid had met with misfortune because of her?

“Didn’t I tell you? Use everything you have. What happened to that boldness when you threatened to wield a knife against me?”

“But actually killing someone you hate enough to want dead is a different matter. Especially since Hela was just following orders she couldn’t refuse, I can’t believe this happened. That I, because of me.”

“Enough. Margharita. What are you talking about? Get a hold of yourself. That maid tried to kill you.”

I grabbed Hela’s clothes, the agonized whisper continued.

“That was survival instinct.”

He couldn’t listen to this absurd argument any longer. Achilleon firmly grasped both of Hari’s hands as she trembled like someone plagued by nightmares.

“Stop blaming yourself needlessly. Are you trying to say that woman did the right thing? Do you intend to mourn the woman who tried to kill you but ended up dead instead? Is it a sin to grab hold of something to survive? No one deserves to die in war. Yet there’s only one reason we wield spears.”

Hari stared blankly out the window. Her face looked so pained as she gazed at the landscape filled with dazzling sunlight that Achilleon closed his mouth. He disliked seeing the moisture clinging to the woman’s dropped eyelashes. He couldn’t understand why he felt angry and displeased.

“I know.”

Hari shook her head. She could rationalize it as an unavoidable situation and be done with it. She had been taught that life meant living together without trying to change things, without trying to possess, without harming others, but she could no longer live by that belief, and that’s why ‘unavoidable’ killing was painful. She had killed a soldier of Galate to escape, killed an assassin to help Achilleon, and a maid had died because she grabbed her to survive. She couldn’t just brush it off as nothing. She had only suppressed the pain of that day.

“…”

A small laugh escaped. What am I doing here now? Why am I suffering over what I’ve done myself, caught up in an unwanted situation?

She would surely suffer from nightmares again. But she also knew she couldn’t continue like this forever.

She would have more blood on her hands in the future. Perhaps she might even have to kill this man. So she couldn’t let her emotions shake her anymore. Hari turned her gaze from the window and stared at the man holding her hands. Even at this moment, the large hands with their warm touch were holding her trembling hands. The memory of fighting the fever alone in the cold, spacious room, in the cold bed, prevented her from shaking off those hands. Hari bit her lip, cutting her gaze away from the man who was watching her carefully with a somewhat anxious expression.

The nightmares, this man, the unavoidable sins—she would become indifferent to all of them.

Having composed herself, Hari slowly opened her eyes.

“Your Highness is right. The maid’s death was due to bad luck, not my fault. She tried to commit a crime, so she deservedly received punishment.”

For that moment, Achilleon’s face looked somehow gentle in her fever-hazed vision.

This is a battlefield. Then what weapon could she use to win against Achilleon?

“I want to take a walk.”

Achilleon put down the towel he had used to wipe her face and called for his aide. Preparations for the walk didn’t take long. Entering the garden, Hari embraced an armful of colorful flowers from the flower bed. Though her clean clothes became soiled with dirt, she paid no attention and held those humble flowers for a long, very long time. She held them like they might wash away the sins on her body with their fragrance.

“You must endure it. You’ll have to do worse things in the future.”

Achilleon spoke to Hari as she watched children playing hide-and-seek in the royal garden.

The voice heard amid the innocent laughter reminded her of the cold reality. Hari nodded calmly. She watched the blue flowers scatter from her arms and fly away with the wind. Until those star-like flowers disappeared from her sight and even their sweet fragrance vanished.

* * *

Achilleon completed his daily routine as usual, finishing with a visit to the training ground. After suppressing rebels who rose up at random times, assassins disguised as rebels would often attack next. How long did they plan to hide behind and continue these meaningless attacks? It was probably either Karnos or Antor, or both, but it was all circumstantial. The captured assassins bit their tongues and committed suicide before they could be tortured, so no decisive evidence emerged, and the fruitless confrontation continued. Achilleon watched the pointless arguments going back and forth in the council chamber with his nerves on edge.

The empty-headed elder who presented idiotic opinions as policies was bad enough, but the battle of nerves with Antor, who opposed him on every issue, grew more intense by the day.

“Hitais must maintain its own currency. We hold hegemony over Rodos. It is right to make the peripheral countries also use Hitais currency, thereby placing all of Rodos under Hitais sovereignty and confirming its authority.”

What nonsense. Achilleon stared coldly at Karnos, who was spouting plausible nonsense.

“I wonder if you’re aware that as a result of insisting on domestic currency, foreign merchants are trying to avoid trading with Hitais. Southern Achali and Northwestern Ostur currencies are still being traded. The southern continent also uses Achali currency. Do you think they will welcome Hitais currency, which is only accepted in Hitais and some inland countries?”

Antor slightly frowned at his rebuttal. Achilleon immediately ignited the next issue. It was about the war merits from the Rodos continental war.

“It was not the regular army that led this war to victory, but the generals from the 3rd class Heilotai (serfs) who made great contributions. They deserve proper rewards.”

“Nonsense. How can you compare the regular army of Hitais with serfs? Rewarding them would undermine the class system that has been firmly established for 400 years.”

Antor countered without backing down. Achilleon’s head tilted slightly.

Class system? What a joke. Everyone’s attention focused on his small laugh. Achilleon responded to their sharp gazes with a gentle smile.

“What did the regular army of Hitais, who receive the benefits of that thorough class system and are acclaimed as heroes, do during the war?”

“What?”

“Our great soldiers, under the command of the Second Prince, damaged Achali’s farmlands and plundered their harvests. And what did they gain from that?”

The council chamber fell into sudden silence. Everyone knew. That despite repeated thefts, they couldn’t inflict any damage on Achali, whose overseas supply system through foreign ports remained intact.

“They just wasted their time doing useless things.”

“Achilleon.”

Antor’s angry voice echoed off the walls.

“In conclusion, it wasn’t the regular army pursuing that strategy of pouring water into a bottomless pot that got the white flag from the king of Achali, but Hoperon, a general from the 3rd class serfs. To be precise, it would be my achievement for recognizing Hoperon’s talent and employing him.”

In any case, Achilleon had led the victory with Hoperon and was able to conclude a favorable peace treaty with Achali, one of Hitais’s greatest enemies.

“And what did Hitais gain? We destroyed the passage crossing Achali and dismantled their navy.”

The treaty had two provisions. First, to destroy the long passage connecting Achali’s capital and foreign ports, which was 7.5 km long and 180 m wide. As a result, Achali became isolated, unable to supply food and essentials. Second, Achali, a naval power with 200 trireme galleys, had to dismantle its navy and keep only 12 ships. With that level, they would struggle even to patrol their coastal waters.

“Economically and militarily completely isolated, Achali will be unable to recover. Hoperon made a great contribution to eliminating the most threatening country in Rodos. In this situation, to hear this nonsense about excluding Hoperon from credit because he’s from the 3rd class… really, it’s laughable.”

Facing the nobles who were shocked by his unrestrained eloquence, the Third Prince smiled gently.

“Those are my thoughts. What are your opinions, lords?”

No one dared to speak in the face of the sharp blade hidden behind that smooth smile. Antor’s veins bulged on the back of his hand as he stared expressionlessly at his younger brother. His hands, hidden in the shadow of the side table, trembled slightly.