The confession of the navigator from the Kut’s second cargo ship, who almost lost one of his eyes, contained far more information than anticipated.

Recently, Kut’s cargo ships had been diligently transporting large quantities of timber to Brienne. Despite Brienne paying outrageously low prices, the Kut royal family remained silent. The navigator, curious about this oddity, listened attentively to the drunken chatter of his companions during drinking bouts.

It turned out that Brienne was constructing a warship for the Empire’s navy, and as part of the deal, they were to build an identical ship for the Kut royal family. In return, Kut would supply timber at a discounted rate.

Naturally, the budget for this came from the treasury of the Olstein Imperial family. The cost of the warship, which the Kut royals idly accepted, as well as the gold coins Brienne pocketed by purchasing timber at a low price, were all funded by Olstein.

“You’re a sailor from Kut,” Josef remarked with a patient expression, as if he had been attentively listening to the mate’s story. The sailor, who still had a bandage over his eyes, couldn’t see Josef’s face.

“Yes…? Yes,” stammered the mate.

“And just now, you revealed a military secret of Kut,” Josef said.

“Well, uh…” The navigator faltered.

“If someone, say the Queen of Kut or her close aides, were to find out about this, it would spell big trouble for you, wouldn’t it?” Josef’s playful tone made the sailor’s face turn ashen. Sweat—or perhaps tears—trickled down his scratched cheekbones.

“Y-Your Highness… Your Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince of Olstein…” the sailor stuttered.

“And if word got out that the secret was spilled to none other than the Crown Prince…” Josef trailed off.

“N-no, absolutely not! Never!” the man shouted hastily.

“I swear, I’ll never tell a soul. Your Highness, once I leave here, I’ll live as if I know nothing, saw nothing,” the man pleaded desperately.

As Josef remained silent, the sailor began speaking even faster.

“There’s no need to send me back to Kut. Just lend me a horse—or I’ll even walk! I didn’t see Your Highness’s face, nor do I know the name of the gentleman here. Well, I saw his face, but I don’t know his name. So please, please spare me… Hic…”

“Do you promise?” Josef asked softly.

“Y-yes, I swear! Truly!” the man cried.

“Alright, I understand.” Josef smiled. “We’ll keep this matter secret between us.”

“Thank you!” the navigator exclaimed joyfully.

Josef had a habit of adding the word “secret” after interrogating prisoners of war or torturing someone for a confession. It was his cryptic way of signaling that the person would not leave alive. It gave Henrik time to prepare for cleanup.

Henrik, as always, began contemplating whether it would rain tonight. If it did, they’d have to dig the burial pit deeper to accommodate the muddy soil.

“Hey,” Henrik asked out of sheer curiosity.

“Do you know what the word ‘Beard’ means?”

The term had been inscribed on the wooden figurehead of Brienne’s ship. Henrik had been curious about it.

“Beard?” the navigator repeated.

“It appeared before someone’s name.”

“Ah, you mean ‘Beiad,’” the sailor corrected with a peculiar accent.

“It’s an archaic term from the Kut Kingdom. It means to save or to liberate,” the sailor explained at length. Although it was an old word, it frequently appeared in scriptures and was familiar in Kut. It referred to saving someone, as if rescuing a sinner from hell. The sailor offered an unsolicited detailed explanation as if it were his final words.

***

One night, as sporadic downpours alternated with calm, Amelia had a nightmare.

In the eerie dream, she was being chased by someone. She floundered through an endless silence. The surroundings were eerily still because she was submerged in water. Deep in the ocean, she desperately tried to move her heavy legs. She wanted to scream, but instead of air, water rushed into her mouth, making it hard to breathe.

“…!”

As she felt something grab her shoulder, Amelia jolted awake, sitting upright.

“Haa…” she sighed, still half-asleep, her breath heavy. A clap of thunder, loud enough to shake the manor, masked her exhalation. Between the wooden shutters of the closed window, lightning flickered, accompanied by the sound of torrential rain.

The shock of the storm helped Amelia shake off the remnants of her dream more quickly. She got out of bed and fumbled for the short candle on her vanity, lighting it. The amber glow cast a faint halo around her.

‘What a strange thing.’

It had been a long time since she’d dreamed, for better or worse. Upon waking, the dream seemed less like a nightmare and more like an unpleasant afterimage, fading into vapor.

Amelia lowered the wooden shutters and peered outside. Sheets of rain lashed against the glass as if they would shatter it. She could feel a faint dampness in her breath, and the wet window frame smelled of wood.

She considered herself unimaginative and therefore didn’t believe in prophetic dreams. Yet, the sudden, thunderous downpour in Olstein, so different from Brienne’s rain, left her dwelling on whether the dream carried any significance.

When she placed the candlestick on the windowsill, Josef’s cigarette case came into view, its sharp outline catching the light.

“…”

Amelia stared at the case, which still hadn’t been returned to its owner. She had assumed he would come looking for it urgently, but he hadn’t. Then again, the Imperial Crown Prince likely didn’t own just one cigarette case.

“…Surely not.”

Amelia shook her head. Surely, she hadn’t had a bad dream out of unease about failing to return the case. It was, however, the thing that had been bothering her most recently.

If that were the case, it was the kind of situation that anyone could easily call pathetic. After listening to the sound of rain washing over the garden for a little while longer, she slipped into bed.

****

Kut’s navigator’s body was buried deep in the Wolf Forest. True to its name, the forest was teeming with wolves and venomous snakes, making it an isolated place rarely visited except by a select few who knew the paths frequented by the animals.

In his office, Josef received Henrik’s report on the matter.

“Beiad Amelia?”

He repeated aloud the words Kut’s navigator had mentioned a few days prior.

“…Yes.”

Henrik nodded. Despite the questioning tone, the Crown Prince pronounced the archaic term he had only heard once with surprising accuracy.

But there was no time to marvel. Beiad Amelia—the phrase meant “Save Amelia” or “Liberate Amelia.” It was a prayer inscribed on the timber intended to become the figurehead of Kut’s flagship.

“…Does that mean Brienne harbors aspirations for independence?”

Josef’s smile curled into a slow, mocking grin.

“An amusing bit of nonsense.”

Though the situation did not warrant reprimand, Henrik began to grow uneasy due to the charged atmosphere surrounding Josef.

Brienne had not only embezzled imperial funds but also collaborated with Kut to construct a warship. Moreover, they intended to bring Amelia from the Empire—actions signaling preparation for rebellion and independence.

Of the three accusations, only the first could be proven immediately. However, with the Crown Prince’s talent for making even falsehoods seem plausible, all three charges could serve as grounds to declare war on Brienne at any moment.

What kind of punishment would he deliver?

“Leave.”

But Josef’s command was bafflingly brief. Henrik, who had been bracing for a stern directive, felt his tension abruptly dissolve.

“…”

“I… I beg your pardon.”

Snapping out of his stupor, Henrik quickly stood and exited the office, realizing Josef’s gaze was fixed on him.

He refrained from asking for further instructions. That decision rested outside Henrik’s domain. The Crown Prince was likely pondering how much of the incident in Brienne to report to the Emperor and planning his next moves.

At the very least, Lady Amelia might remain unharmed until then. Henrik, recalling Dana’s cheerful stories about Amelia, wore a bitter expression.

***

Sinking deeply into his chair, Josef reached into his jacket only to find no cigarettes. It was the fifth time that day.

He mulled over his options: should he return to the Crown Princess’s residence to retrieve his cigarette case, or simply place a new one in the same pocket?

“Do you even know what your father is doing?”

That’s what he imagined saying the next time he saw Amelia’s face.

Josef was unsettled—not because of what had happened in Brienne, but for days now, ever since Amelia had opened the door first, just before he could knock, soaked from the downpour.

Her startled expression as she handed him a towel, her quiet blinking as she looked out the window from the parlor—these moments lingered.

The faint sound of her breathing in the silence of the parlor, where it was just the two of them, seemed endlessly sensual.

Even her flustered reaction to spilling tea on the table left him disoriented. And the way she reached out, touching his still-damp jacket with concern while clearly relieved at his departure, haunted his thoughts.

Deciding Brienne’s fate was easy. Like with any other country, he could declare war, topple their military, and decapitate their leader. Brienne would fall, and it would all belong to him.

But that wasn’t what Josef wanted.

What did he desire?

“…”

Could this be an opportunity?

Josef was methodical. He trusted no one around him, and his calculations—always accounting for suspicion—were invariably correct. His actions, often delayed until the last moment, ensured that while he might be criticized, he would never suffer a loss.

Yet, what he was about to do couldn’t be rationalized as a calculated decision. At some point, Amelia had replaced the sharp conclusions at the end of his thoughts. Her shadow obscured much of his judgment.

Born believing himself to be the embodiment of justice, Josef couldn’t fully recognize this shift.

It felt as though Amelia were close enough to touch if she stretched out her hand. All that remained was to claim her. If he could do that, he was certain she would forget Brienne completely and belong to him.

No one advises the Crown Prince. Josef chose, alone, to pursue his desire for Amelia rather than mete out judgment upon Brienne.

Just this once. A single departure from the formula. Like a predator holding its breath, ready to pounce, the split-second decision to act would inevitably drag him into irreparable consequences.

Of course, Josef did not know that.