The sound of cheering from the main palace carried through the windows of the princess’s quarters. It seemed as if her father or brother was orchestrating another event. For Robellia, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Though it filled her with disgust, she knew that the Emperor’s rule based on fear alone would remain unchanged even if the Crown Prince ascended to the throne.

The faint metallic smell of blood wafted into the room on the breeze. Robellia, who had been silently reading a book of poetry with her knees tucked beneath her, raised her head.

“Could you close the window, please?”

The maid standing by the door approached and closed the window. None of the women in the room dared question the commotion outside.

The Emperor’s purges always targeted someone new. No matter how powerful the victim, there were always others who envied them and made sure their fall was unquestioned. If the influence of a noble family seemed precarious, the Emperor would be the first to act and crush them without hesitation. If there were no suitable noble targets, he would even single out a lowly knight guilty of some minor offence and have him brutally executed.

Ten years had passed, and by now no one dared offer the Emperor any advice or objection. Those who had once tried to unite and oppose him had already been buried. Robellia had no intention of criticising the nobles who turned a blind eye and remained silent in the face of tyranny to protect themselves – she was no different.

It was the maid, Laren, who finally broke the tense silence, her voice hesitant. 

“Today feels… a little different than usual. Shall I check on the situation at the main palace?” 

“There’s no need… Actually, yes, go ahead.”

She had intended to ignore it, but decided it would be wise to understand the situation. The atmosphere outside was not returning to its usual calm as quickly as it usually did. The occasional piercing scream could be heard between the roaring cheers. 

With her wedding looming, it seemed unlikely that she would be affected by today’s events. Still, she didn’t want to be used anymore. All she wanted was to leave the Empire as quietly and quickly as possible. Of course, it wasn’t as if Robellia had any real choice in the matter. She simply wanted to know what new infamy could be added to the princess’s already infamous name. 

Laren bowed and left. Robellia returned to her poetry book.

Time passed. Although the commotion outside had died down, Laren still hadn’t returned. Robellia hesitated, then called for another maid.

“Emily, go to the main palace. Don’t worry about anything else – just find Laren.”

Emily also went to the main palace, but like Laren, she didn’t return for a long time.

The staff of Robellia’s palace was pitifully small, hardly befitting a princess’s residence. Families of any influence had distanced themselves from Robellia, and the maids who served her were all daughters of insignificant, powerless households. Sending a knight was no better – those assigned to her palace were men who had once sided with the Emperor but had failed to secure strong patronage, leaving them without loyalty or competence.

Growing anxious, Robellia finally closed her book and waited nervously for the two maids to return. Outside, the sky had already turned crimson with the setting sun.

“Your Highness, may we take our leave for the evening…?”

The voice of Lady Karen, the eldest of the maids in the princess’s palace, broke the silence. Robellia turned her head to see Lady Karen and another maid bowing deeply, their expressions filled with unease.

The maids, who were off duty, felt the ominous atmosphere and were anxious to leave. As the princess always dined at the emperor’s palace, there was little need for their assistance at this hour. The maids on duty tonight were Laren and Emily, neither of whom had returned. Cecilia, left behind, shifted her weight anxiously in the corner of the room as the others spoke of leaving.

“Fine. But on your way out, could you at least look for Emily and Laren?”

The two maids didn’t answer. Robellia understood the silence only too well. They didn’t dare say the disloyal words that were on their minds, but it was clear that their own safety was their priority. Fighting back her frustration, Robellia sighed deeply.

“Very well. The Emperor’s attendants will be arriving soon anyway. Cecilia, you may leave as well.”

“Pardon? I… I can’t…”

With Laren gone, if she left too, only the lower servants would be left to look after the princess – a situation that was unacceptable by law. But Robellia didn’t care; in this place, such formalities had long since ceased to matter.

“When Laren returns, so will Emily. Don’t worry about it. You may go.”

“Thank you…”

Cecilia bowed deeply with genuine sincerity. Working in the princess’s palace felt like skating on thin ice every day. Her father had forced her into the palace for fear of falling out of the Crown Prince’s favour. The other maids were in a similar situation, their circumstances just as precarious.

The young women, struggling with their own misfortunes, were unable to sympathise with the princess. Robellia, aware of this, didn’t expect them to. She couldn’t offer them anything in return anyway. The maids, casting cautious glances at each other, finally left the room, leaving the princess behind.

“Ahhh-!”

A piercing scream suddenly tore through the air from just beyond the wall. Startled, Robellia shot to her feet. She had barely taken a step when the door flew open with a bang.

“What in the world…!”

Men in armour burst into the room. Their silver armour was splattered with crimson drops. Robellia instinctively stumbled backwards in shock. Beyond the open door she saw a woman lying motionless on the floor. Cecilia’s blood-soaked skirt was dragging across the floor.

“W-who are you?!”

Robellia’s question was answered only by the clanking of armour as the men rummaged through the room. They moved in eerie silence, their cold eyes gleaming under their helmets as if Robellia were their sworn enemy.

As she cautiously stepped back, her foot caught on a chair. With a loud crash, she fell to the floor, landing in a heap.

“Shh.”

One of the knights approached her, raising a single hand to his helmet in a silencing gesture. His gauntlet hand was smeared with bright red blood, its metallic surface reflecting the dim light. Without a word, the knights moved through the room, overturning furniture and rifling through everything in sight.

Robellia’s eyes fell on the knight’s sword. Crimson drops fell from its hilt, staining the pristine white carpet beneath. Following the knight’s instructions, Robellia remained completely silent. She couldn’t even breathe properly, too stunned to react or speak.

The heavy sound of boots echoed again and another group of men entered her room. Unlike the knights in armour, these were noblemen dressed in formal attire.

“M-Marquis Moss…”

The only familiar face in the group was Marquis Moss, a man who had been one of the Emperor’s closest advisors until a few years ago, when he had suddenly renounced his titles and retreated to his territory. The middle-aged man smiled at Robellia as if greeting an old acquaintance.

“It’s been a long time, Princess Robellia.”

Rebellion. It was unmistakable.

If they had come all the way to the Princess’s quarters, it meant that the earlier riot had probably involved the Emperor and Crown Prince. Robellia’s anxious gaze darted around, unable to settle.

She had always known that this day would come. When her father fell from power, she too would face the executioner’s blade. Part of her had even wished for it, tired of the oppressive life she led. The identity of the leader of the rebellion, or his reasons, didn’t matter – there were more than enough likely candidates.

But resigning herself to death and facing it were two very different things. Instinctively, Robellia began to retreat, her survival instinct kicking in.