The direct line of the House of Hardyde — the widowed Empress of Callithea and her children — was finally captured by the rebel forces.

Count Yuz, a collateral royal who had remained by their side, tried desperately to protect them, even abandoning his own family in the process. Ultimately, however, he was executed too.

The Empress and her twin children were spared, but taken to a tower near the capital where they were kept under strict surveillance. Originally built to imprison members of the imperial family or high-ranking nobles guilty of serious crimes, the tower was surrounded by a dense forest and a large lake. Throughout the empire’s long history, few who were confined within its walls ever emerged alive.

The only reason the descendants of Hardyde had managed to cling on to life was because the rebel forces had begun to fracture. The uprising that had initially spread like wildfire in response to the corruption of priests and nobles had now fizzled out.

It was the rebels’ own cruelty that extinguished the flames. Although the revolt had begun out of desperation due to starvation, the people of Callithea still held the goddess they had worshipped and revered for generations in deep respect.

Yet, in the name of justice, the very people who had been held up as examples of virtue — the priests of the temple and the lords who had long cared for their vassals with kindness — were slaughtered one after another in grotesque displays of violence.

Everything began to change after the Altey family, who had been revered by their vassals for generations, were beheaded, and the high priest of the Temple of Carlyle was burned at the stake.

As these atrocities were repeated, the people’s outrage shifted towards the rebels they had once supported.

It was then that the cunning ones made their move. Those who had one foot in the rebellion but had pretended ignorance on the surface began to exploit the chaos of civil war for their own gain.

To the weary populace, they appeared to be moral and noble, with disciplined armies and full treasuries.

Once again, people knelt before them, eager to serve. Gradually, they began to show sympathy towards the royal family they had themselves destroyed. All of this had taken place in less than six months.

Consequently, the rigid class system that had long been the backbone of Callithea survived the crisis. After all, abolishing nobility had been too radical and premature for the era.

Nevertheless, a single spark remained buried beneath the ashes, lying dormant and waiting for its time to rise again.

Amidst this climate of turmoil, factions within Callithea competed fiercely for control, each trying to outmanoeuvre the others.

Meanwhile, Cedric, the newly risen Sun of Laxion, withdrew his earlier stance and began quietly pressuring other nations to join him in protecting Hardyde’s young heirs.

This change in policy put the Duke of Hellung, one of Cedric’s longest-standing allies in Callithea, in a difficult position.

The Hellung family, a branch that split from Hardyde generations ago, had held a ducal title for a long time. However, despite their shared bloodline, the two houses had always been at odds. Hellung had spent centuries awaiting the moment when Hardyde would fall, allowing them to finally claim the throne as the true trunk and root, rather than an offshoot of a noble tree.

Amidst the fractured turmoil of Callithea, the Duke of Hellung finally saw his moment. Ever since the late empress took her own life and served as regent for her young son, he had quietly nurtured his ambitions. Now, in his twilight years, he was closer to the throne than ever before.

Although his power was far from absolute and still nowhere near that commanded by House Hardyde, he stood unchallenged at the forefront of Callithea’s divided factions. There was no denying it: the Duke of Hellung was the man closest to claiming the imperial crown.

‘Finally!’

How much effort had it taken to reach this point?

He had subtly turned public opinion against Hardyde while keeping himself unsullied. He had also worked tirelessly to secure the support of Laxion and other foreign powers.

It sounded simple, but the truth was far from it. He had endured countless crises, each one threatening to destroy him, before finally reaching this point.

‘Why now, of all times!’

For years, Laxion had urged him to destroy Hardyde’s lineage, yet now they had betrayed him.

The betrayer was none other than the Crown Prince of Laxion, soon to become Emperor — the very person he had trusted implicitly, believing him to hate Hardyde as much as he did.

‘Did he somehow grow fond of that Hardyde woman? I heard he treated her coldly, yet now…’

He recognized the injustice, but he had no choice.

His current power was based on the chaos in Callithea, and his control over the divided factions was, at best, fragile. To establish a lasting rule, he still needed Laxion’s support.

Gritting his teeth, the Duke of Hellung decided that imprisoning Hardyde’s young heirs, along with their mother, was his only option.

‘…If they fall ill and die, or if some unforeseen accident occurs—well, that cannot be helped.’

However, the ever-shifting tide of events finally prompted the Duke of Hellung to act ruthlessly.

When the young heirs of the House of Hardyde survived, those who had long hidden in fear as quiet supporters of its restoration began to emerge once more.

Ironically, public opinion then swung in favor of the very house that the people themselves had once condemned and executed.

“What crime could the young prince and princess possibly have committed?”

“If you think about it, the royal family itself never did much wrong. It was those around them who caused the trouble.”

“That’s true. Weren’t the Emperor and his kin always humble and kind to the people?”

“Exactly. And those priests and priestesses who stayed loyal to the Emperor until the end, they were the ones who always looked after us, weren’t they?”

“The Dowager Empress may have erred during her regency, yes… but it was the priest Maxime and Countess Naan who exploited her grief. She herself always showed compassion to those in need.”

Sympathy for the young prince and princess grew. Nostalgia for the late Emperor, who was never accused of immorality, and for the Dowager Empress returned. Although she was criticized for her political decisions as regent, she was later remembered for her sincerity and modesty.

“Y–Your Grace, terrible news!”

The tide, which had turned so swiftly and powerfully, suddenly broke upon a tragedy. The Empress, imprisoned in the tower, had somehow obtained poison and administered it to her young children before taking it herself.

No one, not even the Duke of Hellung, had foreseen this.

At least, not officially.

“The Empress… she…”

“The Empress?  When did the Hardyde family last belong to the royal family? Watch your tongue!”

“M–my apologies.”

“…Speak plainly. What happened?”

“The prisoner… took her own life. We don’t know how she obtained it, but she poisoned herself and the children, too…”

“How regrettable.”

“The prince—he’s dead, Your Grace. But the girl… she’s still breathing.”

“What?”

Who had brought poison to a prisoner held in such heavily guarded captivity? And why had the Empress, who had endured until now, suddenly chosen to die with her children?

Had all the sentries and attendants gone blind at once?

How could nobody have prevented this?

These questions, and the truth behind them, would remain buried — perhaps forever.

Of the Hardyde royal line, only two remained: the young Callithean princess and the princess who had fled to Laxion before the tragedy.

Following the Calamity of the Tower, the young princess, who had survived, escaped confinement. Turning its back on the Duke of Hellung, Laxion allied itself with those seeking to restore Hardyde and declared its intent to protect the princess alongside them.

Enraged, the Duke of Hellung raised his army under the pretext of foreign interference, and thus civil war once again consumed Callithea.

Though the Empire had fallen, the struggle over its remains continued as a vicious scramble among scavengers.

To those watching from afar, however, it was nothing more than a spectacle to be exploited.

“How many now call themselves emperor or king in that land? Callithea may never at least not for centuries be called an empire again.”

And so, the Duke of Colbert — second only to Cedric in terms of power — and his daughter Katrine mocked Callithea’s tragedy over a fine cup of tea. The two, who were known for their close bond and solid political alliance, frequently conversed in this manner when they had the time.

“Just as you said, Callithea is no longer worth worrying about. But still…”

“Your face looks troubled, Father. Is it because of what happened to Lady Borlieu?”

The newly designed ducal gardens sparkled with gold, a testament to the family’s wealth. As Katrine sipped her tea and admired the view, she noticed her father’s sombre expression. She asked him softly what was wrong.

The duke only replied with a glance in her direction.

“It was the right outcome. The Crown Princess is pregnant with the heir, and yet the woman who caused tragedy on purpose and tried to harm the royal unborn child should count herself lucky to have been banished.”

Katrine set her teacup down and smiled faintly.

Sophie Borlieu, formerly a close attendant to the Crown Princess, had dared to inform her mistress of the deaths of the Callithean Empress and her son, despite Cedric having ordered complete silence on the matter. Even worse, she had lied, saying that the young princess was dying too.

Katrine laughed softly at the foolish daughter of the House of Borlieu, then continued.

“If I were head lady-in-waiting, I would have petitioned for her execution. Intentional or not, she endangered the heir, that’s treason.”

“…It’s a loss for us, nonetheless.”

Despite his daughter’s smile, the duke sighed.

During Cedric’s reign, no one of influence viewed the fallen Callithean princess, now the Crown Princess of Laxion, favorably.

A few might have pitied her, but no one would risk their own interests for her sake.

In fact, malicious gossip abounded. One of the Crown Princess’s maids, who had long resented her, had grown bolder after her father’s sudden rise to power under Cedric and could no longer hide her spite.

The duke had thought the Borlieu girl a fool, too. Yet how gratifying it would have been if the Crown Princess had miscarried from the shock of that news! The fact that both she and the unborn child had survived deeply displeased him.

“His Highness will soon ascend the throne. Even if he were to have a child with a woman of lower rank, it would change nothing. The Crown Princess remains the Crown Princess, fallen as she is. Any child born to her would still be the legitimate heir.”

The duke had spoken his true thoughts, words he had never shared with anyone but his daughter.

According to the plans, the Crown Princess should have been dead or exiled by now. Even Cedric himself had once seemed inclined towards that course.

Yet, for reasons he could not fathom, the soon-to-be Emperor was now acting as though none of that had ever crossed his mind, guarding her with unshakable resolve.

“It makes me uneasy.”

In the eyes of Duke Colbert, Cedric possessed all the qualities required to become emperor. After all, he was his father’s son. Not like that b*stard, Gerard.

Colbert had chosen Cedric as his heir from an early age and remained loyal to him ever since. However, now that their goal was finally within reach, the doubts he had pushed aside began to resurface.