CHAPTER 29: CHAPTER29-COLLUSION IN DISGRACE

William and Heimerdinger exchanged glances.

In that brief silence, both men were calculating in their hearts, weighing the feasibility of the matter at hand. Each of them knew that the empire’s survival hung on thin threads, and every move had to be considered not just once, but thrice.

After a short pause, William broke the silence. His tone was cautious, yet firm.

"If His Majesty wishes to mobilize the Imperial Knights, I will raise no objection. However, according to Your Majesty’s command, moving the Knights to the three cities surrounding the capital will require at least half a month."

He leaned forward slightly, as though to underline the urgency.

"So the question we must ask ourselves is not only how to move them, but how we are to safeguard Valoria Palace during those fifteen days. Half a month is enough for much to happen. And though Wood has departed from the Royal Guard, there remain within that corps far too many men whose loyalty is... questionable. That, too, must be resolved."

"Half a month..."

Aurek, seated upon his throne, rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes narrowed as thoughts churned within him.

If there were no uncertain variables, he calculated that within those fifteen days he could summon at least three hundred Elemental Assassins.

And if he added to that his Gold Assassins, then as long as Cardinal Austin of the Scarlet Robes did not personally intervene, Aurek himself would not be in any danger at all.

This thought gave him confidence, and he spoke aloud.

"You need not concern yourselves with the safety of Valoria Palace. That, I have already arranged. What I do need from you is this: gather and compile every detail of Jacoff and Troy. I want a full report on my desk without delay."

William’s expression grew complicated. He hesitated before replying, his brows furrowing, his heart tightening with both pity and guilt.

"Your Majesty," he said slowly, "it grieves me to see you bearing so much. I wish we could help shoulder some of the burdens that weigh upon you."

"We are old men, it is true. But that does not mean we are useless. There are still many matters in which we can serve."

From William’s eyes, the Emperor was still only in his early twenties—an age when a commoner would be brimming with youthful pride, when a noble youth would be surrounded by admiring young ladies casting him handkerchiefs and gazes filled with adoration.

But Aurek was no commoner, no ordinary noble.

He was born into the House of Veynar, into the bloodline of rulers. From the moment of his birth, destiny had shackled him to the weight of an empire.

And now, a decaying empire at that.

A youth barely into manhood was being forced to share the tomb of a dynasty thousands of years old. Was this not cruelty?

Cruel, yes. And William and Heimerdinger knew with bitter clarity that this cruelty had been shaped, at least in part, by their own hands.

It was they who had guided, advised, and ultimately contributed to this state of decline.

And so, standing before their young sovereign now, their hearts were filled with shame.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty," William whispered, his voice hoarse. "It is our incompetence that has led to this."

Aurek straightened in his seat, his sharp gaze falling upon the two men. His brow furrowed.

"Our enemies are watching us with eager eyes," he said gravely.

"That means neither I, nor the two of you, can afford even the slightest hint of weakness or doubt. This is not the time for self-blame. It is the time for resolve."

"Our task is singular: to ensure the Crossbridge Empire endures. An empire that has lasted ten thousand years cannot be allowed to crumble at our hands."

"As for Jacoff and Troy... in my eyes, they are nothing but jesters, clowns performing their little play."

The words struck William and Heimerdinger like a splash of cold water.

Their momentary weakness, born of regret, was gone. They exchanged a glance and silently nodded. The Emperor had reminded them of the greater cause.

Indeed, the Emperor surely had contingencies they could not yet see.

And now, the three of them were bound together—three grasshoppers tied to the same rope, sharing the same fate. None could afford retreat.

After further discussion and clarification of duties, William and Heimerdinger departed the palace.

The moment they stepped out of Valoria Palace, they made straight for the garrison of the Imperial Knights.

The capital was a city drowning in undercurrents.

Foreign threats pressed from without, while within lurked hidden forces, whispering, plotting, waiting.

William and Heimerdinger understood that they must act swiftly. They must strike before the enemy had time to adjust.

Three days later, the news exploded.

Word spread like wildfire: the Imperial Knights had been mobilized and were marching toward the capital.

The entire city of Eryndor was thrown into uproar.

Jacoff and Troy, upon hearing it, were shaken to their core.

And not only they. All factions within the capital were rattled. Even the great nobles who ruled their own fiefdoms dispatched spies to learn the truth of what was happening.

What had seemed like stagnant waters had suddenly been stirred into chaos.

Even the common folk sensed the disturbance in the air.

"The Imperial Knights..." murmured a blacksmith, hammering upon his anvil. "That’s the Emperor’s greatest weapon of deterrence. If His Majesty is moving them, then this empire is headed into turmoil once more."

His words echoed the unspoken fears of the people.

Meanwhile, within Jacoff’s residence, the Grand Marshal’s expression was darker than ever.

Not even his beloved morning coffee could bring him comfort; the cup sat cooling, untouched.

"Can anyone tell me," he growled, "what exactly the Emperor means by this?"

If it were mere intimidation, why mobilize the Imperial Knights?

The Imperial Knights were far too important to be used as a bluff.

Could it be... that the Emperor was prepared to drag the empire into mutual destruction?

The thought unsettled him, but Jacoff quickly steadied himself.

After all, he was the Grand Marshal of the empire. The armies still in his command were formidable. Panic had no place in his heart.

Troy, however, did not share such calm.

Though he was the Minister of Police, his power was mostly administrative. His actual military command was limited.

Most of the empire’s armies were under Jacoff’s control.

And Troy, more than anyone, feared the Imperial Knights.

For their history stretched back to the very founding of the Crossbridge Empire under the first Aurek.

They had always been loyal, unwaveringly so, to the royal family.

They were the empire’s greatest bulwark, the stabilizing weight upon which all else rested.

And throughout all the centuries, no one had ever successfully infiltrated or corrupted the Imperial Knights.

This was why Troy could not sleep easily.

The more he thought, the more dread coiled in his chest.

At that moment, however, Aris, seated nearby, spoke with unhurried calm.

"You need not be so worried, Troy. In fact... this may even prove to be an opportunity."

Troy’s eyes lit up instantly. He leaned forward.

"Aris, please—help me this once!"

Aris smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor refusing. His words came smooth as silk.

"With the Imperial Knights in motion, your old rival Jacoff will certainly not be able to sit still. He will be forced to act. If you remain calm, you may yet orchestrate a scenario of ’watching tigers fight from a mountain top.’"

He gestured slightly with his hand.

"Your forces may be limited, but Jacoff commands plenty of soldiers. If we maneuver things correctly, the conflict between the Grand Marshal and the Emperor will grow irreconcilable. When the two sides clash and tear each other apart... you, Troy, will have your chance to reap the fisherman’s profit."

His voice lowered, carrying a conspiratorial tone.

"Troy, we are partners, are we not? And truthfully, I would very much like to see you seated upon the throne yourself."

Aris’s words slithered into Troy’s ears, tempting and venomous.

Troy clenched his fists beneath the table. The thought of seizing the Emperor’s seat—once unthinkable—now glimmered with dangerous allure.