CHAPTER 454: THE WEIGHT OF TRUTH

The Weight of Truth

Aden’s fingers closed tighter around something hard and sharp, knuckles paling, sinews tightening under his gauntlets. "You are surrounded by my men," he declared, his voice even, unyielding, weighted with the gravity of leadership. "Hundreds more are waiting outside these walls. I have no desire to kill you, stranger—but I will not hesitate to protect my kingdom. Come—why have you come here? Why strike against my soldiers, against my royal guard? What motivates a man such as yourself to introduce death into my court?

"The question dangled in the air, heavy with the unspoken demand for response, but Leon’s eyes flashed past Aden—serene, impassive, but shimmering with a soft spark of defiance that defied the knight to respond. Low laughter escaped Leon, nearly a whisper of steel cutting through tension, before he leaned his head in the direction of the shaking form of the head maid, huddled under Natasha’s protecting shadow. "You call her—and all these guards—innocent? " The warmth seeped from his voice, leaving it cold and accusatory. "That woman killed your queen with her own two hands. And the guards you take your oath to obey?

They turned a blind eye.

You protect monsters and name it loyalty."

Aden went still, the words tearing over him like hard lightning in a blackened sky. Shock passed across his face, sharp and fleeting. "What—?"

"You heard me," Leon said, his voice edged, unyielding. "Your queen’s blood still stains her hands."

Silence descended on the courtyard once again, heavy and stifling. Even the embers dancing above the broken stones seemed to falter, frozen in the gravity of truth.

Aden’s fingers quivered, the slightest shake betraying him. "That... cannot be true," he whispered, his voice strained tight with terror. "I would have known. The queen—she—

Leon’s words sliced through the knight like a drawn sword. "Your queen’s body is cold, Sir Knight. And you, who were sworn to protect her life, didn’t even notice she was dead. Some protector you are.

Aden’s jaw flexed, teeth grinding together as a whirlwind of pain, shock, and anger flashed behind his eyes. He spun around to face the head maid, her body shrinking under his glower, fear contorting her features into something alien. "Is it true?" he whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

The maid’s lips were still sealed, but her hands betrayed her, shaking so hard the answer was clear.

Leon’s gaze remained fixed upon Aden, observing the silence expand, the internal conflict ripping apart the knight’s conscience. He could see it—the honor, the loyalty—but it was not held fast by truth, nor by justice, but by oaths and birthright.

"You know already the truth," Leon spoke softly, nearly tenderly, allowing the words to settle as stones do in stagnant water. "You simply refuse to look."

Leon’s laugh was low, almost cruel, as he raised a hand and pointed towards the battered head maid shaking under Natasha’s umbrella. "You call her—and all those soldiers you serve—innocent?" His voice deepened, the warmth gone, replaced by a glacial edge that cut through the darkness. "That woman—she killed your queen with her own hands. And your guards? They watched. Turned away from it. You defend monsters and call it loyalty.

Aden stood stock-still, incredulity flashing across his face like lightning through a tempest. "What—?"

"You heard me," Leon snapped, the words unadorned and incisive, leaving no question for debate. "Your queen’s blood still clings to her hands."

The courtyard lapsed into silence again. Even the coals of the fire appeared to be suspended in midair, as if the world itself recoiled from the reality.

Aden’s fingers convulsed, shaking with a combination of horror and denial. "That. cannot be," he breathed, his voice breaking. "I would have known. the queen—she—"

Leon’s words cut through him, sharp and pitiless. "Your queen’s body is cold, Sir Knight. And you—vowed to defend her—didn’t even realize she was dead. Some defender you are.

Pain, horror, and rage collided behind Aden’s eyes, a tempest ruthlessly contained. His eyes flashed to the head maid, who shook, her terror written stark on her blood-stained face. "Is what he says true?" he whispered, voice harsh, on the verge of shattering.

The maid said nothing. She was betrayed only by the shaking of her hands.

Leon observed him, quiet, allowing the burden of truth to lie there like a sword against the chest of the old knight. He could see it there—obligation that was not belief, not faith, but duty based on oaths, on blood ties, on habit.

"You already know the truth," Leon spoke more softly now, almost kindly, but the metal beneath the words still lingered. "You just don’t want to see it."

The darkness stretched thick around them, heavy with smoke, ash, and the bitter taste of betrayal. Aden’s own chest shook, torn asunder between the world he had vowed to defend and the knowledge that it had fallen apart at his feet. Aden remained quiet, but tension in his jaw gave him away. His lips compressed, his muscles tensed, and for a moment, doubt crossed his face. And then it hardened into determination. Something was amiss—something deep, perilous, and far beyond his understanding. His eyes went to Natasha, and his chest compressed. Her strength churned like a tempest on the cusp of bursting—a shadowy, crushing power that caused the air around her to shudder. It was not strength alone; it was something that eclipsed all Imperial Knights he had ever battled, even the king. She was... unapproachable, a being who outmatched him utterly. Aden’s eyes went wide, incredulity and terror coursing through him. "A Monarch...?

No.

Something more." he whispered to himself, voice hoarse with wonder.

Leon’s voice sliced through the gathering tension, measured and cold. "Natasha," he said, each syllable an imperative that seemed to weigh with inevitability. "Finish it. Get your revenge.

Natasha’s hand tightened into a fist, shaking with held strength. Her black eyes locked onto Leon’s golden ones, unspoken agreement flashing between them—no need for words. She didn’t delay. Glancing at the crashed head maid, a glowing sphere of water formed around her, a still but unmoving barrier between her and the fire and turmoil of the courtyard.

Aden responded immediately, his voice ripping through the air. "Stop her!" The bellow held command, desperation, and incredulity together.

Armed men in hundreds charged at the same moment, their actions precise, disciplined, unrelenting. Blades reflected the firelight, glinting ominously as the Imperial Guard closed in around Leon and his friends. Five hundred fighters, every one a deadly tool of war, every one of them carrying enchanted steel for the purpose of killing. Nova’s voice lifted next to Leon, gentle but slicing through the tension like a knife. Unfazed, unbreakable. "Dear, you see to the old man," she said, her green eyes burning with still ferocity. "We’ll take care of the rest.