Droplet
"The cure he sought for so long... why does it feel hollow in his hands?"
The platinum dagger gleamed in Cesare's outstretched palm—an offering, a question, perhaps both.
"I appreciate your consideration, but I must decline—both your gift and your assistance."
Medea's voice carried the finality of a closing door.
The destruction of House Claudio was a matter she would entrust to no one but herself.
Cesare withdrew his hand with a gesture of acceptance, raising both palms in surrender.
"As you wish."
Medea studied the mercenary through lowered lashes, her faint smile masking the suspicion coiling beneath.
Zeta confirmed that he departed Valdina. Yet here he stands. Why return now, at this precise moment?
The fleeting comfort she had felt in the forest that night—that strange sense of connection—had dissipated like morning mist the moment she opened her eyes to reality.
Though their many transactions had cultivated a certain familiarity with Cesare, Medea never permitted herself to forget what he truly was: the head of the Facade, a man whose motives remained perpetually veiled.
He intends to exploit the chaos of the rebellion to search the palace. For the antidote the Magic Tower mentioned—the one meant for the First Prince.
The Dawn's Droplet.
Both the Tower and the Facade had evidently deduced that it lay concealed somewhere within Valdina's royal palace.
Medea's gaze drifted past Cesare's shoulder, seemingly casual, taking in the familiar scenery. A faint gleam flickered in her green eyes.
You did not come alone.
She had detected them—the shadows of the Facade, lurking within the palace grounds, their presence carefully concealed.
She had no intention of interfering with their search.
At present, she lacked the resources to confront them, and a far more pressing matter demanded her attention: the complete annihilation of House Claudio.
Fortunate that I prepared a duplicate and secured it elsewhere.
They would find nothing of value today.
The Dawn's Droplet rested safely in Medea's possession.
This treasure belongs to Valdina. The price for saving the First Prince shall be paid to Valdina—not to the Magic Tower and their machinations.
The Dawn's Droplet would be bestowed upon whomever she chose, whenever she deemed fit.
No exceptions.
And so Medea averted her gaze, feigning obliviousness to their presence, their intentions, their desperate hopes.
"Cesare, do take care on your journey."
With those courteous words, she turned away without a moment's hesitation.
Her steps were swift and sure as she left him behind.
"Your Highness, I've brought the horse. However—"
"We must move quickly, Neril. Time grows short. Come!"
Medea mounted in one fluid motion, her preparations complete. Without ceremony, she wheeled her horse toward the distant walls.
In an instant, the three figures vanished from the palace grounds.
"My lord!"
Cesare's gaze remained fixed on the Princess's retreating figure—a small point of light racing toward the castle walls without a backward glance.
Can death itself hold such a woman?
"Report."
He issued the command without shifting his eyes from the direction she had disappeared.
"The palace search is underway. But my lord—I believe the Princess possesses some manner of foresight. The rebellion unfolded precisely as she predicted."
Gallo's face was alight with barely contained excitement.
Her words had proven true. The chaos offered them the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the palace unseen. With all attention focused on the walls, their search would proceed unhindered.
"Gallo, you reckless fool! What possessed you to drag Cesare here? His treatment isn't even complete—"
Terence's voice cracked with reproach.
Cesare's condition had deteriorated to the point where even the Magic Tower's healers marveled at his ability to maintain consciousness.
The curse consuming his chest had spread until black marks now crawled visibly across his skin.
Gallo pressed his lips together, stealing a glance at their leader.
"I told you—there was no other choice. You surrendered to the Magic Tower's demands. What alternative remained?"
During the journey to the Tower for treatment, Cesare had suffered another violent seizure.
It was only days ago that he had finally regained consciousness, having pushed his body to its absolute limit.
"I had thought a great star would rise on this continent—one that might never be seen again. What a pity to watch it fall like this."
The Tower's master had shaken his head, clicking his tongue in theatrical dismay.
Gallo's thick fingers had clenched around the parchment in his hands—fresh intelligence from Valdina.
"My lord, rebellion has erupted in central Valdina. The insurgents march on the castle as we speak."
"..."
"The leader calls himself Horrols—ostensibly a farmer. Our investigations reveal his true name: Bakaro. Until five years past, he served as a mercenary among the Repalia pirates."
Gallo had delivered the report despite Terence's vehement objections.
Because he knew—with bone-deep certainty—that upon hearing these words, Cesare would rise before dawn and ride for Valdina.
And Cesare had done precisely that.
"When the Regent himself offers to empty the palace with his own forces, why refuse such an opportunity? Am I wrong, my lord?"
Gallo's gaze dropped to the blue veins bulging along Cesare's forearm—stark evidence of his deteriorating condition.
"This time, I intend to search every corner we've never reached before."
"..."
"My lord? Are you listening?"
Gallo struggled to mask his impatience, but Cesare offered no response. His attention remained elsewhere—fixed on some distant point only he could see.
Then Alpha appeared, his customary stoicism fractured by barely suppressed excitement.
"My lord. I believe we've found it."
"What? Truly?"
Gallo surged forward, interrupting before anyone else could speak.
"There's a concealed chamber behind the King's private study. It appears to connect to the royal treasury—the same vault that once housed the Book of the Sage."
"Then what are we waiting for? Move!"
Gallo's heart hammered against his ribs.
The Book of the Sage. A report. A hidden chamber. If there's anywhere the Dawn's Droplet might be concealed...
He had already started forward when he caught himself and turned back.
"My lord, aren't you coming?"
"..."
Cesare, who had been staring intently in one direction, finally moved to follow.
The Facade's operatives dispatched the guards stationed at the King's quarters with swift, silent efficiency.
"No casualties."
The shadows acknowledged Gallo's instruction with curt nods.
The secret chamber they discovered behind the study opened onto a spiral staircase, descending into darkness.
The entire tower-like structure served as the Valdina royal family's treasury.
Soundless footsteps carried them deeper within.
They examined every ornament, every treasure displayed along the curving walls—searching for any vessel that might contain the precious liquid.
Nothing.
At last, they reached the staircase's terminus.
Beyond a small door lay a circular chamber at the tower's apex. Upon a central pedestal rested an enormous chest—the same container that had once held the legendary Book of the Sage.
Gallo approached with reverent caution, examining every surface of the ancient box.
When his search revealed nothing—neither within nor without—he released a heavy sigh.
"Nothing. There's nothing here."
Could the Dawn's Droplet be nothing more than myth? Had they been chasing phantoms all along?
"Wait."
Cesare stepped forward, his fingers pressing gently against the chest's base.
A soft click. A hidden drawer emerged from the wood with a whisper of ancient mechanisms.
A dual concealment.
There, cradled in velvet, rested a small cylinder adorned with delicate patterns.
Every breath in the chamber ceased.
"..."
Cesare bent down and lifted the cylinder. The liquid within shifted, catching the light.
"The Dawn's Droplet."
A goddess carved into the crystal surface seemed to sparkle in welcome, as though the artifact had been waiting for this moment.
"We found it, Cesare! We found it! At last!"
Even Terence—the nobleman who had never raised his voice in his entire life—forgot all propriety and shouted in triumph.
But even as his voice rang with joy, his eyes glistened red with unshed tears.
"It was real. After searching the entire continent... here, in Valdina..."
Gallo dropped to his knees before the cylinder. Then he bent forward, pressing his lips to the cold stone floor again and again.
In truth, he was so overcome that he scarcely knew what he was doing.
"Thank you—the gods of Valdina, the ancestors of this land, the royal family, every soul who dwells here... I will never forget this grace. I swear upon my life to repay this kingdom... Damn it all, why am I weeping..."
How many anxious days had led to this moment? How many sleepless nights spent fearing the worst?
"What's happening to me?"
He asked the question aloud, yet could not stem the tears of relief streaming down his weathered face.
The Facade's shadows made no attempt to hide their elation. Even Alpha—second to none in stoic reserve—trembled with unconcealed joy.
"Now you can return to Katzen, my lord. You can reclaim your rightful place."
The return of Prince Cesare—the specter that so many had feared, that so many had labored to prevent.
How long had they waited for this moment?
The empire remained crowded with those who wished to erase his very name from existence.
Now they would have to content themselves with their brief, sweet dreams.
"My lord?"
But Cesare's expression remained unreadable.
Whether joy or sorrow moved him, the half-mask concealed all. His subordinates, long accustomed to his inscrutability, could not divine his thoughts.
"...Yes."
Cesare's fingers closed around the cylinder. The cold surface seemed to adhere to his palm, as though claiming him.
This was the moment. The primordial curse that had tormented his existence—that had filled three long years with despair—had finally yielded to his relentless pursuit.
Cesare lifted his gaze.
Through a narrow window, the white castle walls gleamed in the distance.
The prize he had sought so desperately rested in his hands at last.
Yet he could not understand why the joy refused to come—why his heart pulled him toward those distant walls rather than toward the salvation he now held.
The golden eye above the half-mask grew distant, contemplative, lost in depths even he could not fathom.
In his palm lay the cure.
In his heart lay a question he dared not answer.
And beyond the palace walls, a silver-haired princess rode toward her destiny—never knowing that the man she had dismissed was fighting the inexplicable urge to follow.
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