— The Queen Mother's Palace — While those assembled lost themselves in speculation, Medea remained utterly composed—a portrait of serenity amid the storm.
The Queen Mother's expression twisted into something more ferocious still.
"You dare deny it? Must you be disciplined before you will speak properly?"
"If Grandmother deems punishment necessary, I shall accept it."
Medea's voice carried no tremor.
"But I cannot call a lie truth merely to escape momentary discomfort."
Her expression remained resolute.
Even with her supposedly secret private affairs exposed to all, she displayed neither shame nor shock—no sense of betrayal at being reported by a maid she had allegedly trusted with intimate knowledge.
If she truly possessed nothing to conceal... how could she maintain such perfect composure?
Doubt began to take root among the observers.
Perhaps something was amiss with these accusations after all.
"This situation strikes me as rather peculiar, Grandmother."
Medea continued, her voice carrying the weight of quiet reason.
"Madame Cuisine is someone I recently censured for violating royal law. Marieu is someone I excluded from my presence because she continually caused discord among the staff."
"The only two people accusing me of clandestine assignations happen to be the only two people I have recently disciplined."
She lifted her gaze to meet the Queen Mother's directly.
"Grandmother, are you entirely certain they speak the truth—or do they merely borrow your authority to exact their revenge?"
The Queen Mother's head turned slowly toward the head maid and Marieu.
For the first time, suspicion flickered in those cold eyes.
"Absolutely not!"
They cried in desperate unison.
"We possess proof! Irrefutable evidence!"
— The Prime Minister's Office — Meanwhile
Steam curled from a teacup upon the austere wooden desk.
"So then—when do you intend to cease this charade and reveal the true purpose of your presence in Valdina?"
Cesare stood at the window, his silver half-mask catching fragments of fractured sunlight. One gloved finger traced idle patterns through the air.
"Perhaps I simply find the weather here agreeable."
"I would say the war has finally rotted what remained of your senses."
Cissere set down his teacup with deliberate precision.
"Do you truly believe I lack even the capacity to appreciate beauty?"
"Utter nonsense. If you possessed such sentimentality, you would have perished long ago in the Tower of the Midnight Sun."
The Tower of the Midnight Sun.
The universal academy at the continent's edge—accepting only the rarest students, its entire curriculum shrouded in absolute secrecy.
Most graduates remained concealed beneath society's surface, their very existence known only through whispered legend.
"Rather harsh, wouldn't you say? Attacking the boss unprovoked like that."
Gallo approached from the fireplace, wearing his characteristic grin.
"A fair exchange, then. Are you not curious about my face? You remain the only person who has never inquired."
"Would you remove that mask if I asked?"
"No."
"Then there exists no purpose in posing questions that shall receive no answers. It is inefficient."
"Boss, you're precisely the sort who would instruct me to measure my coffin to exact specifications. For efficiency's sake."
"Hold your tongue, Gallo."
Though their time together at the Tower had been brief, the three had forged bonds that years of separation could not sever.
After graduation, scattered across the continent, Cesare had reemerged as a notorious arms dealer—Gallo serving as the public face of their organization, while Cesare commanded from the shadows.
Cissere dismissed the dim memories. Public and private matters demanded clear distinction.
"Explain why Facade's mercenaries currently infiltrate every corner of my capital."
Cold calculation glinted behind his monocle.
"You understand perfectly well it defies all reason to harbor you here during wartime."
"And I understand that His Excellency the Prime Minister possesses sufficient influence to conceal our presence indefinitely."
"Cesare."
"State your terms, merchant."
Cesare spread his hands in a gesture of invitation—though obviously a guest, he occupied the room as though he owned it entirely.
"That attitude truly does not become you."
"Boss, do you honestly believe our leader would flinch at mere disapproval? You might as well curse at him twice—at least it would provide me some satisfaction."
"Gallo. Your insufferable tongue remains unchanged, I see."
"The market closes soon."
Cissere exhaled slowly. Beneath that languid observation, he could sense Cesare's sharp anticipation coiled like a spring.
Very well. Truth it shall be.
"I require your military support."
If he continued playing games when Cesare had already perceived the truth, Cesare would simply dismantle the entire pretense.
"If Facade commands the rear guard, we can conclude this campaign before spring arrives."
As the war dragged on, Valdina had reached its limits—both internally and externally.
Furthermore, the Prince Regent's power had grown perilously strong. Even nobles had aligned with the Duke Regent, amplifying his influence dramatically.
Only when His Majesty returned to the capital could he secure his precarious throne.
"Dear Cissere."
Cesare turned from the window. The smile beneath his silver half-mask was bright—dangerously so.
"Can Valdina truly afford our invoice? Negotiating business through friendship alone proves rather... difficult."
"Besides—that is not all you desire, is it?"
The room's temperature plummeted.
"Why trouble yourself ignoring the Empire to seek us instead? You intend to employ my mercenaries while simultaneously using us as a shield against Katzen's interference."
"You have calculated every angle admirably, Sir."
"My gratitude for the memories. Of everyone who has attempted to use me, you are likely the only one still drawing breath."
"Then kill me."
Cissere's face betrayed nothing.
"If Facade moves according to my design in exchange for a single head, considerable profit awaits you here."
"Boss, the thing resting on my neck grows rather burdensome when you speak so casually of trading heads."
Gallo interjected with an expression of theatrical horror.
Cesare leaned against the wall, studying his former friend with hooded eyes.
"A trade, then. Your neck need not be sacrificed. Swear to follow my lead, and I shall proceed according to your design."
"I have already pledged my loyalty to His Majesty the King."
Cesare had anticipated this rejection—his friend's stubborn nature remained unchanged.
"You wish to escape Katzen's interference? Then slaughter the entire delegation and return them in pieces."
"Have you taken leave of your senses? Ignite another war? Valdina cannot afford such madness—especially not against the Empire."
"You lack the necessary ruthlessness."
Cesare understood well that momentum—not raw military power—determined victory in war.
If Valdina had captured and executed even one Katzen royal, they would not face such contempt now.
"This is precisely why I said such matters do not suit you."
"Indeed, indeed. You have always chosen the weaker side to champion."
"Weak? You speak thus even after witnessing Valdina's cavalry in action?"
"Things that lack ruthlessness—let us call them weak in this world."
"Cesare. You approach the very limits of your recklessness."
If he were an ordinary man, he would admire that cold-blooded confidence. The endless arrogance—backed by ability sufficient to justify it—fascinated anyone who encountered it.
Yet he could not risk his country's survival on a dangerous gamble.
"Besides, this delegation includes Katzen's Princess, the Grand Duke, and their most formidable general. Extermination without the Royal Guard would prove impossible."
"Then alter your target."
Cesare shrugged with elegant indifference.
"What of the First Prince?"
His voice carried the weight of casual certainty.
"Death comes for everyone eventually."
"Katzen's First Prince? Have you entirely lost your reason?"
The demon of war who had conquered dozens of small kingdoms before reaching his twentieth year?
Cissere was beginning to suspect Cesare's legendary arrogance had finally exceeded the bounds of sanity.
"Ahem!"
Gallo coughed violently, his eyes flickering with urgent alarm toward Cesare—silently questioning whether his commander had taken complete leave of his senses.
💥
The office doors burst open with thunderous force.
"Your Excellency! Your Highness!"
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