"When moonlight casts judgment, debts are settled in shadow."
Silence stretched between them.
Gallo had grown nervous at Cesare's lack of response. Surely that mad lord wouldn't extend his wrath to the Queen Mother herself?
"It was an honor."
But soon the cool voice emerged, and Gallo finally released the breath he'd been holding.
The Queen Mother turned to address the jubilant crowd.
"I believe we should conclude the banquet here. Everyone, return home and rest well. Won't the people be overjoyed when they hear of today's auspicious events?"
"Of course!"
The attendees shouted in unison.
Those present at the banquet were nobles—they immediately understood the Queen Mother's intentions.
"Mother, the Katzen delegation has not yet departed Valdina. If we embarrass them like this, relations between our countries will deteriorate further."
The Prince Regent intervened urgently.
"You have witnessed with your own eyes the ugliness of those who trample upon Valdina while proclaiming cooperation—and yet you still feel this is insufficient? They care nothing for our circumstances. Why should we accommodate theirs?"
The Queen Mother, having coldly reprimanded the Regent, simply walked past him.
Catherine and Samon were similarly ignored.
"Joaquin, you are truly magnanimous—worrying about the Katzen delegation even now. But why didn't you display that same generosity when your niece, the princess, asked for your help?"
"Mother—"
The Regent's eyes flickered with barely concealed contempt.
Before he could even wonder if she expected an answer, the Queen Mother departed without waiting to hear one.
Following her lead, attendees departed the banquet hall like an ebbing tide. Many agreed wholeheartedly with the Queen Mother's stance.
"My lord Duke, please don't be too distressed. Everyone is simply overexcited because of today's wager."
His vassals approached cautiously to offer comfort, but the Regent merely glared at the emptying hall with unsettling eyes.
"Medea... Yes, indeed..."
The Princess's palace.
Though Medea's victory had filled the palace with shouts of celebration, the princess's bedchamber remained subdued and gray.
"...Your Highness, how did you endure it?"
Saya sobbed quietly.
She had assumed it was merely a light graze from the blade—but when Medea returned and they examined the wound, the flesh had been torn deeply.
"There isn't enough holy water left to prevent scarring."
Saya's heart ached unbearably at the thought of permanent scars marring the princess's smooth, flawless skin.
Everyone else knows only how to celebrate and rejoice! Our princess suffers and bleeds like this...
Neril's mood was equally somber.
The princess always deployed her as a chess piece without hesitation.
As long as it served the kingdom, Medea didn't care if the pieces were sacrificed in the process.
Neril understood the truth.
When the Fourth Princess had swung her sword for the final time, Medea had deliberately refrained from dodging.
This was a tactic Medea had concealed from everyone—even from Neril herself.
'It must have been to provoke the Fourth Princess's humiliation and further cement that image in the audience's minds.'
Since the princess had visibly bled, the Empire would find it difficult to later dismiss today's duel as a mere childish contest between young women.
There was no denying this had been the optimal action to achieve multiple strategic goals simultaneously.
The result had unfolded exactly as Medea anticipated.
Neril didn't know whether to marvel at her mistress's precision in achieving objectives—or to admonish her for her reckless disregard for self-preservation.
But one thing was certain.
The princess's back—standing alone in the hall, facing down the Katzen delegation—had looked painfully small and lonely.
It was the silhouette of a leader. The burden of a visionary.
Neril, inadequate as she was, could not dare step forward to share that weight, even though she stood so close behind.
The princess's efforts to save Valdina from peril would likely never receive the recognition they deserved.
Neril felt sorrow and pity for her mistress, who silently prepared for the next battle despite knowing full well she would remain unacknowledged.
It was when Neril blinked to suppress the redness threatening her eyes—
Something rolled across the floor toward the sobbing Saya.
The blue liquid sloshing within a small vial... holy water?
"Use this."
The maids jumped at the rich voice that suddenly filled the room.
They turned to find the mercenary in the white half-mask leaning casually against the bedroom window—the same Facade warrior who had provided the finale to today's banquet.
Neril's hand flew to her sword, preparing to rush at Cesare—
"Neril. Saya. Both of you, leave us."
"Your Highness—!"
Medea's demeanor remained serene and unruffled.
Seeing her utterly unsurprised expression, Neril realized with a jolt that this was not the first time this unholy intruder had visited her mistress's bedchamber.
"This is outrageous—!"
"Now."
Neril barely managed to sheath her blade at the repeated command, but she didn't forget to glare venomously at Cesare.
"If you do anything improper to Her Highness, I will burn Facade to the ground—every last member."
She added the bloody threat up until the final moment before departing.
"You have excellent attendants."
Cesare offered genuine praise. It was not easy to find loyal retainers who would rush forward fearlessly even after witnessing his display of prowess today.
Medea stared at him silently.
Moonlight cast a pale, bleak glow across her features—like a night spirit heralding death.
He felt an unsettling sense of fragility, as though she might crumble at any moment. A cold sensation crept through his chest.
"How can I repay a favor I never requested?"
But as though Cesare's concern was misplaced, the princess addressed him with crystalline clarity.
The question was purely formal—but the meaning was unmistakable.
Since you assisted me without permission, you should expect nothing in return.
Yes—this was the princess he knew.
Cesare swallowed a laugh and gestured to the lime handkerchief still tied around his arm.
"I'll consider this payment enough."
Cesare's gains had been substantial when Medea defeated the Fourth Princess, Jared, and Jason all in one stroke.
All three were vipers perpetually seeking opportunities to undermine the First Prince's power.
"What would have happened today if I hadn't intervened? Did you truly believe that maid could defeat Katzen's foremost general?"
"Jared falls somewhat short of being considered 'foremost.'"
Medea smiled faintly and reached for the holy water vial he'd provided.
"It might have required slightly more holy water, but the outcome would have been identical. I won't refuse this, however."
Medea removed her bandages, revealing raw red wounds against pale skin.
Though the injury was unsightly, she suspected Cesare wouldn't care—he'd already witnessed her deliberately cutting her own hand.
"Is that why you specifically indicated his right hand?"
The hand holding the holy water bottle froze.
During the duel, Cesare had understood Medea's instructions perfectly. No—he'd gone beyond mere understanding and exceeded expectations. He'd severed Jared's ring finger entirely.
Medea's original plan had been to inflict a deep wound on that finger.
Combined with the violetta and belladonna's effects and the injury itself, Jared's fingers would gradually stiffen until they became immobile.
'I deliberately chose a slow approach so no one would trace it back to me.'
Since Facade had resolved it more dramatically, Medea had successfully evaded scrutiny.
"He was already unstable from his old injury. Now that he's lost a finger entirely, wielding a sword will be nearly impossible for him."
For a general, this was a fate worse than death itself.
"What a pity."
Medea answered with serene composure—yet a fierce flame kindled in her green eyes. Cesare detected even a hint of wicked delight.
"I've sent Neril to remain with you. Keep her close."
"Are you concerned Jared will seek revenge against me? I'm not afraid."
In truth, she wasn't frightened in the slightest.
On the contrary, she felt exhilarated. She no longer wanted to wait for anything.
However, Cesare found himself momentarily speechless at the sight of Medea burning with such fierce competitive spirit.
"Have you forgotten that as of today, you've made an enemy of Katzen entirely? Your adversary is no longer merely one crippled ten-star knight."
He felt as though he could finally, vaguely sympathize with how Gallo must feel whenever he watched Cesare—ready to tear his hair out and beat his chest in exasperation.
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