"When allies question motives, trust becomes the sharpest blade."
Both the Fourth Princess and the Grand Duke are individuals who seek scapegoats for their failures. You should be especially cautious."
Medea studied Acares in silence, taken aback by the unexpected warning.
He was a man who harbored as many secrets as she did.
Every so often, he made mysterious appearances that disrupted Medea's carefully laid plans.
Yet invariably, the process yielded benefits for her.
"Acares."
In that case, it was only appropriate for her to offer a warning of her own.
"Grand Duke Castullo is not a suitable ally for Facade. Keep your distance."
Though her expression remained impassive as always, Cesare detected something different in her demeanor.
It was the first time the princess had addressed him so directly. Cesare's eyes gleamed with interest.
"Aren't you going to tell me why?"
Those gleaming golden eyes seemed to probe the depths of Medea's mind.
"That is all the reasonable advice I'm willing to provide."
"Castullo..."
A sneer escaped his handsome lips as he repeated her words.
Though the mockery was unmistakable, its target did not appear to be Medea.
"How could such a lowly creature—one who would do anything to curry favor—possibly matter?"
He leaned down gracefully, like moonlight gliding across water, and kissed the tip of a rose petal resting on the table.
The gesture seemed simultaneously respectful—and seductive.
"Unless someone is as kind and gentle as the princess, they won't even acknowledge me as human."
No—he was toying with her. Medea frowned faintly.
His demeanor was so supremely arrogant that it contradicted the self-deprecating words entirely.
Rather, the disparity between speech and attitude made it abundantly clear that Jason wasn't even worth his notice.
'I'm relieved.'
Medea gazed at Cesare's figure, glowing pale in the moonlight, and thought wistfully.
If he'd allied himself with Jason, I would have had to eliminate him somehow.
Valdina Palace, cloaked in night's darkness.
A slender shadow, lithe as a leopard, materialized beneath the moonlight.
"My lord, Jared is causing trouble."
Alpha reported dutifully.
"He's sent orders summoning the elite forces from his domain to Katzen. It appears he intends revenge. What are your instructions?"
He extended a small, crumpled piece of parchment—the type of contact paper they routinely employed on the front lines.
Cesare turned and gazed toward the princess's palace.
The cream-colored structure glowed serenely in the darkness, much like its mistress—yet to his eyes, it appeared anything but secure.
Sparse guards. Glaring blind spots that could be easily penetrated.
Displeasure flickered in Cesare's beautiful eyes.
The dog who wallowed in mud continues tracking filth wherever he goes.
"The moment they set foot in this country, execute every single one and send their corpses to Jared."
"Yes, my lord."
As Cesare walked past the bowing Alpha, he paused mid-stride.
"Carve Facade's emblem into them."
He should send Jared a warning—a reminder not to parade around wearing that insufferable expression.
"...Yes, my lord."
Alpha hesitated briefly before obeying.
In the Empire, the First Prince had clipped Jared's wings when he attempted to soar. In Valdina, Facade's mercenaries had ground his future into the mud.
Alpha felt a flicker of pity for Jared, who remained utterly oblivious that the same person was responsible for both downfalls.
Cesare nodded and turned to Zeta.
"You will protect the princess."
"Yes, my lord."
They vanished back into the shadows.
"Come out, Sissair."
Silence.
"Since when have you enjoyed playing hide-and-seek?"
From behind a corner wall, Sissair emerged.
"I saw you leaving the princess's palace."
The monocle perched on his nose gleamed with an opaque sheen that seemed to mirror his guarded thoughts.
"What business could Facade possibly have with Her Highness? Shouldn't matters concerning Valdina be discussed with me first?"
His voice carried a coldness Cesare had never heard before.
Before friendship—as Valdina's prime minister and as a man—there was unmistakable wariness.
"It's my business with the princess. You have no need to know."
"..."
Silence descended.
Realizing he would extract nothing further, Sissair asked with stern composure.
"What are you thinking, Cesare?"
Cesare shrugged.
"Clarify your subject."
"Cesare, I'm asking why you're lingering around Her Highness Medea—behavior entirely out of character for you."
"..."
"Was it you who blocked the Rasai trade routes?"
Sissair knew Cesare intimately. He was the man who had always been cool and detached at the Tower of White Nights.
Cesare was not some magnanimous benefactor who extended aid without purpose. He had never acted without calculated reason.
Therefore, volunteering as the princess's champion meant Cesare harbored ulterior motives.
"I didn't think you were as opportunistic as the Empire. Or that you would exploit our friendship. I was mistaken."
Sissair struggled to suppress the emotions threatening to overflow.
"Release Facade from whatever arrangement you've made. And leave."
"Ah. The relief issue has been resolved, so I've outlived my usefulness? Are Valdinians always so ungrateful?"
Sissair ignored the barb and pressed forward.
"Don't approach Her Highness anymore. If only you understood the danger you created that day."
"If not for me, who would have brought Jared to his knees? Who would have silenced the Fourth Princess's insolent mouth?"
Cesare snorted. His confidence was absolute, worn as naturally as his attire.
"You? The princess's knight? Or perhaps Valdina's aging, renowned generals?"
"..."
"And Sissair—I believe you're mistaken. This country you serve so loyally holds no particular value for me."
Despite his languid tone, the content was razor-sharp.
"Miserably weak military strength. A populace brimming with stubborn convictions. You know as well as I that no invader would choose such a troublesome prize."
Sissair stared at him intently.
If not for Valdina, then there's only one other reason.
"I was the best option available to her—then and now. Don't you think it would be unwise to relinquish such an asset?"
A faint flicker of irritation kindled in his eyes.
"Sissair, you don't truly know the princess. I am the only person in all of Valdina who can fully comprehend her vision."
"Cesare, you—"
"So don't concern yourself with matters that don't involve you. She and I share a purely transactional relationship—mutually beneficial, nothing more."
Sissair found himself momentarily speechless at the expression on Cesare's face—as though even offering this explanation was genuinely tiresome. He felt like an intrusive stranger who'd overstepped boundaries.
"You can ask the princess yourself if you doubt me."
Cesare didn't wait for a response before melting back into the darkness.
"..."
Sissair removed his monocle and wiped his weary face.
"Protect the princess."
The orders Cesare had issued to his shadows were undeniably genuine. It wasn't difficult to deduce this was his countermeasure to prevent Jared from venting his rage over today's humiliating defeat.
Yet even though Sissair intellectually understood that Cesare had made these arrangements—and that the princess herself was involved—his heart refused to accept it.
Though he should have felt relieved confirming his trusted friend wasn't targeting his country, Sissair's expression remained troubled.
On his way back to his office, Sissair fingered the contents of his pocket.
Inside was medicine for treating wounds. In truth, he'd been concerned about Medea's injury from the duel with the Fourth Princess, so he'd gone to her palace immediately after organizing the oath—only to find Cesare there.
'What was I even thinking?'
Sissair turned back toward his office.
When he entered, he stopped short. The princess's maid, Neril, was waiting inside.
"The princess has summoned you."
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