Episode 594
Screeeech. Screech.
Filia frowned at the grinding sound of wheels meshing together. What on earth was that noise? A chill ran down her spine, making her want to rub her arms, but something felt off—uncomfortable. Still, she gripped her wits tightly and scanned her surroundings, trying to make sense of the darkness enveloping her.
Then—
“Ah.”
The conversation between Romandro and Viviana, the nighttime streets, the alleyways, the doll, and the stranger… everything she had thought was a dream was, in fact, real.
Her heart plummeted, but Filia stifled a groan and darted her eyes around. Her arms and legs were bound behind her, a gag stuffed in her mouth. On top of that, the steady shaking, the grinding of wheels, and the faint scent of rotting wood all confirmed one thing: she was trapped somewhere, being transported.
“A carriage, then?”
She pressed her ear to the floor, trying to catch the source of the noise, but the constant clatter of small impacts made it hard to distinguish anything. Was she in the cargo hold? Mixed in with the other luggage?
She struggled fiercely, thrashing her bound hands and feet, but the ropes were too tight. Despite the jolting vibrations, no one outside seemed to notice. It had to be the cargo compartment.
But why here?
“Trying to cross the border, maybe?”
If the palace or Romandro had realized she was missing, they would have taken measures by now.
Since she was still breathing, it seemed they intended to capture her alive. Hiding her so precariously beneath the cargo suggested they wanted to avoid detection—most likely to slip past the border guards’ inspections.
Filia found a tiny hole, about the size of a finger, near her head and back. A breathing hole.
She twisted her body as much as she could and pressed her face against the hole. Her guess was right. Beyond the hole, the ground was rushing past at a dizzying speed. They were riding in a carriage, speeding along.
“Where are they taking me? And why?”
Was this the work of enemies connected to Ian? Other than that, she had no reason to be targeted.
Her thoughts drifted to Ian’s face, and suddenly she remembered—he was a vessel. The night before, or maybe it had been days—she couldn’t tell anymore…
“The future emperor. Ian is the future emperor.”
Filia rubbed her forehead against the floor, trying to clear the fog in her mind. In this dark, uncomfortable place, she needed to awaken herself fully to think clearly.
Think, think. How can I get through this…?
“If I stay alive, they’ll come for me. But they want me alive. Maybe I’ll have to be ready to die when the time comes. They’ll definitely come to save me…”
Screeeech! Screeetch!
The carriage slowed, then came to a stop. Filia pressed her ear tightly to the floor, desperate to figure out what was happening. She thought she heard voices humming, but couldn’t make out the words.
“A checkpoint? Already? Then this is my only chance to call for help.”
“Ugh! Ugh!”
Thud! Boom!
Filia kicked with all her might, shouting that she was down here, begging to be saved. But nothing seemed to change.
Resigned, she curled back into a ball and turned her head toward the hole in the floor. It was small, but maybe sound could escape.
“Ugh.”
Just as she pressed her face fully against the floor—
“…!”
She froze.
A pair of eyes stared back at her through the tiny gap, as if curious about what she was doing, peering closely inside.
Startled for a moment, Filia realized those were the eyes of a doll. The grotesque doll with blonde hair and green eyes that resembled Ian.
“Of course. How else could it be looking inside a moving carriage’s floor? A puppeteer. Someone who wields strange powers.”
She had no chance against them physically, but knowing this only made her feel more hopeless. Yet—
“How dare they touch our Ian!”
A surge of fierce anger followed. She didn’t know why they had done this, but anyone who dared lay a hand on Ian was unforgivable.
Back in Bratz, she had been too weak to protect her son. But not anymore. She would protect her son—who had died and come back to life—no matter what. No matter what!
“Yes, Ian is my son, no matter what anyone says. The child I bore with my own pain. Future emperor or not, that will never change.”
She struggled to loosen the ropes binding her, and the doll watched silently, as if curious how far she would go.
But just as the carriage began to move again, and Filia turned her gaze back to the hole in surprise, the doll had vanished.
Tap tap tap! Screeeech!
The carriage picked up speed once more, leaving the Bariel border behind, heading toward a distant destination.
“I will devise a plan.”
Ian slowly set down his teacup, recalling Katimako’s words.
The mages continued to fret over Romandro and Filia’s safety, spreading the news to everyone they met. It wasn’t long before Jin came to see Ian.
“Lord Ian.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Are your wounds healing?”
“Filia has gone missing?”
Instead of answering the concern, Ian asked a question first. He glanced around at the agitated crowd, then gestured for Jin to sit.
“This letter came from the Magic Department. My mother went out at night and disappeared. The circumstances suggest she was kidnapped.”
“What should we do?”
“We must do nothing. Your Majesty.”
Ian’s calm words made Jin hesitate. The noisy mages quieted as well. Ian nodded for them to restrain themselves and continued.
“What Your Majesty and I must focus on now is the safety of the soldiers who left Bariel, the complete occupation of Burgos, and the swift advance to Toorun. We cannot let anything disrupt the operation, even if something happens to my mother. That might be exactly what the enemy wants.”
Ian was the core of the Magic Department, the war’s backbone. They could not afford to be distracted by matters outside the battlefield.
“Romandro has already taken measures, dispatching search parties and reinforcing the checkpoints. Bariel itself will conduct a thorough investigation. I’ve also asked Katimako, the puppeteer, to assist. He will lead the efforts.”
Jin, Ian, and every mage present were resolute: they would not sacrifice a single soldier who had risked everything for their country. Their priority was clear.
“Based on our assessment, this is likely the work of Toorun. Therefore, the right course is to press forward, step by step, and advance quickly into Toorun.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Even if she wasn’t his birth mother, Filia was important to Ian. Jin knew this well—the small words of comfort they exchanged at the engagement ceremony still lingered beautifully in his heart.
Ian took a deep breath, steadying his emotions, and replied.
“It’s okay not to be okay, Your Majesty.”
Hearing the title, Jin was reminded that Ian was the emperor—and with that came the crushing loneliness of this position.
…Someday, Jin would have to make the same decisions Ian had.
“Every time, I see the reason the gods sent you here.”
Before Ian could ask what he meant, footsteps approached outside. The clatter of boots and the clinking of armor signaled visitors from the Imperial Defense Department.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty. We have received messages from nearby cities.”
Since Bariel had fallen, Agiar had sent letters to neighboring cities, urging them to open their gates to avoid bloodshed.
With the royal family fallen and the country divided, surrendering to Bariel for autonomous survival wasn’t a bad choice. Jin hoped for a positive response—until he saw Tweller’s expression.
“Not very satisfactory, I take it?”
“The replies came from Rezende to the southwest of Agiar, Vieira to the south, Zar, and Purpato to the southeast.”
“That’s most of them, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s unexpected.”
Tweller laid the letters before Jin. Each one was a mess, as if indirectly revealing the cities’ dire situations.
“Unexpected how?”
Jin frowned. Even in normal times, surprises were unwelcome; in wartime, they were even more sensitive.
“To summarize, they’re requesting that the authority to punish Rutherford be transferred to Burgos.”
What did that mean? Jin read through the letters to clarify. Though worded differently, the message was consistent.
“…It seems the royalists in lower Burgos acted first.”
Once Bariel’s army crossed into Burgos, the royalists must have realized they couldn’t stop them. Moreover, they understood that Bariel needed their cooperation to govern Burgos effectively.
Ian explained to Jin after receiving the letters.
“If Agiar falls, the anti-royalist core collapses. They will either dissolve naturally or be absorbed by the royalists. They judged it better to preserve Burgos’s pride than to be dismantled by Bariel.”
“But why transfer the authority to punish Rutherford?”
“That’s to strengthen the royalists’ position.”
From Burgos’s perspective, the downfall of the anti-royalist faction was essentially achieved with the help of an outside force—Bariel. But what if the royalists themselves were to execute Rutherford, the very leader of that faction?
“In principle, they could claim that by eliminating Rutherford—the anti-royalist—they secured an independent victory. That would be a powerful rallying point to unify the fractured Burgos, and it would serve as a strong bargaining chip when negotiating with Bariel.”
“A strong bargaining chip?”
A mage listening from behind asked, prompting Ian to fold the letter and respond.
“Remember why the royalists aligned themselves with Bariel in the first place. They were divided, weak. But now their opposition has been crushed. If they can just absorb that power, Burgos will effectively be unified. Instead of surrendering to Bariel outright, they’ll want to negotiate.”
Twellar, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement. If the right to carry out the execution wasn’t handed over, fierce resistance would surely erupt in each city, resulting in significant losses for Bariel’s forces. More importantly, it could spark renewed conflict with the royalists.
“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jin asked, rubbing his brow.
“No need to overthink it,” Ian said with a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Just say he’s already dead.”
Clicking his pocket watch, Ian muttered, “If it weren’t for the Varsabe incident, the executions of the remaining rebels would have been long over by now. They say Rutherford died then. The letter just arrived too late—that’s all we need to say.”
There’s no reason to give the royalists any excuse to grow stronger.
“And after that?”
“We have to make it true. We’ll kill Rutherford. With Bariel’s own hand.”