Episode 815
The sun rose.
Damon quietly watched the miraculous moment when night vanished, dawn approached, and morning burst forth.
What had once been an ordinary sight suddenly seemed extraordinary, and in that instant, Damon realized he still clung to life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be feeling this way.
Click.
A sound came from outside. The attendants had arrived, carefully entering with a silver tray holding an elegant tea set.
Damon’s gaze remained fixed out the window. It was almost laughable—his final attachment was nothing more than the changing sky and drifting clouds.
“King Damon, the morning has come.”
The dark red tea poured from the kettle carried a subtle floral scent. The attendants, with graceful gestures, presented the cup along with a small biscuit.
“It’s best to drink it before it cools.”
If the tea grew cold, the pain tightening around his heart would intensify, and he would die watching himself cough up blood in a pitiful state.
Damon lifted the teacup, inhaled the aroma out of habit, then drank without hesitation. To wash away the bitter aftertaste, he broke off a piece of the biscuit and ate it.
“Would you like to lie down?”
Damon nodded and lay back on the bed.
The attendants slowly covered him with a blanket and placed a cloth over his face. His breath grew faint. They held their breath, focusing all their attention.
“…”
Damon’s fingertips twitched a few times before complete silence settled. The attendants tidied the tea set and informed the soldier outside.
“King Damon has passed away.”
The last bloodline of Rankvis, and with it, the long-standing feud with Burgos, was finally severed.
The attendants left after clearing the room. The doctor confirmed Damon’s death with a nod. The soldiers methodically wrapped the body in cloth.
Whoooosh!
Meanwhile, Rutherford looked up at the unfamiliar signal sounds coming from outside the tower. Footsteps echoed noisily throughout the once-quiet mage tower.
“Damon’s dead?”
If so, then it’s his turn now.
“But something’s strange.”
Ian Verosion’s behavior.
What had happened while he was frozen? Otherwise, there were too many things that didn’t add up.
Rutherford shook his shackles meaninglessly. Clink—clink—the sound of metal brought back old memories one after another.
“Do you know anything about me?”
Ian Verosion, the emperor of Bariel from the future. It was as if he was asking that, or maybe he thought Rutherford had forgotten. What was the meaning behind drugging me?
Rutherford frowned.
There was definitely something.
Definitely…
Clink.
“Rutherford. It’s time for your execution.”
Soldiers entered and pulled Rutherford to his feet. Contrary to their expectations of resistance, he followed obediently. With every step, the shackles clanged loudly.
“This way.”
Stepping outside the mage tower, Rutherford momentarily lost himself in the familiar view of the imperial palace. Though his memories as the palace’s mage ‘Bandor’ had faded, they hadn’t vanished completely. He hadn’t had a proper look when he first infiltrated the main palace…
“Nothing’s changed.”
…Truly, nothing had changed.
Rutherford smiled as he climbed into the escort carriage. The soldiers checked that his gag was secure before heading toward the main palace for the execution.
“Haahm. Ian, when do you plan to report to His Majesty?”
Romandro stretched and asked, referring to sending Eirin to Clipoford. Ian paused, looking up from the report he was handing over.
“…Romandro, keep this completely confidential. It’s something even you don’t know.”
Jin didn’t know either.
Romandro seemed to ‘assume’ that Jin and Ian had coordinated behind his back. Since no one had told him otherwise, it was natural he thought so. He pulled his mouth shut like zipping a zipper.
“Of course, I understand! Secrecy is the lifeblood of this operation.”
“I will tell you at the appropriate time.”
The phrase ‘at the appropriate time’ gave Romandro pause, but he didn’t dwell on it. After all, the priority now was Rutherford’s execution, and he knew the atmosphere with the emperor was tense over the mage department’s monopoly on mana stones.
“Right. I hope the high officials learn about this soon. Even if you’re clashing over the mana stone monopoly, it’s ultimately for His Majesty’s sake.”
“Romandro, that’s unnecessary.”
“Sorry, I’ll stop now.” Romandro winked repeatedly, grinning.
“Oh, by the way, King Damon’s execution was successful. The mages froze him and handed him over to Representative Kayla. I also briefly reviewed the written exchange between Kayla and Damon the day before—nothing significant.”
It was mostly an honest conversation between the former king of Burgos and the king-to-be.
“Good work.”
“And there’s an hour left until Rutherford’s execution. We should get moving soon.”
Once this was over, a major national event would finally conclude. Romandro looked forward to going home and having dinner with his family.
Ian finished the remaining paperwork, grabbed his jacket, and stood.
“Yes, let’s go.”
Strange carriages lined the palace grounds—central nobles invited to the execution. Dressed in colorful, elaborate gowns, they entered the main palace, giving the impression of a party rather than an execution.
“Lady Chloe.”
“Good day, madam. You’re as beautiful as ever.”
“Lady Chloe, I heard you have good news.”
“Oh, you heard?”
“Of course. No one in the capital doesn’t know.”
Chloe laughed, covering her mouth with the hand wearing a ring. The commotion was understandable, but she didn’t seem to mind. Of course, the count Davion standing beside her looked like he might faint.
“His Majesty should find a consort soon, don’t you think, Father?”
Chloe nudged Count Davion’s side, signaling. Some things had to be done—laying groundwork for a royal marriage proposal. That was Chloe’s purpose today.
The count replied with a troubled expression.
“…Well, yes. His Majesty has grown up; the empress’s position can’t remain vacant for long. It’s essential for Bariel’s continued strength. Ahem.”
In truth, everyone present likely thought the same.
Why dress so extravagantly for an execution? The ostensible reason was to celebrate victory, but ultimately, it was to catch the emperor’s eye. With strong candidates Kayla and Chloe out of the running, nobles with marriageable daughters were sharpening their gazes.
“Oh, there’s Minister Ian.”
“How old is Minister Ian now?”
“He hasn’t even had his coming-of-age ceremony. Dream on.”
“Hey, can’t I even ask?”
Ian seemed busy inspecting the venue with the mages until the last moment. Whispered rumors swirled around him.
“I heard he’s been on bad terms with His Majesty lately.”
“He collapsed recently, right? They say it’s health issues. As proof, he’s not using magic during this event.”
“Really? That’s a shame. Does that mean he’s stepping down?”
“He’s done well. Not yet, I think. He’s still young; there’s room for recovery.”
“By the way, did you hear? His Majesty…”
Chloe narrowed her eyes, gathering information amid the noisy chatter. She was determined to find out who was trying to slander Minister Ian. At least until my wedding with Xiaosi, no one will touch Minister Ian. Anyone who does will regret it…!
“Oh! Lady Kayla!”
Chloe’s irritation at the gossip about Ian flared. She glared sharply, warning them.
“Be careful. She’s the representative of Burgos and the future queen. Don’t call her ‘lady’ so casually.”
“Oh, I see. That was thoughtless of me.”
Hmph. Chloe turned away, and they exchanged looks like, ‘What’s her problem?’
Soon after, the emperor appeared. Despite his immaculate, ornate uniform, his face was dark. Before anyone could react, a message was broadcast by magic.
—Please be seated.
The execution was about to begin.
The emperor and foreign delegations sat in seats level with the guillotine, looking down. Kayla exchanged glances with familiar nobles but maintained a dignified posture.
—First, the peace treaty will be read aloud. To quell Gaia’s turmoil and honor peace, representatives from each nation pledge here to faithfully uphold the treaty…
Starting with the emperor, the delegations raised their hands and recited the treaty. The nobles applauded at appropriate moments, fulfilling their roles.
“Amplification device.”
Ian snapped his fingers, signaling the mages. Jin stepped forward to the magical apparatus they had prepared and began his speech. Every eye in the audience fixed on the emperor.
“Bring Rutherford here.”
“Yes, Lord Ian.”
The commotion behind them only grew more frantic. The mages rushed off and dragged the waiting Rutherford forward. Ian scrutinized him from head to toe, checking for any hidden dangers.
—We now stand at the end of a vile man’s path, one who sought to plunge Gaia into chaos, claiming to be the underground god’s pawn, aiming to topple Bariel. Let his screams be etched into your minds, his blood seared into your hearts. Remember the fate that befell those who threatened Bariel.
“Raise him up.”
“Lord Ian, shall we remove the gag?”
Ian hesitated for a moment at the mage’s question. Before the execution, the emperor was expected to ask if the condemned repented. No matter the answer, the sentence would not be overturned…
“Lord Ian?”
“Remove it.”
Click.
As the gag was taken off, Rutherford finally seemed to breathe easier, turning his jaw from side to side. The executioner roughly shoved him forward, and Rutherford looked back at Ian with a grin.
“Farewell, Ian—”
“Get on with it!”
“Ah, come on now.”
Not even allowed a proper farewell? How cold.
Rutherford staggered up onto the guillotine platform. The finely dressed nobles whispered among themselves, while the emperor and his delegation watched with grim expressions.
—Rutherford. Do you admit to the crime of sowing chaos across Gaia under the underground god’s deceit?
“If I’m guilty of anything, it’s defeat. Nothing more.”
“Outrageous! Insolent!”
“Shut your mouths!”
Rutherford dropped to his knees and bowed his head on the guillotine platform, as if urging them to just get it over with.
“Don’t act so high and mighty. Honestly, if it weren’t for Ian Verosion, you’d all be dead and rotting in hell by now. You should be thanking the gods.”
“…!”
“…!”
The murmurs died instantly. Everyone froze, barely daring to breathe, as if they’d misheard. But Rutherford ignored it all and shouted with all his might.
“Ian Verosion—”
“Hey, hey—!”
“Now! Bring down the blade!”
Madman! The executioners hurried to release the safety mechanism before he could say anything more foolish.
“I’m talking about the one who sent you to Bariel.”
Shhhhk!
The blade descended swiftly, severing Rutherford’s neck.