The Witch's Cursed Daughter

71. A Royal Counterattack

"You must have seen your sister's handiwork at the Wall. Perfect warning for those with treason in mind, do you not agree?" The Emperor's face seemed shadowed despite the brightly lit hall. Wen could taste his saliva thickening as he armed his mind with words.

"How could I not?" he replied, grinning to Illea, who curtsied humbly at his approval. "By treason, I assume there was evidence to suggest that the Chancellor was plotting against the crown?"

"Of course," the green-eyed Emperor's voice boomed, causing waves through the sea-like carpet. "The Second Prince's continued survival was suspicious. How could an untrained prince survive on the battlefield so young, for so long?"

Instinctively Wen interjected, "I did, Father." Realising his face, almost a replica of his father's, was peering directly at the throne, Wen bowed his head as a cold sensation crept into his chest.

"Well, let's say that was also unexpected," the Emperor murmured after a long silence.

Neither spoke, contemplating the implications of the other's comments. Before an entire minute passed, Illea inhaled loud enough for the men to understand that it was her turn to speak. "What Father is saying, elder brother, is that the Chancellor has been aiding our youngest, assisting him and rallying others to support his claim to the throne."

Wen froze; his expression remained uninterested while his thoughts began to sink into darkness. Unable to collect himself, Wen's gut clenched, trusting his instincts and experience with his family to manoeuvre any suspicion away from him, he replied, "Surely, that is of no consequence. Here, our Father rules benevolently in his prime; it is too soon to talk of succession and by the mongrel at that."

"Indeed, my oldest child has great wisdom. Perhaps I was a little too hasty in delivering Lucienne Ad Henos' soul to the Myrde," the Emperor cackled inelegantly. Tapping his fingers against his overly-embellished throne, he smirked as he appraised his son's demeanour, "Let us move on. Report the findings of your observation."

"Yes, Father," Wen said, hearing his heart-rate return to normal in his ears. "As we were already aware, Julian has effectively removed many barriers we faced in the past when expansion was considered. The forest thieves at our borders have been eradicated, and the Lumi River in the east has been secured for transporting materials and foods from Hasimat. He has created treaties while on the frontlines with the neighbouring countries to avoid retaliation. Sadly, it's an impressive feat."

"I see. While I am amazed by his good work, he cannot be left to continue building supporters," the Emperor said, waving a hand towards a maid by the side door.

"What do you suggest?"

"Illea, if you would," while the Emperor deflected his disinterest onto Illea, the maid he had signalled to brought over a large wine glass and a golden amphora which clashed crudely with the elaborate golden chair.

Not surprised by his actions, Illea's lips raised neatly at the corners as she descended the stairs, "Of course, Father. When Julian returns for the celebration of his sixteenth birthday and military congratulations, an accident will befall him."

"Accident?"

"I haven't decided if I will have him die to crush the hopes of the disloyal nobles instantly or have him mentally incapacitated so that he makes a fool of himself until the day he chokes on his own drool."

"Both are cruel options, sister. You never let me down," Wen chuckled as he praised the princess. As a child he adored her, pitied her after their mother passed, raised her with too much attention. At some point, he had lost the inclination to stop her, help her; now, he just wanted to be free of her. After being sent to war, Wen had changed but so had Illea; upon his return, he learned that she would kill animals and people like an angel of death, dressed prettily, smiling amid a gory scene.

Turning his attention back to the Emperor, Wen dipped his head before addressing him once again, "My apologies Father, may I be excused to write my reports? I came to visit you immediately upon my return and wish to rest."

"You may go. Good work, Wen."

Nodding to his sister with a grin, he made his way towards the exit. As he walked, Wen felt deafened by the swooshing noises the carpet made against his boots with each step. Reaching the door, Wen placed his hand against the black wood before pushing firmly.

As the door cracked open, a thought caused him to pause. Calling back, he alerted, "Father, earlier as I made my way here, I met with your steward. He seemed to have urgent news; however, he allowed our reunion first."

The Emperor's face drew in as if he had bit his tongue, and then it resumed its usual expression of regality and derision. "Alright, thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Since no words followed, Wen left, not waiting for the sound of the gigantic door to close behind him.