218. The Day of Dahlia Solarius Death Part 1

A Year Ago, Imperial Palace, Ancorna EmpireThe heavy drapes of the chamber muffled the outside world, the flicker of golden candlelight the only warmth in the cold silence that clung to the room. Prince William sat rigid in his chair, his youthful features taut with suspicion, while opposite him, Eugene leaned forward, his voice low, steady, and laden with sorrow.

“Your Highness,” Eugene said, each word deliberate, as though spoken through the weight of a curse, “Her Majesty Dahlia… will die tonight.”

The words struck Prince William like a blade. His breath caught in his throat, his pupils dilated. For a heartbeat, disbelief reigned but then rage surged. He shot to his feet, seizing Eugene by the collar with both hands.

“What did you just say?” Prince William’s voice cracked with fury, his grip trembling with enough violence to snap bone. His face was mere inches away from Eugene’s, eyes burning with grief and suspicion. “What have you done!?”

Eugene did not resist. His composure was unsettling, his tone unnervingly calm despite being throttled by a prince whose wrath could end him in an instant. “I have done nothing, Your Highness. Nothing at all. What I speak of… is not murder, not treachery, but inevitability. It is something that will happen, whether we wish it or not.”

His serenity only fueled Prince William’s turmoil. The prince’s knuckles whitened as he gripped harder, torn between striking him down and clinging to the fragile hope that Eugene’s words were not true. Finally, with a guttural breath, William released him and staggered back a step, his chest heaving.

“Is… is it true?” he whispered, the strength draining from his voice. The image of his mother, graceful, kind, fragile as a porcelain vessel flashed before his eyes, and his heart clenched. “Tell me it isn’t so…”

Eugene straightened his attire, unshaken. His voice shifted, no longer soft but stern, every word edged with grim certainty. “It cannot be stopped, Your Highness. Her Majesty’s death is sealed.. Not a conspiracy. It is fate, and fate has already moved.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Prince William’s hands curled into fists, his teeth clenched against the helplessness that gnawed at him. His breath came shallow, his eyes glistening with restrained grief.

Eugene rose from his seat, stepping closer. He rested a steady hand on Prince William’s shoulder, the gesture at once intimate and audacious. His voice lowered, carrying both sympathy and calculation.

“So… though it may seem cruel, though it wounds me to say it to you in this hour of despair… we must face what is to come. We cannot stop Her Majesty’s death.” His grip tightened slightly, anchoring Prince William’s trembling frame. “But we can choose what it means.”

Prince William’s eyes lifted, wide and uncertain, searching Eugene’s face for clarity, for answers, for anything to hold onto amidst the unraveling storm.

Eugene’s expression was calm, almost mournful, yet beneath it burned a hidden fire. “This tragedy, Your Highness, will shake the Empire. It will leave wounds, fractures… opportunities. We must take advantage of it. not out of malice, but out of necessity. For if we do not, others surely will.”

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The prince’s heart thundered in his chest. A thousand protests warred on his tongue, but none left his lips. For deep down, he knew the truth in Eugene’s words: grief would not halt the march of power.

His shoulders sagged under the invisible weight of inevitability. At last, Prince William exhaled a ragged sigh, his voice trembling with the uncertainty.

“W–what do you have planned?” he asked, each word dragged from him like blood from an open wound.

Eugene’s expression hardened, the flicker of sorrow in his eyes extinguished, replaced by cold calculation. “We will orchestrate the fall of Her Highness Ravenna.”

The name hung in the air like a guillotine. Prince William's jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, to refuse but even now, even amidst grief, the mention of his sister stirred bitterness.

“How are we supposed to go about it?” he asked at last, his voice low, defeated.

Eugene did not hesitate. “We both know why she remains the favorite of the imperial court. It is not loyalty, nor admiration. Many of them despise her.” His gaze sharpened like drawn steel. “But…”

Prince William cut in, his tone sharp though weary. “She has dirt on them. Secrets. Enough leverage to keep even her enemies in check. I know this already. Get to the point.”

It was clear he was struggling to hold himself together, the mention of his mother’s impending death gnawing at the edges of his composure. His impatience was a mask for his pain.

“So,” Eugene continued evenly, “we erase it all.”

He stood and reached into his satchel, drawing out a slim ledger bound in dark leather. Placing it carefully on the table between them, he spoke with grim purpose.

“And we plant this. A forged ledger crafted with precision. It details supposed siphoning of Her Majesty’s chamber funds. Funds that should have secured the finest medicine and treatments for the Empress… but instead were stolen, diverted, by Her Highness Ravenna for her own gain.”

Prince William’s breath caught. His eyes widened in shock, flicking between Eugene and the damning book. “You… you mean to place the blame for my mother’s death onto Ravenna?”

He had been ruthless before ambitious, willing to tread where others would not but Eugene had always been the more reasonable one, the one who curbed his darker impulses. To hear such venomous cruelty spoken so plainly from his aide’s lips left him shaken.

“Yes,” Eugene said without the faintest hesitation.

The word struck Prince William harder than a blade. He dragged a hand down his face, massaging his temples as though trying to stave off the pounding ache forming there.

“Alright,” he muttered at last, resignation lacing his voice. “Even so… how? How do you intend to access her secret place of blackmail against the high nobles? Without destroying her leverage, no one will believe a single page of this.” His hand pressed harder against his brow. “And even if you could: how would you plant the ledger?”

Eugene drew in a deep breath, as though bracing himself for the revelation to come. Slowly, he turned toward the great doors of the chamber.

“Enter,” he called.

The hinges groaned as the doors swung open.

A young man stepped inside with unhurried grace. His hair was neatly combed, his features striking: handsome enough to be mistaken for an idol carved by a master’s hand. His steps carried a confidence that bordered on insolence, as if he belonged here even though his presence was entirely unexpected.

Prince William’s eyes narrowed, recognition dawning instantly.

Eugene’s voice cut through the silence, deliberate and weighty.

“Your Highness,” he said, gesturing to the newcomer, “you know him, of course. Allow me to properly introduce the tool of Ravenna’s undoing.”

The young man stopped at Eugene’s side, his lips curling into a faint smile.

“Meet Kenric Jade… one of her dear lovers.”

Author Note: Sorry for the sudden break, everyone! We've officially reached the end of our stockpile of pre-written chapters. To get ahead again and get back to a daily posting schedule, I'll be updating every other day for a little while.

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