Chapter 52: The First Piece Falls.

Chapter 52

The morning following the tempest dawned dark and gloomy over the capital, the heavy overcast sky casting a somber gray blanket upon the realm. A profound, suffocating cloud of misfortune descended upon the noble House of Warwick after the barely breathing, bloody frame of their beloved daughter was unceremoniously dumped outside their iron gates during the twilight hours. The entire household plunged into chaotic despair, frantic cries echoing through the grand manor as servants scrambled to tend to the dying girl. Within hours, wild rumors tore through the city streets like wildfire; whispers spread rapidly among the common folk and nobility alike that Lady Isabel had been brutally ambushed, violated, and left for dead by ruthless bandits along the trade roads.

Meanwhile, far removed from the hysterical turmoil consuming the capital, the true orchestrator of the entire ordeal sat serenely upon the grand terrace of the northern fortress. Sigrid lifted a delicate porcelain cup to her lips, quietly sipping her hot tea while looking out over the misty courtyard, entirely indifferent to the catastrophic storm she had unleashed.

....

Across the territory within the opulent marble corridors of the imperial palace, a shrill, frantic commotion shattered the morning calm. Lady Maria stood surrounded by her entourage of maids, her face a mask of dramatic horror as she listened to the sobbing messenger sent directly from the Warwick estate. "This is simply tragic," Maria murmured, her sweet voice laced with profound sorrow as she looked down at the messenger. "You must all be utterly heartbroken. Lady Isabel was a gentle, lovely soul, and I had intended to select her as my primary lady-in-waiting for the upcoming court season."

The messenger bowed his head against the polished floor, weeping bitterly. Turning toward a nearby royal guard, Maria raised her chin with practiced aristocratic elegance. "Fetch one hundred gold coins from the royal vault immediately, so that we may offer proper aid to the Warwick family in their hour of grief."

The guard hesitated, remaining firmly in his post as his brow furrowed in visible discomfort. "I cannot fulfill such a request, Lady Maria," he replied quietly.

Maria’s expression darkened, her delicate brow knitting together in sharp irritation. "And why ever not?" she demanded, stepping closer to the soldier.

The guard swallowed hard, intimidated yet standing his ground. "Because you do not possess the legal authority or title required to withdraw funds from the imperial treasury, milady. I would be executed for treason should I comply."

Maria’s eyes widened with sudden, unrestrained rage at his blunt refusal. Stepping directly into his personal space, her pristine facade slipped for a fraction of a second. "How dare you speak to me with such insolence!" she spat, swinging her hand back and delivering a sharp, resounding slap across the guard’s face.

The guard snapped his head back, shock and rising anger flashing in his eyes as he held his cheek. Panicking at the sudden shift in his demeanor, Maria immediately let out a dramatic, piercing shriek. "What is the meaning of this noise?" a stern, familiar voice boomed down the corridor. Prince Ragnar approached with heavy strides, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Maria instantly dissolved into tears, throwing herself pitifully toward the prince and clutching his silk tunic. "Your Highness! I merely requested a small sum to aid the grieving Warwick family, yet this guard insolently refused me and raised his hand against my person when I tried to correct his manners!"

Ragnar’s face contorted with immediate rage. He glared at the soldier, waving his hand dismissively to his personal escort. "Seize this incompetent fool and drag him to the barracks!" he commanded coldly.

As the guards dragged the bewildered soldier away, Maria pressed her face against Ragnar’s chest, hiding a cunning smirk before looking up at him with tear-stained eyes. She kissed his cheek softly, her voice trembling. "Thank you, my sweet Prince. But please, I still wish to send the one hundred gold coins to Lady Isabel’s family to honor her memory."

Ragnar sighed, his expression softening with reluctant regret as he stroked her hair. "That will not be possible, my dear Maria." Maria froze, her eyes widening in dismay. "Why must you deny me such a simple request?" she asked, her tone edging into a subtle, desperate whine. "Because only my father, the Emperor, holds the authority to release funds directly from the imperial inventory," Ragnar explained patiently.

Inwardly, Maria cursed. She desperately needed to place the Warwick family under a heavy financial debt to secure their absolute loyalty for her future ambitions. Driven by urgency, she pressed her hands against Ragnar’s chest, attempting to coax him further. "Surely you can find a way, my Prince? For my sake?"

But Ragnar’s brow furrowed, a sudden flash of annoyance crossing his features as he pulled back, loosening his physical hold on her waist. "You are being thoroughly unreasonable, Maria," Ragnar stated coldly, his voice devoid of its previous warmth. "You have yet to be officially wed into the royal family, yet you continuously make these grand, impossible demands upon the crown."

Sensing the dangerous shift in his temperament and fearing she might lose her hold over him, Maria instantly retreated into her delicate, vulnerable act. Tears welled in her eyes as she took a trembling step back, lowering her head in deep humility. "Forgive me, Your Highness," she sobbed softly, making her frame appear fragile and small. "Lady Isabel was my dear friend, and my heart simply broke for her family. I did not mean to act so foolishly or cause you distress."

Seeing her reduced to such helpless sorrow, Ragnar’s annoyance melted away as quickly as it had arrived. Letting out a heavy breath, he pulled her back into his arms, kissing her temple. "Do not weep, my love. I shall provide fifty gold coins from my own personal allowance to send to the messenger."

Maria buried her face in his shoulder to conceal her dissatisfaction with the reduced sum, though it would have to suffice for now. "Oh, thank you, my wonderful Prince!" she exclaimed, pressing eager kisses against his cheek and neck.

Ragnar signaled a servant to deliver the pouch of gold to the waiting messenger, whose face lit up with profound gratitude as he bowed repeatedly before departing the palace. Satisfaction settled back into Maria’s chest; the Warwick family would still be beholden to her generosity. Ragnar adjusted his mantle, offering her a swift smile. "I must leave to attend my mother now. We must finalize the schedule for our formal dance rehearsals prior to the engagement ball." Maria offered a bright, enchanting smile. "Of course, my Prince. Go swiftly."

Once Ragnar vanished around the turn of the hallway, the bright smile instantly drained from Maria’s face, replaced by a calculating, cold sneer. She turned on her heel, her entourage of maids falling into lockstep behind her as they traversed the grand marble passageway. Inwardly, her mind raced with bitter frustration. Everything had been progressing seamlessly according to her master design—aside from that wretched, stubborn Sigrid rejecting the prince and constantly making her feel like an inferior commoner. Her plan had been to utilize Lady Isabel’s fierce rivalry to systematically ruin Sigrid, paving the way to execute both Duke Soren and her stepsister while securing her own place as Empress. But now, Isabel was dead, allegedly ruined by common bandits, leaving a crucial gap in her grand strategy. No matter, Maria thought to herself with ruthless arrogance. I shall simply find another foolish puppet to manipulate. Everyone in this court adores me regardless.

Lost entirely in her dark train of thought, Maria failed to pay attention to her immediate surroundings as she turned a sharp corner. Suddenly, she collided forcefully against a broad, solid chest that felt as impenetrable as an iron wall. Reeling backward from the impact, Maria stumbled, her maids letting out collective gasps.

Looking up in annoyance, her breath caught squarely in her throat as her eyes landed on the towering, imposing figure of Duke Soren. Instinctively, Maria smoothed down her silk gown, swiftly adopting her signature angelic smile and softening her gaze to project helpless innocence. "Oh! Forgive me, Your Grace," she purred, lowering her eyes delicately. "I was terribly distracted by the tragic news of the day and did not see you."

Soren did not utter a single word. He stood high above her, his piercing, icy blue eyes narrowing as he looked down at her with an absolute, chilling detachment. There was no admiration in his gaze, nor any polite acknowledgment of her beauty; he looked at her as though she were a wretched stain upon the marble floor, completely beneath his notice. Without so much as a nod, the Duke casually stepped around her trembling frame, continuing his heavy, measured stride down the corridor toward the palace training grounds.

Maria remained frozen on the spot, her jaw subtly tightening in sheer disbelief. She turned slowly, her eyes wide as she watched his broad shoulders vanish into the courtyard. Never in her life had a man looked upon her with such open, unadulterated disgust and utter indifference. Why did he look at me in such a manner? she raged internally, her fists clenching within her lace sleeves. Did I offend him, or is he simply an uncultured brute from the North? Before her thoughts could spiral further, her head maid stepped forward cautiously, offering a low bow. "Milady... please, we should return to your quarters." Maria took a slow, deep breath, forcing her sweet, angelic expression back onto her features. "Yes, of course," she replied smoothly, turning away from the training grounds to resume her walk down the sunlit hall.