I Plotted The World Destruction With The Male Lead - Chapter 45

The look in Empress Luria’s eyes had grown sharp—unyielding, laced with suspicion and a quiet rage. She didn’t blame Eleanor personally, but it was clear she saw this as a message delivered on Van’s behalf. And it struck too close to home.

“Your Majesty,” Eleanor said steadily, “please remember these names. Be wary of them.”

The names listed on the parchment were impossible for Luria to forget—even if she’d wanted to. They weren’t just shocking—they were people she had trusted. Believed in.

“The Duke of Granmire earnestly desires to be considered as your son—and the Emperor’s,” Eleanor continued. “I believe both of you already know that. But there are those who refuse to accept it.”

Luria remained silent.

She had no children. And though the Emperor clearly cherished Van, he had also placed limits on his power.

If they had only formalized Van’s place as heir sooner, perhaps these whispering factions wouldn’t have risen at all.

“House Emperton, House Granmire… even the Imperial family itself—they are all surrounded by enemies now,” Eleanor said, her voice calm but firm. “The Duke has realized this too, and it’s shaken him deeply.”

If only a guide had appeared for Van earlier. If only Carlyle had not existed. So many what ifs…

“Your Majesty. Even if it’s all confusing right now, please remember this—Duke Granmire is doing all he can to protect you both.”

Luria couldn’t bring herself to respond in anger.

Eleanor’s expression was solemn, full of sincerity. She held the Empress’s gaze without hesitation—an act even many noblewomen hesitated to attempt.

And for some reason… that gaze seemed to say: I will protect you. I will protect the Emperor.

Luria lowered her eyes to the paper again.

Eleanor Hawke—now Eleanor Emperton—was a strange girl. Strange in a way Luria couldn’t quite name. Wise beyond her years, calm in places others panicked.

Luria looked at the names once more. They can’t all be enemies, she told herself. There were too many. If all of them were traitors…

A shiver passed through her, and she shut her eyes tightly. Please, she thought. Let this all be one of Van’s misguided suspicions. Even if it meant being unfair to him… she hoped he was wrong.

*

After Eleanor left, Luria immediately tossed the letter into the fireplace.

The flames eagerly consumed the crumpled paper, reducing the names to ash—names that must never leave the room. That list was undeniable proof that Duke Granmire and his fiancée were suspicious of high-ranking nobles loyal to the Emperor. Or so they claimed.

Luria watched the edges of the parchment curl and blacken, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. She had always known the position of Empress wasn’t easy—but she had never imagined it would come to this.

‘There must be a misunderstanding somewhere.’

Part of her wanted to summon someone right away—have the vassals of House Emperton investigated quietly, confirm the truth for herself. But what if that action shattered trust and fractured alliances? She hesitated, fearing it would drive a wedge between her family and the throne.

Eleanor hadn’t said there was definitive proof. The only families with hard evidence against them were the three known to be raising private mage forces—those had been the clearest leads.

‘But to think so many nobles might turn their backs on the crown… that can’t be true!’

Most high-ranking nobles hated change. Though sweeping reform might promise great rewards, it also carried grave risks—and those who already sat atop the social hierarchy had little reason to gamble their comfort and power.

These were people admired by all. They lived in opulent mansions, with wealth beyond imagination. Why risk it?

And yet… human greed was boundless. If the enemy seemed weak—if they believed they could get away with it—they might not see it as a risk at all.

‘I should have given Van more support. And the Duke of Emperton should’ve shown more ambition too.’

Though her father’s house had produced an Empress, they had been cautious not to grow too large, wary of drawing suspicion or overstepping. It was admirable in one sense—but perhaps, to their vassals, it seemed like weakness. Frustrating restraint.

‘No. No… this could still be Van’s misjudgment. If that list is true, the very foundation of the Empire is about to crumble.’

And truly, that was the problem. The list, in the current timeline, wasn’t conclusive. Van only learned of those betrayals five or six years from now.

At this point, some families might merely be brushing shoulders with danger—testing the waters, forming shallow ties. And yet, the truth didn’t matter as much as the perception. Planting seeds of doubt was enough to ruin them.

Luria glanced discreetly at the maid refilling her teacup.

A third of those who served closest to her had family ties to the names on that letter.

‘I must be cautious.’

She was the Empress. Her words carried more weight than any sword. One careless remark could destroy lives. She didn’t want to see her favored attendants punished unjustly.

But even so, a slow, cold ripple of unease began to spread through her heart like poison. In that moment—just that fleeting moment—Luria couldn’t help but resent that Eleanor had come to her with this.

That she had forced her to see what she now couldn’t unseen.

*

Rumble…

A heavy sound rolled through the clouds above.

Under the low-hanging sky, Gillian looked up uneasily, wondering if the rain would come soon and soak his Armoire. He didn’t particularly mind the usual blood and grease stains, but rain—that was a different story.

Their forced march had been too sudden to bring proper attendants. If their Armoire was damaged, each knight would be responsible for repairs themselves.

Yes, there were soldiers marching behind the knights, but they had their hands full maintaining their own equipment. No one had the luxury of looking after someone else’s Armoire.

With few exceptions.

Gillian cast a sharp glance toward the imperial carriage, speeding ahead of the wagons carrying the mages. That was where Duke Granmire, commander of this campaign, rode alongside his guide.

Surrounding their carriage like a protective shell was the 14th Imperial Knight Order—one of the six Van had chosen for this expedition.

The 14th Order was infamous for a single reason: its commander was a commoner. The only such case in all of the imperial knight orders.

Other knights whispered that Duke Granmire must be mocking them—choosing such an order for this campaign. Gillian didn’t disagree.

‘Let them sneer. It won’t matter for much longer.’

The other five knight commanders came from noble families of all different regions and ranks. What united them wasn’t blood or Vanner but one name:

‘Duke Carlyle Javez.’

He was the one who had ordered them: kill Van, the Duke of Granmire—and capture the guide alive. They had even prepared a corpse resembling the girl, hidden in a mage’s spatial pouch.

The command had come from above.

At first, the commanders were stunned to learn that all five knight orders had been given the same mission. But the realization gave them confidence.

Van’s power was renowned, yes—but not enough to stand against five knight orders. Especially now that he had a guide to protect.

Only the 14th Order bothered them. Personally handpicked by Van, they were a thorn in the plan. But even that, they told themselves, was a blessing in disguise.

A commoner knight leading a royal order? Disgraceful. An impurity that should’ve been removed long ago.

‘This is the perfect chance to wipe them out.’

They had chosen a remote location, far from the capital, to avoid witnesses. If Van and the 14th Order were killed here, it would be easy to blame the chaos of battle.

The skies had been cloudy for days—some called it an ill omen, but Gillian welcomed it.

If the moon had shone brightly, that would’ve been troubling.

After all, they were about to assassinate the Emperor’s nephew—against His Majesty’s command. Yes, they’d killed before. But this… this was treason, and every last one of them knew it.

Saying Van was unfit to be emperor? That wasn’t even a decent excuse. They were murderers—doing this for profit, power, or out of fear of what Duke Javez had on them.

‘Still, if one aims for the throne, spilling a bit of blood is expected. Van’s true crime was his foolishness—trusting Marquess Baird, a known puppet of Carlyle, to select the knight orders.’

To be unfit for the throne was to be dangerous. Van would die here—in this nameless field. And though the Emperor would rage, they would pin the blame on the mages.

Yes, rumors would follow them for a while, but that was all. Carlyle Javez would ensure the Emperor’s fury was redirected—to the Mage Corps.

Gillian glanced again at the imperial carriage, thinking of the man he couldn’t yet bring himself to call master.

Another rumble. More heads turned skyward.

The clouds had loomed above them for days, always threatening, never releasing. They seemed to follow them. It was absurd—but Gillian couldn’t shake the thought.

‘Is it the work of a mage? Or… something from the Duke himself?’

He briefly considered the unlikely.

‘Could it be… Van himself, moving those clouds?’

It sounded ridiculous. Van’s ability was known to be wind—dangerous, but rarely used due to severe side effects. But now, with a guide at his side, he might be able to wield it differently.

Wind could move clouds. Technically. But for what purpose? What would be the point? It’s meaningless.

Shaking the thought from his head, Gillian looked away from the sky. Still, a vague unease stirred in his chest. Maybe it was the weather. Or maybe it was the weight of what they were about to do.