The Princess Imprint A Traitor - Chapter 31: Requiem of the Imperial Capital (1)

“Derek! Ah… Derek…!”

The Sixth Princess, Stephania, cried out in anguish, her voice echoing across the palace grounds. Her hands, shaking uncontrollably, fumbled with the wooden coffin until she managed to lift the lid. At the sight of her younger half-brother’s lifeless face, a torrent of tears poured from her eyes.

“Derek! No… Derek! Ahhhh!”

Her heart-wrenching wails filled the somber atmosphere of the palace. Meanwhile, the 300 homunculi guards stood solemnly at attention, their silence adding weight to the scene, turning the imperial palace into a veritable funeral hall.

As Stephania’s grief brought her near fainting, Emperor Desmond II descended the palace steps and approached the coffin. With a heavy expression, he touched the wooden lid and gave orders to the head of ceremonies.

“Prepare Derek’s funeral.”

The wooden coffin was lifted by the Phoenix Knights and carried away. But there was still one more coffin-like burden to attend to—the glass bier holding Rosenitte, who lay as if in a cursed slumber, reminiscent of a princess from a fairy tale poisoned by an apple. Desmond II gazed down at her with profound sorrow.

“Rosie… how did it come to this? Open your eyes, Rosie.”

“…”

“Rosie…”

His voice, filled with heartbreak, reminded everyone just how cherished Rosenitte was to the emperor. Eve and Brigitte both bowed their heads in shame and silence.

“I was a fool, thinking that all would be well if you were with your sisters beyond the Gray Barrier. I sent you, hoping you’d return with honor. I thought you’d be safe. I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m so sorry…”

Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, Desmond II turned sharply toward Eve and Brigitte.

“What were you doing that you failed to protect your sister?!”

“Our deepest apologies, Father,” they replied, kneeling in submission, along with the knights gathered nearby. Desmond II’s anger was raw, his grief untempered.

“Your Majesty, there are many eyes on you,” the chief attendant said gently, urging him to recall the dignity of the imperial family. With effort, Desmond II regained his composure, his expression shifting back to that of an emperor.

“Follow me. I expect a full report.”

Without a chance to rest or change into more formal attire, Eve and the key members of the envoy followed Desmond II to the audience hall. The emperor took his place on the golden throne adorned with jewels, with the chief attendant, the head of the royal household, and the chancellor standing nearby.

“Give me the complete account.”

“I will explain, Father,” Brigitte volunteered, recounting the events from the moment the second group of the envoy entered Dandelion’s lands. She omitted Eve’s achievements in defeating the beast horde and discovering the World Tree, downplaying her sister’s role.

Given the tense, grieving atmosphere, Eve chose not to argue, allowing Brigitte to continue without interruption.

“…and thus, Derek tragically lost his life. It appears the sealing stone had two critical faults. We were unaware that not only was there an issue with the power supply, but also with the magical coordinates needed to contain the dragon.”

“Is that so?” the emperor responded.

“Father, Derek prioritized repairing the faulty sealing stone over joining the Phoenix Knights,” Brigitte continued.

“Did he, now?”

“The land beyond the Gray Barrier was already filled with dark energy, so Derek’s swift action was necessary to protect it. His death was not due to recklessness but rather a noble sacrifice to safeguard our empire. It was a death worthy of honor.”

As she spoke, Brigitte painted Derek’s death as a noble sacrifice, carefully crafting an honorable narrative.

‘So she’s glossing over the fact that Derek, who had no particular skill in magic or alchemy, took it upon himself to repair the sealing stone,’ Eve thought as she kept her gaze lowered. But Desmond II’s attention shifted to her, as though considering whether Brigitte’s account was fully accurate.

However, the emperor gave Eve no opportunity to speak, suggesting that he preferred a smoother, more honorable conclusion to these events rather than dredging up unpleasant truths.

‘Next, he’ll look for a convenient scapegoat to punish.’

Just as Eve anticipated, Desmond II’s gaze turned to the homunculus with black hair, Snowret Wint.

“Snowret Wint.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“A royal guard’s duty is to protect their charge with their life. I hold you accountable for failing to protect Derek.”

“…Punish me as you see fit.”

Snowret knelt fully, lowering herself until her forehead touched the carpet. Desmond II’s icy blue gaze was piercing. Eve, feeling a surge of protectiveness, stepped forward, blocking his view of Snowret.

“Father.”

“…Do you have something to say, Eve?”

Eve’s gentle tone seemed to ease Desmond II’s temper slightly, prompting him to allow her to speak. Carefully choosing her words, Eve responded in the most royal manner possible.

“Sir Wint was a knight greatly cherished by my brother Derek. Please, grant her mercy and preserve her as a keepsake of his memory.”

Eve’s phrasing, treating Snowret as a possession rather than a person, was calculated to resonate with the emperor’s views on homunculi. It seemed effective, as the anger faded from Desmond II’s gaze. He gave his judgment swiftly.

“After the funeral, Snowret Wint is to guard Derek’s tomb in the underground crypt for a week. During that time, she shall be denied food and drink.”

It was, relatively speaking, a lenient punishment. There were recorded cases where homunculi were locked into tombs with deceased royals indefinitely, amounting to little more than a living burial.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Snowret replied, bowing deeply. Though her body paid homage to Desmond II, her eyes sought Eve’s figure in gratitude. Eve, unaware of this, was already deep in thought.

‘I’ll need to bribe the crypt keeper.’

Eve had no intention of letting Snowret suffer from starvation. She was already forming plans to secretly smuggle provisions when Desmond II, his expression stricken, moved on to the next topic.

“Now, explain why Rosie ended up like this.”

“Well… Rosie…”

Eve had already explained the effects of Ambroxah’s dark energy on Rosenitte, who had fallen victim to the dragon’s curse. There was little left to report, other than the dire prophecy that Rosenitte, bearing the “seed of disaster,” would one day destroy the imperial bloodline.

“Why Rosie of all people! Why!” Desmond II erupted as soon as Eve finished. Everyone in the audience chamber bowed their heads deeply, their breaths hushed in the stifling tension. Yet, surprisingly, someone dared to speak.

“Forgive me, Father, but may I speak?”

All eyes turned to Brigitte. Eve also glanced sideways, studying her older half-sister with suspicion.

‘At a time like this, she doesn’t hesitate to speak up? What is she scheming now?’

Brigitte ignored the sharp glance from Eve and continued her explanation smoothly.

“Dragon dreams tend to prey on those with weaker mental fortitude. I believe that Rosie was in an increasingly unstable state upon entering Dandelion. It’s only natural, given the circumstances…”

“Enough preambles, Betty. Get to the point,” Desmond II interrupted sharply.

“My apologies, Father. First, there’s something I must report. When we arrived at Dandelion, the city was under attack by monsters.”

Now, she acknowledged the struggles faced by the advance party. But Eve knew this wasn’t to give her any credit.

“During that time, Eve insisted on leading a punitive force into the city ahead of the others to claim credit for herself. I attempted to dissuade her, sensing she was too emotionally agitated, but she refused to listen.”

“What?”

Eve’s gentle voice soothed Desmond II’s rage just enough for her to speak. She lowered herself dramatically, dabbing at her eyes, before addressing him in a heartfelt plea.

“Yes, Father, it’s true. I brought Rosie with me. This is the result of my overprotection.”

“Overprotection?” he asked, his anger slightly displaced by confusion.

“The world outside the palace is so dangerous. I trusted no one else to keep Rosie safe, so I kept her close by, believing that my side was the safest place for her. But I failed, and this is the foolish outcome of my actions!”

“Ah…”

Tears filled Eve’s eyes as she continued, her voice trembling. “I’m a terrible sister. I thought only of her physical safety and didn’t consider her heart. I was blinded by my desire to keep her close, even if it meant holding onto her in such a twisted way. Please, punish me for my foolishness, Father!”

Desmond II’s expression softened, the fire in his eyes dimming as understanding took root. Eve’s tearful confession struck a sympathetic chord in him—perhaps a familial trait. She saw the flicker of reluctant empathy in his eyes.

“Yes… I understand,” he murmured, as if lost in thought. “I was the same once… In my youth, I thought that if I couldn’t have their heart, at least their presence…”

The audience room fell into an uncomfortable silence as the emperor’s reflection cast an oddly melancholic air. Brigitte, caught off guard, looked at Eve in exasperation.

‘Unbelievable. She slipped out of it like that?’

Eve discreetly shot a glance at her sister, their gazes locking.

‘Stop trying such petty tricks. They won’t work.’

‘Fine. Let’s see who wins next time.’

With that silent exchange, the tension between them settled. For now, Eve had narrowly avoided falling out of favor with Desmond II. Though she’d taken on the role of a “possessive, misguided sister,” she felt relieved; after all, her reputation had already suffered from the scandal of the Night Rose. She’d had enough of the petty bickering for now.

“Father,” she said softly, capturing everyone’s attention, “our first priority must be lifting Ambroxah’s curse from Rosenitte.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “We must eradicate this ‘seed of disaster’ Ambroxah placed within her. I’ll send word to the Ivory Tower and the Alchemy Guild at once.”

“If you’ll permit me, Father, I’d also like to seek assistance from my master.”

“The Sage of the Spruce Forest? Yes… Now is no time to worry about guild affiliations. Do whatever you must.”

The prospect of consulting the sage brought Desmond II a hint of relief. He took a deep breath, his fingers briefly covering his eyes. Brigitte, sensing the shift in mood, seized her chance to speak up.

“Please don’t worry too much, Father. Rosie will surely return to your side. Even if no remedy works and the curse cannot be lifted, the problem can be solved by simply slaying the dragon.”

Her words were correct but conveyed with a stark lack of warmth. Desmond II’s brow creased at her tone.

“The dragon-slaying campaign won’t be possible until early next year. There’s no guarantee Rosie’s body will hold out until then.”

“Do you doubt me, Father?” Brigitte replied. “After all, I was the one who placed Rosie in magical dormancy to protect her from the curse. She’s surely dreaming peacefully.”

“Peacefully? You just mentioned that she was trapped in the dragon’s nightmare. What do you mean by ‘peacefully’?”

Desmond II’s sharp question threw Brigitte off. She quickly tried to cover her mistake.

“I apologize, Father. My love for Rosie clouded my judgment. I misspoke.”

“That’s enough.”

“Then, perhaps you could station Sir Millard at Rosie’s side to protect her dreams until she awakens,” Brigitte suggested, her gaze shifting to the silver-haired knight behind Eve.

“What are you implying by that?” Desmond II asked.

“As Snowret Wint was tasked with guarding Derek’s remains to fulfill her duty, Sir Millard could serve as Rosie’s guardian in her dream state, protecting her from the curse.”

Sensing that Brigitte was edging toward a more sinister plan, Eve interrupted.

“Father, I will personally attend to Rosie. I’ll ensure she is treated with the finest potions to keep her strength up and shield her mind with protective enchantments to help her resist the dragon’s influence.”

“You’re willing to take on such a responsibility?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, Father. Please, allow me this chance to care for my sister once more.”

“…Very well. I trust you.”

Desmond II’s voice dropped, as if holding back a raging storm, his gaze piercing Brigitte.

“Prostitution? You claim ignorance of it?”

Brigitte’s face went ashen, her calm mask cracking visibly. This unexpected accusation silenced the entire audience chamber, the weight of the emperor’s words sinking into the room like a leaden curse. She forced a response, though her voice wavered.

“I-I… I am unaware of what you mean, Father.”

The emperor’s expression grew darker, the intensity of his wrath unmistakable. He spoke with the weight of absolute authority, his voice a low rumble.

“Reports have surfaced that the fires in District 13 were not merely an accident of faulty boilers. They were started to cover up certain… illicit activities conducted under your watch, Brigitte.”