Chapter 7
“That’s certain. It’s Tia.”
Roil, Kazen’s aide, said with confidence.
“Possibility of mistaken memory?”
“The information was brought directly by Jes, whom Your Highness dispatched.”
“……”
“She claimed it was nothing, insisting it was just a lost item of Anna’s and handed over the map.”
“And what did the maid Anna say?”
“She flatly denied it. Said she knew nothing about it.”
“If the Second Empress finds out, she’ll foam at the mouth in rage.”
The crown prince murmured indifferently.
For a thirteen-year-old child, his eyes were remarkably dry—like someone who had already weathered many storms.
Kazen crossed his arms and looked down at the documents.
“Yuritier.”
“A peculiar name. Heroes’ names are usually family names and aren’t often used.”
Among the Seven Heroes, only Yuritie bore the surname Clurion, but since a hero’s name itself was precious, it was rarely given to children.
Kazen agreed with Roil’s assessment.
In many ways, the child seemed odd.
“Adopted into a merchant family. That happened not long ago.”
Kazen dropped the documents onto the table.
“No effort.”
For the Second Empress, it was far too sloppy.
Even though she must have known he would investigate the background of the ward, she had left it unattended—unlike the usual cunning methods she employed.
“It means she intends to discard the child once she’s used her.”
Digging deeper revealed that the girl had once been a street orphan.
“Does that mean she planned to use her for only a short time, even if I discovered her?”
Kazen thought silently.
The child named Yuritier had continued to visit him despite cold treatment and scorn.
Sometimes as many as seven times a day.
At minimum, three times a day.
“Why try so hard?”
“It is speculation, but she seems to long for warmth.”
“Warmth?”
His gaze sharpened instantly.
“I once saw the Second Empress holding the child quite affectionately.”
“A psychological reward, then.”
At the mention of the Second Empress, Kazen’s expression turned colder.
Roil continued.
“I was present during the recent disturbance.”
Roil placed a hand on his chin, recalling the event.
“She seemed quite frightened and cried for a long time in Jes’s arms. A perfectly childlike reaction.”
Hearing the report, Kazen looked at the documents again.
“She is ten.”
Judging by her clumsy movements when dealing with the maid, she was not trained as an assassin.
Nor did she seem to come from the rough underworld; her past was murky, as if she had truly wandered from place to place.
So why had she become a target of the Second Empress?
That woman was not the type to eliminate subordinates quickly.
Rather, she built networks through shallow bonds and secured her position with cunning.
“Has this Yuritier done anything that would anger the Second Empress?”
“According to our investigation, nothing. However…”
Roil hesitated, his usually kind brown eyes filled with pity.
“If it is discovered that she helped the crown prince—even unintentionally—she will not survive.”
“Of course.”
Kazen muttered calmly.
The Second Empress was a monster who had brought down his own mother—the only empress—at a single stroke.
“Children are easy to manipulate. Provide emotional comfort and they become easier to control. In that sense, she is suitable.”
Kazen rubbed the map with his fingers.
The ink smeared immediately, blurring the writing.
“It was written recently.”
If so, the map had been deliberately made.
But by whom—and for what purpose?
Kazen’s violet eyes narrowed.
“It is not a child’s handwriting.”
“You think Miss Tia made it?”
“By a ten-year-old?”
Kazen stated firmly:
“The map marks coordinates precisely. But the notation is unusual—like the kind used in military strategy.”
Roil nodded in agreement.
Then he suddenly remembered that his own lord was only thirteen.
“During the war with the southern continent a century ago, our code was exposed to the enemy. We changed the system then. But this matches the old notation.”
The style was old, yet the map itself seemed newly made.
It wasn’t ancient language, yet the terms were archaic.
What did it mean?
“Perhaps it is meant to sow confusion.”
Kazen murmured lowly, deep in thought.
“Or there might be another faction involved—an informant working with someone other than the Second Empress.”
“A double agent?”
“Hard to say… With the discovery of mannyeon grass, our position has strengthened, but their intentions remain unclear.”
Kazen immediately exploited what he held.
The mannyeon grass found at Yuritier’s former home was of far superior quality compared to that distributed by the Second Empress.
Excluding the merchant group tied to her, he succeeded in drawing the Crimton Trading Company—previously opposed to her—into his camp.
Mannyeon grass was used as food, medicine, and even in strengthening minerals, and it was also the key ingredient for producing a special substance called seneum.
Merchants chase the scent of money.
Likewise, scholars would flock to investigate rumors of the heroes’ legacy.
“Seal the site and remove all materials. We must find definitive proof that the Second Empress is not a descendant of the heroes.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Kazen spoke darkly:
“The Second Empress can never be a descendant of the heroes.”
The pact in their blood proved it.
“Those who inherit the blood of the Seven Heroes shall never harm one another. Though our bodies may perish, today’s oath shall continue through the bloodline.”
The bloodline’s mixed nature had weakened the compulsion, but the descendants of the heroes still could not inflict harm on each other.
The oath in their blood forced obedience.
If they attacked the other, overwhelming pain would bind their body—pain so severe that death would seem preferable.
‘But the Second Empress killed my mother.’
Young Kazen had seen it.
He had no proof—only his own eyes as a witness—but he was certain.
Yet what he lacked was people.
There was no one to believe or follow him.
This imperial palace was already under the Second Empress’s control.
That was the problem.
‘If only the true descendant of Yuritie appeared from somewhere…’
Kazen clenched his fist so tightly that his leather glove crumpled.
If such a miracle
were to occur.
It was what he desperately needed.
“Not bad for someone who doesn’t resemble their ancestors.”
I watched the crown prince from hiding, then swallowed a strawberry and closed the window.
“He understands words. That’s good.”
The crown prince was more useful than his foolish ancestors. I only dropped the map a little, and he handled everything so efficiently.
“His mother, the First Empress, is a descendant of Perilei, and his father a descendant of Huionis—but the kid is smart.”
Perilei had been a rather gentle soul.
Though part of the hero group, she couldn’t even kill an ant. A strange fellow.
But she was excellent at fighting large monsters—so when crisis struck, she would go berserk and unleash indiscriminate bombardments as a healer.
More precisely, she was a priest who provided healing.
‘She was clumsy when we first met.’
She always smelled strongly of herbs.
Thanks to Perilei, I learned an unpleasant truth: some of the plants I had happily eaten while wandering alleyways were actually poisonous.
I had no choice but to eat them because nothing else was available, yet the stubborn fool kept teaching me knowledge I didn’t want.
“Miss Tia, it’s time for bed.”
Just then, Jes came to my room holding a picture book.
“Wow, Jes! You came again? (How bothersome.)”
“Today it’s warm chocolate. It should help you sleep.”
“Yay! Jes is the best! (If that’s the case, you’re welcome.)”
