Chapter 52
“Yes.”
Duke Russell looked at Amelia with a face that showed surprise at her quick response. It seemed he hadn’t expected her to deduce the answer so easily. In his mind, the image of Amelia was clear.
“The Emperor stands above the subjects of this land. To strip him of power is the work of their distrust.”
Amelia blinked slowly. Duke Russell then asked Louis, who was standing by her side, to bring paper and pen. Louis hurried to place them on the table.
“If you were to uncover the contents of the oracle on your own, it would take far too long.”
“……”
“We cannot afford such wasted time, so write down what I say.”
The duke gestured at the paper and pen on the table. Amelia obediently took up the pen.
“Hear me, foolish ones,” Duke Russell began leisurely.
“If you do not acknowledge my will, if you do not recognize the child I have sent as crown prince, then Escleif shall suffer three punishments.”
Amelia’s hand, faithfully copying his words onto the paper, faltered. His tone was so arrogant it was as if he truly were a god gazing down from the heavens.
“The first is…”
In that moment, Amelia thought: even if he were a false god now, it did not matter. If it meant she could seize the chance to protect Ian, Duke Russell was her god.
Her hand began to move again.
The oracle the priestess delivered spread mouth to mouth. Opinions clashed: some insisted that no child of unknown birth could be placed as crown prince, others said one could not go against the will of the divine.
As always, one oracle was enough to throw Escleif into turmoil. In the midst of it, the high priest delivered the second oracle said to have been received by the priestess.
“The priestess has spoken: if the child sent by god is not acknowledged as crown prince, then first of all, beasts shall turn on humankind.”
The emperor gave no reply. In truth, he seemed utterly indifferent. And indeed, it mattered little to him.
So, meaningless days slipped by—one day, two days, a week, and nearly half a month.
“Hey, don’t go too deep in.”
“These traps don’t catch anything anymore anyway.”
Laying snares or hunting animals in the mountains was nothing unusual. But animals had begun to notice that their kind were disappearing in that area, and their instincts warned them to stay away.
“The air feels heavy today. Feels like rain’s coming. Let’s call it off.”
One hunter, sensing the forest’s heaviness pressing against his skin, urged his companion to give up for the day. He was a broad, brawny man who looked like he’d never back down anywhere.
“You go if you want. I’m staying. I’ve got this feeling today we’ll catch something big.”
But his leaner, smaller companion was caught up in an unexplainable mood, excited at the thought of taking down larger prey than usual.
“…Fine.”
The bigger man gave up trying to persuade him. In situations like this, his friend never listened anyway. So he decided to head back alone. He thought of his mother’s worries, the gloomy sky, the damp, heavy air—all signs pressing at his instincts.
“All right. I’m leaving. You can come down when you’re done.”
Since his companion knew the mountain well, he trusted he could escape if anything happened.
“……!”
But as he neared the mountain’s edge, a sound scraped against his ears. Awooooo. His face turned uneasy as he glanced back at the mountain.
Wolves? Impossible.
It was unmistakably the cry of wolves, known to hunt in packs. Yet wolves had vanished from this mountain long ago. In over five years of hunting here, he had never seen nor heard one.
And it wasn’t just him—no one else had either.
“No way…”
He muttered, forcing himself to look away, quickening his pace as if being pursued.
“Have you seen my son?”
The next morning, his companion’s father came searching with a worried face.
“He stayed behind yesterday to hunt more, so I left him. He hasn’t come home yet?”
At the reply, the father nodded gravely. He’d even left the door unlocked, but the boy had never returned. Alarmed, the hunter shouldered his weapon and accompanied the father back up the mountain.
“……”
The closer they drew to the place where he had last seen his friend, the sharper the scent of blood filled the air. Not far away lay a fresh corpse.
The hunter pushed through dry branches blocking his view—only to freeze at the gruesome sight: discarded shoes, torn clothing, and a mangled body gnawed open to expose ribs, its eyes forever unclosed.
“Ka… Kyle!”
Behind him, the father collapsed in despair at the sight of his son’s remains. And beyond that bloody scene, once again, came the mournful, chilling cry of wolves.
“This makes the fifth, by what we can confirm.”
At Rodan’s report, Ivan rubbed his weary forehead. It was no surprise.
Less than a month had passed since Amelia delivered the false oracle, and already five had died. Woodsmen, hunters, children, a noble’s son, a mushroom gatherer. Some had vanished from their villages only to be found dead later.
“Rumors exaggerate it further. No one believes it’s only five.”
Indeed, whispers claimed dozens had been slain. Escleif’s people trembled with fear at the spreading stories. It was an instinctive dread of death, beyond anyone’s control.
“All eyes are fixed on the second oracle.”
The false prophecy worked. It was the same trick the temple had long used—bewitching Escleif’s people, shaking the imperial throne. Ivan gave a bitter laugh.
So much for her claims of being different. She had said the false oracle was not her will. Yet Amelia had become no different from them. He felt foolish for once holding sympathy for her, the mother of his child.
“Send knights into the mountains. Hire mercenaries if needed—wipe out every wolf you can find. And reward even common hunters who bring down beasts.”
Ivan gave his orders. Beasts that suddenly turned on humans had no place in the future. Coexistence was impossible.
“And check if anyone’s been secretly raising wolves, or if buyers have been moving them around.”
Rodan nodded, understanding Ivan’s meaning. At least he could rely on Rodan to move in step with him. Ivan sighed quietly.
“……”
It had been nearly a month since that night when he’d laid bare his true feelings and refused to see Amelia again. The truth was simple: he no longer wished to. She was a woman who had dared to betray and toy with him.
Ian—no surname, nothing but a name, barely able to speak.
A child he had intended to use to expose the temple’s lies, now twisted into a threat against him. It was laughable. All because he had once pitied Amelia.
A fragile woman who had never lived by her own will, only carried wherever the winds blew. Even outside the temple, she was gripped by fear that she and her child might be harmed. Looking at Amelia and her helpless infant, Ivan had let himself show kindness uncharacteristic of him.
“Amelia, if it comes to light that Ian is your child, and the truth of your work in the temple is revealed…”
The moment it was exposed that she had borne a child, both mother and son would be doomed.
“You’ll be a criminal against the state, and the child will share your stain. Even if he carries my blood, he won’t be safe.”
That was the warning Ivan had given her. In truth, at her presentation ceremony she should have announced the child’s birth and exposed the lies. But he had persuaded her otherwise—to spare the child a cursed fate. Just proving the legends false would be enough.
But he admitted it: his motives weren’t entirely pure. Ian was a flaw in his life, one he had no intention of embracing.
In truth, he had never planned to acknowledge Ian as his son. The boy was only leverage—to ensure Amelia revealed the temple’s secrets.
If he ever publicly accepted Ian, moths would swarm to Amelia and the child. And Ivan refused to endanger the children he would one day have in marriage.
“Make that child crown prince. Make him the bridge between the throne and the temple.”
That was the betrayal she had dared. To think she would try to raise her bastard to the crown prince’s seat! He cursed himself for once pitying her.
Had he ever truly loved his child?
Ivan knew now: he could no longer trust that woman.
