RVMPT Chapter 124

Chapter 124 

“Duke Harold!”

Andrew’s shout pierced the cold silence like a knife. His voice, breathless and full of disbelief, echoed through the hidden underground chamber. But Harold didn’t move. He lay motionless, eyes shut, body still—like a corpse, yet his chest faintly rose and fell. He was alive, though just barely.

“Why… why is the Duke here?!”

Michael’s question tore from his throat in raw confusion. No one had an answer. They all stared in silence, equally stunned. The truth was that nobody understood.

Just yesterday, the capital had erupted in shock. News had spread like wildfire: that the treason charges against the Baisen family had been dropped. Everyone believed Duke Harold had died shortly after receiving that news—an apparent poisoning. The city had mourned him. His wife had collapsed in grief, too overwhelmed to attend the closed-casket funeral. His body had decomposed so rapidly that the coffin remained sealed.

And yet… the man, supposedly buried, now lay alive before them.

How?

Why?

“He’s unconscious, but he’s alive! Everyone, search for a key—quickly!”

At Andrew’s sharp command, the gathered nobles scattered like startled birds, tearing through the underground library and storage areas. But minutes passed. No one found the key. Gradually, they trickled back to the iron cell where Harold was trapped.

“The Marquis of Vampir… he’s not here.”

“I thought I saw him heading that way earlier…”

Concerned, they followed the path the Marquis had taken. As they turned a corner, they found him—frozen like a statue, staring down at something drawn on the stone floor.

A huge red magic circle.

“Ugh…” someone gagged. The stench of blood was overwhelming.

It didn’t take a scholar to know what it was. The smell of blood, thick and metallic, clung to the air. The dark, sticky stains had seeped into the cracks in the stone.

Andrew approached, standing beside the pale-faced Marquis.

“Marquis Vampir.”

The moment Andrew touched his shoulder, the Marquis crumpled to the ground.

“Marquis!”

Everyone knew he was timid, even cowardly at times, but this… this wasn’t fear.

His bloodshot eyes were locked onto the magic circle with wild intensity. He clenched his chest as though trying to rip out a pain buried deep inside. Then, through gritted teeth, he spat out a single word:

“…Witch.”

“What?”

“Why… why is there a witch in the abandoned palace? I thought they were all executed! All of them!”

His shout rang off the walls. It wasn’t fear. It was rage—anguish.

“Witch? What are you talking about, Marquis?” Andrew asked urgently.

The Marquis’s voice trembled with emotion as he replied, “I saw it with my own eyes! A ritual. A human sacrifice. Years ago! This… this is the same thing. This is witchcraft! A witch has returned!”

He gasped for breath, eyes wild. Two nobles knelt beside him to calm him.

Meanwhile, Charles, who had been searching the surrounding shelves, called out.

“Here! I found the key!”

Andrew wasted no time. He seized the key and hurried to the cell. The others followed, the Marquis stumbling to his feet and joining them.

“Marquis, perhaps you should rest. You’re shaken.”

“No, Viscount. I want to hear what the Duke has to say. I must hear it.”

The heavy iron lock clicked open. Andrew entered the cell and gently shook Harold.

“Duke Harold… can you hear me?”

A groan escaped the man’s lips. Slowly, his eyes opened—hazy, unfocused. He blinked, trying to make sense of the room, then finally, his eyes met Andrew’s.

A silent look passed between them—one of urgency, of shared understanding.

Harold licked his dry lips and spoke.

“I was in the interrogation room. Then I woke up here.”

“What? But the treason charge was dropped. You should’ve returned home.”

“I never did. I was taken before I could.”

“By whom?”

Harold answered without hesitation.

“The Royal First Knight Order. And… I saw people in black cloaks. They were coming and going freely. They kept referring to the Emperor’s mistress as… ‘Lady Reina.’”

That name hit the chamber like a bomb.

“Reina…?” Andrew muttered. “You mean Countess Jaina? The same Reina who offered human sacrifices five years ago?!”

“Exactly. But she’s not alone. I saw servants from the Petrium, Tatum, and Oweks families bringing people in. If you interrogate the other captives, you’ll hear the same story.”

The nobles stood frozen in disbelief.

It sounded impossible. A dead man returned. Secret rituals. A known criminal alive and well. All happening within the Empire’s most guarded place—under the Emperor’s very nose.

Or… perhaps… with his permission?

Marquis Vampir’s voice broke the silence.

“If what the Duke says is true… then the witch executed five years ago was a fake. And His Majesty is working with real witches.”

He let out a bitter, broken laugh.

“How could he do this to us?!”

The nobles erupted in anger.

They had placed their trust in the Emperor—only to learn that witches were kidnapping, killing, and manipulating under his protection.

“If they did this to Duke Harold… what if we’re next?” Michael cried.

“Don’t doubt it. If His Majesty really is involved, the moment he learns we’ve discovered this place, he’ll silence us too.”

A chilling hush fell over them.

Harold looked up and spoke again.

“His Majesty… may no longer be himself.”

“What do you mean, Duke?”

“I heard Reina call him ‘God.’”

The room went dead silent.

“…A god?” someone whispered. “The witches’ god… that’s a demon. You mean…?”

“Yes. I believe… a demon now inhabits His Majesty’s body. Why else would he gladly drink human blood given by a witch?”

A heavy breath filled the air. Slowly, all eyes turned to Andrew.

His skin prickled.

The conversation he’d had with Harold before came back to him:

“Even if the nobles know the truth, they’ll hesitate to go against the Emperor.”

“Fear and anger help, but they’re not enough. We need to give them something else.”

“What?”

“A reason. A noble cause. Words matter, Your Highness. If you say ‘rebellion against the Emperor,’ they’ll be reluctant. But if you say ‘removing a demon who possesses His Majesty’—then it becomes duty. A holy cause to save the Empire.”

Andrew looked to Harold again.

He was calm, seated behind them all, a small smile curling on his lips.

“An ally like this is reassuring,” Andrew thought, “but if he ever turned enemy… he’d be terrifying.”

Andrew slowly set aside the arrow he’d been holding—just in case.

He looked around.

Here stood Commander Charles of the 2nd Knight Order. Marquis Vampir, the Empire’s most influential publisher. And powerful nobles—those not aligned with the Emperor—all gathered.

The pieces were in place.

“It seems we all share the same goal.”

The nobles looked at him in silence.

Andrew drew his sword.

“I will not stand by while my father’s body is defiled by a demon! I will not watch our Empire be puppeteered by the forces of darkness!”

He raised the blade high.

“Who among you will stand with me?”

One by one, the nobles dropped to their knees.

“We will follow you, Prince Andrew!”

Their voices rang loud in unison.

A spark had been lit. And it would soon become a flame—one that might burn an empire to ashes, all in the name of saving it.