The palace gates opened the moment I arrived.
Servants scrambled from their posts, abandoning whatever they had been doing to line themselves along the path.
Without a ruler, I was their temporary king by default. The conqueror who filled the vacancy left behind by the bloodline I had erased.
I rode through without acknowledging any of them.
I dismounted and handed the reins to the nearest knight, without looking back at the child still seated on the saddle.
"Lord Fleur... what of the child?"
I stopped. Looked back.
"Clean him up. Feed him. Treat him well."
I said it the same way I said everything.
Cold.
Final.
Then I continued my walk.
The king's study was untouched since the last time I had been here. I pulled the map from my satchel and spread it across the desk, sweeping everything on top of it to the floor without a second thought.
"Send for the royal aide," I told the maid hovering near the doorway. "The Crown Prince of Medalline will be taking the throne within the week. Tell the aide to begin preparations for his arrival."
She rushed out. More from wanting distance from me than from urgency to obey.
I glanced at the second maid still waiting in the corner.
"The Captain of the new order. Bring him here. I need the current status of every border, east, west, and north."
She nodded and followed the first one out.
I turned back to the map and began marking the likely entry points.
The other kingdoms wouldn't strike from one direction, they'd coordinate. Push from three sides at once and count on Branklore's instability to do the rest of the work for them.
When the aide arrived alongside the Captain, I was already seated.
"Lord Fleur. We are here as commanded."
Both of them bowed. I gestured for them to stop it.
"Patreish. Crown Prince Herlson arrives in a week. See to it that everything is ready for him. The Emperor has decreed that the Crown Prince will rule Branklore under the Empire of Medalline's authority. Make no mistake about what that means."
I held their gaze long enough for the weight of it to settle.
They knew better than to resist.
Defiance here didn't cost them alone, it cost everyone in this kingdom they still had reason to protect.
"Yes, my Lord. It will be handled."
I turned to the Captain and gestured toward the map.
"The illegitimate prince. I want his exact whereabouts and full details on his movements. As long as a surviving royal bloodline is unaccounted for, the people of Branklore will hold onto the idea that this kingdom can still be reclaimed."
The Captain flinched. He handed me the documents with hands that weren't quite steady.
A glance passed between him and Patreish, brief, careful. Enough for me to notice.
I knew that look. They're up to something.
I filed it away and read through the reports.
"I'll move to the northern border tomorrow. The Kingdom of Winterly has already assembled their forces for an advance, and the constant beast attacks along the north have weakened both the walls and the soldiers stationed there. With me covering the north, redistribute the army. Focus your strength on the east and west."
I walked the Captain through the specifics on the map.
Entry points.
Defensive priorities.
The positions that couldn't be left thin. He followed along in silence, nodding where it mattered.
By the time I dismissed them both, hours had passed.
It wasn't even long, since I was left alone in the study.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in."
The door opened. The child stepped through, a maid trailing quietly behind him. He looked entirely different from the child I had pulled out of the Doom Forest.
Clean.
Properly dressed.
More alive.
"Why are you here?"
I set down the report I had been reading.
"Dinner," he said simply, looking up at me with those steady, innocent eyes.
"Then eat."
The maid began to guide him back out.
"But I want to eat together." He stopped in the doorway. "We ate together during the travel. I'm scared eating alone."
I noticed he wasn't stuttering anymore. Not even slightly. Something about that felt... unexpectedly fine.
"I'm busy."
He walked back in, crossed the room, and tugged at the edge of my armor.
"I'm hungry. I'm scared eating alone. The table is so long."
He tugged again. And again. Persistent, without any real awareness of how close he was cutting it.
The maid behind him had gone pale. Wanting to stop him but too scared enough to utter a word.
They witnessed my cruelty, how I don't even bat an eye killing whoever's in my path.
I looked down at him with the same expression I wore for everything. Then I reached down and picked him up.
"Maid. Lead the way."
She stood frozen for a moment. Then moved.
I followed her down the hall, the child in my arms, and said nothing about it.
The dining hall made it clear why he had been afraid. A table built for ceremonies and declarations, set for only two, surrounded by servants who couldn't quite decide between hatred and fear.
The whole room carried an unease that had nothing to do with the food.
I set the child down on the chair with the cushion added for his height. I took the seat at the far end.
We ate in silence. I glanced at him once and found him going through his plate with a focus I hadn't expected from a child his age. Meat, vegetables, everything. Nothing left behind.
"Do you like it that much?"
He looked up and smiled with his mouth still full.
"Yes. We didn't have meat often back home."
He went back to eating. I watched for a moment longer than necessary.
"Children shouldn't be picky."
I said it without thinking. Growing up, I had no luxury of choosing what I consumed. I ate what was placed in front of me. It was simply how things were.
He nodded seriously, as though I had said something worth considering.
After dinner, a maid took the child to his chamber. I returned to the study and worked through the remaining reports until the moon had risen fully above the palace roof.
I set the last document down and went to bed.
My chamber was just next to the child's room. I had almost reached the door when I stopped.
Sniffling. Quiet, muffled. Someone trying very hard not to be heard.
My senses had always been sharp. Years of training had made sure of that. The sound hadn't slipped past me by accident, nothing did.
I knocked twice and opened the door.
The child shifted under the blanket and went still when he saw me. The red rimming his eyes told me everything the silence was trying to cover.
That sting in my chest again. The same one from the forest.
I walked to the edge of his bed and sat. The mattress dipped under my weight and looked at him.
"What's your name?"
He blinked. "...Torra."
"Torra. Why are you crying this time?"
He studied my face carefully, looking for something. My expression gave him nothing back, the same as always.
"I miss my mother. My father... my sister and brother." His voice was careful, measured. Holding itself together. "I'm alone."
"People die," I said. "Accept it, or you'll spend the rest of your life crying like this."
Not comfort. I didn't know what comfort looked like. I knew how to be present and I knew how to end a fight, and nothing in between.
He lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself. All the way up, past his head, until he disappeared under it entirely.
I reached out without thinking. Stopped halfway.
"Sleep. Rest well. Tomorrow, stay here. I'm going to the northern border."
I stood.
The blanket erupted. Torra launched himself at me before I had taken a single step, and I caught him out of reflex, arms closing around him before the thought had fully formed.
I stood there. Frozen.
"Take me with you. I'll stay hidden. I'll wait. Don't leave me here alone."
I didn't know why I said yes. I hadn't planned to.
"Then sleep. I won't wake you up if you can't manage it yourself."
He smiled. Bright and sudden, like it had been waiting just beneath the surface. He let go, climbed back under the blanket, and curled up without another word.
I stayed until his breathing slowed and evened out. Then I left, pulling the door quietly behind me.
Back in my own chamber, I removed my armor and lay down in the clothes beneath it.
No battle to report to. No orders waiting for morning. No victory I owed to someone else.
Just rest.
For once, I let myself have it.
Because tomorrow...
Crescentine Fleur's last battle will mark the end of the Empire's ruling.
How?
They'll know it soon.