Royal Dot (3)

Alicia hesitated as she answered like a diligent student.

She worried whether her answer was correct and wondered why such a question was being asked.

“Isn’t it a little strange?”

Among all those in the Eastern Continent, the ones who knew the founding myth of the Rune Empire most accurately were the imperial family themselves.

Discussing history with Reichardt, a member of the imperial family, felt as daunting as debating with a great scholar.

“Every myth is a little unrealistic, isn’t it?”

Alicia hesitated to point out flaws in the stories she had accepted as natural since childhood.

Every nation and every continent had mysterious elements within their founding legends.

Questioning or criticizing them was considered impolite—possibly even an insult to the nation itself.

“The imperial family of the Rune Empire are descendants of the Celestials.”

Reichardt spoke with an indifferent expression.

Alicia nodded at the words she had heard countless times since childhood.

She could not bring herself to question the absurdity of a man with wings—

perhaps because she had once experienced the power of such a being herself.

“Isn’t it funny? That humans carry the blood of winged Celestials? But it’s true.”

“Pardon…?”

Reichardt gave a twisted smile.

“The Royal Dot manifests in imperial blood because it comes from the Celestials. But the Royal Dot is a shackle. Only descendants who fail to manifest it are freed from that bondage.”

Alicia blinked, struggling to follow.

The Royal Dot was supposed to be the mark of imperial honor.

“That’s not the important part. What I meant by ‘strange’ is about Otto the Great. A winged man descended from the sky, married the last princess of Feirun, and had a child—Otto the Great. But Otto couldn’t have ruled the Empire the moment he was born, could he?”

Reichardt’s words carried a faint tone of challenge.

“Right…”

Alicia continued to tread carefully.

“So in truth, Otto the Great wasn’t the first emperor of the Rune Empire.”

Whenever Reichardt spoke of the winged man, he gazed up at the empty air.

Alicia, following his gaze, also glanced at the space above.

“Then…”

If not Otto the Great, was the first emperor the winged Celestial himself?

As Alicia seemed to ask that silently, Reichardt shook his head.

“It’s not essential, but—the last princess of Feirun had a father, yet no crown prince brother. The child who might have become crown prince died before she was even born.”

“……”

Alicia blinked, hearing this for the first time.

“The last princess of Feirun was supposed to marry one of her ministers instead of inheriting the throne. Her suitors were: a seventy-year-old chancellor, a middle-aged minister in his forties, and a filthy twenty-year-old degenerate. The princess sent the twenty royal knights assigned to protect the heir to assassinate all three.”

Reichardt, who had started speaking like a kind history teacher, now recited the tale with a face devoid of emotion, saturated with cynicism.

“What?”

“She hated them all. The monarchy had weakened, and the ministers had grown powerful—there was little the princess could do. So she tried to flee the throne… and that’s when the winged man descended from the sky.”

Again, as Reichardt mentioned the winged man, his eyes drifted to the air.

Wasn’t that a good thing? Alicia nearly rejoiced at this revelation of the myth’s truth but kept her lips sealed.

“The last princess of Feirun was both the final monarch of Feirun and the progenitor of the Rune Empire. Every imperial descendant comes from her bloodline. The Celestial who was her lover and protector vanished from record, tangled in mystery.”

Reichardt seemed to harbor resentment toward the winged man.

“There’s more to the founding myth.”

“After the princess and the winged man married and bore Otto the Great?”

Reichardt nodded.

“The winged man became pregnant.”

“What?”

“There are Celestials with wings—surely it’s possible for one of them to conceive, isn’t it?”

Alicia stared blankly at him.

“I… I suppose so…”

Her eyes swept quickly over Reichardt.

“The winged man bore fraternal twins. The daughter, who resembled the emperor, founded the Grand Temple. The son, said to resemble no one, looked completely different from his family—his skin dark, his irises pale. He became the first Grand Duke of Tessen.”

Alicia realized why Reichardt had told such a long founding tale.

“The first Grand Duke of Tessen fulfilled his duty and ended his life. After that, no imperial offspring were born with wings. But among the emperor’s sons, one occasionally differed in appearance from his siblings.”

Reichardt’s tone carried the unspoken words: like me.

His face remained emotionless.

“The emperor—his brother—was therefore terrified of having children.”

Alicia frowned slightly. Without realizing it, her voice grew cold.

“His Majesty understands Your Highness’s suffering, then.”

“All royals do.”

Reichardt turned to her with faint interest at her frown.

“The late emperor didn’t immediately appoint me as Grand Duke after my uncle, the previous Tessen, died. Then, one by one, the imperial heirs began to fall ill—fevers, hallucinations. When every royal with a Royal Dot was collapsing, the emperor finally raised me to Grand Duke.”

Now Alicia understood why the royals treated Reichardt with such formality and respect.

Their reverence wasn’t just due to his title.

Every imperial lived a peaceful life at the cost of Reichardt Tessen’s torment.

The emperor, guilty for casting his brother into hellish agony, placed Reichardt above all others.

He feared that one of his own children might suffer the same curse and thus avoided having heirs.

“Rei.”

Alicia always pitied Reichardt for his pain, but after hearing this unexpected story, she felt it more sharply than ever.

She clasped the hand of that wretched man tightly.

“I’m fine.”

Reichardt said, meeting her worried gaze.

“No, you’re not.”

Alicia shook her head, holding his hand in both of hers.

She comforted him—and silently burned with anger toward the royals who had put him in such a state.

Reichardt smiled faintly at her indignation, and Alicia stopped being angry for him, changing her expression.

“Rei, I have something to say. A request, too.”

“A request?”

“Do you think the past emperors weren’t afraid, just like the current one? The late emperor tried to avoid appointing you Grand Duke. I don’t think His Majesty is weaker than his predecessors. Emperors may be afraid, but they can’t avoid having heirs—that’s their duty.”

Alicia’s tone was cold but clear— the perfect definition of what it meant to be an emperor.

“What’s the request, Alicia?”

Reichardt understood what she was implying.

Something—or someone—was interfering with the emperor’s ability to have a child.

“Remove all the gifts from the Marchioness of Belz.”

Alicia whispered softly.

“……!”

Reichardt’s composure faltered for a moment.

No further explanation was necessary.

Alicia continued, watching his expression.

“And keep everything about those gifts secret.”

“Alicia.”

“The Marchioness of Belz is still useful to me. That’s my request, Rei.”

Alicia ended with a gentle smile.

Reichardt gazed at her for a long moment, this woman who made sinister requests with a serene face, then nodded.

“All right.”

Alicia looked up at his complex expression and smiled faintly.

“When we get to Tessen, let’s destroy White West Alik.”

“The castle in the forest?”

“Yes. I think something good will come of it.”

Having just hinted at something monumental, Alicia now spoke like an eager adventurer.

Reichardt, seeing her sparkling eyes, nodded again.

“All right.”

It felt like he would nod to anything she said—but he didn’t argue.

Meanwhile, Alicia was lost in thought.

When Reichardt touched her, his pain disappeared— and she felt that the White West Alik, the same as what she had seen in hell, might hold something to erase that pain for good.

Would they find it there?

She hoped something good awaited them.

The Marchioness of Belz’s office had become a fortress of strict order.

Always meticulous, she had grown even more exacting since her visits to the palace had decreased.

The lamp on her desk.

The teacup.

The papers and quill.

Everything had to be perfectly placed according to her preference.

But most important of all were the letters arriving at her mansion.

She sorted them by the sender’s rank, envelope texture, and the purpose revealed on each invitation.

Her day’s work began by opening the most luxurious letter first.

Her paper knife slit through a gilded envelope.

The letter’s paper bore the same golden pattern as the scented candles she gifted to the royals.

Even the faint fragrance matched that of the golden candles themselves.

Tap.

The letter slipped from her trembling hand.

“……!”

Though the office was empty, the Marchioness instinctively glanced around.

Startled, she picked the letter up again and reread the short message.

“Sirius?”

Her brows drew sharply together.

Clutching the letter with a tense expression, she abandoned her duties and hurried out of the office.

It was the morning Alicia and Reichardt had departed for Tessen.

Cynthia had done her best until now.

She had calmly endured the haughty customs of Baden’s high society, uncovered the true intentions of dangerous allies, and decisively severed those ties.

She even managed to please the incompetent Rain household, who wielded petty tyranny nearby.

It was thanks to her that the Brennel viscounty had become closely allied with the Manners marquisate.

There had been obstacles and small hindrances, but the Brennel family’s current prosperity was largely her achievement.

At least, that was what Cynthia Brennel believed.

Today was the day she would finally be rewarded for her efforts.

The Marquis of Manners, recognizing her loyalty and contribution, had introduced a fine suitor to her.

“Lady Cynthia, thank you for receiving me.”

Everyone in the Brennel household warmly welcomed Cynthia’s prospective husband.

“Welcome, Sir Ralph.”

Cynthia greeted Ralph Berea with her brightest smile.

The second son of Count Berea, he was a promising young man with a brilliant future ahead.

The two shared a private meal prepared by the Brennel family.

The garden setting was ideal for an official meeting between an unmarried man and woman.

From a distance, Cynthia’s family watched the handsome couple approvingly.

“Six, five, four, three…”

Elsewhere, hidden in a far corner of the garden, Anne whispered as she counted.

“Two, one—now!”

With a swift spin, she turned around.

“Ughk!”

A violent retching sound echoed from the garden’s secluded corner.

The agony in the man’s voice made even Anne’s conscience twitch in guilt.