Fall (3)

The horrible itching and pain continued, but after a while, another kind of agony began to replace it.

Hunger crept in.

“How ridiculous. Abandoned by my own clan and with my left hand severed, I’m in pain… yet hunger takes priority over all that. Still, judging by how they’ve left me here with untreated wounds, it seems they just tossed me aside to die.”

Groaning in pain, Azadine approached the iron bars of the cell.

“Hey! I’m awake!”

When Azadine shouted, one of the jailers flinched. They didn’t approach him and instead disappeared to fetch someone else. They must have feared that Azadine, being a Messenger, might attack them and break out.

“They’re not exactly welcoming. They’re wary of me… and afraid.”

Azadine had sensed as much when he awoke in the cell and saw that all his possessions—including his weapons—were gone. The situation wasn’t looking good.

[The Golden King is dead, and someone must take responsibility.]

“……”

[Fortunately, the Blue Turban Party is petitioning to spare your life. Since you’re the adopted son of the Heavenly Lord, punishing you would cause backlash against the Blue Turban Party. With the Light of the Crown gone, the Blue Turban Party has only grown stronger. They are servants of the Nether, after all, and accomplished great feats. Even those who want to punish you won’t be able to ignore them.]

“That’s not exactly reassuring, is it?”

Azadine gave a bitter smile.

His supposed relationship with the Heavenly Lord of the Blue Turban Party was entirely false.

Then again, all of Azadine’s relationships with others had always been like that. Even Aldis and Kazas chose Hathir over him in the end.

No—framing it like that was nonsense.

To them, Azadine was just a pitiful child. The object of cheap sympathy, never a legitimate heir of a god’s blood, nor a proper counterpart to the woman they had once loved.

Everyone in the clan, blinded by revenge and the lure of power, turned a blind eye to Hathir’s betrayal and branded Azadine as the traitor.

And now, with the Golden King dead, how would the people of Vthuma treat Azadine, the Messenger who killed their king?

He felt like the last person left in the world.

No—that had always been the case. He had clung to life only by relying on cheap sympathy from others.

And so, the only things keeping him alive now were those same false relationships.

“Azadine. You’re awake?”

At that moment, a voice came from the next cell. It was Karzen.

“You’re in here too?”

She made no movements. Most likely, she had collapsed in the cell earlier and only awakened because of Azadine’s shouting.

Which meant…

“Because I’m a Messenger. And now that the Golden King is dead, someone has to be held accountable. Besides, I was the one who launched the stone mortars into the palace. I dared to aim weapons at His Majesty’s quarters.”

Karzen, too, had fallen from grace and become a prisoner.

“That’s stupid. Without your actions, things would’ve ended far worse.”

When Azadine had captured Haldun’s group, Karzen had planted explosives in the royal palace’s prison and positioned some of the stone mortars inside the palace itself. As someone who feared the Messengers more than anyone, she had taken every precaution.

She had detonated the explosives to drive out Kazas’s faction and then fired the stone mortars to rescue Azadine and repel Hathir’s forces.

But now, with the Golden King dead, it seemed she too had been imprisoned for the crime of launching artillery at the palace.

“In hindsight, I should’ve just surrendered to the clan. Now that His Majesty is gone, we’re back to being soulless blasphemers. He was the only one who didn’t hold prejudices.”

Karzen lamented her fate, now like a kite with its string cut, left adrift by the Golden King’s absence.

From the way she spoke, it was clear the clan had approached her beforehand, perhaps trying to win her over—but she had chosen to stand with the Golden King and thus made enemies of the Messengers.

“Manza-Jadek… His Majesty was a worthy sovereign.”

Azadine gave a bitter smile as he recalled the Golden King, who had thrown his body forward to protect him.

“What about the children? What happened to Mediam and Ismail? Were they caught?”

“I helped them escape. They weren’t captured.”

“That’s a relief.”

Just then, commotion stirred outside the cell.

“Your Highness! Please, it’s too dangerous!”

“Don’t be foolish. If I were to be assassinated by prisoners, then I’m unworthy of succeeding the Golden King. Stand aside.”

“……?”

A young man appeared before Azadine and Karzen’s cells.

He was a tall youth with dark skin and golden eyes. He resembled the portraits of Manja-Jadek in his youth and was nearly the size of an ogre.

Azadine was already considered tall, yet this man was nearly fifty percent taller—and compared to most women, nearly twice their height.

“Your Highness.”

Karzen addressed him and offered a polite bow.

“Karzen. And Golden Messenger… It’s unfortunate that things turned out this way.”

“Your Highness?”

Azadine already knew most of what was going on thanks to the Emperor’s Voice, but he feigned ignorance to see what the prince would say.

“I am the Golden King’s legitimate son, the First Prince Amun-Jadek. Golden Messenger—or should I just call you Azadine? Is that alright?”

“Of course, as you prefer.”

“Good. Then let me explain the situation.”

Prince Amun-Jadek looked Azadine up and down as he spoke.

“I know that you were loyal to my father. But the people claim you conspired with the enemy. Most of all, the military sees this as an opportunity to eliminate Karzen and the Golden King’s crows, who’ve been a thorn in their side.”

“Your Highness. I swore loyalty to His Majesty and remained true to that vow. And if Your Highness ascends the throne, that loyalty will continue without change.”

When Karzen said this, Amun-Jadek offered a bitter smile.

‘If I ascend the throne? So she doesn’t consider me king yet.’

Fair enough. The Golden King had many children. Though Amun-Jadek was the strongest candidate, there was also Darhan-Jadek, another son of the Golden King, currently stationed at the northern fortress fighting against the ogres.

If he laid claim to the throne?

‘Foolish woman. Clinging to principles at a time like this. Or… is that actually wise?’

Amun-Jadek looked at Karzen with a mix of irritation and pity.

‘She was certainly loyal to Father. Skilled, too. And being born a Messenger, she poses no threat to power. As a tool, she’s excellent. But with the capital guard’s support still important and her loyalty not firmly directed toward me… I might have to kill her.’

It was while these thoughts swirled that—

“What is the current situation? The throne?”

Azadine posed a question to Amun-Jadek.

“The Golden King was slain by the Messenger Clan, and the throne was defiled. The power of the Nether is pouring forth, and it’s no exaggeration to say that the madmen’s prophecy—the Age of Jupiter—has begun. We could no longer hold Vthuma, so we all abandoned the capital and fled. The Nagas now control the Vthuma palace, and the people continue to flee from the city.”

Vthuma had previously held its ground against the Nagas with overwhelming defense. Was he implying that a single sabotage operation by the Messenger Clan led to its fall?

“There must’ve been massive casualties. Are the people evacuating safely? They’ll need food and shelter.”

“Yes. Fortunately, the sugar plantation owners of Bel Hoda offered their support, minimizing losses.”

“Is that so?”

It seemed the plantation owners of Bel Hoda had acted just as Azadine had asked.

They were merchants who knew how to keep their word. Thanks to them, the people who had to evacuate on short notice likely received ample supplies and were able to flee without serious harm.

When Azadine had made that request, he hadn’t foreseen this calamity—he’d only done it as a precaution. Yet in the end, it had saved many lives.

However, the way Amun-Jadek looked at Azadine was not the way one looked at a savior.

“Yes. And they’ve petitioned for your rescue. How in the world did you manage to win over those miserly Bel Hoda merchants?”

“……”

“They say the Heavenly Lord of the Blue Turban Party is your foster father? The Blue Turban Party is made up of Grimslawn’s servants, emissaries of the Nether. Ironically, they became a great asset in this crisis. With the Light of the Crown gone, they used Nether power to open escape routes for the people. Their contributions were too significant—so anyone supported by them, like you, can’t be disposed of easily.”

Amun-Jadek smiled slyly as he said this.

“You’re a real nuisance. I figured your wounds would fester and you’d die, so I just tossed you in a cell… but you didn’t die. Still alive. Quite the constitution you’ve got.”

“How honest of you.”

“You, too, are a son of the Divine King of Yaegas. I figured you could handle some honesty. Saying things plainly saves trouble later.”

With that, Amun-Jadek rose to his feet.

“I can’t kill you with my own hands, but I can’t let you live either. Too many complicated ties. So either rot away in this cell…”

“You mean to starve me?”

“No, we may abandon this place entirely. The Nether’s territory is spreading fast. In the end, you’ll either starve to death or fall into the hands of the Nagas. If you don’t like either option, I’ll leave you a rope. Use it to take your own life.”

Azadine had united the Bel Hoda plantation owners and won the support of the Blue Turban Party to prepare for the coming disaster.

Thanks to that, many people in Vthuma were saved. But it also made Azadine a dangerous figure—one that Amun-Jadek now had to eliminate.

“Don’t you plan to spare me and restore the throne together, Your Highness? If things continue like this, you’ll lose everything.”

“I’m not a man who bets on long-shot gambles. The copy of the Heavenly Kings’ Grimoire you brought—I’ll make good use of that.”

“……”

It was something that should’ve enraged him, but Azadine quickly lost interest.

Abandoned by his clan, estranged from Aldis and Kazas—he felt conversations like this had become meaningless.

“Karzen. You’ll come with me. And everything that happened here—understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Karzen had no choice but to accept Amun-Jadek’s command.

As the sound of iron bars scraping echoed, Azadine sat silently in his cell, sinking deeper into himself.

Then Amun-Jadek tossed his silk belt toward Azadine.

“When it becomes unbearable, hang yourself with that.”

That was Amun-Jadek’s version of mercy.

“My head is full—so please, leave me to my silence.”

“As you wish.”

Amun-Jadek and Karzen left the prison, and Azadine remained alone in silence.