Interlude: Kingdom of Menexes (6)
(Continental Year 579–580)
On the second floor of the royal castle, there is a large balcony from which the king and the royal family appear before the people during events such as coronations, engagement announcements, and New Year greetings. During those occasions, even commoners are allowed inside the castle grounds, and the vast garden below the balcony fills to the brim with people.
Today, the balcony is again packed with citizens, but unlike usual, not a single person is smiling. Tears fill their eyes, or they glare at those before them with expressions full of grief and rage.
In front of the assembled crowd stand four individuals bound to pillars, their mouths gagged. From left to right: the king’s brother, Edgar Raftera; next, Aurelian Raftera; then, Sicilian Prima; and at the far right, Gael Prima.
When the king appears on the balcony, the murmuring crowd falls silent. Raised platforms on either side of the stage hold gathered nobles, who also stand in quiet anticipation of the king's words.
"The terrifying epidemic that struck our royal capital has been completely eradicated, thanks to the tireless efforts of the healer Lord Lionel brought from the nation of Nieselb.
I extend my deepest gratitude to all the apothecaries who worked in the capital, and to the members of the temple who devoted themselves to purifying our city. Yet despite this, our kingdom, not just the capital, is gripped by sorrow. I too have lost my beloved…
… my beloved wives and sons."
Having fallen ill himself and struggled to eat, the king had visibly lost a significant amount of weight. But far more devastating was the loss of both his wives in quick succession, followed by the death of his two sons. The overwhelming grief robbed him of his appetite entirely.
Why had he survived when his sons had not? Privately, he tormented himself with that question. And though he had always been aware of his foolish brother's recklessness, he had naively hoped there might yet be some change. That misplaced hope had invited this tragedy.
As the king delivered his trembling speech, quiet sobbing spread throughout the plaza. Thanks to Lord Lionel's desperate, accelerated efforts, many lives were saved—but how many were lost?
The king declared the charges of the four criminals:
Edgar Raftera—he had concocted the substance that became the source of the epidemic and scattered it, using an entire town as a test site, bringing it to near ruin.
He had secretly administered a tea containing a pregnancy-inhibiting effect to the second prince's wife, ensuring she could not conceive.
He had attempted the same on the first prince's wife, though this was prevented.
He had fed false information to the second prince and brainwashed him into attempting a coup.
There were countless other crimes, but these four were the grounds for his sentence.
Next, Aurelian Raftera—he too had concocted and scattered the substance that caused the epidemic, testing it on a town, destroying it.
He had poisoned the second prince, who had been dispatched to capture the criminals, by disguising the poison as medicine while the prince's body was weakened from illness. The apothecary who administered the poison was executed on the spot.
He had exploited his blood ties to lower the guard of Consort Anju, wife of the king, and given her honey laced with a mild toxin.
It was revealed that the Raftera Ducal House, known for its honey, had produced a batch collected from poisonous flowers, which Aurelian brought to a tea party with Consort Anju.
Next, Sicilian Prima—knowing full well her grandfather's and father's schemes, she willingly cooperated, deluding herself that among her blood relatives, she was the most worthy, and that with both princes dead, she would become queen.
Despite being wanted by the authorities, she sheltered her father and grandfather and filed false reports with the castle.
Finally, Gael Prima. In some sense, he could be considered a victim as well. As a mere viscount, he could not refuse the demands of a duke, and his betrothal to Sicilian had been arranged as part of a plot involving the epidemic from Heilan and the procurement of special tea leaves.
His crime was failing to report these suspicions to the king when he realized them.
Though it was said his parents had retired to the countryside after passing on their title, it was uncovered that they had been quietly eliminated.
It was understandable that he could not oppose those capable of such ruthlessness, but the reality remained that tens of thousands had suffered because of his inaction.
"Given the magnitude of this tragedy, I am certain many of you wish to vent your grief and anger. We will not let this end quietly and conveniently without your knowledge. None of these criminals will be granted a quick death. Let your hearts find their peace."
I had heard that my grandfather, the previous king, had been a fierce ruler who conquered small neighboring nations by force and forged our great kingdom. My father, having grown up watching that, was a gentle man who prioritized the pacification of our realm. That is why he did not disinherit my foolish brother but made him a duke.
The current king resembled his father, kind-hearted and ever considerate of his people.
Though some called him soft, the strict guidance of old-guard nobles like Duke Gardenia was enough to maintain discipline.
That such a compassionate king would resort to a brutal public execution surprised even the council, but considering the scale of the devastation, and with Duke Gardenia—who had tended to Prince Orhide in his final moments—in favor, it became reality.
The people were granted a rare opportunity to express their grief, their rage, and their sorrow, torn apart by sudden loss.
"It’s your fault! My mother is dead because of you! Burn."
As the king stepped away from the balcony, a citizen came forward, casting a fire spell.
The small fireball struck Edgar's face, burning away his gag.
"You ignorant rabble! Do you think you’ll get away with this, doing such things to the true king? Your mother was nothing but a lowly commoner—commoners breed like vermin! You should be grateful that with fewer mouths to feed, life will be easier!"
"You bastard! Die! Burn!”
Another man, eyes filled with hatred, cast another spell, striking Edgar's open mouth, causing him to choke violently.
“It’s because of you… because of you, my brother died in agony! A wicked woman like you becoming queen? That would be impossible, even if the world turned upside down! Wind Cutter!”
Even from the nobles’ seats, voices chanting spells could be heard. Her brother had been a capable man, known throughout the castle for his modest use of healing magic. I vividly remember him running through the halls, drinking mana recovery potions to keep going when his strength waned. A blade of wind sliced Sicilian's cheek, cutting through the gag as well. However, thanks to the gag, only a lock of her hair fell; her face remained unscathed.
“My beautiful face almost suffered damage, didn’t it? A mere low-ranking noble dares to do such a thing to me, thinking they’ll get away with— Gah!”
As she glared and shouted, a sphere of water was hurled at her. It hadn’t been purified, so it was likely just a Water Ball. While this exchange continued, more and more spells rained down upon the three, sparing only Gael. Edgar, who had been loudly ranting earlier, now groaned weakly as his tattered form endured the onslaught of spells from those seeking revenge.
Once he could no longer even moan, a priest ascended the stage and raised his hand, urging the crowd to stop. The three, battered beyond recognition, were forcefully made to drink healing potions, and even their appearance was cleaned with a Clean spell. Once their faces were lifted, confirming they were still conscious, the priests stepped down.
“Hey! What’s the meaning of this?! If you’re healing us, then this should be over! Why are we still tied up? Untie us, now!”
“Didn’t you hear the king? You won’t be allowed to die until the last person has had their turn. If you pass out, we’ll heal you. Our superiors collapsed countless times as they saved lives— we’ll do the same, drinking recovery potions while we nurse you back to health again and again.
And only after every last person has expressed their feelings to you… will you be granted the mercy of death.”
“Y-You can’t possibly think such inhumane cruelty is acceptable! You people are insane!”
Revived by the healing, Edgar opened his eyes and screamed upon seeing the state of his body, still not fully grasping his predicament. The priest, utterly contemptuous, fixed him with a cold stare and pressed the cruel reality upon him.
Gael, still only lightly wounded, continued to weep and apologize, eventually fainting at those words. But Sicilian and Aurelian howled with defiance. Honestly, who are they to speak? I could feel the same sentiment swelling among many others—especially among the nobles.
From both noble platforms, magic attacks far more intense than before flew toward the three. Perhaps they had restrained themselves earlier, not wanting their attacks to accidentally end the prisoners’ lives. The priests immediately climbed the stage, forcing more healing potions down their throats, mending their wounds. Judging by the extent of the recovery, those were likely high-grade—no, top-grade healing potions.
The stunned commoners soon joined in, hurling household spells and offensive magic while shouting:
“My parents, because of you!”
“Give back my family!”
“This is your fault!”
After casting their spells, they were guided out of the plaza one by one, until only an elderly woman remained.
“What about you, madam? You’re not required to attack them, of course. But if you wish, I can assist you,” a knight from the guard detail politely asked.
The old woman bowed her head in gratitude and declined. “Just heal them quickly afterward.”
“My son and his wife… my three grandchildren… all gone. If this were a natural disaster, I could accept it. But human malice? I will never forgive them.”
The old woman glared forward, and suddenly, enormous wooden spears burst from the ground, piercing deeply through the lower bodies of the three. Their legs jerked upward as blood splattered everywhere. The priests, in a panic, shoved healing potions into their mouths. That level of injury would have killed them otherwise.
The power… the speed… and not a single trigger word spoken. Just who was that old woman? Perhaps a famed adventurer in her younger days.
Thus, with the crowd gone, the four criminals left in the plaza were executed by beheading before the nobles the following day.
Next, the kingdom would file for reparations against the nation of Heilan and begin the long road to recovery. Yet the king, suffering from the lingering effects of the epidemic and crushed by the loss of his family, remained in a worrying state.
The crown prince’s surviving children were still mere infants, their baptismal ceremonies yet to be held. Someone had to support the king until those children were old enough to be crowned.
… But of course, such a person exists.
One of the king’s sons, his eyes the spitting image of the king’s own, and his appearance strongly resembling his beloved Consort Anju… that prince still lives!
The last I heard, he was in the territory of Count Leasic. I don’t know if he remains there, but it’s worth investigating. We must send someone to search the area while Lord Lionel escorts the healer back to Nieselb. And if the prince is found, he must be informed of the situation and brought back.
Our Third Prince, Feilchen Drei Menexes.
What do you think about this chapter?
