"Give up, sister. You've lost. Your prized lambs have always been the same ridiculous lowlives I didn't deign useful."
Today, the crown prince was dashing as usual. With a radiant smile on his greased face, a ridiculous look complete with an attire limiting movement by the sheer number of awards it sported, he trash-talked.
With the very same voice so devoid of anything remotely resembling feelings reserved for close kin, he disparaged the efforts of countless citizens forced to turn militants.
"This little rebellion of yours is over," the knights he brought with him all closed in on me and my maid, each showing the same absolute level of depravity.
No matter how I looked at them, there was only this feeling of emptiness in my chest. These were no longer humans, but puppets looking like one.
Husks of their former selves. Due to an accident, I'd stumbled upon the prized technique that was keeping the Royal Family of Lightshine atop all the nobles for centuries.
Thinking back to that very day that kindled this determination to rebel within me, I couldn't help but admire how far I'd come. "Duke Pettymouth is a bit older than you, sister.
But you know what they say about noblemen. We age like whiskey." Duke Pettymouth... I shuddered at the mention of that godless noble's name.
As the closest supporter of my brother's future reign now that royal father was not long for this world and little brother *untraceable*, how wouldn't I know what Rowel had in mind?
"Don't you know how much damage you did to the royal family's prestige by allying yourself with dimwitted non-humans?
Tainting the pure race, as ordained by God, is a sin punishable by dismemberment. Yet Duke Pettymouth, in all his benevolence, doesn't care about your sins.
He's smitten with you." I had to take a deep breath, having done my homework on how the duke treated his past... seven wives.
The soldiers were about to fulfil his order as Rowel continued his monologue while perched upon a yellow throne shouldered by six attractive beastwomen clad in rags.
As much as they shuddered and groaned under their burden, so did I. Their hollow eyes reminded me always of what would become of me if he successfully planted his backside on the throne.
"Rowel," I wasn't about to let him run his mouth off any longer, "you haven't won yet." "W-what?" This was the only time I saw him flinch during his speech. I knew pretty well why, though.
For years now, I've put up a play. Let my intentions show yet hid bright plans behind layers of dirt. One of the many deliberate behavioural patterns I'd forced myself to live by was this one.
For years, I'd never looked Rowel in the eyes, never addressed him directly, never contradicted the crown prince in any way.
But now... now that time had come to an end. "Y-you...?" Rowel didn't quite understand what was going on.
But he didn't need to, since his head came rolling off soon, casting a curtain of blood on his retainers.
Shocked to the core, they watched his head roll about, totally unbelieving of what they'd just witnessed.
"Grandinspector Miwa, in the name of true nobility, thank you for your timely intervention." Without anyone noticing, an old man had appeared near the ridiculous throne, clutching a short sword in one hand while frowning.
"Had he other chess pieces?" He eventually asked me a question I hadn't seen coming. With my brother gone just as agreed upon, I was ready to face just about everything, even betrayal.
But this question? I didn't know the answer. "As far as I'm aware no... not over the course of ten years."
"This is troublesome... has anything happened lately that I wasn't informed about?" His piercing gaze prickled on my skin, making me realise just how serious he thought this was.
"...the coliseum incident? A lizardman won. You know which camp the operators belonged to, so I used this incident to have them... removed.
The lizardman wasn't one of our cooperators." "So you sent men his way?" Grandinspector Miwa rubbed his beard, his frown deepening even more. I didn't get what he was talking about.
"No," he eventually answered the question himself, "you did not. Rowel..." I wondered just what had happened out there for him to frown this much. Just what did Rowel do?!
With the Grandmaster dealt with, I believed he was the strongest man on the continent. So just about what could have him riled up so badly? The man dropped a bombshell.
"Appen isn't dead yet. He faked his demise." My feet couldn't keep me standing. I slid down to the ground, my maid coming at me worriedly.
I gently pushed her aside. "What... is it you said? Appen..." Grandinspector Miwa tore some hair from his beard seemingly oblivious to the pain, his expression grim.
"You heard that right. He still lives. Our alleys out there are dwindling in numbers at a ridiculous pace while he is nowhere to be spotted for longer than a few minutes.
What we disposed of was but a doubleganger. So back in the days when we were exploring these ruins he didn't come out as emptyhanded as he made teacher believe...
My contacts tell me he's met Paladin Roches. It's too dangerous to approach them and listen in, so I lack this crucial piece of information.
Yet when I combine Appen's usual modus operandi with his recent movements and sightings all over the place... their actions suggest something strange when taking into consideration the city's layout.
But what I cannot understand is just that..." He ominously focused on me, his two orangish eyes staring deep within mine,
"why do they seem to target a down-and-out bar situated in the poor's district, leaving us alone?" I shuddered and his eyes widened.
That was probably when we discovered both that for some strange reason we were no longer the main players in the field. Something else had crept up on us.
"Since when," I asked, my voice sounding scared, "since when were we delegated to the sidelines? What happened? Just what did Rowel do?!?!"
"I cannot tell," answered Grandinspector Miwa no second prior before the extensive windows broke to pieces, a mighty body landing not far from us, one weighing so much the impact alone sent waves all over the creaking floor.