The whispers of an uprising hung heavy in the air. At first, they seemed like baseless rumors, idle chatter spread by the commoners. But as time went on, Vincent began to question whether there might be truth behind them. Unable to ignore the gnawing doubts, he decided to investigate further, and the truth revealed itself in a chilling manner.
The rumors were true.
Many of the people working under him had joined the uprising. The sheer size and force of those rallying against his reign were overwhelming. At the heart of it all was his younger brother, William Menial, who had orchestrated the revolt with support from the church and several noble families. Vincent's dethroning seemed inevitable.
Yet, he was his father's son, and his upbringing had instilled in him an unwavering resolve: when all seems lost, one must fight for what they believe in.
Vincent had always suspected the church to be his family's undoing. That was why he had kept their interactions to a minimum, though it appeared now that his caution had not been enough. His family stood in a precarious position, and should he fail to act, both his wife and daughter would surely fall prey to his brother's schemes. Knowing how calculating the High Priest was, Vincent surmised they would not act directly. Instead, they would paint the Duke's family as heretics, positioning themselves as righteous in the eyes of the people.
Fortunately, Vincent had ensured that his only daughter, Cilia, had no contact with the church. This, he hoped, would keep her witch abilities hidden. If the church were to discover her powers—especially the dark ones—she would undoubtedly become a target, her life forfeited to their schemes. There was no time to waste; he needed to get his wife and daughter out of the dukedom before the church made their next move.
Later that evening, Elise, one of Vincent's most loyal retainers, entered his chambers.
"Your Grace, I am here to answer your summons," she said, bowing respectfully.
"I've been waiting for you, Elise," Vincent replied. His voice carrying an edge of urgency. "I have a mission for you. My wife and daughter are in grave danger, and I need you to protect them. This mission is of the utmost priority. You are one of the few people I can still trust, and for that, I thank you."
Elise hesitated before speaking. "Is this about the uprising you feared, Your Grace?"
"Yes," he confirmed. "Word has reached me that my brother plans to dethrone me. I need you to guide my family safely out of Stokes. Take them to Bermone—seek refuge there."
Elise furrowed her brows. "But Your Grace, Bermone and Stokes have not been on good terms since the split a hundred years ago."
"That's true," Vincent admitted. "But recent diplomatic missions to Bermone were well-received by their current monarch, Queen Rose Wemberly. I believe she can offer them sanctuary, especially since my brother cannot continue trade and diplomatic relations with her as I have."
"If I may be prudent, Your Grace—has the Queen been informed of this arrangement?"
"Not yet," Vincent said, running a hand through his hair. "But I'll try to deliver the message as tactfully as I can tonight."
Elise nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace. We will depart tomorrow night, under the cover of darkness."
"Thank you, Elise. I appreciate your service and loyalty."
"It is my honor, Your Grace," she replied, bowing again before departing.
Convincing his wife to leave proved far more difficult. She was resolute in her refusal, unwilling to abandon Vincent in his time of peril. However, when he argued that the castle was no longer safe for their daughter and that Cilia's protection depended on her departure, his wife began to waver. What ultimately convinced her was the thought that their daughter needed her mother—someone to nurture and raise her far from the dukedom's dangers. With a heavy heart, she finally agreed.
The following morning, Vincent awoke to his worst nightmare.
His wife lay motionless beside him, her body cold as ice. No breath escaped her lips. No matter how many times he called her name, she did not respond. She was dead.
His mind raced. How? When?
Summoning the doctor, Vincent waited anxiously. When the doctor arrived, he quickly began his examination, using magic to determine the cause of death.
"It appears the Lady was poisoned," the doctor said grimly. "The poison acted slowly but surely."
Poison. The word echoed in Vincent's mind. Who could have done this? Was it his brother's doing? He had to know for certain, but there was only one man who could find the answers—his informant. Yet, Vincent realized he had no clear way of contacting him.
That afternoon, his brother William arrived with the High Priest in tow, feigning sympathy.
"Brother, I am truly sorry for your loss," William said smoothly. "Lady Vivian was a gem to us all."
The High Priest offered a solemn nod. "I extend my condolences, Your Grace. The Lady was taken from this world too soon. As is customary, we shall hold her funeral immediately and perform the ceremonial purification to sever any lingering attachments to this realm. We also offer to investigate the cause of her death, to provide you with closure."
"I would prefer to keep the funeral private," Vincent replied coldly.
"That's hardly possible, Vincent," William countered. "As the Duke's wife, the people deserve a chance to bid her farewell."
The High Priest stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce Gilbert Anine. He possesses the ability to track scents. With his help, we may uncover how the Lady was killed and find the culprit."
Vincent had no choice but to agree. "Very well."
They proceeded to the chamber where his wife's body lay. Gilbert knelt beside her and took a deep breath.
"I smell poison," he declared.
Vincent clenched his jaw. He already knew that.
Gilbert's gaze drifted to the bed. Reaching underneath, he pulled out a bottle of wine.
Recognition flashed in Vincent's mind. The wine. He had brought it from the cellar the night before, hoping to ease their difficult conversation. He hadn't touched a drop himself.
Gilbert turned to face Vincent, his expression darkening. "Your Grace, how could you do such a thing?"
The High Priest seized the opportunity. "You dare take a human life? Life is sacred! In the name of the gods, I must now imprison you, Your Grace."
Vincent stared at him, realization sinking in. This was their plan all along. This was how they would dethrone him.