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Chapter 17 - The honorable knights of the Empire

Cain was rest assured when he poured cold water on the melting iron. 

"I am famished," Ezra murmured. 

"Pardon?" 

He stared at it until Sir Cain's hand began to tremble and took it, read it, and tossed it over the couch he was sitting on. Sir Cain was not pleased with that action. Yet Ezra ignored the unpleasantness on his face and continued to melt from the beginning.

Cain was pondering if he should be revealing the rest. He chose words carefully. "There is a reporter of a local newsletter who saw the painter in person."

"And?" Prince did not break from his posture, but the swirling stopped.

"He has lost his mind and right arm. It looked as if it got burnt to ashes. And he is still spouting nonsense in the basement." Cain answered. "He says that he dreamt randomly about this… this scenario in the painting. I suspect that Juliano has manipulated him using witchcraft or something…He was a man from 'The Garden',"

Ezra hummed. "Well… all the angels fell on the garden after all,"

"It was confirmed that the organization of 'The Garden' has sided with the Avalonian armies. They are slaughtering men in the West. Young Carmillion is taking care of them." Cain found his words strange.

Taking care of? 

What nonsense? 

After a silence, Ezra locked his gaze on the spotless red carpet and spoke. "Some had wings, Cain. They all did not fall," 

"Your Highness, I-"

The prince emptied the glass in one sip and stood up as his long steps carried him to the painting. Even though his face was expressionless, after being with him for a lifetime, Cain knew he was not in a good mood. Ezra's grip tightened around the glass as he stared at the portrayal until it shattered, piecing his palm. 

"Your Highness!" Rose on the bed voiced. 

Cain was not surprised. The painting was a memory that His Highness suffered to death. The memory ruined his childhood. The memory that he lost himself. The memory that they lost themselves. 

Finally, when he moved on, there he was. 

The painter. 

The prince let the pieces of glass fall along with his blood as if he did not hear the woman. She hurried back to him with a handkerchief, but her pace slowed seeing his bloody fingers caressing the painting. They touched the lonely shoe slowly as he tilted his head, sighing. 

"Well…" He talked. "Why don't we give them what they desperately ask?" 

"Sir Xavier is on the way to the West. And ..." His gaze followed the blue envelope. "... Since we can contact Minister Sylvain, I will inform him that we would like to take care of the painter,"

"No, dear Cain." The prince grabbed him by the shoulders. "When someone asks for a drop of water, as the honourable knights of the Vassilios empire, we should give them a flood." He sounded confident. "What have you learned from all those peace talks and ballrooms, Cain? Hmm?"

Cain broke with a cold sweat. "What should I do?" 

"Oh! Nothing much," He said, gazing back at the painting. "Find me something to break the dam," 

******

"How many times do I need to tell you?!" 

Rivienne tasted blood in her throat. Even though she was not sure, in the imperial palace and one of the cellars in the dungeon, she grabbed the ice-cold iron bars by both hands, falling on her knees. A dungeon was a worse place than a graveyard for a noble, fragile lady like her. "I did not poison her,"

The paladin knight in white glared at her with utter hatred. Sir Kyle's hand clenched on the pommel of his sword, which killed any passer-by insect who dared to hurt the temple's reputation. Though the blade has become dull, lately, it was just yesterday that he sharpened it again. 

He could hear it begging for blood as he stared at the petty woman in the cellar. Her nightgown was marked with all the dirt, and her feet had become sour. The so-called elegancy of the crown princess had washed away. 

She cried out loud. At least you can cry. Kyle thought. The saintess cannot even do that but endure on her own. The more he blamed Rivienne, the more he got scared. What if she were to close her eyes forever? 

"... What is the antidote?" He asked, gritting his teeth. "You can reduce your sentence if you tell me what the antidote is," He gave his patience a chance. He crouched down, coming to Rivienne's eye level. The guards on duty sure heard the holding back in his voice. 

"I did not poison her! Hic! The high priest told me he would give me some. But the temple destroyed before that. I truly do not know what happened," The trails of her tears made Kyle's blood boil. 

He lost it. 

Before even he knew his hand was clenching Rivienne's jaws. "We have found evidence in yours and your maid's residence, princess. Do not even think about getting away with this. I will draw blood..." His eyes ran over her face. "... Like you did to Riana," 

Finally listening to the guards, he pushed Rivienne back and turned on his heels, making Rivienne stare at his white cape. His pace was fast enough to bring him to the empress's palace in a few seconds. 

Along with the fall of the saintess, it was as if nature was also mourning for everything. The constant storm raged for a day, and today, it was calm yet gloomier than ever. He stared at a glassy water drop on a leaf in the garden. It trailed off to the edge of the leaf and... plop!

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before entering the conference chamber. The envoys from the holy island, ministers, knights, wounded priests, and the members of the imperial family were present there, holding the same look on their faces. 

Princess Daniella noticed Sir Kyle as she lost her hope in Azalea. Now, there was no turning back, Ella tangled her fingers together. She was not certain about her innocence either. Azalea was a Carmillion, a Descendant of the vampiress.

 For the first time in her life, her half-sister might be correct. 

"I was suspicious about her from the beginning," She heard Elaina talking with the head of the envoy priests. "It would be fine if she were to get tortured to death. Then she might spill about the antidote," 

She glanced at Daemon who was lost in his thoughts, and his delicate advisor, Leonard the Blind. An hour ago, she heard him saying to Daemon,

"Wait a second"