"Speak now." Dew said without looking back as he entered the throne room to Sigurd who was leisurely trailing behind him as the large doors shut behind him.
"How did Your Majesty's wrist get bruised?" Instead of reporting, Sigurd asked a question which surprised the emperor.
"I didn't tell you to ask a question, just report the urgent thing about which you mentioned before." Not looking at Sigurd face, Dew said, wondering in his mind, 'Why is he asking about my wrist bruise? He didn't ask me anything when I faced an assassination attempt. But now, he is asking about such a small bruise? Is he scheming something?"
Dew trying to comprehend the meaning behind Sigurd's odd behavior didn't know that the man in his thought had a strange expression on his face, although it didn't remain there for more than a second.
The emperor ensconced himself on the throne, while the Duke of Wurttemberg stood, bowing to the emperor.
Dew's sky-blue eyes locked with Sigurd's inky eyes. The deafening silence between them. no one spoke for a moment.
At last, Sigurd open his mouth to speak, "The delegate of Vespera Empire that should still be travelling have already reached Eldoria and have been carrying themselves with secrecy."
The emperor listening attentively, knowing that Sigurd still have more to say.
"The man we found other day, who killed himself instead of revealing his motive, was spotted again in Eldoria and the strange thing is that he was chatting with the delegate of Vespera Empire.
Sigurd, after finishing, waited for Dew's reaction, anticipating a chilled look as how a dead person is alive and more importantly, the man is with that delegate.
"Is that it?" Dew asked, his neutral expression poured water on Sigurd's anticipation, however, this reaction was still within his expectation. As the emperor is behaving drastically different from the past, Sigurd had an inkling that this time his anticipation might be ruin.
A chuckle left from Sigurd's mouth, his mood changing again, Dew confused inwardly at why he is laughing out of a sudden.
"Yes, it is, Your Majesty." Sigurd said, barely concealing his canine teeth from showing.
"Then, you can leave now." Dew ordered Sigurd, his chin resting on his hand with his elbow placed on the armrest, slightly shifting to right side of the throne.
Sigurd stared at the man sitting on the high raised throne, his appearance relaxed, as if he has done his today's work and now wants to take some rest. As if thinking Sigurd has already left the throne room, he closed his sky like eyes. His resting face radiating a mysterious glow that make others to look at it closely or even touch it.
However, at this time no one knows what the duke of Wurttemberg is thinking, he took a last glance before bowing in routine manner and proceeding to leave the throne room.
After the door shut once again, Dew opened his eyes, having an all-knowing look. His eyes narrowed at the door entrance.
"It's really strange." Dew said, however no one beside him hear the sentence.
Meanwhile, in the other part of the Palace is a room abuzz with whispers, making a mockery of the word 'silent'.
"Why is she like that?"
"Isn't that blood? Is it hers?
"Is she injured?"
"Why do you even care? It's not like she is dying. I feel like this is her new tantrum in order to gain His Majesty's attention."
"Hey, watch what you say. Don't forget about what happened to that maid in the past, who made a similar mistake."
When someone among the maids reminded them of that incident, all of them shut their mouths.
However, someone interrupted the silence by asking, "Shouldn't we go and help her? I think she is in pain."
Another maid replied to the above question, "What do you think? Why would we be here if we didn't come here to help? She is the one who didn't appreciate our help and it's not like we can leave her alone seeing her acting so pitiful." The maid didn't even filter her words, forgetting who she is talking about.
'Pitiful huh? You think I'm acting pitiful? Haha...you won't think like that in the near future, soon you all be facing what you deserve.' Adelheid stated in her mind, a cold glint flickering beneath her lavender eyes, hands clenched into fist.
And at that moment, Lara entered the room wondering why these maids are here in her Lady's room, her ears flattened slightly against her head, showing unease and caution.
Walking through the crowd, she appeared at the front and saw her Lady sitting on a floor.
Adelheid sat with her back hunched, embodiment of misery and despair. Her slender fair hands were soaked with crimson red blood, the violent hue stark against the delicate yellow fabric of her dress, now marred by splatters of red. Her eyes, devoid of any emotion, were concealed from the crowd by the curtain of her long, disheveled silver hair, which fell haphazardly around her face.
The sight was haunting in the eyes of Lara that has widened in disbelief, Adelheid frail form appearing as if a mere breath of wind will push her into oblivion. She looked as if she might pass away from the lightest touch, her spirit seemingly already departed.
And after a minute of Lara's presence, Adelheid fell on the ground, her seemingly lifeless face appeared beautiful in a twisted way, looking as if she is a crimson fairy. A crimson fairy that everyone hates.
"My Lady!!!!"