A few days ago, Gideon sent him a letter informing him that Julius and Duke Godfrey would escort him. He could understand his grandfather's involvement, but Julius? Why was he included?
When he asked Ezio's opinion on the matter, Ezio suggested it might be to ensure his safety. After all, no 'accidents' had ever occurred when Julius was with Cassian. In other words, Gideon was fully aware of the harm the Vazquez family inflicted on Cassian. Yet, he remained silent and did nothing. Why? What was his reason?
As he couldn't grasp Gideon's way of thinking, he dug into Cassian's father's past, hoping to get a better understanding of him. But what he uncovered left him speechless.
The Solairé Empire was divided into four regions—central, western, eastern, and southern—each ruled by a duke. For generations, the dukes maintained neutrality, but in recent decades, Duke Vazquez of the central region had risen in political power. As his influence grew, the loyalists to the throne dwindled, and rumors spread that the Vazquez family sought the throne.
However, despite the circumstances, Gideon—a consort's son with little power then—made a bold, controversial decision by marrying Jillia, Duke Vazquez's daughter. This move sparked outrage among the loyalists and the imperial family, who quickly branded him a traitor. To them, it was no different than selling the throne for personal gain.
As the current Emperor's health declined, the power struggle reached its peak. Day after day, news of another fallen prince or slain imperial family member spread through the palace. Even Gideon lost his mother and barely escaped death himself. Ultimately, he emerged as the sole survivor of the bloody battle for succession—putting an end to one of the darkest chapters in the Solairé Empire's history.
But the madness didn't end there.
On the day of his ascension, Gideon blindsided the court by announcing his engagement to Roseanne—Duke Godfrey's daughter—and declaring her the new Empress. The empire reeled. Duke Vazquez, feeling betrayed, seethed with fury while the nobility struggled to process the sudden power shift. After all, Duke Godfrey, once a staunch neutral, now aligned with the imperial family.
Had it not been for the Godfrey family's long-standing military lineage—one that defended the Empire for generations—the Vazquez coalition would have undoubtedly raised an army in defiance.
Many believed Gideon's decision was a calculated move to curb the Vazquez family's growing influence by bringing Duke Godfrey into the political scene to solidify the loyalists and send a clear message that he refused to be a puppet emperor. However, the aftermath left lasting unrest throughout the empire and ignited a power struggle between the Godfrey and Vazquez families.
At a glance, the Vazquez family might seem like the victims. But looking back at the so-called 'bandit attack,' it was clear that Gideon deliberately shielded them. And considering how easily he dismissed the fact that Cassian—Duke Godfrey's grandchild—was nearly assassinated, the lines blurred. At this point, he couldn't tell who the real victim was.
Just… what could Gideon possibly gain by protecting the Vazquez family? Or was he merely playing both sides, ensuring neither grew too powerful?
Letting out a deep sigh, Cassian ran his fingers through his hair. 'Whatever the answer was—this family—THIS EMPIRE—was one hell of a mess.'
Arriving at the entrance hall, maids and butlers paused their last-minute preparations to bow respectfully at the sight of him. Cassian responded with a curt nod of acknowledgment before continuing forward.
When the sharp clanking of metal echoed through the air, all eyes shifted toward the fortified wall. The massive portcullis slowly rose, unveiling two grand carriages—each drawn by four horses and flanked by cavalry—gliding into the palace. The rhythmic pounding of hooves reverberated through the courtyard as the horses galloped onward. The imperial pennant atop the carriages fluttered proudly in the breeze.
After passing the field, the coachman deftly parked the carriage before the entrance hall, where a butler promptly stepped forward and opened the door. Emerging from within was a robust elderly man, his regal attire reflecting his noble status. Though well into his sixties, his blonde hair gleamed under the sunlight—it was none other than Wilhelm, Cassian's grandfather and a revered marshal.
The moment their cerulean eyes locked, the man offered him a tender smile, and Cassian reluctantly returned the gesture. No matter how many times it happened, he could never quite grow accustomed to feigning familial warmth.
However, Wilheim's figure blurred and faded from Cassian's vision, wiping the smile from his face as his brows furrowed in confusion. Before he could make sense of the situation, darkness descended, muffling the frantic shouts around him, and the world went blank.
"…Your Majesty…"
"…strip of title…"
"…the death of the Empress…"
"…cannot go unpunished!"
A buzzing sound pierced his ears, pulling him from the void. Opening his eyes, he found himself seated amidst a murmuring crowd, facing a raised dais draped in faded crimson velvet. Atop it sat Gideon alongside the magistrates—a courtroom.
With the abrupt shift in reality and his inability to move or speak, he was undoubtedly experiencing another foresight. Since the previous vision activated upon seeing Roseanne, he deduced that meeting someone with a significant connection to Cassian triggered the event.
"I cannot do that." Gideon's voice instinctively silenced the crowd, heightening the already tense atmosphere in the room.
Before the Emperor and magistrates stood two men in their late sixties. One was none other than Wilheim, and the other—who bore a striking resemblance to Julius—was likely Gustav Vazquez, Julius's grandfather.
He had no idea what was happening. But currently, Cassian's emotions were all over the place. His heart pounded, his hands trembled, and the fear surging from him was so overwhelming it felt like it might swallow him whole.
"My lord, Your Majesty." Gustav stepped forward, pulling everyone's attention to him. "Stripping Sir Wilheim of his title and banishing him is not enough. He commands great military power. What if he returns, leading an army against the empire he once served?"
Wilheim scoffed and fixated his gaze on Gustav in amusement. "You speak of rebellion, yet you are the one benefiting most from my fall." He took a step forward. "How long have you been waiting for this, Lord Gustav?"
A murmur rippled through the hall, but Gustav merely chuckled, shaking his head as if indulging a fool. "You've always been paranoid, Sir Wilheim. But paranoia doesn't erase responsibility." His voice turned cold and sharp. "The horse pulling my carriage was poisoned under your watch as the head of security—an act that led to the Empress's death. That alone warrants severe punishment."
"Do not dare preach to me about my daughter!" Wilheim growled, fists clenching at his sides. "Answer me, Lord Gustav—why were you absent from the banquet before the parade? Where were you that night?"
Gustav sneered. "Are you accusing me of poisoning my own horse just to kill the Empress, wagering my life in the process?" His jaw tightened. "I was the target!"
Wilheim's glare did not waver. "And that is why I demand a real investigation while you call for my execution without a shred of proof."
"Do not spew nonsense to deflect your failures!" Gustav thrust a finger toward Wilheim. "Your incompetence didn't just cost us an Empress—it endangered the monarchs of other nations who attended as guests! Do you understand the weight of that? Do you understand that your negligence could spark a war? Stripping you of your title is not enough. You must be executed!"
Wilheim took a step forward. "Then stop hiding behind words. If you want my head, take it yourself—!"
"Enough!" Gideon slammed the table, his voice thundered, silencing the hall. "This is a court, not a stage for petty grudges—!"
A sudden loud clatter of metal echoed through the hall, cutting Gideon mid-sentence. All eyes snapped toward a small silver orb rolling across the floor before stopping at Wilheim's feet. Then, it exploded, releasing a thick black smoke that engulfed the space, throwing the room into chaos.
"Argh! Help!"
"A surprise attack!"
"Protect His Majesty!"
Cassian shot to his feet and rushed toward Wilheim. "Grandpa!"
But before he could reach him, a hand yanked at his clothes, jerking him back. A damp cloth pressed against his face, and a sharp scent burned his lungs. His vision blurred, and darkness devoured him.
When a sharp, excruciating pain pierced his skull, Cassian grunted and clutched his head as he slowly regained consciousness. Blinking against the dim light, he was greeted by a familiar painting—a cavalry engaged in battle, its worn colors casting eerie shadows above his canopy bed. Bringing his hand to his eyes, he saw a calloused teenage hand—marking his return to the real world.
"I will fetch the physician," Sanchez's voice cut through the haze, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.
Glancing to the source, he found Wilheim sitting beside his bed. The man reached out and gently brushed his hair. "How is your faring? Are you experiencing any pain?"
He gazed at Wilheim momentarily, and somehow… he finally grasped the depth of Cassian's fear in the foresight. With Roseanne gone and Wilheim facing execution, Cassian would be completely alone. A powerless young prince in the palace was as good as dead.
Shaking his head to dismiss the thoughts, Cassian replied. "I am well, just a slight lightheadedness." Using his elbow for support, he slowly pushed himself up. "For how long have I been unconscious?"
"Nearly a half day," Wilheim answered as he steadied him before pouring a glass of water and handing it over.
Cassian accepted it with a nod. "Thank you." He took a sip, letting the cool liquid soothe his parched throat.
"Perhaps we should delay your return to the capital. You need time to recover."
Cassian lowered the glass before whipping his head toward Wilhem in surprise. "No, please proceed as planned."
After seeing how chaotic the future was, he couldn't afford to stay idle. Honestly speaking, he had spent three months scouring the library, yet found nothing. Staying here any longer would be a waste of time. The sooner he returned to the capital, the sooner he could uncover the clues that would lead him home.
Wilheim let out a heavy sigh. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, a knock echoed permeated the room, interrupting him. Sanchez's voice followed. "Your Grace, I have brought the physician."
"Enter."
The door creaked open, revealing Sanchez and the physician stepping inside. Wasting no more time, the physician commenced his examining him before concluding. "Your Highness collapsed due to fatigue. There are no signs of illness, but you must rest properly. I will prepare a tonic to help with your recovery."
Cassian nodded faintly, appreciating the quick diagnosis. Once the physician finished, he excused himself and left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, Cassian returned his attention to Wilheim. "Please proceed as planned."
Wilheim regarded him with an indescribable expression as though weighing his words carefully. After a deep sigh, he stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Let's address this in the morning. For now, take ample rest."
Cassian couldn't help but swallow a groan. Just like father, just like daughter—both were impossible to reason with when it came to his well-being. With no room for argument, he begrudgingly conceded. "I understand."
After bidding each other goodnight, Wilheim and Sanchez exited the chamber, leaving him alone. He flopped back onto the bed and stared at the painting above him. Running his fingers through his hair, Cassian exhaled a long breath.
The foresight he just experienced was unquestionably the continuation of the previous one. Could 'the accident' that led to Godfrey's duchy's downfall—which wasn't mentioned in the novel—be connected to Roseanne's death and Wilheim's fall in the court? But the chaotic scene in the courtroom left him uncertain. Was Wilheim being executed, or had he been assassinated?
However, what bugged him the most was the question of who in the world dared to kidnap Cassian—under the Emperor's nose, no less. Could it be that Godfrey had other enemies besides the Vazquez family? Or had it been the Vazquez family all along?
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he rubbed his temples as his headache worsened. Thinking about countless scenarios only made his head throb more. As of now, sleeping was undoubtedly the best choice. There was no point in chasing down every possibility when there were no answers to be found right now. He'd come back to it when he had the right resources.
Cassian cast a spell, and a magic circle appeared above him, unleashing a gust of wind through the room, extinguishing the candles. When darkness wrapped around him, he closed his eyes.