Chapter 18

The small boat glided silently through the misty river, its path perfectly concealed by the dense reeds and weeping willows on both banks. Mara sat at the bow, her sharp gaze scanning the waters ahead and along the banks like a vigilant mother leopard.

Serena huddled at the stern, a heavy, coarse cloth cloak encasing her thin frame. The icy river water occasionally splashed against her cheeks, bringing a chilling cold, but also keeping her weary and confused mind clear. Mara handed her a leather water pouch and a small piece of dried meat wrapped in oiled paper. "Eat something to conserve your strength. The journey is still long," she said, her voice steady and devoid of emotion.

Serena thanked her softly, took the food, and began to chew slowly. The dry, tough chunks of meat and the slightly salty water were better than any delicacy at that moment. She secretly observed Mara's straight back and her hands, calloused yet remarkably steady. This woman possessed a weathered resilience and an unquestionable reliability that gave her a long-lost, faint sense of security.

"Where...are we going?" Serena finally couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

Mara didn't turn around, her gaze remaining fixed on the misty riverbed. "Silverdure Valley," she answered briefly, "the ancestral home of the Norton family, hidden in the folds where the Southern Reach meets the Rocky Mountains, difficult for outsiders to find. It's... very quiet there."

Silver Dew Valley. Serena murmured the name to herself, trying to glean relevant fragments from her mother's hazy memories, but to no avail. It was a completely unknown place.

The small boat had been navigating the intricate network of waterways all day. During the day, they rested in the shade of trees or reeds in the river bends, only continuing their journey in the dim light of dusk and dawn. Mara and the boatman took turns keeping watch, ensuring there were no suspicious traces around. Serena, on the other hand, forced herself to rest, though anxiety kept her awake; she knew she had to regain her strength as soon as possible.

On the third day, they abandoned ship and went ashore, venturing into a more desolate hilly area. Mara led her along paths trodden by hunters and small animals, sometimes requiring them to climb steep rock faces. Serena was almost exhausted, relying entirely on willpower to keep up with Mara. Mara would occasionally stop to offer her a bitter but invigorating herb, or to catch her just in time when she nearly slipped.

Along the way, they encountered no search parties, and even saw very few signs of human habitation. It was as if Lucien's sphere of influence had been left far behind. This sense of "safety" made Serena feel somewhat unreal.

As they passed a high point overlooking a vast expanse of hills, Mara gestured for a rest. She pointed to the silhouette of a massive, undulating mountain range shrouded in a pale blue mist on the southern horizon.

“Look, that’s the Rocky Mountains. Silverdew Valley lies at their feet.” Mara’s voice carried a subtle, homecoming-like ease.

Serena gazed at the distant, majestic mountains, her heart filled with mixed emotions. Could that be her refuge? How would the Norton family, those strangers who shared her mother's blood, treat her, their suddenly appearing, troublesome niece?

Serena didn't know the answer. She took a deep breath of the crisp, free mountain air, feeling her heart pounding firmly and powerfully in her chest.

But at least she's alive. She's free. That's enough.

“Let’s go.” Serena stood up, pulled her hood up to cover her overly conspicuous blonde hair, and although her voice was hoarse, it exuded a newfound strength.

Mara glanced at her, nodded, and turned to continue leading the way.

In the study at the Duke of Wilde’s residence.

The velvet curtains remained tightly drawn, blocking out the gloomy sky outside, but unable to block out the tense atmosphere that permeated the capital. The firelight from the fireplace flickered, reflecting in the Duke's tired and deeply etched wrinkles.

"Is the news confirmed?" The Duke's voice was low and hoarse, as if he had aged ten years overnight.

The head of the secret guards standing before him nodded slightly, his expression grave. "It's confirmed, Your Grace. His Majesty... passed away in his sleep last night. The court physician pronounced it heart failure, but..." He paused, his voice lowering further, "...our people planted among the palace eunuchs report that only the Archbishop and Sir Leonard of the Royal Guard were present before His Majesty's passing. His Highness Prince Lucien, the eldest son of the Emperor, secretly arrived in the capital three days ago and is currently residing at the Royal Villa outside the city."

Just as I expected!

The Emperor's death was so sudden, and Lucien's quiet return to the capital at that very moment! This was no coincidence. Sir Leonard, that officer known for his loyalty and discipline, had indeed long been Lucien's man!

The Duke felt a chill run down his spine. Lucien's actions were too swift and precise. He had not only built a vast empire in the south, but had also silently extended his reach into the heart of the empire, even setting up his scheme before the emperor's death.

"What about the other princes?" the Duke pressed.

"His Highness the Second Prince and His Highness the Third Prince have been 'invited' back to their respective residences and are being 'protected' by the guards dispatched by Sir Leonard. As for the Senate... it's in complete chaos, and Marshal McLean is claiming illness and has not yet left."

By placing the prince under house arrest, seizing control of the court, and intimidating the Senate, Lucien's methods were swift and decisive. He gave his competitors no time to react or form alliances.

"Regarding Miss..." The head of the guards hesitated for a moment, "Our men sent to the southern border... have lost contact. The last message they sent back was that Sunset Manor is heavily guarded, and they couldn't get close. As for Miss's whereabouts... it seems that another force has deliberately erased them, and our efforts to spread information about her have yielded very little result."

Another force? The Duke frowned. Was it Lucien's people? Or... the Norton family? He hoped it was the latter, but in any case, Serena's whereabouts were unknown, her fate uncertain, which tore at his heart.

Just then, a respectful announcement came from outside the study: "Your Grace, an invitation has arrived from the Royal Villa."

The Duke and the leader of the secret guards exchanged a glance, both seeing the seriousness in each other's eyes.

They arrived so quickly!

An officer in a Guards uniform with a stern expression was led in. He saluted meticulously and handed over a letter bearing the royal coat of arms.

“Your Excellency Duke Wilder,” the officer’s voice was calm and even, “His Highness Lucien will be hosting a small banquet at the villa tomorrow evening, and Your Excellency is cordially invited to attend to discuss state affairs.”

The invitation was politely worded, but its tone was one of an invitation that brooked no refusal. This was no dinner party; it was a trap! Lucien was forcing him, and all the nobles who were still observing, to take a stand.

The Duke accepted the invitation, his fingertips slightly cool. He slowly opened it, his gaze sweeping over the elegant handwriting, finally settling on the signature—the sharp and familiar signature of the eldest prince.

He knew that the moment that would decide the fate of the Wilder family had arrived.

Should she continue to waver and observe, or completely align herself with this seemingly in control future emperor? If she sides with Lucien, Serena might still have a glimmer of hope, and her family might be preserved or even advance further. But what if Lucien's obsession with Serena is devastating...?

“Your Highness,” the Duke replied, closing the invitation. His face regained its usual solemnity and composure, revealing no emotion whatsoever. “It would be my honor to attend the banquet on time.”

The officer saluted again, then turned and left.

The study returned to silence.

The duke walked to the window and abruptly pulled back the heavy curtains. Somber daylight flooded in, illuminating the complex emotions in his eyes—worry, resolve, and a heavy sense of responsibility as a father and patriarch.

The banquet hall at the Royal Villa was not grand; fewer than twenty people sat around the long table, all of them patriarchs of the empire's most prominent families and powerful elders. The light from the crystal chandelier flowed across the silver cutlery and dark wood tabletop, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and the rich scent of expensive wine, yet it could not suppress the almost stagnant heaviness.

Duke Wilde sat at the middle of the long table, maintaining the composure characteristic of aristocrats, his fingertips silently touching the slender stem of his goblet. He could feel the gazes from all directions—inquisitive, tense, and calculating. All attention was focused on the head seat at the far end of the table.

Lucien sat there.

He wasn't dressed in elaborate court attire, but rather in a well-tailored dark casual suit, the collar impeccably clean and devoid of any superfluous embellishments. His black hair was neatly combed, revealing a full forehead and those overly calm, deep purple eyes. He barely touched the food in front of him, only occasionally raising his wine glass for a small sip, listening to the whispers of an old nobleman beside him, his gaze, like an invisible net, slowly sweeping over everyone present.

His demeanor was reserved, yet carried an undeniable air of control. There was no ostentatious display of newly rich status, only a quiet majesty as if power rightfully belonged to him.

The banquet proceeded in an almost eerily polite atmosphere. Conversations were low and slow, revolving around His Majesty the Emperor's sudden passing, the stability of the empire, and its future transition. Words were cautious, and no one dared to touch upon the core issues.

Dessert was removed, the servants quietly withdrew, and the heavy hall doors slowly closed. The real moment had arrived.

Lucien set down his glass, the crisp sound particularly clear in the suddenly quiet hall. He leaned forward slightly, placed his hands clasped on the table, and calmly looked at everyone.

"Gentlemen," his voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly, with a cold, penetrating force, "the wheels of the empire will not stop because of anyone's departure. The most important thing now is to ensure a smooth transfer of power and avoid unnecessary turmoil."

He paused, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping towards Duke Wilde's direction.

“I know that everyone here has their own considerations. Some support my brothers, some are taking a wait-and-see approach, and some…” His tone remained unchanged, yet it caused several nobles to break out in a cold sweat, “…in some past events, there may be some… grudges between us.”

You could hear a pin drop in the hall.

“But I believe,” Lucien continued, his tone as calm as if stating a given fact, “that personal likes and dislikes should not supersede the interests of the Empire. Whose interests are served by a divided House of Nobles, an internally divided Empire? Clearly not any of us here, much less the tens of millions of citizens of the Empire.”

He slightly raised his hand, stopping any possible rebuttal.

"I invited you all here not to coerce you, but to seek consensus. I need your experience and strength to jointly maintain the stability and prosperity of the empire. In return," his gaze swept across the room again, finally settling on Duke Wilder's face, his deep purple eyes like two deep wells, "everything in the past can be wiped clean. Under the new order, loyalty and cooperation will receive the attention and rewards they deserve."

He didn't explicitly state the consequences of "non-cooperation," but everyone present understood what it meant. The house arrest of the Second and Third Princes was the most direct warning.

After a moment of suppressed silence, an earl who had long maintained neutrality rose first, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed slightly: "Your Highness is wise and understanding. The Empire needs strong guidance. The Alston family is willing to serve Your Highness."

Once the first one emerged, a second, a third… one after another, people rose to express their opinions. Circumstances dictated their actions; Lucien's demonstrated control and ruthless tactics left them with no other choice.

Finally, almost everyone's gaze fell upon Duke Wilde, who had yet to express his opinion. His stance, to some extent, represented the ultimate inclination of the most powerful faction among the old aristocracy.

Lucien's gaze also fell quietly on the Duke, awaiting his response.

Duke Wilder slowly rose to his feet. He felt the gaze from the head of the table, tangible and icy, pierce through his carefully maintained composure. He knew that Lucien's words, "Everything in the past can be wiped clean," were not spoken lightly, and that must have included... Serena.

He took a deep breath, met Lucien's gaze, and spoke in a steady voice, carrying the weight of the Wilder family patriarch: "Your Highness's magnanimity and foresight are admirable. The stability of the Empire is paramount. The Wilder family is willing to contribute our strength to Your Highness and to the Empire at this crucial moment."

He did not mention any specific conditions, nor did he reveal any personal emotions; he simply made the choice that best served the family's interests and the current situation.

Lucien's lips twitched upwards very slightly; it wasn't exactly a smile, but more like... confirmation.

“Very good.” He nodded slightly, shifting his gaze from the Duke as if he had merely completed a predetermined procedure. “Now, let’s discuss how to ensure the smooth running of the coronation ceremony, and… the initial framework of the future cabinet.”

The negotiations ended. There were no heated arguments, no blatant threats, only undercurrents beneath the calm surface and a silent transfer of power.

Duke Wilder sat back down, his dress shirt soaked with cold sweat. He knew he had just traded his family's loyalty for Serena's possible survival, in exchange for an extremely fragile promise with an unknown cost.

As Lucien refocused his attention on political discussions, a cold glint, imperceptible to anyone, flashed deep in his eyes. Erasing it all? Some marks, once etched, cannot be easily erased. He accepted the Wilder family's loyalty, but the canary that belonged to him would only ever belong to him.