The Eminence in Shadow

Chapter 3

Crashing the Ceremony!

Duke Perv stands on the second floor and gazes down at the ceremonial hall.

“Our defensive perimeter is

airtight

, I assume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, make sure it stays that way. The Shadow Garden could be planning something.”

The Cult agent disguised as a guard bows to Perv, then leaves.

Word of the Shadow Garden’s raid on Fort First has reached Perv’s ears.

The Cult took every precaution so as not to be detected, and yet they’d been a hairbreadth away from having the Ring of Succession stolen away from them anyway.

Once again, the Shadow Garden is being a thorn in Perv’s side.

Shadow was the one who ruined his scheme back at the Bushin Festival, too, and that’s forced Perv’s plan to take quite a detour. The Cult is finally starting to get serious about wanting to crush the Shadow Garden, but Perv has seen Shadow’s prowess firsthand, and he fears that the Cult is still underestimating the threat he poses.

As further proof of that, the Cult has yet to succeed in pinning down the Shadow Garden’s base of operations.

In fact, their intel on the Shadow Garden is lacking on all fronts. In Perv’s eyes, that’s gross negligence on their part.

Even now, the Cult still believes its grip on the world is as firm as ever.

“Still, I have the Ring of Succession. Once the right to succeed the throne is mine, my plan will be complete. And as for the Shadow Garden, we can drag the intel we need out of Rose Oriana.”

He’s run into all sorts of unexpected problems recently.

Using Queen Reina to turn King Oriana into a puppet was going splendidly, but somehow, the king realized the danger he was in and tampered with the Ring of Succession to transfer control of it over to his daughter, Rose. Now, the only way for Perv to gain dominion over the Ring is to marry the girl.

“All’s well that ends well, though. Once this is over, I’ll finally be able to join the Rounds…”

Perv has it on good authority that the twelfth seat will be his if everything goes smoothly in Oriana. He has the backing of Sir Mordred, the ninth member of the Rounds, to thank for that.

In exchange, Sir Mordred will expect his support in the Cult’s upcoming internal power struggle.

Perv’s track record will be the weakest in the Rounds, so he’ll have to play along for the time being. Once he becomes more powerful, though, he should have little trouble currying favor with whatever faction is currently in control.

That Cult is no monolith, and that fact gives rise to all sorts of opportunities for advancement.

“As long as I have the Ring, I’ll be fine…”

He retrieves a small box from his pocket. He’s been careful not to let it leave his person for even a moment because of the ring inside.

It’s no mere wedding ring, of course. It’s the Ring of Succession.

Confident of his victory, he smiles as he opens the box.

“…Huh?”

His smile vanishes in the blink of an eye.

The box is empty.

The ring is nowhere to be seen.

“Wait, what? No, no, no.”

He checks under the lid, then his pockets, then the floor. The color drains from his face.

“It’s gone…”

The cold, hard truth hits him.

“I lost it…”

It was in there when he got the box. He made sure to check that.

Since then, the box has never left his person. There was never an opportunity for it to go missing.

“H-how, then…?”

Queen Reina was the only one who knew where it was, but Perv has a hard time imagining that she stole it. She doesn’t have a motive.

In that case, is this the Shadow Garden’s work?

Even if he assumes a man with Shadow’s talents could have picked his pocket, it doesn’t make sense. If he had an opportunity like that, he would’ve just killed Perv.

In that case, it must have been an inside job—the work of a faction opposing Sir Mordred.

Stealing the ring and leaving the box had set a cruel trap for him.

Their wicked motives are as plain as day. They want to ruin Perv.

“I got played!”

The power struggle must already be underway.

At this rate, there’s no way he’ll be promoted to the Rounds. Instead, Sir Mordred is going to kill him.

“Shit…”

A veritable waterfall of sweat begins cascading down his forehead.

He needs to search for the ring, but he can’t use any Cult personnel to do it. Their loyalties lie with Sir Mordred, and if Sir Mordred finds out what happened, Perv is done for.

If his blunder gets exposed, he’ll definitely, positively, certainly get killed.

“I-I’ll have to look for it on my own…”

Fortunately, he still has some time left before he actually needs the ring.

If he comes up with some bullshit excuse, he can probably buy himself three days before the handoff. That’s what he’ll do.

Then, right as Perv manages to start pulling himself together—

“Perv.”

—Sir Mordred’s voice echoes directly in his head.

“Ahhh!”

He’s here.

Sir Mordred has come, and he’s

here

.

“Rejoice. I’ve pulled all the necessary strings. Once this is over, the twelfth seat is yours.”

“I-it’s an honor…”

“I’m expecting great things from you. Don’t let me down.”

“I—I would never dream of it…”

Perv heads to the ceremony in a daze. His mind is completely blank.

Rose ascends the exterior staircase leading up to the royal castle.

She looks utterly gorgeous in her pure-white wedding dress, captivating everyone who lays eyes on her.

Throngs of Oriana citizens are gathered at the bottom of the stairs to watch the proceedings. Rose hears both cheers and boos, but neither capture her attention.

At the top of the stairs, her groom, Duke Perv, is waiting for her. He seems vaguely out of sorts, but given how composed she’s feeling, Rose suspects she’s just imagining things.

When she reaches the top, they’re going to exchange their wedding vows.

However, Rose’s expression is bright and unclouded.

It was snowing last night, but the morning’s arrival put an end to that. Warm sunlight streams down from the clear blue sky.

She’s done second-guessing herself.

She has no more regrets.

She’s not afraid anymore.

She knows what it is she needs to do.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, she takes her spot beside Perv.

Slightly confused at how ashen his face looks, she waits for the moment to come.

After a sonorous hymn and a Bible reading from the priest, it’s time for the vows.

“Do you pledge to have each other, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love and to cherish?”

Perv is the first to speak. “I do.”

All eyes turn to Rose.

A quiet wind blows, sending her honey-blond hair asway. As it does, she smiles—

“I do not.”

—and speaks.

A stir runs through the crowd.

“Wh-what the hell do you mean?!” Perv shouts. His eyes are wide in shock.

Rose turns to face her people. Her honey-yellow eyes gleam, like she’s just figured out what it is that’s precious to her.

“I killed the king.”

Her voice travels easily through the winter air.

All the chatter stops. The crowd is dead silent.

“I won’t make excuses. I acknowledge it all. All the sin, all the mistakes, everything. But there’s one final thing I want to make very clear.”

Her wedding dress whirls as she points.

“You, Duke Perv, are guilty.”

What runs through the crowd this time is less of a stir and more of a storm.

“Of what? What crime would you accuse me of?!”

“You’ve violated the public trust. You manipulated your king, sullied your queen, and plotted to overthrow the government. I accuse you of high treason.”

“Lies and slander! What proof do you have of any of that?!”

“None whatsoever,” Rose says unashamedly. She has no intention of dancing around the matter or of obfuscating it.

Perv lowers his voice. “Okay, enough screwing around. I’ve got a hostage, remember?” he growls threateningly. “Take back what you just said, say your vows like a good little girl, and I’m willing to overlook what you just did.”