“When the emperor learned that your mother loved someone else, he ordered that man killed,” Grandfather said, his voice heavy with sorrow and restrained fury. Each word carried a weight that pressed down on the room, a silent echo of the years of injustice he had witnessed. I could feel the storm of emotions hidden behind his calm, measured tone—anger, grief, helplessness—all of it pouring into the space between us.
I remained silent, listening intently, letting him speak without interruption. There was no need for words from me yet; the story itself demanded my full attention.
“Of course, the emperor never admitted it openly,” he continued, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the table, perhaps lost in the memory of those dark days. “But the truth was known to those close to your mother. Even she understood it. She knew what had happened, even if no one dared speak of it aloud.”
He paused for a moment, as if forcing himself to relive the pain, the weight of the past pressing like a shadow on the room. “Then… after he eliminated your mother’s lover, he forced himself upon Nyssa. Marielle was born from that tragic day.”
A heavy silence settled over us. The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, and my chest tightened as I absorbed their meaning. So… that was the true story of those years—the hidden cruelty behind the imperial fa?ade.
“From that moment onward, your mother never knew peace,” Grandfather continued, his voice softening, almost breaking, as though he could feel her suffering anew. “I knew she wished for release, yet she endured. She protected the child in her womb, fearing what the emperor might do to our family if she died. She agreed to marry him out of necessity, not love or desire. She sacrificed herself entirely to keep the family safe.”
His eyes darkened with anger, reflecting decades of helplessness and grief. “The emperor’s obsession only intensified after that day. None can truly say why he fixated on her. Nyssa was beautiful, yes, but there were countless women in the Eldoria Imperium more accomplished, more influential, and of higher status. Yet he could not let her go. And his obsession brought only more suffering to her life.”
I could feel a chill creep up my spine at the thought. The emperor’s cruelty was no accident, no misunderstanding—it had been deliberate, deliberate and systematic.
Grandfather’s voice sharpened with bitterness. “The empress, jealous and cunning, hated your mother. She desired nothing more than to see her broken, to see her life twisted and ruined. She whispered lies into the emperor’s ear, questioning Nyssa’s loyalty, planting seeds of doubt about the child she carried. Because Marielle did not inherit the emperor’s hair or eyes, the empress insinuated that she was not truly his daughter, that the child in Nyssa’s womb was illegitimate.”
The injustice of it made my chest tighten further, a bitter taste rising as I realized the full extent of what had been done. The emperor’s cruelty had been compounded, made more vicious by envy and ambition.
“Of course, the emperor did not fully believe the empress,” Grandfather continued, his voice quieter now, almost weary. “But over time, the doubts and whispers shaped his actions. Nyssa never loved him, and the constant insinuations twisted his heart further. He scolded her, neglected her, even struck her at times. Her strength faded. Her body weakened. Had it not been for the child she carried… she might have perished long before giving birth to you, Edric.”
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I felt a shiver pass through me at the thought, the helplessness and pain of that time stretching across generations. And yet, in the midst of that horror, Grandfather’s voice softened, a faint glimmer of relief piercing through the sorrow.
“But once you were born,” he said, his tone gentle, almost reverent, “her suffering finally eased. On that day, she seemed… at peace. And you… you inherited the emperor’s blue hair. Hahaha! Even after all the suffering and tragedy, your birth brought a measure of redemption—proof that she had not suffered in vain. You were the living reminder of her courage and sacrifice.”
His eyes glistened with tears now, the mix of grief, anger, and hope reflected in every line of his face. He turned toward me, the weight of the past meeting my present. “Do you understand why the emperor resents you so deeply? It isn’t because he believes you caused her death. No… it’s because you remind him that he was the one who ended her life. If you were anyone else, he might have killed you already. But you are Nyssa’s son, and that both infuriates and frightens him. He sees you, and he sees his crime staring back at him every time he looks in the mirror.”
I clenched my fists silently, feeling the truth strike deeper than any blow could. I had assumed the emperor hated me because of guilt—because he believed I was the cause of my mother’s death. But the reality was far darker: he hated me because I reminded him of his own sin, his own cruelty.
Grandfather and Aunt Seraphine’s eyes burned with silent anger as they studied me. I exhaled slowly, the weight of the past settling like a mantle over my shoulders. My connection to Nyssa in this life had been distant, almost nonexistent, yet the legacy of her suffering now demanded acknowledgment.
Gareth Valemont leaned forward, gripping my arm with a firm but trembling hand. “Edric… now that you know the truth, you must see justice done for your mother. We are powerless. Even knowing the extent of Nyssa’s suffering, there is nothing we can do. But you… you have the mind, the skill, and the means to ensure the emperor answers for what he did. You are different. You are capable. You have the world in your hands, and the responsibility falls to you.”
“Father, stop!” Aunt Seraphine interrupted sharply, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination. “Do you not see the weight you place on him? Do you not understand what he is facing now? He cannot act recklessly. He cannot rush headlong into danger. He is not alone, but he also cannot bear the world on his shoulders alone!”
Grandfather’s face fell, the storm of hope, anger, and helplessness crossing his features. He sighed deeply, a sound of resignation and grief mingled. “You are right,” he murmured. “Forget what I said.”
I met their eyes with calm resolve. “No, Grandfather. I will not forget. I promise you… I will see justice done for my mother.”
Instantly, Aunt Seraphine and Grandfather’s attention returned fully to me. Their eyes searched mine, filled with worry, hope, and a flicker of pride.
“Edric, you must not be rash. You must plan carefully,” Seraphine said softly, her tone tempered with concern.
“I understand, Aunt,” I replied, my smile gentle, meant to reassure her. “I have a plan. And I will ensure the emperor answers for his actions—without unnecessary risk to myself or Marielle. Everything will be precise, calculated, and inevitable. Justice does not come from fury alone; it comes from strategy and timing.”
Her expression softened slightly, relief mingling with lingering concern. The weight of her trust, and the responsibility it carried, settled on my shoulders like a mantle I was ready to bear.
At that moment, Grandmother Elara entered, carrying a tray of food with a servant. The arrival shifted the atmosphere; the conversation turned naturally to the mundane act of sharing a meal. Though the past hung heavy, we ate quietly, each of us lost in our own thoughts, reflecting on memories and what was to come.
Meanwhile, my mind worked steadily, calculating the steps ahead. The emperor’s reckoning would come. It would not be fueled by emotion or anger, but by careful planning, patience, and precision. The injustice done to Nyssa would be addressed. Her memory, and the suffering she endured, demanded nothing less.
As I chewed quietly, I allowed a faint smile to brush my lips. The road ahead would be long and treacherous—but the fire of determination burned steadily within me. The emperor would answer for his crimes.
And I, Edric Valemont, would ensure that he did so.
