Chapter 253: Verdelune’s Verdict
[Lavinia’s POV — Blue Stone Mountain—Village Verdelune]
This is the biggest corruption of the century.
For a beat the world held its breath.
The birds stopped mid-song, heads cocked—nature pausing as if the world itself inhaled. The mountain glowed—no, it throbbed—with a light that was neither sunlight nor moonlight but something older, as if the earth had opened a vein and let an ancient god bleed. Jagged streaks of blue ran across its flank like lightning caught mid-scream, pulsing faintly, humming with power older than any crown, brighter than gold, and far deadlier than any blade.
My breath fogged the crisp air. My chest tightened until it felt as if steel corsets had been cinched around it. I should have known. I should have felt it. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of the Blue Magic Stones—those myth-wrought gems, rarer than emperors’ promises, more expensive than a war.
"...Am I hallucinating, or is that the—" I let the words fall between us like a blade.
Sera stared at the mountain, eyes wide, voice a whisper of disbelief. "I think I’m hallucinating too, Your Highness."
"Hahaha...wow..." I let out a short, cruel laugh. It tasted like iron. "I must say...this is what we call a genuine surprise."
I turned my gaze to the village head—his gaudy gold catching the blue like a lie pretending to shine honestly. "You were impressive, village head," I said, voice syrup-sweet with contempt. "I assumed corruption would be limited to greedy nobles. I didn’t expect a man of your girth to out-belly them all."
He went pale. Knees wobbling, he dropped to one. "Your—Your Highness, it’s not what you think—"
A single finger lifted. Cut him off. "Shut up," I snapped. The word was steel. "Before I slit your throat and let your lies choke you."
He flinched. The villagers recoiled; some covered their mouths, others lowered their heads. But none of them moved to stop me.
I raised my voice, deliberate and commanding. "SEIZE THIS MOUNTAIN! No one is to set foot within ten paces of that wall. No one at all—except the head of this village."
Eyes widened. Kalix blinked, confused, a smirk flickering across his lips before it vanished at my gaze. The village head’s face crumpled into supplication. "Thank you, Your Highness—thank you, I—"
I cut him off. "I said village head, not you, belly-man."
He froze, confusion and fear warring on his features. "What—?"
Then my gaze landed on Kalix. "Kalix—how old are you?"
He blinked, startled. "I turned sixteen this year, Your Highness."
"Then I appoint you Village Head, here and now." The words were a decree. "From this moment, every decision for Verdelune falls to you."
A stunned silence followed, then a ripple of relief spread across the villagers’ faces like sun breaking through clouds. Kalix’s jaw slackened; he pressed his fingers into the dirt in disbelief before folding into a deep, reverent bow. "Thank you—Your Highness. I won’t fail you."
"Do not disappoint me," I said, cold as the mountain’s shadow. "This is not charity. This is responsibility. Remember that."
He bowed again, eyes wet but steady. Around us, the villagers murmured—some even smiling. Their small upticks of relief told me more about their suffering than any ledger ever could.
I extended a hand toward Sir Haldor. "Sword."
Everyone flinched. Sir Haldor obeyed instantly, striding forward with steel in his hands like a priest with sacrament.
I took the sword he offered, the hilt solid, the steel catching the reflected blue light, and stepped toward the belly-man.
"Your Highness...mercy! Mercy, please!" he stammered.
"You," I said, voice low and measured, "brought both riches and misery to this village. You stole from mouths that should have eaten and hoarded power that should have protected. And now you beg for mercy?"
"Please...a second chance! I was greedy—I—"
"A second chance?" I leveled the tip of the sword at his belly, savoring his shrink under the steel. "Look at the faces around you. Look at the lines of fear your greed etched into their lives. This village fed you. You fed only yourself. You were the winner in the corruption race—gold medals for treachery, bronze for betrayal. I should reward you. I shall reward you fittingly."
My blade rose.
SLASH!
The strike was not poetic—it was necessary. The world took its measure of him—and then he was gone. Blood blossomed across my dress. For a heartbeat I watched the slow, clinical arc of it. No one flinched. Not Sera. Not my knights. Most importantly, not the villagers.
They smiled.
Sharp relief radiated from them like a tangible thing—you could taste how much they had suffered under taxes, false charity, and tyranny. Their smiles were explosions: a boy’s unchained laugh, an old woman’s relieved sob held behind her teeth. Justice, as I delivered it, tasted like a feast.
Blood dripped from the sword. I let it fall from my tongue like a verdict. "You lived like poison. Your death is their release."
"Clean this up," I said, my voice leaving no room for pity. "Feed him to the wild wolves."
My knights moved with brisk efficiency. The corpse was dragged away. The blood was scrubbed from the stones. I looked down at the children of the man I had unmade—a son, a daughter, and a mother whose eyes were hollow. They flinched but were not broken.
"Send them to another village in another empire," I ordered. "As commoners. Strip them of status and power. Let them learn how real people live."
Sir Haldor inclined his head. "Yes, Your Highness."
Kalix stepped forward and bowed. "Your Highness—please, do not send the family away."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why show them mercy, Kalix? They bear the blood of a corrupt man."
He swallowed. "The village head may have been their kin, but he never—he never treated them well. They suffered with us too, Your Highness. If you drive them away, you punish those who already bleed."
I considered it, one small, human thing stirring in my chest—soft, useless, annoying. Finally, I gave the order. "Fine. They will remain. But not as nobles, not as supplicants. They will live under Kalix’s watch."
Kalix’s face broke into a grateful, awed smile. He bowed again, nearly stumbling under the weight of it. "Thank you, Your Highness. I will not fail you."
I turned to Sir Haldor. "The dam. Find workers—masons, engineers, anyone capable. I want it repaired without delay."
"Yes, Your Highness," he replied.
I crouched slightly and patted Marshi’s head. "Come on, Marshi. We’ve lingered long enough."
Sir Haldor began to step forward. "Then, Your Highness, shall we return—?"
"No." I raised a hand, stopping him cold. "You will stay. Oversee every stone laid, every nail driven. Summon inspectors—mages, scholars, alchemists. That mountain must be examined in secrecy, understood?"
His reply came heavy with loyalty. "Yes, Your Highness."
I turned from him, villagers parting like grass before a gale. The glow of the mountain hummed behind me—a secret ripped into the open with blood and steel. But I had no time to linger. There were other secrets to unearth, answers waiting where only silence and dust kept watch.
I straightened my cloak, morning light glinting off its edge. "Now. To the Divine Library—where a book, or a blade of truth, would tell me the secrets Papa and Osric are hiding."
And with that, I left Verdelune behind—my shadow heavier than the sunrise, the weight of a mountain’s secret at my back.
***
[The Divine Temple—Later]
The carriage doors sighed open onto marble cooled by shadow and incense. The air here smelled of vellum and old prayers—a library’s hush folded into a temple’s reverence. As I stepped down, a young man in simple robes bowed so low his forehead nearly kissed the stone.
"Greetings, Your Highness—the Crown Princess." His voice was respectful, too new to carry the tired cadence of old clergy. He bore the pin of the new high priest. "High Priest Eamon, at your service."
I inclined my head. "Good to see you, High priest Eamon. And you’ve not told anyone of my arrival?"
He straightened, eyes steady. "Rest assured, Your Highness. Your arrival is a secret between the temple and myself."
I allowed the faintest nod, then caught the movement of his gaze—down, to the hem of my skirt. A dark blossom marred the fabric where the blood had splattered. The priest’s mouth tightened with the practiced politeness of someone struggling between piety and practicality.
"Is something amiss?" I asked, amusement curling at the edge of my voice.
He offered a small, embarrassed smile. "I apologize if I offend, Your Highness. This is a holy place. I suggest—if it pleases you—to change into something clean before entering the inner stacks."
I glanced at the stain, then at the quiet marble steps that led into knowledge and, perhaps, danger. "I don’t have a change of clothes with me."
His smile grew certain. "I shall summon the ladies of the temple. They will provide a dress befitting a patron of the Divine Temple."
"Very well."
Sera muttered in a tone loud enough for only me, "I should’ve brought a spare dress."
I looked at her, at the way her voice betrayed worry. I let a small smile slip free—soft and sharper than any blade. "It’s all right, Sera. You didn’t know I’d be beheading anyone today."
I glanced towards the way to the Divine Library. I hoped—foolishly, usefully—that what I would find inside was only a book.