# Ep14. The King's Silence
The Krasilov royal palace is otherwise known as the Amber Palace. Rather than simply being a palace decorated with amber stones, it's better understood as a reference to its splendor.
At least until the pre-war era, the Amber Palace was counted among the most luxurious royal palaces in the United Kingdom.
"You've come."
At the entrance of the palace stood Elizabeta Kirillovna Krasilov with a haggard face. She carefully examined the bloodstains on Ivan Petrovich's body before raising her gaze.
Ivan quietly knelt on one knee. Beside him, Pavel and Dmitri Cherkatov also prostrated themselves.
"Any injuries?"
"None, Your Highness."
"That's a relief."
Her matter-of-fact words couldn't hide her sense of relief. And for good reason—the man before her had fought the strongest elf to the point of unconsciousness on her orders, and immediately afterward, swept away the subversive elements in the capital.
If he had sustained any fatal wounds in the process, Elizabeta suppressed the momentary dizzying feeling in her heart and turned her head.
"I'll receive a detailed report later. Come to me directly, not through Dmitri. Understood?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I have much to say... but not today. Vanka, raise your head."
Ivan lifted his bowed head. Elizabeta, who had been standing before him, bent slightly at the waist.
With a gentle touch, her hand rested on his cheek. The warm sensation enveloped his parched cheek for a while.
Her snow-white fingertips trembled slightly.
"You've been through so much. Thank you for indulging my stubbornness. From the moment we first met until now. Always."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Now I shall give you your final mission for today. Rise, all of you."
Elizabeta turned toward the royal palace.
Among the majestic stone pillars of the Amber Palace, Elizabeta faced the palace corridor with cold eyes.
The royal guards stood with bowed heads. Since they were all her subordinates, no one blocked their path.
"Follow me. We're going to the royal audience chamber."
At her words, Pavel's body stiffened.
Seeing his hand unconsciously twitch toward his waist, Ivan slowly lowered his hand to grip the handle of his axe.
Perhaps noticing this reaction, Elizabeta continued speaking without turning her head.
"Do you still hate the king of this country?"
"...Yes, Your Highness."
Pavel uttered in a low voice between his teeth.
Even if he had pledged renewed loyalty to Elizabeta and vowed to devote himself to the peace of this country.
Even so, Pavel's emotions could not be fully resolved. It was natural. His hatred was isolated in the past.
It was an anger that could never be quenched. All those he cherished were long dead.
And in that, Ivan was no different. Feeling Pavel's emotions running high, Ivan slowly moved closer to Elizabeta's side.
Ready to intervene should Pavel have a change of heart.
"That is why I called you here today. Today, I will no longer command you. Do as you wish."
The strength drained from Ivan's hand gripping the axe handle.
How could he not have it? The anger still remained vividly within him too. The rage toward the current king, Kirill, still smoldered like embers in his heart.
But he had endured it. He suppressed it, considering it worthless. He let it pass, thinking it meaningless.
After all, wasn't he just a stranger to this world? Believing he had no right to pass judgment, he endured.
But now, Elizabeta was affirming his feelings.
If you want revenge, take it.
Even as he entered the royal audience chamber armed, Ivan pondered the princess's words.
'Why now?'
From the beginning, Elizabeta was already the de facto ruler of this country. Since the crown prince's disappearance, she had been the power holder who controlled the entire capital with a firm grip.
She had successfully led a coup once before. As a result, the king was confined, all authorization powers were transferred to the princess, and the royal family was subordinated to the constitution.
But why now, of all times?
When she first succeeded in the coup, there would have been no problem if she had removed the king and succeeded to the throne herself.
Now, suddenly, she says it's fine to kill the king.
It's certainly not some soft-hearted sentiment like a young daughter being unable to kill her own father. That couldn't be it.
Ivan followed Elizabeta in silence, lost in thought.
"The Lord watches over you."
At the entrance to the long corridor leading to the king's audience chamber, such a phrase was depicted alongside a massive tapestry.
It is the last remaining heritage representing the sole dignity of the Amber Palace. After all, this palace had already lost all its former glory.
Elizabeta remembered the massive sculptures and all kinds of treasures that once hung on these walls. Now only dust-covered empty spaces remained in the corridor.
"Is it shabby?"
Elizabeta asked with a smile. Wasn't it quite amusing that there were no luxuries in the royal palace where the king of this country resided, and yet it was still called the 'Amber Palace'?
But Ivan briefly shook his head.
"It is glorious, Your Highness."
"Glory, you say? This decline?"
"It's not decline, Your Highness. This is sacrifice."
Ivan belonged to the royal guard. Naturally, he remembered the Amber Palace during the war.
The Amber Palace was at its most splendid during the early reign of the previous king, during the conquest wars.
At that time, Ivan the Great's nicknames were 'the Conqueror,' 'the Thunder Emperor,' and 'the Bear of Krasilov.' Such nicknames are never created in peaceful times.
Until the Demon King unleashed the Great War, Krasilov was the most bellicose nation in the United Kingdom. Under the reign of a young conquering monarch, it was a nation that spread terror across vast territories.
During that time, the Amber Palace was the most splendid palace in the United Kingdom, filled with treasures obtained from various regions. All who passed through this corridor willingly showed respect to the Great King's authority.
Then the Demon King was born. Half the world burned.
Until the Hero appeared, the way to preserve this country's national identity was still through war. However, it was a series of endless defeats, different from the previous wars waged against humanity.
The authority built through victories crumbled with defeats. The Great King remained strong, but the royal authority did not. In that situation, to preserve the national identity, the Great King had to sell off the royal treasures.
That is not a symbol of decline.
The empty stone pillars in this corridor were no different from a chronicle in themselves.
The traces left on the dust-covered stone pillars do not signify lamentations for lost treasures and past glory.
These are chronicles of traces left by a man who was always great, who destroyed himself on behalf of the nation. Instead of giving up in the face of defeat, they are a tribute to a man who, nevertheless, rushed back to the front lines with everything he had.
So, if this corridor were to be named, it would never be decline.
"Thank you, Vanka."
Elizabeta murmured, looking up at the ceiling with reddened eyes. Ivan followed her in silence.
The long corridor came to an end. Finally, they reached the audience chamber.
In front of the empty, cool audience chamber. Walking along the path covered with worn carpets, they finally reached the throne.
Before it sat an old man they had never seen before, staring blankly down at them.
"Do not kneel."
Elizabeta, standing in front, spoke briefly. With a voice devoid of readable emotion, yet steady and without trembling.
Not prostrating oneself in the royal presence is, in itself, a blasphemy punishable by death. Yet everyone present stood upright, looking directly at the throne.
"No one in this country would dare make you kneel before me. Especially not now. So raise your heads and look straight ahead. Look at the one standing before you. What do you see?"
Elizabeta continued speaking casually as she walked.
Counselor, Herald, Scribe, Judge, Chamberlain, Captain of the Guard, Minister of State, Master of Ceremonies, Chamberlain, Palace Steward, Master of Leaves, Master of Colors, Master of Ceremonies.
Passing by each of the seats with the antiquated official titles of the country's ministers.
Court Minister, Military Minister, Public Works Minister, Foreign Minister.
Marshal, Prime Minister.
And finally, before the King.
"Your Majesty, I trust you are well?"
Elizabeta did not stop walking and ascended the dais. No one could stop her. The guards present simply bowed their heads as if this were an ordinary occurrence.
The King, too, merely looked at her without any response.
"Do you see? Do you see this person?"
Elizabeta stood beside the throne and playfully touched the crown on the King's head.
"Do you see one who has lost all speech, thought, and will? Do you see this majesty, the master of all people?"
"What happened?"
It was Pavel who answered her question. He was clutching his waist with trembling hands.
As if he might draw his spear at any moment, fierce anger was seeping from the corners of his mouth.
"This is my brother's work. Don't ask me since when. I don't know either. But even during the time when the previous king reigned, this person was probably no different from now."
"But I remember King Kirill's coronation ceremony."
"Yes, he walked properly and spoke without issue?"
"...Yes."
"By that time, my brother had already had his fill of playing king, so perhaps that's why he has now left this country without regret."
Pavel flinched at her words.
Was the king merely a puppet from that time? Was he being manipulated by some scheme of the crown prince?
Was this entire country already in the crown prince's grasp?
"So talk of succession rights is laughable. This country was already Alexandr Kirillovich Krasilov's, and that period would have been at least 10 years. So I wasn't fighting for succession rights, but for usurpation of the throne. Pavel, you may call me your senior. As a rebel, I have been fighting longer than you."
"Why didn't you reveal this fact...?"
"To whom? Who stood by my side and fought? The military? The House of Nobles? The Court? If they heard this story, who would stand by my side and fight?"
The ambitious would want to overthrow this ruined monarchy, and the royal loyalists would not hesitate to side with the crown prince.
Who could she tell this story to? To dominate the king is, in itself, no different from dominating the entire country.
This country was, in name and reality, Alexandr's. The struggle has been to reclaim it. That has been the past years.
"So, Vanka. When you said you were leaving, I was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved that you were finally safe, and disappointed that you would leave at the most dangerous moment."
"Your Highness."
"I'm quite glad you've returned now. I'm not bothered at all."
Elizabeta turned around with a gentle smile.
"So will you do as you wish? Will you behead the king of this country and quench your anger? Will you avenge the previous king and the heroes, raising the banner of justice?"
Pavel bowed his head without answering.
If all the orders from that time ultimately came from the crown prince's hand, then beheading that old man would be merely venting frustration.
Toward Pavel, who was gritting his teeth in silence, Elizabeta spoke as she descended from the dais.
"Do you still desire revenge?"
"...Yes, Your Highness."
"So do I. I want revenge against that ruthless person who alone grasped everything in this country, only to abandon it all and leave. I want revenge against the one who buried all the greatest people this country had, yet carelessly abandoned the kingship obtained at such a cost."
Elizabeta looked at Ivan.
"I want revenge against the one who swept all those I loved under the soil of that distant land, and threw all those who loved me before the jaws of the demon race. Will you join me?"
Ivan looked into Elizabeta's eyes. Longing, anger, self-reproach, fear, and perhaps... attachment.
Reading the emotions flowing in her eyes, he quietly bowed his head.
"Do not ask. Simply command me."
Elizabeta looked up at the ceiling before the men with bowed heads.
Her eyes burned hot. Words that had been difficult to share with anyone, the shameful secrets of this country's royal family, were being released.
Not anymore. Pritzenkaya has finally been subjugated under her domain, and the local nobles from various regions will soon follow suit.
Alexandr's influence has been completely expelled. Now no one will be able to ignore her authority.
Krasilov will rise again. More magnificently than any era before.
She will make it so. She will do it. And she will demand the price. From her brother, from that man who could be anywhere now.
Without fail.
Under the king's silence, the royal family will bloom once more. In a way that no one can deny. Brilliantly.