Third Prince Rodel Aiwood.
Figurehead of the Queen Dowager Faction. Nominal supreme commander of the rebel army.
The arch-traitor who had turned against his own blood lay battered and broken upon the floor.
"……"
"……"
"……"
Silence fell over the three men as they gazed down at the figure the knights had dragged in, their faces tight with conflicting emotions.
They looked down at Rodel through their own individual lenses—as a father, as a brother, and as the man who was meant to have been his father-in-law.
"…What a wretched sight you are, my son."
The King was the first to break the silence. He looked at his broken son and exhaled a heavy, weary sigh.
Rodel had long been a tool for the opposing faction. He had been indulged and exploited by the King’s own mother, the Queen Dowager.
And yet… he was still the King's flesh and blood. There was no way to simply switch off a father's love.
While Rodel’s death would resolve countless political headaches, the King had clung to the hope that the boy would reform enough to avoid a dark end by assassination or execution. He had prayed that Rodel would gain experience and eventually grow into a decent human being.
For at his core, King David Aiwood was still a father.
"……Father," Rodel whispered.
Wrapped from head to toe in bandages, Rodel looked up from the floor and uttered only that single word. He did not beg for his life. He offered no excuses. Not a single word of resentment crossed his lips.
His face, once defined by a toxic, arrogant pride, was now startlingly vacant of emotion.
"……?"
Richard knitted his brows in suspicion. Even with the bandages partially obscuring his features, Rodel’s expression was strangely serene.
How long had it been since Richard had seen his younger brother look so clear-eyed?
Richard suppressed the thought and spoke.
"…Rodel, your actions cannot be overlooked simply because of your royal status. Do you have any defense to make?"
"……Brother."
Rodel shifted his neck slightly, turning his gaze toward Richard.
Once, Rodel had insisted that he was the only one fit for the throne. To him, Richard had been nothing more than an obstacle to be removed.
"…Judge me as you see fit. Whether it be the poisoned cup or the execution platform… I will accept whatever you decide."
Rodel’s voice was remarkably humble. He spoke as if he were ready to accept any punishment, even the walk to the scaffold.
"Rodel…!"
Richard’s face contorted as he clenched his fists. He had expected Rodel to offer pathetic excuses. He had expected him to scream curses at those who had crushed his ambitions.
And yet, why did he look like a man who had finally been purged of his demons?
Why, of all times, did it have to be now?
"Why… why couldn't you have just died a piece of trash?!"
Richard’s voice was a raw braid of anger, grief, regret, and lingering affection. Forgetting he was in the presence of the King, he berated his foolish brother with pure, unrestrained emotion.
"If you had stayed a fool, if you had remained the piece of trash you were, I could have struck you down without a second thought! I could have killed you without my heart breaking! So why do you look so at peace?! Why are you so ready to accept your own death?!"
"……"
"If you had died miserably and pathetically as a traitor… I wouldn't have to feel like this…!"
"…That is enough, Richard. Control yourself."
The King stepped in to stop Richard, whose eyes were now shimmering with unshed tears. He could no longer bear to listen to his son’s agonizing cries.
"Rodel… your actions are unforgivable for a member of the Royal Family. Your participation in the rebellion will be officially suppressed, so there will be no public execution. Nevertheless… your life is required to satisfy justice."
"……"
"…Your mother is a princess of the neighboring country. As a courtesy to our ally, the Empire, we will hold a formal consultation regarding your fate… but the outcome will not change. The poisoned cup will be prepared in due time. Use what remains of your life to reflect on your actions."
The King officially pronounced the death sentence.
Executing Rodel would trigger a host of diplomatic and political problems, but at this stage, it was unavoidable. If he were spared, there would be no way to answer to the vassals or the families of the soldiers who had been sacrificed.
"……"
Rodel looked up at his father and brother with hollow eyes. Finally, his lips trembled as he spoke in a low murmur.
"…I humbly accept my sentence. I apologize for the trouble I have caused you."
The foolish prince, who had been a mere puppet for the rebellion, accepted the end of his sixteen years without a single word of protest.