The uprising led by Marquis Eiger had reached its conclusion.
While the mastermind himself had fallen on the battlefield, the nominal supreme commander of the rebel army, Third Prince Rodel Aiwood, had been taken alive.
Rodel’s mother was a royal concubine originally from the Geisel Empire, an allied nation. Consequently, a formal consultative session with the Empire was established to determine his sentence.
During the diplomatic negotiations, the Kingdom raised the issue of Imperial soldiers and mercenaries who had apparently participated in the revolt. Predictably, the Empire denied any official involvement, asserting that any Imperial citizens found among the rebels were mere mercenaries acting of their own volition, not under state orders. While individuals appearing to be Imperial regulars were indeed among the rebel dead, no definitive proof of the Empire’s direct hand could be secured.
The Empire demanded the extradition of both Rodel and his mother. The Kingdom flatly refused.
The discussions grew fiercely contentious. However, after prolonged deliberation, a compromise was reached: Rodel would be sentenced to the poisoned cup, while the concubine would be returned to the Empire.
The Kingdom wished to avoid an unnecessary war, yet they could never surrender Rodel, as he would inevitably remain a focal point for future insurrections. For their part, the Empire could not suffer the execution of a woman from their own royal lineage without losing face, but they judged that they were in no position to challenge the Kingdom directly—not after witnessing the rebellion suppressed in a single day. Even the pro-war faction, eager for expansion, conceded that a conflict with the Kingdom was premature.
Ultimately, both sides accepted the compromise to avoid a direct collision.
With the death of Rodel, who carried Imperial blood, the alliance between the two nations was undeniably fractured. While the Empire’s covert aid to the rebels had sown deep seeds of resentment, the Kingdom could do little more than accept the lingering tension. From that point forward, the Kingdom deepened its vigilance, regarding the Empire as its primary potential adversary, second only to the northern barbarians.
"These are the results of the negotiations with the Empire. The poisoned cup will be brought to you in three days’ time. Until then, please remain in peace."
"..."
Rodel Aiwood offered no response to the civil official’s declaration of death. He did not beg for his life, nor did he hurl insults at the man. He simply remained silent, his resolve already set to accept the sentence.
His mother had already departed the country. Divorced by the King, she had bid Rodel a tearful farewell before being sent back to the Empire. Having been raised by the Queen Dowager, Rodel had rarely interacted with his mother, but he learned then that she had been spared from any charges because she played no part in the rebellion. He had always assumed she felt nothing for him, but in those final moments, he realized he had been loved after all.
"So, this is how I end," he murmured to himself once the official had departed and left him alone in the room.
The cell where Rodel was confined was one reserved for the high-born. Though the entrance was barred with iron, the room was furnished with every necessity, the meals were lavish, and he was provided with hot water for bathing. Had he wished it, he might have even been granted a woman for his final nights.
However, the current Rodel felt no such desire. In the past, he had sought to possess and trample upon women with a maddening intensity. Now, he found himself surprised by the total absence of that urge.
He had attained a state of detached calm so profound that he felt like a different person from the man who had assaulted maids, coerced noble daughters, and set a classmate on fire for standing in his way.
(If I were to struggle pathetically now, that man would surely be disappointed in me.)
That thought alone occupied his mind—a sentiment directed toward the final enemy he had faced on the battlefield: Rest Clover.
The two had fought. They had clashed as equals, throwing the full weight of their magic against one another. To Rodel, that duel had brought a mysterious sense of fulfillment. His heart had raced with an exhilaration and satisfaction far beyond anything he had felt in the arms of a beautiful woman. Even now, defeated and broken, he found himself looking upon the scars Rest had left on his body with a strange affection.
(Rest Clover...)
Merely thinking of the name erased his fear of death. It wasn't friendship, nor was it simple affection, and it certainly wasn't romantic love. Rodel didn't quite understand the nature of this unidentified emotion, but he didn't find it unpleasant.
(That’s right... I was simply happy...)
He had been happy. The knowledge that someone existed who could withstand his full power had brought him an inexplicable joy. He had spent his life trampling the weak, but this sensation was entirely different. It was the bliss of finally finding someone who stood on the same ground as he did. It was a feeling he had never experienced once in his life until that day.
(Ideally, I would have wanted you to kill me... no, that isn't quite right either.)
Had he died on the battlefield, he likely would have perished without ever reflecting on his own folly. He felt as though such a quick end would have been an unearned mercy. He needed to reflect; he needed to feel the weight of his regrets. That was the only appropriate punishment for someone who had allowed his hollow pride to hurt so many. Perhaps Rest had spared his life specifically to give him this time for atonement.
(Thank you, Rest Clover. Because of you, I can face my end with a clear heart.)
He wondered if there was anything he could do for the boy in return. He searched his mind for a final gesture and eventually remembered one thing.
(Ah... Grandmother’s legacy.)
His grandmother, the Queen Dowager, had left a hidden fortune. It was stashed in a secret location, and Rodel was the only living soul who knew its whereabouts. He decided to leave a will, bequeathing that inheritance to Rest.
(The state might try to seize it... but my father and brother might at least allow a portion of it to reach him.)
The Queen Dowager's secret fortune was a sum that could rival a national budget. Even if Rest received only ten percent of it, it would surely serve him well.
"Farewell, my Soul's Rival. I truly wish you the best."
Three days later, Third Prince Rodel Aiwood drank from the poisoned cup and passed away.
Because of his treason, he was officially denied a place in the royal tombs. However, a temple was later built in the frontier by Rest Clover using a portion of the inheritance he received. There, Rodel was laid to rest, finally at peace.