(1) Like an Ominous Spell (1)
September, 1023.
The imperial palace of the Tevent Empire was shrouded in an eerie silence.
Everyone held their breath and bowed their heads in fear of getting caught in the flames.
Even in broad daylight, the corridors felt like it was engulfed in darkness as the iron-blooded Emperor, Heraith Delgado, walked slowly.
He carried the severed head of the fifth prince as if it were nothing more than a lunchbox.
Drip. Drop.
Blood trailed behind him, forming a crimson path.
He stopped before the chambers of Empress Dowager Stephanie.
The knights guarding the entrance flinched, their faces pale as ghosts, but Heraith spoke as if nothing was amiss.
“Open the door.”
His voice was cold, leaving no room for repetition.
Trembling, the knights obeyed, pushing open the door.
Striding inside, he halted before the Empress Dowager, who sat on a sofa.
Stephanie struggled to hide her turmoil, but her tightly clenched hands on her lap betrayed her fear.
Kneeling gracefully before her, just as he had when she had beaten him as a child, he offered her the head of the fifth prince.
Blood from the severed head seeped into her dress, causing her carefully composed expression to twist in horror.
Watching the color drain from her face, Heraith whispered with amusement.
“I told you to stay quiet, Mother. If you keep this up, I will have no choice but to kill you.”
“You… You dare…!”
“Dare?”
A smirk twisted Heraith’s lips.
Like a predator watching the futile struggles of prey, he gazed down at Stephanie.
Are you truly my birth mother?
It seemed unlikely.
How can I prove you are not?
If he could find that proof, he could bring her down—along with the forces backing her.
A suspicion he had carried since childhood, yet one he could never resolve.
Turning away, he ignored the piercing glare she shot at him.
Her resentment mattered little.
The real issue was the Empress’s throne, once again left without an occupant.
The third one.
Three Empresses had sat on that exalted throne, only to die.
No woman would dare covet the position now.
Yet, the empire needed an Empress—someone to balance the hostile factions within the palace.
Upon entering his study, he found Oscar, the imperial advisor, waiting with a damp cloth in hand.
As Heraith wiped the blood from his hands, Oscar asked,
“What shall we do about the Marquis of Romenel?”
The Marquis was the father of Catherine, the third Empress.
“This will make him an enemy. Express condolences and send a suitable gift.”
“Understood. Also, there’s unusual activity in the northern province of Rascal.”
“The North?”
Heraith frowned slightly before handing the cloth back.
“The North has Snow. I don’t need to worry about it.”
Losing the Empress so suddenly had been unexpected.
He hadn’t anticipated that the Empress Dowager would act so quickly.
With no Empress, he needed to stay in the palace to maintain control.
He could handle short-term campaigns alone, but if he took the imperial knights on an extended campaign, his enemies within the palace would seize the opportunity to strike.
“I suppose I’m stuck in this wretched place for the time being.”
***
November, 1023.
The news that the Mad Emperor had killed his third Empress had spread even to the North.
But the North had no time to concern itself with palace affairs.
A thick scent of blood tainted the cold northern winds of the Snow Earldom.
Eleanor stood amidst the carnage, her bloodied sword hanging at her side.
Corpses lay tangled together.
Moments ago, her eldest brother had stood at her back.
Now, he and her cousins lay dead, their necks and chests pierced through.
Tears mingled with the blood on her face.
Biting down on her grief, Eleanor swallowed her sobs.
“It was Rascal’s ploy.”
Her father, Count Jayden Snow, murmured as he approached, his face heavy with sorrow.
Despite losing his children, he stood unyielding, his back straight.
Eleanor clenched her teeth, suppressing her cries, before speaking with firm conviction.
“No. This was Owen and Osborn’s betrayal.”
They had known for some time that the followers of Laskaris, the Lord of Destruction, had set their sights on the North.
It was Duke Owen who had suggested they unite against the threat.
“The path to Snow Earldom is narrow. If we lure the enemy there, Snow forces can block the front while Owen and Osborn strike from behind. That way, we can wipe them out.”
But their supposed allies never came.
Instead, the enemy forces surged forward, crushing the Snow forces and pushing them back into their own lands.
Countless lives were lost.
Not just soldiers, but civilians, too.
Streets were destroyed, homes and markets burned.
It would take decades for Snow Earldom to recover.
As Eleanor gazed at the broken castle gates, a chill ran down her spine.
“We need to retrieve the bodies and seal the gates immediately. If Owen and Osborn betrayed us, they will be coming.”
Her father, though reluctant to believe that his trusted allies had turned on him, did not argue.
His daughter’s judgment had never been wrong.
Orders were given.
Bodies were gathered.
The ruined gates were hastily repaired and reinforced.
Soldiers were regrouped to defend the walls, weapons checked and readied.
Despite their devastating losses, the surviving troops moved with unwavering resolve.
For over two months, blood had been shed without end.
The blizzards were no longer white but stained red.
Amid the endless storm of death, Eleanor found her thoughts drifting back to the vacant Empress’s throne.
The worse their situation became, the more she could not shake the thought.
From the moment she realized that this devastating battle was the result of Owen and Osborn’s betrayal, she had been thinking of ways to protect Snow while facing her enemies with her sword.
No matter how much she thought about it, there was only one way.
“Are you sure that they will be here in a few days?”
“If they’ve truly betrayed us, then yes.”
“We must never let them reach the capital. You must hold them back however you can while I’m away.”
“Ellie, where are you going?”
“The capital. I must meet with His Majesty.”
The Mad Emperor’s infamy had reached even the North.
News that he had killed his third empress and his half-brother, the Fifth Prince—born of the former emperor’s concubine—had spread two months ago.
Count Snow grabbed his daughter’s wrist, his expression dark.
“I’ll go.”
Eleanor placed her hand gently over her father’s rough one. She met his gaze and resolutely declared,
“No, Father. I must go. Only I can do this. I promise, I’ll return with a way to change our fate.”
***
‘The third empress is dead.’
Eleanor thought to herself as she saddled her horse, preparing for her journey to the imperial capital.
‘No woman would willingly take the empress’s seat now. But the emperor must have an empress.’
The Snow County had long remained peaceful, but Eleanor had never neglected vigilance. One of her efforts included keeping a close eye on the empire’s affairs.
‘An empress is necessary for the emperor to suppress his enemies and leave the palace.’
The emperor was in a precarious position.
Of the four noble houses blessed by God, only Delgado remained.
The Rascal faction, followers of the Lord of Destruction, were determined to kill the last of the Delgado bloodline.
The emperor, in turn, wielded his sword against them.
But his enemies were not only outside the palace. Even within the imperial court, there were those plotting his death.
‘That’s why he’ll accept my proposal as the only daughter of the Snow family. He’ll be suspicious, of course—but for now, he has no choice.’
Eleanor wrapped herself tightly in a thick coat, pulled a blanket over her shoulders, and wrapped a scarf around her face, leaving only her eyes exposed.
Since everyone was busy preparing for the next battle, there were no long farewells. She simply bowed her head to her father and set off toward the capital.
As she rode, the icy wind stung her eyes, numbing her cheeks in an instant. She swung her arms, and the wind surged beneath her horse, pushing it forward as if it were flying.
‘Big Brother. Bel. Erich. Ertald.’
A month ago, she never imagined she would have to witness their lifeless bodies.
If she had known, she would have treated them with more warmth.
— “Be careful, Ellie. Stay behind me.”
That was her eldest brother’s final words.
He should have been careful himself. She could have protected herself.
She worried about her younger brother and little sister.
Her mother was in a relatively safe place, but she had left without hearing any news of her siblings on the battlefield.
She wanted to know if they were safe, but right now, finding a way to protect House Snow came first.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, only to freeze instantly in the frigid wind.
Her vision blurred as her tears crystallized.
When she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, she heard the crisp sound of ice breaking.
Or perhaps it was the sound of her heart shattering.
‘Persephone, did you know?’
Her best friend, Persephone Osborn.
‘Did you know your parents would betray us?’
‘Franklin, what about you?’
Franklin Owen, her fiancé.
Just two months ago, they had spent happy days together.
They had taken a boat out onto the lake to admire the autumn leaves, sitting on a picnic blanket and sharing meals.
— “When we get married next year, shall we build a villa by the lake? Living in a place like this would be wonderful.”
— “Ah, then I’ll build a villa next to yours. I want to live close to Ellie. You wouldn’t object, would you, Young Duke?”
And so, she had trusted them.
They had been together since childhood—never once had she doubted them.
Even now, despite everything, she found herself wanting to believe in them.
She despised herself for that lingering hope.
Maybe—just maybe—they truly hadn’t known.
Perhaps they were kept in the dark because they weren’t yet the heads of their houses.
But she knew better.
They were adults now. There was no way they didn’t know.
She let out a broken laugh.
“Ha… haha… ha…”
Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Eleanor gripped her reins tightly and hunched over.
Then, suddenly, she fell silent.
Her gaze sharpened as she stared straight ahead.
‘If you did betray me…’
Her lilac eyes gleamed with a cold, dark light.
‘Then I will dedicate the rest of my life to dragging you into hell.’
