TFR 54

“Your Majesty, after interrogation you said you would reconsider the sentence if there were valid reasons….”

Marco began, but Dantès waved his hand and cut him off.

“The reconsideration I spoke of was about how to kill them. The nature of the crime doesn’t change; but if there is a reason not to shed blood, I wanted to make the death as painless as possible.”

Dantès met the eyes of each noble in turn and continued.

“Must I speak all of this aloud? How — how can you have so little faith? If the ministers don’t pry open my mind and look through it, do you not trust your emperor?”

At the angry tone, the ministers bowed their heads. Dantès’ fury felt sincere and sharp, so no one dared to add anything rashly.

“I will personally cut off Roberto Brida’s head. Gunter Butler — if anyone wants to see, escort them to the underground prison. I will prove my authority with blood to those who doubt me.”

At Dantès’ growl, the room went quiet. No one would speak to Gunter. Anyone who thoughtlessly volunteered to go would be plainly declaring their distrust of Dantès.

“No one will take away the punishment that is mine to deliver. Anyone who insulted the royal house. Anyone who doubted the crown. Anyone.”

Having said that, Dantès sat back on the throne.

“Is further discussion on this matter needed?”

“…….”

When no one spoke, Dantès turned his gaze to the piled documents. In the dark atmosphere, Chésario spoke first. It was about negotiations with the Kingdom of Terzes.

The stiff nobles, chilled to the bone, bowed even lower than usual and exchanged opinions on the various matters.

Dantès’ sharpened gaze did not soften, and the mood did not ease until the meeting ended. Those who had skeletons in their closets were so frightened they confessed their crimes voluntarily.

The Three had faces unusually set in a different way than the nobles.

“Let no one look for me.”

As soon as the meeting ended, Dantès said this and shut himself in his study. The Three went to the audience chamber the emperor often used for meetings. Since the empress’s seat was empty, few people came and went, making it the perfect place for the emperor’s closest aides to talk.

“Dantès went too far.”

“But it’s the right choice for an emperor. If he doesn’t appear decisive now, more rumors will spread.”

At Marco’s remark, Chésario added his opinion. Then Gunter spoke up.

“But is he really going to execute Rosellina? Can’t he take pity for old ties? She was one of our comrades.”

The three began to disagree. They thought Dantès had a purpose and thus nodded along when given the cue.

But they were not certain. Could he really be planning to execute Roberto in the name of the greater good? Chésario tried to calm things with a softer tone.

“That was long ago. Dantès wasn’t emperor then.”

“Chésario, you have no heart. The emperor has full authority over crimes that insult the crown. The nobles can’t fight him on this.”

Marco spoke with frustration, but Chésario replied crisply.

“All the more reason Dantès should set an example. If we say the emperor can forgive those who caused public scandal, we can’t maintain royal discipline. There was the Fort incident, and we’ve already seen resistance within the orders. All in all, this decision is right. We should stop arguing.”

Chésario’s words were succinct; there was no argument to be made. Gunter fell silent, and Marco made a helpless sound.

“Who doesn’t know that? Still, sometimes you can’t help feeling emotionally conflicted.”

Marco spoke as if sincerely upset. Chésario then unfolded a note he had received from Dantès and showed it to them.

The palace’s affairs are leaking. From very close by.
Roberto Brida will die. But Rosellina Brida will live.
You, his friends, do your best to be angry.
Deceive — anyone.

Marco read it quickly, passed it to Gunter, and then continued the conversation leisurely.

“And the orders are in crisis right now. You know that, right? Not only do we need a replacement for Fort, but there are many who must be purged. At a time like this, someone like Roberto joining would help our strength immensely!”

Chésario, expressionless, provoked him in return.

“Someone who betrayed once—can’t they betray twice?”

“Do you always have to be so heartless toward a friend?”

“From the moment he betrayed Dantès six years ago, friendship was over, Marco. You’d better pull yourself together. You’re not a recovering knight now; you’re one of the emperor’s advisers.”

“What? You think words are enough?”

As Chésario and Marco’s voices rose, Gunter awkwardly intervened. He wasn’t good at acting, but he tried his best.

“Chésario. Marco. Stop. Arguing among ourselves won’t help. Dantès has already made up his mind, and we have no choice but to follow.”

“Aah.”

At Gunter’s words, Marco calmed. Chésario spoke in a measured tone.

“Has any minister volunteered to watch the execution?”

“Not yet.”

“Who would want to? It’s practically a declaration that you’ve earned Dantès’ displeasure. I don’t plan to go.”

“I wouldn’t go unless it’s my duty. Still, she was an old friend.”

“I will ask Dantès once. I’ll go now.”

Chésario said this and opened the door. He sensed someone hiding in the corridor, but didn’t turn his head and headed to Dantès’ study as if he had felt nothing.

Late in the evening, Dantès left his study. He refused Chésario’s offer to join him.

Dantès wore the military uniform he only put on for especially important battles. In one hand he held a greatsword so large and heavy that most grown men couldn’t lift it. It was a bloodstained blade that had split heads in two on the battlefield.

He silently walked to the underground prison where Rosellina was held. Milan and other attendants followed, carrying many layers of cloth to catch blood.

“Wait here. I want to carry out the execution myself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Or shall we go and wait elsewhere?”

“It won’t take that long.”

Dantès said firmly. A solemn mood hovered among the attendants, but Dantès paid it no mind and walked steadily down into the dungeons.

Rosellina had received basic treatment for the poisoning. Her nutrition and many other aspects had not fully recovered yet, but she was well enough for a final talk with her brother before the execution.

She had already been told that the death sentence would be carried out. While Dantès was in the study, she had been allowed to wash herself alone for the first time in a long while and to change into a clean outfit. The high-quality blue prisoner garb, made of fine cotton, was almost like a shroud for condemned prisoners.

“Prisoner, raise your head.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

When Dantès, fully dressed, stood before her, Rosellina was calm. She even felt grateful to Dantès.

Grateful that he did not humiliate her by having her beheaded in front of everyone, grateful that he would execute her personally, and grateful that he had not brought any of her friends to witness it.

At the same time she felt sorry that Dantès would shoulder so much alone. Rather than resent Dantès, Rosellina felt guilty.

“Roberto Brida. You have heard what has been decided for you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you appeal the sentence?”

“No.”

“Then are you satisfied with it?”

Rosellina could not find an appropriate answer to Dantès’ question. She could not judge whether she felt satisfaction or dissatisfaction. The choice did not seem to belong to her.

“I asked if you are satisfied with the sentence.”

“If it pleases Your Majesty…”

“…….”

“I am satisfied.”

“Pleased? What do you mean, ‘pleased’ by me?”

“…….”

Dantès still seemed angry. Rosellina tried to force out words she was not good at saying. She would never again have an opportunity to speak before Dantès. No—she would never speak with anyone again.

So she had to say something, anything. Words grow wretched the more they are spoken; their original meaning gets distorted. That was why Rosellina disliked speaking.

Now she could eternally flee into the excuse of silence. Rosellina hoped Dantès would not continue to press questions into that dark silence.

“If… if I can atone, even a little, for the sins I have committed…”

“…….”

“And if I can fade, even a little, from Your Majesty’s memory…”

“…….”

“For any punishment given, I am satisfied.”

“Are you sure you will fade from me?”

Dantès’ question carried even more pain. Rosellina, who might have missed it at other times, could feel it now.

She lifted her bowed head and met Dantès’ eyes. His brow was slightly furrowed. At the pained expression, Rosellina gathered courage and parted her lips.

“I hope so.”

At her words, Dantès’ brow furrowed more. But instead of pressing Rosellina’s words further, he averted his gaze and fell silent.

He drew his greatsword from its scabbard. The jet-black blade gleamed, stained with the blood of countless people. Yet unreddened, this sword was a sacred blade that carried a prayer for those who died — that their resentment would fade into the dark and that the gods would bless their passing.

It had been the sword bestowed upon him when he succeeded the throne, so Rosellina herself had never seen it before. She thought the long, blunt blade, nearly as big as her own stature, suited Dantès.

To die by that sword might even be the last glory of her life.

“Roberto.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“The person before you is not the emperor.”

“…….”

“He is just the man, Dantès Belkin.”

“…….”

“Do you have any last words for me?”

The phrase “Dantès Belkin, not the emperor” — Rosellina understood better than anyone that he must have longed to be that man, even for a single moment. She wanted to give him the words that would suit that moment.

But she was neither a rhetorician like Marco or Chésario, nor brave enough to speak her mind like Gunter.

What should she say? What should she say?

While Rosellina hesitated, Dantès spoke hurriedly.

“Make something up — anything. When you finish speaking, I will cut off your head.”

Those words, oddly, gave Rosellina courage. Dantès said them while meeting her gaze. She smiled faintly and opened her mouth.

“I….”

“…….”

“I was glad you called my real name, Dantès.”

“…….”

“I’m sorry. But apart from my identity, nothing was ever false toward you. I swear it.”

Having said that, Rosellina closed her eyes. It meant she was ready to receive the blade. Dantès frowned at that acquiescence.

“You, to the end…”

Dantès uttered a tortured sound, gripped the sword’s hilt tightly, and then swung the blade with all his might.