Chapter 108: Murmurs In The Capital.

Chapter 108

The heavy wooden doors of the cathedral swung shut, sealing away the echo of sacred vows, but the air within the royal courtyard still hummed with the lingering residue of the morning’s grand spectacle.

The union between Crown Prince Ragnar and Maria had concluded, ushering in a day of gilded pretense and manufactured glory. Duke Vesper and Duchess Genevieve strutted across the polished marble as though they had personally assumed the throne, their postures oozing an arrogant, unearned sovereignty. Yet the most entertaining sight of all was the quiet, incandescent radiance in Maria’s eyes.

Her expression shone with the unbridled satisfaction of a mastermind who believed all her intricate plots had finally borne fruit. Sigrid watched the spectacle with detached, cold amusement, well aware of how exquisite it would feel to strip every last victory from her step-sister’s hands piece by piece.

By the break of dawn the following morning, the atmosphere shifted from celebration to the grim realities of war. At five in the morning, the courtyard of the royal palace was transformed into a sea of silver armor and fluttering banners.

The royal soldiers stood in tight, impeccable formations, while the kingdom’s highest generals lined the approach to the grand dais. Atop the platform stood Ragnar and Maria, preparing to address the troops before their deployment. When Ragnar stepped forward, his voice projected across the stone grounds with practiced, commanding authority. Sigrid inwardly conceded that his speech was undeniably effective; And though he was a sycophantic fool, he was nonetheless born of royal blood and raised from birth to command the stage. Beside him, Maria beamed, her face a mask of saintly devotion. As the speech concluded, Ragnar drew Maria into a formal kiss. She parted from him with a subtle smirk directed at the noble ladies in the crowd, though she carefully tempered her expression to preserve her pristine, gentle facade.

When Maria’s eyes locked onto Sigrid, her smirk widened with silent provocation. Sigrid offered no outward reaction, turning away smoothly to walk toward her husband. Soren stood near the head of the vanguard, his imposing frame clad in dark, functional armor that bore no ornamental fluff. He turned to face the gathered battalions, his gaze sweeping over the ranks. "We shall march unto the battlefield and return victorious," he announced, his low voice carrying effortless power across the courtyard. A thunderous roar erupted from the soldiers, their voices joining in a unified, passionate cry that rattled the palace windows. A single line from the Duke of the North had achieved what Ragnar’s elaborate rhetoric could not, instantly solidifying the resolve of the troops who knew they were marching alongside the realm’s undisputed strongest warrior.

Sigrid stopped beside him, her crimson eyes meeting his dark gaze. "May the odds be with you, my lord," she said softly.

"Thank you, Duchess," Soren replied, his tone steady.

Sigrid glanced briefly over her shoulder, noting the venomous glares locked onto them. Her father, the Queen, Crown Prince Ragnar, Maria, and Countess Celestine Everhart all watched the pair with varying degrees of ill-concealed hatred. It felt precisely like standing in a sea of sharks, each waiting for the moment the water turned to blood. With Soren departing for the front lines, they undoubtedly assumed Sigrid was left entirely defenseless to their whims.

Turning her attention back to her husband, Sigrid offered a light, razor-thin smile. "My lord, be warned. When you return, you may find yourself thoroughly impoverished, for I intend to expend your vast resources without the slightest hesitation."

A faint, subtle shift touched Soren’s features as he looked down at her. "Then I shall simply acquire more upon the battlefield," he replied, his deep baritone carrying an undeniable calm. "The rewards from this campaign ought to prove more than sufficient."

"I can feel your confidence overflowing, my lord," Sigrid murmured, tilting her head.

"It is merely the natural result of past experience," Soren said, stepping closer to lower his voice so that only she could hear. "I will return to you unharmed."

"Then do not waste unnecessary time out there," Sigrid answered softly.

Soren did not reply with words. Instead, he reached forward, cupping her face gently before pressing a deep, deliberate kiss against her lips, lingering just long enough to send a clear message to the watching court. When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed her cheekbone. "I have ensured the northern garrison and the fortress fully understand who commands them in my absence."

The King stepped toward the edge of the terrace, raising a gloved hand. "Let the vanguard march!"

The order echoed down the line, and the heavy iron gates swung open. Men mounted their warhorses, the rhythmic clatter of hooves resounding along the stone thoroughfare as the column began its departure, led by Soren at the absolute front. Despite the early hour, crowds of citizens and children lined the capital streets, their cheers echoing all the way back to the palace grounds.

Sigrid watched the dust settle before turning toward her personal attendant. "Come, Lilith. Let us take our leave."

Lilith bowed low. "At once, milady."

As Sigrid turned toward her waiting carriage, Maria stepped into her path, her arms folded over her elaborate gown, a triumphant smile gracing her lips. "Sigrid," Maria began, her tone dripping with sweet condescension. "How does it feel? Your grand protector has ridden off to war, leaving you all alone. All of your arrogance and pride must now be set aside, lest you invite the wrath of those you have so foolishly alienated."

Sigrid did not grant her step-sister a single word in response, stepping around her as though she were nothing more than a minor obstruction on the pavement. Maria’s expression twitched with sudden irritation, though she quickly recovered, letting out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Ignore me all you wish, but without the Duke, you are nothing!"

Halting just before the carriage door, Sigrid cast a cold, sideways glance over her shoulder. "Be careful with your words, Maria. You might find they come back to haunt you sooner than you think." Without waiting for a reply, she stepped into the luxurious interior of the vehicle.

Lilith settled onto the seat across from her as the driver closed the door. "Shall we head directly to the Northern estate, Your Grace?" Lilith asked.

"No," Sigrid replied calmly, leaning back against the plush velvet cushioning. "We shall head into the heart of the capital first. It strikes me as a lovely morning to enjoy tea while observing the passersby."

Lilith looked slightly surprised, but nodded dutifully. "As you command, milady."

The carriage glided through the bustling streets of the capital, eventually halting outside an upscale tea house favored by high-ranking nobles. Sigrid stepped down, escorted by Chester, who assumed a rigid stance near the entrance to keep common onlookers at bay. Inside, Sigrid selected a secluded table near an open window that offered a clear view of both the street and the interior salon. She gestured to the seat across from her. "Sit with me, Lilith. You will want a front-row view for what is about to transpire."

Lilith sat down hesitantly, watching as Sigrid quietly sipped her tea. Internally, Sigrid’s chest throbbed with a dark, anticipatory excitement. She knew the precise timing of the information she had arranged to be released. Today was the 30th and they day she had patiently waited for.

Exactly as she predicted, the quiet elegance of the tea room was abruptly shattered by the sharp clatter of a porcelain teacup shattering against the floorboards, followed instantly by the startled gasp of a young noblewoman.

Sigrid’s lips curled upward into a slow, satisfied smile as she quietly murmured, "Finally."

Within seconds, the tranquil atmosphere of the establishment dissolved into a frantic wave of hushed chatter and sharp exclamations. The noble ladies gathered at the surrounding tables huddled together, their eyes wide as they passed around fresh parchment prints.

"I can scarcely believe it!" one noblewoman exclaimed loudly, her voice carrying across the room. "How could the Crown Prince make such grave, unwarranted accusations against a Duchess, simply because of Maria’s baseless suspicions?"

Lilith quietly excused herself from the table and returned a moment later, placing a newly printed edition of the capital’s most widely read scandal gazette before Sigrid. As Sigrid unfurled the paper, the surrounding voices grew increasingly heated.

"To think His Highness went so far as to threaten her life," another lady whispered loudly to her companion. "They offered no formal apology whatsoever, choosing instead to suppress the entire affair!"

"I had no idea Lady Maria was capable of such malice," a third voice chimed in. "To suspect her own sister of treason without a shred of proof... how utterly vile. She is nothing like the sweet maiden she pretends to be."

"And that woman is now our Crown Princess," a nobleman at an adjacent table muttered in deep disgust. "How concerning for the future of the realm."

Sigrid smoothed the paper over the wooden table, her eyes skimming the prominent, bold headline at the top of the front page: ♡THE CROWN PRINCE AND PRINCESS: A DISGRACED BEGINNING.♡

The article beneath it laid out the details with brutal clarity.

Yesterday’s grand nuptials cannot obscure the disturbing reality regarding our new Crown Princess. Sources have confirmed that Crown Princess Maria previously accused her estranged step-sister, now Duchess Sigrid, of colluding with the late Count Varenne in dark, illegal dealings. Acting entirely upon Maria’s unverified suspicions, Crown Prince Ragnar attempted to detain the Duchess without conducting a proper investigation or securing credible evidence.

The newly appointed Duchess Sigrid fell victim to an aggressive display of royal overreach and nearly became an unlawful captive within the capital. Had it not been for the timely and valiant intervention of Duke Soren of the North, the situation might have turned catastrophic. Upon being confronted with his own errors, the Crown Prince chose to silence the matter entirely by executing the Count and issuing direct threats toward the Duchess.

One must question the judgment of a Crown Prince who willingly relies on the flimsy accusations of a Princess who demonstrated a severe lack of critical reasoning during her years at the Royal Academy. Was His Highness merely blinded by affection, or was he seeking a petty excuse to punish a Duchess who had repeatedly declined his royal invitations? Regardless of the motive, the public is left to ponder a grave question: Is the future of this kingdom secure in the hands of a prideful, easily manipulated Prince and a Crown Princess capable of condemning her own family for personal gain?

A soft, melodious laugh escaped Sigrid’s lips as she finished reading. While she had personally instructed Caspian to leak the factual details of the incident, the gazettes had taken those facts and spun them into a sensational narrative far more damaging than she could have initially hoped for. Imagining the exact expressions on Ragnar and Maria’s faces when this publication reached the royal palace brought a wave of absolute bliss to her heart.

Looking out the window, Sigrid watched the passersby on the street below. Just yesterday, the populace had been throwing flower petals at Maria’s feet, enamored by the fairy-tale romance of the royal wedding. Now, with a single sheet of paper, their opinions had shifted entirely, swallowing the narrative without a second thought.

Finishing the last dregs of her tea, Sigrid folded the newspaper neatly and stood up. A few noble ladies nearby caught her eye, casting glances of profound pity and sympathy in her direction, believing her to be the tragic victim of royal tyranny. Sigrid felt nothing toward their sympathy, maintaining an unreadable, elegant posture as she walked past them and exited the establishment.

Stepping back into the sunlight, she approached the carriage where Chester stood waiting to open the door. Sigrid paused on the step, turning to her knight with a calm, decisive look. "Change our destination," she instructed softly. "We are heading to the Caspian estate."

"At once, Your Grace," Chester replied, shutting the door securely behind her. As the carriage surged forward through the crowded streets, Sigrid leaned her head against the window, her mind already calculating her next move in the quiet, unfolding war.