The stifling panic that had gripped the imperial palace all night had dissolved by sunrise, replaced by an entirely different kind of frantic energy. The nobility were permitted to leave their stuffy chambers to breathe the morning air.
Philia stood by a grand arched window overlooking the lower gardens, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. He looked like a picture of serene composure, but his mind was working at a furious pace.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew Philia from his thoughts. Philia turned his head slightly to see Valen approaching him, his expression an intense mix of awe and lingering disbelief.
"Have you heard the news?" Valen asked immediately, dropping his voice to a cautious whisper as he came to a halt beside him. "Princess Iryna has miraculously awakened. I just received word from the attendants, she is doing incredibly well. She is sitting up, speaking clearly, and the royal physicians have declared her entirely out of danger."
Philia’s fingers tightened slightly against his sleeves, but his face remained a flawless mask. "Is that so? That is truly a grand relief."
"It is an absolute miracle," Valen breathed, shaking his head. "The court mages were completely certain she wouldn’t survive the night. It seems the High Priest must have truly tried his hardest all night long. He must have exhausted an unbelievable amount of holy mana to pull her back from the brink of death after a fatal poisoning like that."
"The High Priest is indeed a dedicated servant of the heavens," Philia replied. "Come, let us go out. We should gauge the mood of the rest of the nobility."
As they stepped down into the grand marble courtyard, the sheer volume of gossip was almost deafening. Groups of counts, marquises, and other nobles were huddled tightly together beneath the shade of the manicured willow trees, their hushed voices blending into a constant murmur. The entire capital’s elite was buzzing with theories.
"Yes, I heard she was at death’s door. They said nothing could be done for her."
"I tell you, it must be a direct sign from the heavens!" a wealthy countess whispered fiercely behind her painted silk fan, her eyes wide with excitement. "For a foreign princess to be struck down by a lethal poison like that and then completely cured by dawn? The Imperial Family must possess a divine blessing we know nothing about. The gods themselves are protecting this palace!"
"Or perhaps the Holy Temple has been hiding a supreme, god-tier relic," a young marquis countered, leaning in closer to his companions. "Think about it. The court mages threw their hands up in despair. To reverse a fatal strike so flawlessly in a matter of hours... they must have used a forbidden holy artifact to bypass the poison’s progression."
Other nobles threw in even wilder theories, suggesting everything from secret elixirs imported from the mysterious eastern lands to a hidden, high-ranking healer lurking within the inner palace circles.
Philia walked slowly through the perimeter of the crowd, listening intently to every single word. He didn’t chime in, nor did he offer any opinions of his own to the gossiping aristocrats. Whenever a noble caught his eye and eagerly asked for his thoughts, Philia simply maintained his flawless, perfectly gentle facade.
"I am simply so relieved that Her Royal Highness is safe," Philia voiced softly to a group of anxious duchesses, his tone dripping with sweet, practiced benevolence. "The heavens have extended their ultimate mercy to our palace, and that is all that truly matters. We must all offer our prayers of gratitude today."
The nobles quickly nodded in reverent agreement, completely charmed by his pious demeanor. But the moment they turned their backs to resume their frantic theorizing, Philia’s gentle smile vanished into a cold line.
None of their theories made sense. If the Holy Temple possessed such a supreme relic or if the palace had a secret god-tier healer, Philia would have known about it as he had spent years learning everything he could about the Auzelian Empire, yet he had never once come across anything like that.
"And what of the culprit?" a seasoned marquis murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he glanced warily around the courtyard. "A strike this precise, bypassing the mages... it cannot be an ordinary assassin. Some are saying it must be an act of desperate political sabotage."
"Could it be the Northern faction?" a count whispered back, his eyes widening with dark speculation. "Duke Zarius has never hidden his disdain for the capital’s central authority. And that companion of his, Lord Cherion... did you see how chillingly calm he remained when the princess collapsed? While everyone else was scrambling in absolute panic, he didn’t even blink. It was almost as if he knew exactly what was about to happen."
"Nonsense," a duchess chimed in, waving her hand dismissively. "Lord Cherion is just a frail young noble with no special power. What could he possibly gain from poisoning a Solaric princess? If anything, look at Duke’s sister. She was the one hovering near the banquet tables before the incident. With her terrifying northern martial arts, she could have easily slipped something into the glass without anyone noticing."
Philia’s mind dissecting every fragment of the nobles’ wild accusations. Hearing Cherion and Marielle’s names brought up in the mud of suspicion didn’t surprise him, but it made his chest tighten with a sudden surge of deep anxiety. He knew Cherion wasn’t the useless fool the capital once thought he was. That man was no longer the same person Philia remembered.
Realizing that standing in the middle of the courtyard listening to the empty, foolish theories of the nobility wouldn’t give him the concrete answers he desperately craved, Philia smoothly stepped away from the crowd.
"Valen," Philia said, turning to his companion with his perfect, polite mask firmly back in place. "I find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed by the heavy noise out here. I think I shall take a quiet walk to clear my head."
"Of course," Valen replied, bowing respectfully. "Should I accompany you?"
"No need. Stay and keep an ear out for any official announcements from the Crown Prince," Philia murmured gently.
Without waiting for a response, Philia turned on his heel and walked away from the buzzing courtyard. He bypassed the main thoroughfares, taking the quieter, heavily guarded servant corridors that cut directly through the architecture of the palace. His targets weren’t the ministers or the mages.
His sharp eyes fixed on the distant, heavily guarded corridor that led straight toward Iryna’s chambers. He needed to see the Solaric Princess with his own eyes, to scan her soul, and to find out exactly what kind of power had truly pulled her back from the dead.