Chapter 63: Blood, Oaths, and Fluffy Traitors

Chapter 63: Blood, Oaths, and Fluffy Traitors [Emperor Cassius’s Pov] As I stepped into the war council hall, the stench of blood still clung to my skin. The taste of it hadn’t left my tongue since I tore through those pathetic worms who dared lay a finger on my child. Ravick was already kneeling at the center of the chamber. His armor was battered, his face was stained red, and his hands—his hands were still shaking. "Your Majesty," he said, voice low, "I... failed to protect the Princess. I offer no excuse." My brow twitched. Annoyance flickered. Ravick didn’t stop. "As Captain of the Black Knights, I failed in my duty. I am prepared to accept punishment—whatever you see fit." The audacity. I was already seething, and yet his words—spoken with so much hollow honor—only poured oil onto fire. I grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up so we were face-to-face. "If that’s what you want," I hissed through clenched teeth, "then so be it." My gaze flicked toward Theon. "THEON. PREPARE FOR CAPTAIN RAVICK’S EXECUTION NOW." But before Theon could even move, Grand Duke Regis stepped between us, his hand firm on my arm as he gently pushed Ravick back. "My, my—Your Majesty, Ravick—calm yourselves. Let’s not lose ourselves. The princess is safe now." Safe? The word felt like a mockery. Safe? After what I saw? After seeing her cry, trembling in my arms, blood staining her tiny hands? I looked past Regis and glared down at Ravick. "Do you truly think offering your head will calm my fury?" I growled. "If you want to run away from your responsibility, then resign. Don’t stand there babbling about death like a coward. It’s pathetic." Ravick flinched, the words cutting deeper than any sword. "...I am sorry, Your Majesty," he whispered, "but I still cannot forgive myself." "Then don’t," I snapped. "Find those bastards. Kill them. Burn your guilt into purpose. I want to know who dared to touch my daughter—I want names. I want their heads." "Yes, Your Majesty. I swear it." He stepped back. But my rage didn’t settle. Then Lord Gregor sighed and stepped forward. "We’ve begun investigating, Your Majesty. From what we’ve uncovered so far... the plan was executed by two groups. One was positioned inside the palace to initiate the kidnapping. The other was waiting outside... to either take the princess far away or—" he hesitated, "—to kill her if things went wrong." My fists clenched. "To kill her?" I echoed, my voice hollow with disbelief. "But how did they even get in?" Thalein, the elf healer, stepped forward, his voice sharp. "Isn’t the palace supposed to be the safest place in the empire for her?" Theon’s voice was cold and measured. "It’s clear, Your Majesty... there’s a spy. Someone inside the palace—or within our empire—helped them. Without insider access, this operation would’ve been impossible." Everyone nodded. And I felt a chill slither down my spine, immediately replaced by the fire of fury. "Have we learned anything more?" I asked. "We couldn’t." Regis sighed, rubbing his temples. "You and Ravick slaughtered most of them. Like mad dogs. There were... not even a single one of them left alive to question." Silence fell. "What happened was what happened, your majesty." Lord Gregor stepped in again. "Now, we must uncover every thread of this scheme. Because if we don’t—next time they’ll come back stronger. More organized. And our princess, she might not be so lucky." Next time...? I gritted my teeth so hard I tasted blood. "Then I’ll burn down every noble house until the traitor is found." I snarled, voice booming. "I’ll burn their families, their estates, their legacy. I’ll raze their titles, salt their names from history. I will show them what it means to defy the Imperial bloodline. I will make them beg for death." No one dared speak. No one breathed. Then Thalein stepped forward. His calm, ancient aura now blazed with fury. "And I will help you, Your Majesty," he vowed, his voice cold and vengeful. "Whoever dared to lay a hand on my precious granddaughter... will suffer. Their death will be neither swift nor merciful. I will see to that personally." Yes. Let the heavens burn and the empire tremble if it must. I will shake this entire realm to its foundation if that’s what it takes to keep Lavinia safe. Then, Grand Duke Regis let out another heavy sigh and muttered, "Man... control your rage for now. Focus on what matters—on keeping your daughter safe. That’s the priority." I didn’t answer right away. He was right. Rage alone wouldn’t protect her. But it would fuel me until the last of those traitors was dead. Theon stepped forward, his expression composed but his tone firm. "I agree with the Grand Duke, Your Majesty. The investigation will continue, but we must tighten the palace’s security immediately. The enemy exploited our weaknesses. And we cannot let that happen again." He paused, then added, "I recommend appointing a personal Royal Knight to guard the Princess. Someone skilled, loyal beyond question, and completely devoted to her safety." "A Royal Knight?" I murmured under my breath. Then Lord Gregor stepped forward, nodding. "I agree. The princess is four now—it’s time she had a personal knight. One who answers to her and her alone." They were right. Completely right. We needed a shadow bound to her life. Someone who would walk behind her through fire and death, someone who would throw themselves into hell without hesitation the moment her safety wavered. And there was only one man in this entire empire I trusted enough for that role. "Ravick," I said, my voice echoing like steel across the chamber. "I entrust my daughter’s safety to you." He stiffened, visibly flinching as though struck. "Your Majesty... no... I— I failed today. I don’t deserve—" I silenced him with a step forward, my shadow swallowing his. I stood in front of him, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, and said with quiet ferocity, "Then earn it back." He looked up, stunned. "Sacrifice your pride. Your hesitation. Your very soul," I said, each word like thunder. "Give everything you are to my daughter. You don’t get to die to atone, Ravick. That would be easy. I want you to live—and dedicate every breath from this day forward to her safety." He dropped to his knees again, trembling now—not in fear, but in overwhelming devotion. "I will," he said, his voice hoarse. "I swear on my sword, my name, and the blood that runs through me. I will protect Her Highness with my life. No harm will touch her again—not while I still stand." "Good," I said, my voice cold but final. "Because if you fail me again, there will be no second chance." He bowed deeply. "Yes, your majesty." *** [Lavinia’s Pov] YAWN... I slept like a pig yesterday. No, seriously. Out cold. Dead to the world. A rock could’ve rolled over me, and I wouldn’t have flinched. Most normal kids—after almost being kidnapped by shady, robed weirdos with "child-snatching" energy—would be crying, screaming, or curled in a fetal position, needing therapy, hugs, and a dozen security charms. But not me. Because I am not normal. I’m Lavinia Devereux. Reincarnated office worker. Villainess-to-be. Anyway, that’s not why I slept like a log. It’s because my nanny was beside me all night, humming lullabies and patting my back like she was soothing a fussy cat. And I think Papa came too. I was half-asleep, but I swear I felt that familiar warm aura—and scent of blood. Everything would’ve been perfect except for one very fluffy problem. "—Why. The. Heck. Is. This. Diviiiine. Marshmellow. Glued. To. Me?!" I was practically buried under his fuzzy little body. Which, for the record, might’ve looked small compared to a grown adult—but to me? I was one bad roll away from being smothered by holiness. Nanny told me last night that Marshi had been hissing and biting people like a rabid furball just before Marella told Papa I was in danger. Apparently, divine beings can sense their human’s distress. That’s cute and all. But what part of divine intuition made him think it was okay to cocoon me like a clingy burrito?! "Marshi... I get it, you like me, but this is too much love. I’m not a plush toy, I’m royalty!" He responded with a soft growl. A cute growl. "Don’t think growling like a fuzzy baby lion is gonna let you cling to me for free—" PURRRRRRR. Oh no. He started purring. And it wasn’t just any purr. This was the kind of soft, deep rumble that melted my tiny heart like butter on hot toast. "Alright..." I gave up with a sigh, wrapped my arms around him, and nuzzled into his squishy cheek. "...I’m melting. Ugh, you win, walking marshmallow." And then—like the little traitor he is—he wiggled free from my hug, slipped out of my arms, stretched like a diva cat, and walked away. "Wait, what?! Didn’t you just want to hug me?!" He looked over his shoulder and let out a short, irritated purr. I swear he just said, "I’m done with you, clingy human." Seriously! I was dumbfounded by his mood swing. Anyway! That’s enough drama for the morning—IT’S TIME TO MEET PAPA! I jumped off the bed (with all the grace of a startled squirrel) and opened my chamber doors with purpose. Only to freeze. "...Huh?" Standing tall just outside my door was— "Ravick?" He immediately straightened and bowed slightly, his armor catching the sunlight. "Good morning, my princess." I blinked. "What are you doing here? Did Papa ask you to bring me to him?" He smiled gently, kneeling on one knee. "No, my princess. From today onward, by His Majesty’s decree... I will be guarding you personally." ... ... "I am your royal knight now." ... WHAT—?! RAVICK?! MY PERSONAL KNIGHT?!