Chapter 1301
Carissa knelt in the royal study, enduring Salvador's cold scrutiny. Her eyes remained lowered, her expression calm and composed. There was no trace of guilt or ambition; she maintained her usual respectful demeanor.
For a fleeting moment, Salvador considered her lineage. She was Hector Sinclair's daughter, after all. His suspicions seemed absurd. How could the daughter of a man who had given his life on the battlefield harbor treasonous intent? But this trust was fleeting, extending only to the fallen Hector. A wife followed her husband's lead; Carissa and Rafael presented a unified front—their interests were inevitably aligned.
"I sent the royal physician to check on Rafael," Salvador said, his voice steady despite his turbulent thoughts. "Jacob informed me he has gone to Meadow Ridge to recuperate."
Carissa bowed slightly. "Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty."
Salvador pressed his lips together. Her gratitude seemed a polite deflection.
"I believe his illness stems from exhaustion," Salvador continued, his tone measured. "You accompanied him to Lunvale recently, and you manage the Mystic Army, the workshop, and the academy. The household needs at least one of you healthy. It won't do for both husband and wife to fall ill. Since you requested leave recently, I extend it another six months. Focus on the workshop and the academy. I will temporarily assign command of the Mystic Army to Ian."
Carissa's expression flickered with surprise, though she wasn't truly shocked. Jacob had analyzed the situation beforehand. If Salvador suspected Rafael of treason, his first move would be to strip Carissa of her command, severing any chance of collusion. If he merely inquired about Rafael's condition without affecting her rank, it would indicate continued trust in Rafael.
The surprise vanished. She lowered her head. "Understood. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your consideration." Her tone held no resentment, panic, or guilt.
Salvador studied her before saying, "You may leave."
"I will take my leave, Your Majesty." Carissa rose gracefully, her gaze steady and unshaken.
Outside, Derek stood stiffly, respectfully. Seeing Carissa, worry flickered in his eyes. Carissa smiled calmly, then strode away.
Derek sighed almost inaudibly. He didn't know where Rafael had gone, but he was certain the prince harbored no treasonous ambitions. Salvador had often spoken of the need for capable people during these critical times. Yet, whether suppressing Yuvan rebels or repelling Sandoria's incursions, he had never considered using the Hell Monarch.
Derek remembered a private conversation with Salvador: "Ambition grows over time, nurtured little by little. Even those who once had none may develop it after great feats, like reclaiming the Southern Frontier. Gaining the people's support can feed ambition." Salvador had clearly spoken of the Hell Monarch.
Derek sighed inwardly. A man of great talent became guilty simply by possessing it.
The Hell Monarch's estate was under surveillance, while Carissa maintained a relaxed air. She visited Skye Embroidery, observed students at Gracewood Women's Academy, and taught martial arts in the evening. For two days, the surveillance yielded nothing.
But on the second evening, an urgent message arrived from the Southern Frontier. It reached the prime minister's office, then Salvador's hands via Jeremiah. Reading the secret report, Salvador was thunderstruck. His mind went blank; his body froze. He stood unmoving, then trembled with rage.
"Oliver Prince!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the halls. The shout left him so shaken that his vision darkened, and he nearly collapsed.
Within hours, Ministry of Defense officials, the head of the Civil Department, two vice-ministers, and every court official of third rank or higher were summoned to the palace.
Davis had dreaded this moment. He had repeatedly urged Salvador—despite the king's distaste—to send the Hell Monarch to the Southern Frontier. Salvador had rejected the idea, leaving Davis to focus on accelerating production of six-barreled matchlocks.
Now, reading the urgent report, Davis felt a surge of anger and icy dread. Oliver had caused a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions.