The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 387: The Trouble Stirrer

Arthur stepped forward. “Your Majesty, according to the law, defying an imperial decree is an act of utmost disrespect—punishable by death.”

“The King, you must not!” Brent Dale, a veteran general, stepped forward lustily. “Your Majesty, Isolde has rendered great service to the empire, especially in securing victory at Zloimond. Her crime must have been committed in a moment of folly. I beg Your Majesty to show mercy.”

Arthur’s voice was cold. “Brent, are you suggesting that those who have performed great deeds should be allowed to act without restraint, even to the point of defying the King? If so, would that not lead to utter chaos in the court? Do you dare challenge the authority of the throne?”

Brent, a man of action rather than words, flushed red at the accusation. He quickly clarified, “Your Majesty, that is not my intent. I only plead for mercy. While defying an imperial decree is indeed a capital offense, there have been precedents for clemency. Considering Garrett’s lifelong contributions to the empire, I implore Your Majesty to be lenient.”

Deangelo stepped forward. “Your Majesty, Brent is not without reason. Isolde’s crime stems from her refusal to observe mourning for her grandmother. Unfilial conduct is indeed a grave offense, but I suspect there is more to this matter than meets the eye. I beg Your Majesty to investigate further.”

Emboldened by Deangelo’s stance, the generals began speaking up. “Your Majesty, Isolde has always been a loyal and courageous soldier. She would not defy a decree without cause. There must be deeper reasons. I beg Your Majesty to grant an inquiry,” another general urged.

Seamus added, “Your Majesty, please show leniency.”

Arthur was taken aback. These were seasoned statesmen and generals, not ones to speak rashly. They usually avoided meddling in contentious matters. Why, then, were they all coming forward to defend Isolde? He suspected Pablo had spent money to sway them.

In ordinary circumstances, Arthur would have avoided antagonizing these men. But now, he was at a critical juncture. If he hesitated, he would appear weak, and his carefully cultivated allies would lose faith in him.

So, he raised his voice, “Your Majesty, the court’s esteemed ministers speak of mercy, yet they ignore the precedent set by our ancestors. The first King’s laws demand loyalty and filial piety above all else. If Your Majesty forgives Isolde, she will believe that her past merits grant her immunity from punishment. Such arrogance will only breed disorder within the court.”

He fell to his knees. “Your Majesty, Isolde’s example cannot be allowed to take root. It must be cut down swiftly. I beg Your Majesty to issue severe punishment.”

The King listened, his expression unreadable. But within, his suspicions deepened. Arthur’s eagerness to have Isolde executed seemed excessive—ruthless, even.

Arthur, seeing the King’s silence, felt a pang of urgency. “Your Majesty, I am Isolde’s relative. It pains me to stand here and attest to her guilt. But as a servant of the empire, my duty is clear. If Your Majesty shows…

Arthur tensed. Why was the King changing the subject? Was he wavering? The other ministers were also caught off guard. The King rarely veered into informal discussions unless the main topic had been concluded.

The King’s voice was steady. “I remember when I ascended the throne. It was a time of both internal strife and external threats. It was only with the guidance of the Queen Mother and Callum that I secured my position. But was my rule ever truly secure? Even now, I cannot say that it is. If the Eryndral Empire is poor, neighboring nations trample upon us. If we prosper, they covet us. In times of peace and in times of war, the warriors of the empire have always stood at Simmour City’s gates, defending our lands and our people.”

“Do you recall the time Callum bestowed noble titles upon twenty generals?”

Brent, nostalgic, sighed. “I remember well, Your Majesty. The treasury was drained after years of war, and the people were suffering. Since there was no silver for rewards, those who had distinguished themselves were granted noble ranks instead. My father was among those given a fiefdom.”

The King nodded: “And do you remember the war that led to those honors?”

Brent lowered his head. “It was the campaign against the Maurett Tribe in Thalvinar. We fought for five years, both sides exhausted. General Garrett led ten thousand soldiers into battle—only three thousand returned. But victory brought lasting peace, with Thalvinar surrendering and paying tribute annually. Only then did the borders quiet, and our people could live in peace.”

The King nodded again. “Yes. That peace was bought with blood. I remember, back then, the previous King was still alive but gravely ill. I had not yet ascended the throne. The Prince Regent hosted a grand banquet for the returning warriors. Over thirty men marched into the palace that day, all bearing wounds. I remember Geoffrey—his legs injured—leaning on crutches as he entered.”

Many among the older ministers felt a wave of emotion at the memory. After years of war, peace had been dearly won. The victory feast had been a moment of unity between the sovereign and his warriors.

Arthur, having no recollection of those times, sensed that the King was steering the conversation toward Geoffrey. His heart pounded. Was the King going to pardon Isolde?

Panicked, he interjected, “Your Majesty, it is true that Geoffrey was a great warrior. But that does not mean his daughter should be absolved. If we allow the children of war heroes to escape justice, then where is the rule of law?”

The King’s tone turned sharp. “I said we will discuss Isolde later. Are you deaf?”

Arthur fell silent, realizing his mistake. The King’s words had not carried rage, but the final sentence had been unmistakably a reprimand. Arthur dared not push further.

The King continued, his gaze sweeping across the court. “I was young then, but I remember that day clearly. Over the years, those warriors have dwindled, lost to battle or illness. And last night… another great general left me. It weighs heavily upon my heart.”

A general? Who?

The King’s voice dropped. “Perhaps you only remember his household scandals. You have all forgotten that he once bled for this empire.”

It took a moment for the realization to settle in. Geoffrey was dead? The ministers were stunned. Arthur’s mind reeled. How? Had his injuries from Zloimond been fatal after all?

Seamus hesitated before asking, “Your Majesty… do you speak of Geoffrey?”

The King nodded, then turned his piercing gaze to Arthur. “Did you know of this?”

Arthur’s breath caught. “I… I did not.”

“You did not?” The King’s voice sharpened. “Then allow me to enlighten you. You are the one who killed him. Do you deny it?”

Arthur staggered. “I—Your Majesty, I never—”

A scroll flew from the King’s hand, striking Arthur’s chest and unfurling at his feet. The King, no longer calm, his fury unleashed, thundered, “It was you. You, the meddling fool who stirred this entire mess!”