Chapter 1301
Carissa knelt on one knee in the royal study, enduring Salvador’s cold and sharp scrutiny.
Her eyes remained lowered, her expression calm and composed. There was no trace of guilt or ambition–she carried herself with the same respectful demeanor as always.
For a fleeting moment, Salvador thought of her lineage. She was Hector’s daughter, after all. His earlier suspicions now seemed somewhat absurd. How could the daughter of Hector Sinclair, a man who had given his life on the battlefield, harbor treasonous intent?
But the trust only lasted for that brief instant, and it extended solely to Hector, the man who had fallen on the battlefield.
A wife followed her husband’s lead. Carissa and Rafael shared a unified front–their interests were inevitably aligned.
“I sent the royal physician to check on Rafael,” Salvador said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was steady, betraying none of the turbulent thoughts that had plagued him moments ago. “Jacob informed me that Rafael has gone to Meadow Ridge to recuperate.”
Carissa bowed slightly. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty.”
Salvador pressed his lips together. Her words of gratitude seemed like a polite deflection, sidestepping the matter entirely.
“I believe his illness stems from exhaustion,” Salvador continued, his tone measured. “You accompanied him to Lunvale not long ago, and now you’re managing the Mystic Army, the workshop, and the academy. The household needs at least one of you in good health. It won’t do for both husband and wife to fall ill.
“Since you requested leave not long ago, I will extend it for another six months. Focus on managing the workshop and the academy. As for the Mystic Army, I will temporarily assign its command to Ian.”
Carissa’s expression flickered with a hint of surprise, though deep down, she wasn’t the least bit shocked.
Before her audience with the king, Jacob had analyzed the situation for her. If Salvador suspected Rafael of treason, his first move would be to strip Carissa of her position as commander of the Mystic Army, severing any chance of internal and
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external collusion.
However, if Salvador merely inquired about Rafael’s condition without touching her rank, it would indicate he still trusted Rafael
The surprise on Carissa’s face vanished as quickly as it appeared. She lowered her head and replied, “Understood. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your consideration.” There was no resentment in her tone, no panic, and certainly no hint of guilt.
Salvador studied her for a long moment before finally saying, “You may leave.”
“I will take my leave, Your Majesty.” Carissa rose gracefully, her gaze as steady and unshaken as ever.
Outside the royal study, Derek stood with his hands at his sides, his posture stiff yet respectful. When he saw Carissa emerge, a faint trace of worry flickered in his eyes.
Carissa smiled at him, her expression calm and untroubled, before striding away without hesitation.
Derek let out a nearly inaudible sigh. Though he didn’t know where Rafael had gone, he was certain the prince harbored no ambitions of treason.
Salvador had often said this was a critical time when capable people were desperately needed. Yet, whether it was suppressing the Yuvan rebels or repelling Sandoria’s incursions from the Southern Frontier, he had never once considered using the Hell Monarch.
Derek still remembered Salvador’s words from a private conversation.
“Ambition grows over time, nurtured little by little. Even those who once had none may develop it after achieving great feats, like reclaiming the Southern Frontier. Gaining the people’s support can feed ambition.”
Salvador had clearly been speaking about the Hell Monarch.
Derek sighed inwardly. A man with great talent became guilty by simply possessing it!
The Hell Monarch’s estate was now under surveillance, while Carissa carried herself with the relaxed air of someone unburdened by official duties. She made rounds at Skye Embroidery, visited Gracewood Women’s Academy to observe the students in class, and by evening, she was teaching martial arts.
- usual.
For two days, the watchful eyes on her noted nothing
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But on the second evening, an urgent message arrived from the Southern Frontier. It was delivered first to the prime minister’s office and then passed into Salavdor’s hands by Jeremiah.
When Salvador read the contents of the secret report, he was thunderstruck. His mind went blank and his entire body froze in place.
For a long time, he stood there, unmoving. Then, all at once, he began trembling with rage.
“Oliver Prince!” he bellowed, his voice thundering through the halls.
The shout left him so shaken that his vision darkened and he nearly collapsed on the
spot.
Within hours, the 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 been dreading this moment. Though he knew Salvador’s distaste for the suggestion, he had repeatedly urged the king to send the Hell Monarch to the Southern Frontier to take command.
At the time, Salvador had rejected the idea outright, leaving Davis to focus instead on accelerating the production of the six–barreled matchlocks, ensuring at least a portion of the weapons could be delivered to the Southern Frontier.
Now, as Davis read the urgent report alongside the others, his blood surged hot with anger while his heart sank with icy dread.
Oliver had caused a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions!
