Queen of Revenge - Chapter 73

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 73
“Things have unfolded according to plan, so the outcome isn’t entirely unfavorable. After all, our ultimate objective is to eliminate all three princes.”
Iolet paused, her thoughts turning inward.
“…Of course, I understand this isn’t the result you truly desired. You must have hoped Prince Dietrich would be the one to fall.”
Though Emeric’s final tyranny had shaken public opinion, the administrative measures he’d implemented over that brief period were far cleaner and more precise than Dietrich’s ever were.
Yet the outcome was Emeric’s death and Dietrich’s survival. And Dietrich would need to cling to life for some time yet.
I couldn’t easily gauge how the villagers who’d lost family to Dietrich’s brutality would receive this result.
But Neiman’s reaction caught me off guard.
He threw his head back and burst into laughter.
“Ha ha, did it appear we favored Prince Emeric?”
“Pardon?”
“Not at all. Ha ha.”
Neiman wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.
He leaned in close, speaking as though divulging some clandestine secret.
“The villagers knew all along, Your Highness.”
“Knew what?”
“What we must strive for. Now it was our turn to protect the Commander.”
“What?”
I stumbled over my words, too astonished to speak clearly.
“If you knew, then from the beginning… I never told you that Emeric was the true target.”
“It mattered little which prince came, or whom we eliminated first. We understood they all needed to be erased regardless.”
“Ah…”
Kairon Winterbark had said something similar months ago.
“If we’re going to eliminate them all anyway, the order doesn’t matter. We simply kill whoever we can drag before us first.”
I exhaled silently.
How had I not seen it?
Winterbark was Kairon Winterbark’s stronghold.
In my previous life, he’d cultivated rebel forces here. It was a rebellion prepared over fifteen years in total. The residents of Winterbark could not have been ignorant of his treacherous ambitions.
They either feigned ignorance, or perhaps—
“News of your marriage to the Commander was nothing short of astonishing to these people. It occurred to us that perhaps the Commander might strike at the Capital through an entirely different method. We considered that truly fortunate.”
They’d harbored such sentiments from the very beginning.
Winterbark was originally a place of exile for the condemned.
Certainly, some were heinous criminals who’d committed unforgivable crimes, but more often, those who’d incurred the nobility’s displeasure or been defeated in political struggles—their careers ended—had been sent here.
Elder Neiman himself had said he’d been branded a political prisoner and sent down to this place.
Could they not have harbored resentment toward the Royal Family?
Had they never entertained thoughts of destroying the throne? Truly?
My perspective shifted entirely in an instant.
‘The Fortress Army and the villagers alike—they were all of one mind. They knew I intended to eliminate the princes, and that’s why they moved with such speed and precision…’
I could only stare at the elder in silence.
Until moments ago, he’d been merely an aged, weary old man, but now he appeared to me as someone entirely different.
In his gaze lingered embers not yet cold—a quiet, tenacious anger that only emerged from those who had already lost so much they had nothing left to lose.
It was the same fire burning in Kairon Winterbark’s eyes, and it had taken root in Iolet’s own heart.
Yet in the next moment, Neiman’s weathered eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“Your Highness. The Commander… Kairon Winterbark grew up in our village.”
It was a continuation of the story they had shared at their first meeting.
The Village Elder spoke slowly, as though sifting through distant memories.
“Though he was not born here, Winterbark is where he was reborn—where he came back to life—so he is one of us in every way that matters. The village women tended him with love and affection, and the men taught him the sword and how to use his body. We fed that broken-spirited boy well, clothed him, and sometimes scolded him harshly as we raised him.”
“….”
“Yet we could not stitch his shattered soul back together. What the princes carved from that boy was not an organ—it was his heart. The capacity to feel, to know oneself as human, to experience emotion.”
Neiman pressed his palm gently against his chest to illustrate.
“Perhaps that is why he does not feel like our savior to us. If he were still a child in need of care, it might be different. And yet he built this fortress and protects us—we feel both grateful and sorry for that burden.”
“….”
“That is why the people of Winterbark will do anything for Kairon Winterbark. We have already resolved to stand against the Kingdom itself, so a little rioting is nothing at all.”
Iolet finally understood.
How a man without any power, despite his preparation, could sweep through Kalande so swiftly and completely.
This small village was his unshakeable foundation.
Iolet felt something hot rise from deep within her chest—a kind of awe tinged with fear.
Neiman was watching her with precisely the same expression in his eyes.
“A princess who would marry such a man does not seem like an ordinary person to these eyes either. Perhaps we share similar goals.”
“…Prince Dietrich.”
Iolet managed to find her voice.
“He may perhaps survive to the very end, but he will not escape death. Kairon Winterbark will not grant him life. The First Prince faces the same fate.”
“Yes, that alone is already enough.”
Neiman glanced once more at the gravestones. The wind passed through, bending the dry grass before lifting it upright again.
“Kairon Winterbark has changed recently. Until he left for Elovis, he was as rough and fierce as always—but since his return, there is something different in his eyes, something more… unhurried, perhaps. It is surely a change brought about by you, Your Highness.”
“Is that so? I still do not know that man well.”
“What is the rush? When two people have held each other’s lives in their hands and stood back to back, understanding comes in time.”
Neiman withdrew his gaze from the cemetery and brushed dust from his waist.
“Sometimes I think he hardly seems like an ordinary human—and perhaps he truly is not—yet when he mingles with the villagers and the fortress soldiers, he manages to behave like a young man of his years. That sight is so pleasant to see; stay a while longer before you go.”
“I will.”
Iolet bowed deeply once more.
Neiman waved his hand dismissively.
“Go now. You are frail, and you have a long journey ahead.”
“…Yes. Take care of yourself.”
With that, their brief meeting came to an end.
Neiman gestured for her to go first, and Iolet moved forward with reluctant steps.
“Your Highness.”
The Village Elder’s quiet voice reached her back.
“Thank you for helping us build Noah’s grave that day.”
His voice was dry, as though mixed with sand.
Iolet’s steps faltered, wavering for a moment.
“This old heart has found great solace in your words. Thank you.”
Iolet slowly clenched and unclenched her fists, watching the faint crescents of her nails fade from her palms.
The graves of those boys—buried in secret, night after night at Count Castlane’s Estate—flashed before her eyes, though that past had long since vanished.
From that moment onward, the sight of children’s graves had always burned her eyes with tears. She remained afraid of violence, terrified of death.
She was afraid that such things existed in this world.
Even now, though she had become the one wielding the hammer against others, that fear persisted.
Perhaps, Iolet thought, the human heart was something that could never truly be discarded.
At the same time, perhaps it didn’t need to be.
Sorrow and fear are the driving force to move forward. Love and compassion bind those who share the same purpose ever more tightly together.
With that realization came the certainty that I had taken another step forward.
I was ready to advance to the next stage.
Bara often came running to claim the spot beside me. Lucian followed the footprints I left in the snow.
I took another step forward, my foot falling with renewed purpose.
At the entrance to the fortress in the distance, a man who had washed away all traces of battle awaited me.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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