Under the dim evening sky, Cocolia brought Bronya to Belobog’s prison, preparing to “inspect” the results of her recent commands.
Initially, Cocolia had expected a drawn-out game of cat and mouse—something to draw out public sentiment and set the stage perfectly. She had hoped to create an environment where Bronya could witness firsthand how pitifully foolish the very people she wanted to protect could be, realizing in time that her own actions had been a necessary truth, pure and justified.
But things hadn’t gone to plan. The two prisoners had been captured almost immediately after the orders were issued.
Though it was satisfying, it lacked the steady build-up and impact she had envisioned. Neither the public discussion nor the tension had reached the climax she’d wanted, and, to make things worse, Bronya was as distant and indifferent as ever.
Cocolia wondered if she had miscalculated, though it mattered little. Regardless, this city’s transition into a “new era” would inevitably sweep away anyone standing in her path. And Bronya—well, she had all the time in the world to instill obedience in her daughter.
However, as they approached the guarded prison doors, Cocolia saw a familiar face waiting where he certainly shouldn’t have been: Gepard Landau.
A frown of annoyance crossed her face, and her voice hardened.
“Captain Gepard, I believe there are places in greater need of your presence right now than here.”
“…My apologies, Your Excellency,” Gepard replied with calm composure, unflinching in his stance. “But after an urgent discussion within the Landau family, the elders asked me to bring forth our concerns and hopefully avoid unnecessary internal strife.”
“Oh?” Cocolia’s gaze sharpened, her voice laced with derision. “Is this a plea for your sister? If I were you, I would do my best to cut ties with a traitor, rather than allowing this…misunderstanding to grow larger than the very hole in the sky.”
She stared directly into his bright blue eyes, watching for the smallest sign of hesitation or fear, ready to decide his fate at the slightest hint.
After all, while Gepard was the best of her guards—a valuable piece on the board—there were always others who could replace him if needed. Someone far more suited to her purposes had recently stepped into the spotlight, someone untethered by the tangled alliances and loyalties of the Founding Families.
“…”
His silence emboldened her, and Cocolia stepped closer, her cold gaze bearing down on him.
“Are you still hesitating, trying to convince yourself there’s room for compromise? Think of the people cowering in those shelters, preyed upon by the terror of the dragon. Consider their despair, Captain Landau.”
Her voice dripped with an almost hypnotic venom.
“As a proud and loyal member of Belobog’s Silvermane, your duty is to eliminate any threat to our people. Isn’t that the promise of the Landau family?”
“…You’re right, Madam.”
“Remember, Captain—doubt breeds weakness. Doubt breeds dissent.” As she passed him, she tapped the polished bracer of his armor. “As Belobog’s finest, you need only obey my orders without question. Don’t let idle voices cloud your judgment, and don’t let me down.”
With that, Cocolia continued into the prison, Bronya at her side, leaving Gepard standing in dutiful silence.
Only when they were out of sight did Gepard lift his gaze, looking beyond the walls into the cold night. Resolved, he steeled himself, knowing he would not blindly follow Cocolia’s orders this time, nor would he abandon the poet accused of inciting chaos.
As a Silvermane and a warrior of the Landau family, he would defend Belobog and its people at any cost—even if that meant resisting fate itself.
—
Inside the prison, Cocolia’s high-heeled boots echoed ominously against the cold stone floor, the sound stretching down the corridors like the herald of an oncoming storm. She deliberately slowed her pace, savoring each step, drawing out this “punishment” to its fullest extent, eager for the satisfaction of seeing her prisoners stripped of all defiance, pleading and powerless.
It was a twisted thrill that filled her steps, each footfall resonating with a slow, menacing rhythm.
Bronya’s heart chilled as they moved deeper into the prison, her mind recoiling from the dark figure wearing her mother’s face. Cocolia turned to her with that same penetrating gaze that seemed to see through to her very soul, its weight pressing down on her.
For a moment, Bronya felt her vision blur, a wave of dizziness washing over her as Cocolia reached out to take her hand.
With a look that was almost indulgent, Cocolia held her daughter’s hand as though she were still a child afraid of the dark. Only when they’d reached the end of the corridor did Bronya pull her hand away, realizing too late how completely she had allowed her mother to control her every step.
The fear of that night left its mark, a scar she couldn’t simply pull away from.
As they reached the cell, Cocolia’s lips curled into a faint smile, her mind darkening with all the ways she would crush the hopes of those who dared to oppose her.
But suddenly—
“Well, well. Look who decided to drop by—the high and mighty Guardian herself! Could it be that you’re so short on lackeys that you had to come yourself?” came a voice from the shadows, unmistakably belonging to Serval.
And from the other side of the cell, a second voice, equally mocking, joined in.
“Oh, come on now, let’s not speak ill of our ‘Supreme Guardian.’ Who in Belobog doesn’t know that her one and only concern is the people’s wellbeing?” Venti, disheveled but unbothered, leaned casually against the bars, flashing an insolent smile as he adjusted his coat.
He spotted Bronya and, with a mock wave, called out.
“Ah, Bronya! Come on in, make yourself at home.”
The blatant insolence in his tone made Cocolia’s expression darken instantly.
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