Classified (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

File 2, Part 8 - Her Imperial Majesty

The next few days blurred into a haze of anxious waiting, each hour stretching into an eternity. I found myself endlessly staring out the windows, my gaze drifting over the horizon, hoping for any sign of my sister's return, only to be met by the fluttering of small green leaves carried by the wind. Despite my best efforts to focus on my duties—reinforcing the palace guard, continuing my research—my thoughts kept drifting back to the gardener and the looming uncertainty that hung over us both.

Then, on the third night after my conversation with the gardener, a guard burst into my study, his face flushed with anticipation.

"Your Imperial Highness! The Empress..."

He paused, a fleeting hesitation that stirred a flicker of frustration within me.

Just say it already!

"The Empress successfully slew the dragon!" he announced, his voice brimming with excitement. "She and the fourth, sixth, seventh, and twelfth orders of guards will return in several nights!"

A rush of relief surged through me, washing away the tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Yes! We have won!

In the days that followed, I threw myself into preparations for my sister's arrival, but I couldn't shake the unease gnawing at me. I also continued my investigation into the mysterious threats against the gardener, though each clue seemed more elusive than the last. Determined to get to the bottom of it, I resolved to speak with my sister as soon as she returned.

Finally, she arrived just as the first flowers began to sprout and bloom. However, unlike when she had left, she now rode in on a brown horse, accompanied by far fewer men. Even so, she raised a strong arm and called out in a firm voice:

"Greetings, my most beloved subjects! Today, I bring good tidings to you all. We have defeated the dragon!"

A roar surged from the courtyard, a cacophony of shouts and whistles that bounced off the stone walls. Soldiers tossed their helmets in the air, their polished metal flashing in the afternoon sun. Maids, leaning from the palace windows, waved handkerchiefs and ribbons, their laughter echoing down to the crowd below. Even the stoic guards at the main gate cracked smiles, exchanging quick nods of approval.

As for my sister, her posture remained strong, but the weariness etched on her face and the sleepiness in her eyes were unmistakable.

It was then that I learned the true toll of the battle. More than half of her guards had perished—some had taken their own lives, others were murdered by their comrades, and the rest had fallen in the dragon's attack. She and the remaining guards were gravely wounded, requiring constant care and attention.

Despite the severity of their injuries, she assured me that the potions I had prepared had helped alleviate their pain. However, disoriented by the hallucinations caused by the dragon, she had allowed the surviving guards to return to their families for rest and recovery.

Thus, even in the wake of such a hard-won victory, the palace eventually succumbed to an oppressive silence, thicker than the tapestries that draped the halls. The usual bustle of servants vanished, replaced by hushed whispers and the soft padding of footsteps on the stone floors. Even the flickering torches seemed to burn with a dimmer flame, casting long, mournful shadows that stretched across the walls, a constant reminder of the loss.

Out of respect for my sister's condition, I decided to let her rest, postponing our conversation about the gardener until the following day.

That... was my mistake.

Early the next morning, frantic screams and the sounds of chaos broke through the stillness, coming from below my chamber. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, my bodyguard, ladies-in-waiting, and I rushed toward the source of the commotion. As we descended to the basement, we encountered guards and maids crowding the gardener's room.