"There's a mastermind."
Queen Henrietta said.
One of the generals seated in the tent asked.
"A mastermind… Your Majesty?"
"The mastermind is exactly what it sounds like. It's so infuriatingly absurd it's almost funny."
The young queen with red hair scoffed. Unlike her usual self, her mood was frigid.
"I can tolerate being deceived. It's not like I haven't been fooled once or twice in life. What's one more tally on the board? An unexpected enemy joining the fray—that's fine too. After all, life is simply a war of all against all. But listen here, gentlemen. But…"
Queen Henrietta slammed her fist on the field desk. A booming thud echoed through the tent.
"I will not tolerate both of those things happening at once. That is an absolutely unforgivable, damned situation!"
The generals fell silent. Speaking up when a sovereign was furious was, so to speak, like boldly walking toward an enraged wild boar.
Henrietta huffed for a while before letting out a small laugh. The generals exchanged troubled glances. They thought she was furious, but now she was laughing. What on earth was going on?
"Gentlemen, look. Isn't the Republic moving abnormally fast?"
The queen personally pointed to the map laid out on the field desk.
"From Batavia's perspective, the Demon Lord's army is to the east, and Francs is to the west. As long as the Crescent Alliance Army war is still raging, Batavia would naturally concentrate its forces to the east. But what's actually happening? Less than a month after we started our war, the Republic bastards have already crossed the border."
Queen Henrietta continued. Of course, a month was enough time for the Republic to shift its forces from east to west. They could have made secret pacts with the republican nobles of Francs. But the premise was wrong…
"The premise, Your Majesty?"
"That the Republic should have figured out our operational objective a month ago."
Queen Henrietta's gaze settled into a calm stillness. It was the calm of blue flames burning.
"Our Bretagne attacked Francs. What's the problem? It could simply be an invasion of Francs. The possibilities are truly numerous. A month ago, nothing was known yet. …So how exactly did Batavia's whores figure out that we 'invaded to annihilate the republicans'?"
"…! A traitor!"
The generals whispered their cries in hoarse voices.
It had to be so. Even if the Republic had noticed Bretagne's movements, it would have been difficult for them to learn the operational objective. How could they have so quickly ascertained the truth — that the Frank Emperor had actually ordered the subjugation of his own nobles?
Someone had leaked the information. In other words, there was a traitor.
The room froze cold. It went without saying that the operational objective had been shared only among the leadership. Someone sitting in this very tent had betrayed them……
Henrietta smiled genially.
"My friends, why so tense? When did the warriors of Bretagne become as faint-hearted as children?"
"Your Majesty, if there is a traitor, this is no trivial matter."
"There is no reason the traitor must necessarily be among you."
Henrietta's enigmatic remark drew puzzled stares from the generals. She let out another snort of derision.
"Is it not also possible that information was leaked from the Frank Emperor's side?"
The generals' expressions twisted in an instant.
"Thatfoolish young Emperor!"
"He dragged us here and then called in the republican pigs as well — the despicable wretch!"
"Your Majesty, give us the word! We shall turn the Paris Forum into a sea of flames at once!"
The generals sprang to their feet in fury. Deceived as they were — and more than anything, to prove their own innocence before the Queen — they bellowed out their rage in thunderous voices.
Henrietta smiled sweetly.
"Now, now, my friends, I understand your sentiments, but do make a scene of it. Have I ever once doubted your loyalty? It's positively embarrassing to watch. Causing such discomfort for a young lady — you fail not only as generals, but as gentlemen."
"……."
The Queen's response deflated the atmosphere into awkward silence.
The generals cleared their throats—"ahem, ahem"—and settled back into their seats. Say what you will, but Her Majesty the Queen certainly had a talent for making people squirm. The generals exchanged glances.
But nobody was actually upset. Their liege did not doubt their loyalty. There was no greater reassurance than that.
Moments ago, Henrietta had every reason to suspect treason. She could have crushed the nobles' spirits and strengthened her hold over the army. Yet she chose to tell them she trusted them…
That very attitude made her subordinates willingly bow to her will. Two qualities sustained Queen Henrietta: a keen military mind and effortless social grace.
"My friends. Before you let your anger take the reins, consider this calmly. Is this not an opportunity?"
"An opportunity, Your Majesty?"
"Our great Emperor himself could not have leaked the intelligence. As you said, His Majesty is the world's biggest idiot and a hopeless fool to boot."
The generals let out short laughs. In the Bretagne army, everyone from the lowliest foot soldier to the highest officer regarded the Emperor as a complete moron.
"Then who leaked it?"
"The Empress Dowager, perhaps. Or someone in the Emperor's inner circle."
"Ah. And a republican, no doubt."
Queen Henrietta spoke up.
"My friends. It does not matter in the slightest who actually leaked it. What matters is circumstantial evidence that 'republicans betrayed His Majesty the Emperor.' For our Frankish Emperor, that alone should be more than enough."
There was a deliberate ambiguity in the Queen's words. As the generals pondered, Jacqueline Longwy—the Saint who served in the army—opened her lips. A fine crease had formed on her smooth brow.
"Your Majesty… you are not thinking of a purge, are you?"
"You hit the mark exactly."
Henrietta smiled.
"My friends. Tell the Emperor that republicans leaked the intelligence to him. His Majesty flies into a rage at the mere mention of 'republicans'—don't you want to see how he reacts? This is our chance to round up every last republican breathing in the Parisianum and wipe them out."
That day, the roar of the Emperor's fury echoed through the palace.
For a long time, the Royalist and Republican factions had despised each other. Among the most radical Royalist nobles, there were those who championed the crown with fanatical devotion. The Emperor secretly summoned them and told them about the 'traitors.' The Royalist nobles realized that now, at last, was their chance to exterminate the vermin in the Imperial Capital.
Three days later. The massacre began at midnight.
The royalist nobles had divided the Parisianum into several sectors and meticulously assigned responsibility for each. They charged through the streets, shouting, "Kill the traitors! Kill those who have shamed the Franks!" It was a thoroughly planned slaughter. Since the majority of the Parisianum's citizens were royalists, they were easily swayed by the incitement.
A massacre may be difficult to begin, but once started, it tends to run unchecked. One person, two people, three people gathered, then ten, then twenty. The mob, infected with madness, ran from the narrowest alleys to the widest boulevards.
"Execute the traitors who sold out the nation!"
"Rise for the Franks, citizens! Do not hesitate! The Goddess blesses us!"
"Kill them all. Spare no one. The God of the Afterlife will distinguish the good from the evil!"
Not only the royalist nobles, but even the common citizens were tainted by bloodlust. The incendiary slogans were a volatile mix of partisan interests, personal vengeance and hatred, a frenzied run fueled by intoxication on the scent of blood rising from the fields of slaughter, and finally, a scheme to plunder the wealth of republican nobles. All this exploded together.
Some republicans had sensed something ominous a day or two earlier.
"This is strange. The atmosphere is definitely not right..."
"Pack your bags quickly. Don't ask questions! Take only coin and get in the carriage!"
They gathered their assets and fled the Imperial Capital. These were generally people who had devoted their lives to republicanism, those who had sworn to uphold their ideals even if it meant opposing His Majesty the Emperor. But they were only a small minority.
Most republican nobles, especially wealthy commoners like merchants, remained in the Imperial Capital.
"Hmm, even if His Majesty favors the royalists..."
"Haven't we paid our taxes diligently all this time? Even if something big happens, it'll be over soon."
"This is my home. Where would I go?"
Could it be that the Emperor would personally harm them? They went about their daily work as usual, optimistic.
The price of their optimism was horrific.
The wealth of the rich merchants inflamed the mob further. As the night deepened, the massacre did not subside; instead, it spread like a wildfire. Even merchants who were not republicans were attacked. Men and women, old and young, all had their chests pierced by the mob's spears.
The rumors had already become distorted. The republicans had tried to assassinate His Majesty the Emperor; in his fury and fear, His Majesty had been forced to reach out even to Bretagne; let us defend His Majesty the Emperor and the Franks ourselves...
A tragedy was unfolding. In the dead of night, the Empress Dowager, Catherine de Medici, was startled awake in bed. The Empire's formidable Empress Dowager had not even had time to change her clothes. She darted through the palace in her nightgown, screaming.
"Oh! Gods above, what in the world is going on! Why are there screams and shouts coming from the city! Royal Guard! Where is the Royal Guard!"
The Empress Dowager burst into the imperial palace, trailing behind her a retinue of handmaidens who had rushed over in their nightclothes just as she had. She desperately called out to her son, begging him to put an end to the massacre at once.
"Your Majesty! You are the Emperor of the Franks! Those people are your sons and daughters — they are the very subjects you are sworn to protect!"
Emperor Henri III let out a cold, mocking laugh.
"I have never raised a child who would point a spear at his own father, Mother."
"Your Majesty, the Empire will be cursed! A nation where fathers slay their own children and children despise their own fathers has no future! Your Majesty, please... it is not too late yet — I beg you, show some mercy to those wretched people..."
The Empress Dowager collapsed to her knees before the Emperor, pleading. A fifty-year-old mother, still in her nightclothes, her aging flesh exposed, weeping openly. Even the Royal Guard felt their hearts grow heavy with pity for the Empress Dowager.
But the young Emperor was resolute.
"A nation cannot have two governments!"
Henri III shot to his feet with a roar.
"You, the mother who gave me birth — you are truly revolting! It was none other than you, Mother, who allowed the imperial authority to crumble and the realm to fall into division. How can I consider those who dare claim that a parliament stands above the Emperor to be part of this Empire?"
"Henri... my Henri. Please, I beg you, have mercy..."
"My mercy was taken from me by none other than you, Mother."
The Empress Dowager knelt on the ground and extended her right hand. The Emperor slapped his mother's hand away.
"After tonight, there shall be only one sovereign in all of Franconia!"
"Oh, Gods!"
The Empress Dowager rose to her feet, her face flushed red. Her entire body trembled with fury.
"I should have borne a nest of vipers rather than raise this mockery! Accursed be that fleeting night of pleasure in which I carried the seed of sin within my womb! Gods above! Oh, Gods above!"
"Take the Empress Dowager away."
The Emperor gestured to the Royal Guard. The soldiers hesitated as they approached the Empress Dowager. She hurled every manner of vicious curse at them as she was dragged from the imperial palace.
The Emperor scoffed at the sight and spoke.
"Lock the handmaidens in separate quarters. Among them there are surely daughters of traitors as well. Hasty mercy leaves nothing but lingering troubles in its wake. The gods have willed that this night be nothing short of perfect."