Trin's appearance temporarily eased the tense atmosphere within the study. Seeing Hibbort pick up the crystal stone and examine it carefully, Astrid tightened her grip on the teacup handle, lowered her eyelashes, and naturally crossed her long, night-sky-colored silk-stockinged legs as she reorganized the information she'd just obtained.

According to Mr. Trin, tonight's events closely mirrored the original account. Lucas, though severely injured during this assassination attempt, had luckily survived.

Meanwhile, Alistair had lost an arm and was now definitively implicated in the crime of assassinating the crown prince, making it nearly impossible for him to remain a viable successor.

Hibbort's own attitude, however, was particularly intriguing. He first sealed all information, then ordered his men to imprison both princes, placing them under the strictest guard by the highest-ranking royal guard.

Astrid could understand the reason behind the first action, after all reasoning, an assassination attempt against the royal family was a matter of imperial prestige, so minimizing the number of people who knew was clearly beneficial. But the second action seemed excessively aggressive.

Both Alistair and Lucas had their own political factions supporting them. Removing both leaders simultaneously would inevitably plunge the capital into greater chaos, especially during this war period where every action could trigger wide consequences.

Unless Hibbort felt the fish had been lured close enough, and now intended to step forward and reorganize the political landscape.

Taking a moment to think, Astrid lifted her gaze to look at Amalia sitting across from her.

Separated by the table, the sweet, harmless white-stockinged loli who previously resembled a creamy cake now sat upright and composed. Her pure white skirt, shaped like lotus leaves, casually draped over her legs. The fragile aura had completely disappeared, replaced by a calmness and composure Astrid rarely saw.

Feeling Astrid's gaze, Amalia, who had been staring intently at her, tilted her head slightly, her deep red pupils faintly glinting.

'Leave it to me, sister.'

Years of sharing the same bed had forged a silent understanding, and Amalia's unspoken message was clearly conveyed through her eyes. Seeing this, Astrid fluttered her eyelashes, a complex emotion stirring within her.

She had been worrying whether Amalia could handle Hibbort's words, yet now she was the one being comforted instead.

Still, it had to be said, under high-pressure circumstances, Amalia's performance truly filled Astrid with pride.

Had this been the self-isolated girl still trapped within the old castle, she would likely have already lost control, unleashing years of pent-up hatred and loathing towards Hibbort. There would be no chance of maintaining such clear logic to state facts and outline the stakes.

The sisters' brief eye contact ended just as a crisp cracking sound echoed through the room. Hibbort made no attempt to conceal the crystal's contents, calmly projecting the recorded images.

A tranquil night at the estate, the evening breeze stirring waves across the flower fields. Under the moonlight, a vast tulip sea, as wide as the sky, swayed gently.

This peaceful scene was suddenly shattered by flying debris.

Under the silver moonlight, the crown prince, clad only in a long robe, came into view struggling to flee. High in the sky on the other side, a hooded blond man sprouted wings, his inky darkness engulfing the night sky, transforming into sharp blades.

Astrid didn't waste time on Lucas's pitiful appearance. Her eyes fixed instead on the dark wings sprouting from Alistair's back.

Although she hadn't personally sensed the aura with her mental power, judging from the scene conjured by the magic array, Astrid vaguely felt this power was somewhat familiar.

It's close to... the mysterious girl from the suburbs of the Wales Farm... and the one from the Monster Mountains...

Very similar... but she couldn't be certain yet.

After all, the recording was mediated through magic, limiting the intelligence she could gather. Astrid didn't believe her intuition and a few surface similarities were enough to draw a definitive conclusion.

The images continued. Soon, they reached the moment when Lucas, in a desperate final move, threw an object at Alistair.

Items like spatial rings were incredibly rare. In human history as it stood, without the original creator, each lost ring was irreplaceable, there was no way to reproduce them.

Lucas had truly gambled everything, using such a precious artifact as his trump card, triggering spatial ripples through self-destruction to wound Alistair.

As a result, the ring permanently lost its storage capacity, crumbling to dust and vanishing into the spatial turbulence.

The final scene of the recording barrier showed both severely injured men restrained by Trin's arcane magic, their absolute power difference bringing this absurd assassination attempt to a definitive end.

The playback concluded, followed by a segment of Trin's personal testimony from inside a carriage.

"Your Majesty, Prince Alistair's condition is unusual. His mental power has not reached the legendary mage tier, yet he can release magic of corresponding strength through a peculiar type of dark elemental particles."

"Further details await Your Majesty's next instructions."

The crystal ceased its flickering, and the room fell silent. Hibbort tapped the imperial scepter, storing this piece of evidence, sufficient to condemn Alistair to death, within it.

"Just a trivial little incident."

The man's voice was low, as if the two men who had just fought to the death were not his own sons, but commoners seen on any street.

Feeling the atmosphere grow heavier, Astrid pondered whether to inform Hibbort about Alistair's abnormalities. Meanwhile, Amalia slowly sips her tea, her red eyes reflect the old emperor's wrinkled, withered skin.

"Seems I'm not the only one who knew Lucas's actions were perilous."

"The Emperor was clearly aware as well, yet offered no warning. He only sent Mr. Trin to intervene after everything had already occurred."

Amalia pursed her lips and put down the teacup. Her pink lips, moistened by the tea, looked soft and delicate, like cherry blossom petals, opening and closing with her speech.

"Since you yourself remain neutral, how can you fault my sister for doing the same?"

When faced with a dilemma, throwing the question back was also a good strategy.

Hibbort listened, resting one hand against his cheek, his voice utterly flat.

"Do you think my main grievance is that she didn't warn Lucas in time?"

Amalia shook her head, her voice was calm.

"If the Emperor insists on assigning blame, then my sister's only fault will be concealing the truth from you."

On every other level, Astrid's actions had been the most efficient and safest choice, avoiding Alistair's targeting while using Lucas as a shield to gain greater advantage.

Having spoken, Amalia met Hibbort's eyes. His blue irises, so similar to her own, were now completely emotionless, staring at her as if regarding a corpse.

"But as my sister said, these were choices made out of necessity," Amalia said.

The cold expression, the solemn words. Hibbort, backlit by the dim light, resembled that day when she'd first been locked away in the castle.

Her inner hatred crawled like ants across her heart. Even though Astrid's love had nourished her, the wounds buried deep in Amalia's bones were not something that could heal quickly.

Fortunately, she had learned to control her breathing. And her words.

"Yet, Emperor, after everything happened, you chose to imprison both heirs to the throne."

"Are you using this opportunity to eliminate most of the destabilizing elements?"

There was actually one more thing Amalia hadn't said outright: in her judgment, Hibbort's actions seemed to favor them.

Tonight, Lucas had proven through his actions that he lacked the capability to be emperor. Alistair, meanwhile, had committed the grave sin of attempting to assassinate the crown prince, rendering him unfit.

Secondly, his physical disability required recovery time, making public appearances inconvenient. Thirdly, he had accessed some unknown power source, leaving his condition questionable. Clearly, he was even less suitable to succeed. By controlling both of them now, wasn't Hibbort signaling his intention to entrust the throne to her?

Of course, such a judgment didn't need to be voiced too early. Hibbort's current stance remains ambiguous, requiring further careful consideration.

"Astrid praised you for exceptional intelligence. It seems her words were not exaggerated."

Hibbort didn't answer Amalia directly, instead turning her words into a counter-question.

"But basing a judgment solely on this—isn't that a bit too hasty?"

If he truly intended to deal with her, his illegitimate daughter, Hibbort wouldn't have bothered with so much talk. Amalia's internal scale tipped once more toward the idea of this being a test.

"I wouldn't make such a statement based solely on that."

"The Emperor has feigned illness for a long time. Rumors have already spread widely. Reports of the Emperor's severe illness and inability to manage state affairs have attracted many petty schemers aiming to seize imperial benefits."

"These people are more or less hidden within the political factions of the first and second princes. Some have even made secret deals, selling off imperial interests in exchange for supporting a particular successor."

"To deal with them, a proper justification is necessary, such as using the crown prince's assassination attempt as a pretext to purge the unstable elements within Alistair's faction."

"Conversely, taking advantage of the crown prince faction's leader being incapacitated, we can deal with internal spies and opposing figures who frequently criticize the Emperor's decrees."

This was the reality Amalia and Astrid had discussed. Although she didn't understand why her sister was so certain Hibbort was only pretending to be ill, reasoning forward from this premise made his intentions not hard to guess.

The fish he wanted to catch were exactly these people, and also the Valeria army along the border.

After hearing Amalia's analysis, Hibbort's eyes remain as still as a deep well. He pressed both hands against his scepter, silent.

Seeing this, Astrid opened her mouth to assist Amalia, but the man merely cast a casual glance her way. In that instant, Astrid felt an authority she had never felt from Hibbort before.

This authority wasn't that of a father to a daughter, but of an emperor to a subject.

In this conversation targeting Amalia, she only had the right to observe, not to participate.

From here on, Amalia had to handle it alone.

Seeing Hibbort remain silent, Amalia lifted the teacup to moisten her throat, then looked up at the man sitting by the desk, the one who had given her life, yet discarded her like a worn-out rag.

Continue.

"In this way, the royal guards within the capital City are both bait to lure out snakes, and at the appropriate moment, they will transform into a sharp blade for reform."

"The Emperor has already gathered them in advance and sealed off all transportation routes. It seems this was all prepared for today, or rather, for the plan that follows."

Purging the parasites requires iron and blood. Many nobles, eager to seize imperial benefits, have already gathered near the capital.

This is perfect, giving the once iron-fisted Emperor the chance to capture them all at once.

"If I'm not mistaken, the related orders should already have been dispatched."

Not many knew of the second prince's assassination plot. But once the news broke, the information would spread rapidly.

Hibbort had acted so decisively, he must have already grasped the entire event's framework and identified some of the participants.

Hearing this, Hibbort tapped the gem atop his scepter and finally spoke.

"Your understanding is quite profound. Your expression is also sufficiently clear."

"When Lucas was eighteen, he trembled just standing before me to report his academic progress, fearing saying the wrong thing."

In terms of performance, this dark-haired girl before him surpassed Lucas by more than just a little.

At Amalia's words, she merely narrowed her eyes slightly. Her shiny little leather shoes, resting on the floor, sliding a bit, her soft, delicate white-stockinged foot pressing lightly against the chair leg.

How could that despicable, incompetent prince, ruled entirely by his base instincts, even be compared to her?

Let alone... harboring those kinds of thoughts toward her sister...

Her fingers tightened slightly around the teacup as she heard Hibbort speak again.

"Since you understand so much, you should be able to guess the general purpose of tonight's banquet."

He certainly hadn't come here to punish Astrid and Amalia. Otherwise, he wouldn't have waited until now.

"The Emperor needs a qualified successor," Amalia said softly.

"One who possesses sufficient political skill, exceptional foresight to see the Empire's future development, and outstanding ability to help the Empire achieve victory in the upcoming war."

For this, he was even willing to set aside his disgust and bias toward Amalia, his illegitimate daughter.

A stain on one's personal life could never outweigh the continuity and stability of an entire Empire.

"Do you think you are qualified?"

"Amalia Valeria."

Clad in a dark golden robe, Hibbort sat on his seat, holding the imperial scepter. His sharp gaze resembled that of a lion.

"How should I convince myself to entrust the Empire to a girl under eighteen, whose frame is far more petite than her peers?"

Astrid's current performance could be considered that of a qualified successor. But Amalia remained insufficient testing.

A performance in a hearing means nothing. Her current lack of fear in his presence means the same. Amalia achieving these things only proves her strong temperament.

But governing an Empire was never that simple. Especially if Amalia ascended, she would become one of the few female emperors in the world's history. The rumors and criticism would only multiply.

Feeling the pressure embedded in Hibbort's words, Amalia's eyes did not waver. Her pink lips parted slightly.

"At the very least, I am still sitting here, rather than imprisoned as a failure in some frigid dungeon."