The Cat Who Weeps in the Dark - Chapter 65

The people were furious. There was no reason for the kingdom to betray the empire when they were on the verge of forming an alliance. Everyone was certain this was just the empire’s ploy to start a war.

Yet the kingdom’s response was lukewarm—or rather, they couldn’t respond. The knights and attendants guarding Helion all insisted the assassin was one of the kingdom’s people.

And so, the war began. Countless beastfolk died or were wounded. But worse than the blades was starvation.

The beastfolk, already struggling with food shortages, were forced to hand over all their grain as military provisions. Soon, not a single grain of rice remained to fill their mouths.

As the war dragged on, fields and paddies were frequently set ablaze. Eventually, more people died of starvation than on the battlefield.

The beastfolk prayed desperately—if the war would continue like this, they’d rather lose quickly. But the empire, which should have crushed them in one swift strike, dragged out the conflict pointlessly, prolonging the suffering.

Had there been no ceasefire, the kingdom would have collapsed and surrendered. Yet, even with victory within reach, the empire was the first to propose peace.

It was bizarre. Had they taken pity on the kingdom’s dying people?

But no one questioned it—the ceasefire was too desperately welcome.

Finally, the war is over!

The kingdom’s people flooded the streets, cheering. To them, victory or defeat didn’t matter. Who cared if it was a draw? The torment of war had ended!

The beastfolk rebuilt their burned homes, tilled the fields anew, using the blood and flesh of the fallen as fertilizer. Three years passed—enough time for the smaller wounds to heal, even if the deeper scars remained.

And now, the kingdom was ordering Helion’s death. If he obeyed, this hard-won peace would surely shatter.

“Could it be… that Helion plans to restart the war? Is that why they want him dead?”

Wayne turned over every possibility, but none felt certain.

“Sigh.”

In the end, he gave up and slumped back into his chair.

“How could someone like me ever fathom the will of the great Ahyul?”

The imperial delegation would arrive soon anyway. The letter had only commanded Helion’s death—it said nothing about timing.

“Then I’ll decide after meeting them.”

That was his answer. Whether he could do it or not—he’d wait until he heard what they had to say.

Wayne prayed with all his heart. Please, let Ahyul change his mind before they arrive. Let the delegation tell me, ‘The order is revoked.’

* * *

The imperial delegation’s visit drew nearer with each passing day, and with it, the Empress’s palace bustled with constant arrivals of new carriages and supplies.

The Empress had poured her heart into this banquet. She rearranged the seating, adjusted the attendants’ uniforms, and even handpicked every single piece of tableware herself.

“My goodness. This visit must truly be important,” her ladies-in-waiting murmured in astonishment at the unprecedented level of care.

But there was someone just as busy as the Empress—Helion.

While the delegation’s arrival was a blessing to those yearning for peace, to Helion, it was nothing short of a disaster.

The reason was simple, he was the kingdom’s sworn enemy.

The war had begun because of him. Frankly, even if this delegation had come to kill him, no one could argue against it.

Of course, Helion felt not an ounce of remorse. It was true that his life had been threatened by the kingdom. Though the order to kill him had come from the Emperor, it was Ahyul who had accepted it and provided the opportunity.

If one thought about it carefully, the war wasn’t his fault either. It had erupted because the Emperor’s and Ahyul’s interests aligned perfectly—the Emperor wanted him dead, and Ahyul wanted money.

There was no concrete proof, but Helion suspected that vast sums of imperial funds had flowed into the kingdom during the war.

Originally, the empire’s treasury had been so overflowing with gold that superstitions circulated—”Everything the Emperor touches turns to gold.” But as the war dragged on, the once-lavish imperial coffers had nearly run dry.