The people seated in the office mostly wore tired expressions, but the atmosphere itself was vibrant. Preparations for the upcoming monarchy and the formation of the cabinet to support it were nearing their final stages. The ministers looked at Count Agon as if he were a ray of light piercing through the darkness. He had taken charge of meetings, proposed suitable appointments, and efficiently filled the vacancies left by key officials lost in the recent upheaval.

“Well then, let us move on to the final item on today’s agenda.”

Michelle Loire, the First Princess and soon-to-be queen, shared their sentiment. Understanding what it meant to be a monarch and shouldering the responsibilities of an entire nation was no small feat, let alone mastering the intricacies of governance. In this challenging situation, the presence of Count Agon, who handled much of the palace's affairs, was a source of immense reassurance. Drawing courage from his firm demeanor, Michelle spoke with renewed confidence.

“The coronation is approaching. I’d like to ask if the preparations are progressing smoothly.”

The Treasury ministers nodded vigorously, eager to provide their reports.

“Everything is on track. The ceremony will be solemn rather than extravagant, given the recent end of the civil war. However, it will clearly symbolize the beginning of a new era.”

“The budget for the event and the rewards for service have been allocated and executed.”

“Thanks to the mages’ cooperation, the palace reconstruction is nearing completion. Perhaps their subtle way of asking for assistance in rebuilding the Mage Tower.”

Michelle’s brow furrowed deeply at the mention of the Mage Tower.

“It’s too early to discuss the Mage Tower’s reconstruction. We must first re-establish the hierarchy between the mages and the palace before entertaining such matters.”

“But, Your Highness, to prevent them from seeking asylum in other nations—”

Bang.

Michelle’s fist slammed down on the desk, silencing the protesting minister.

“Ministers, refrain from making further statements defending the mages. Should I suspect collusion or favoritism, I will consider it treachery.”

Asylum? Ridiculous. The palace had already begun securing talented individuals to lead the kingdom’s future in magic. Allowing the mages to rebuild without establishing proper authority over them would only encourage them to once again attempt to rise above the crown. Michelle’s sharp gaze silenced the minister, who bowed his head in submission.

Satisfied with their compliance, Michelle returned her attention to the coronation preparations.

“The royal seal, crown, and scepter are under Count Agon’s supervision, correct?”

Count Agon nodded slowly, his pride evident as he observed Michelle’s determination to maintain the kingdom’s integrity.

“Yes, Your Highness. All items pertaining to the regalia are directly under my care. In fact, it would be wise to inspect them in preparation for the coronation. Eid?”

The secretary, Eid, left the room to retrieve the regalia. During this brief pause, Count Agon continued to impart lessons to Michelle about the responsibilities of monarchy.

“Your Highness, consider the regalia as the embodiment of the nation itself. Recall how the theft of the imperial seal had catastrophic consequences for the old empire.”

“I will remember that, Count.”

“When the coronation is complete—”

“Count!”

A sharp cry interrupted him, and both Count Agon and Michelle turned toward the source. Eid was rushing back, his face pale and stricken with terror, as though he had seen a ghost.

“What is it?” Count Agon demanded, his tone steely.

Eid’s trembling form and the sweat dripping from his brow told the story before his words did. Every minister in the room turned their gaze toward him, and Michelle’s expression grew tense, as though dreading the news.

“Well? Speak up!” Count Agon barked, prompting Eid to swallow dryly before stammering out his response.

“The… the crown! The crown is missing!”

“…What nonsense is this?”

“Sir, this is a message from Count Agon and Her Highness.”

At the headquarters of the First Royal Guard, Maxime’s face froze in disbelief as Eid stammered through his explanation. Christine, standing beside him, scolded him for his reaction but couldn’t hide the tension in her own forced smile.

“So, to summarize,” Dennis interjected, his voice flat, “you were sent by Count Agon to retrieve the crown for the coronation, but when you opened the vault, the crown was gone?”

Eid nodded shakily, and Charlotte let out a dramatic sigh.

“And now Her Highness is ordering us to recover the crown, is that it?”

“Y-yes,” Eid stuttered.

This time, everyone except Charlotte sighed simultaneously. They had barely begun to hope for peaceful days after the civil war, only to find themselves facing yet another crisis. Dennis massaged his temples and turned to Maxime.

“This is serious. With the coronation so close, how are we supposed to handle this?”

Dennis’s voice carried the weight of his frustration. Physical tasks were his strength, but dealing with intricate problems like this was far from his forte.

“We’ll figure it out. If worst comes to worst, we might need to mobilize the entire First Guard… but first, let’s assess the situation.”

Maxime turned to Eid, who flinched at the slightest movement from the guards, his shoulders twitching nervously. With a touch of pity, Maxime nodded slightly.

“Can you take us to where the crown was kept?”

“Yes, of course.”

Eid nodded vigorously, eager to escape the oppressive presence of the guards. The four members of the First Guard exchanged worried glances and let out another collective sigh before following him.

When they reached the palace, Count Agon greeted them with a face that looked five years older. Whether it was the strain of his responsibilities or the shock of the crown’s theft was unclear. Watching the count recount the situation with a weary voice, Maxime silently concluded:

Probably both.

“The crown was kept alongside the scepter and royal seal in the chamber where the kingdom’s treasures are stored. I had intended to manage them personally until the coronation, but… this is my failure.”

The count pressed against a section of the corridor wall, revealing a concealed door. With a heavy groan, the door slid open, revealing a dark passageway. The flickering light of the count’s lantern barely illuminated the space ahead.

“This way.”

The regalia chamber lay untouched by the chaos of war, its formidable protections intact. While the others marveled at the sight, Christine’s expression shifted as her eyes lingered on the vault’s entrance.

“…Simple but incredibly effective magic. Much better than relying on guards.”

“You can sense it?” Count Agon asked.

Christine nodded. “For a place like this, housing the kingdom’s treasures, it’s natural to expect strong defenses. Even considering that, the enchantments here are exceptionally high-level.”

She paused, drawing a sharp breath as if sensing something unusual.

"Wait… are you saying someone managed to steal the crown despite such powerful enchantments guarding the vault?"

Christine stopped mid-step, her expression suddenly paling in the flickering lantern light. It was as if a dreadful thought had crossed her mind. Maxime, noticing her unusual demeanor, approached her with concern.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"…Black magicians," she murmured softly.

A heavy silence descended on the group. Dennis frowned deeply, Charlotte bit her lip, and Maxime’s expression hardened. Count Agon, though maintaining his composure, couldn’t hide the growing shadows on his face. Just when the royal palace was working to erase every trace of Leon Benning’s dark legacy, the deepest and darkest shadows seemed intent on dragging them back.

"There are still some we haven’t caught," Christine explained grimly. "Highly skilled ones. If anyone could bypass the defenses here, it would be them."

The lantern’s flame wavered, mirroring the ominous tone in her voice. Christine glanced deeper into the vault.

"I can’t be certain yet… but we need to hurry inside. I need to take a closer look."

"Understood. Let’s move quickly," Count Agon replied, his usual steady voice faltering slightly.

"What about Her Highness?" Christine asked. "If black magicians truly infiltrated the palace, we need to strengthen security and double her personal guard."

"Her Highness is safe," the count replied firmly. "Above all, Captain Hugo Bern is with her. No one would dare approach her quarters with him present."

Despite the count’s assurance, Dennis’s face grew even more serious.

"We should assign additional guards to her chambers. It might also be prudent to involve the Black Crow Knights in this investigation. And perhaps enlist the help of adventurers to bolster the palace’s defenses—"

"Enough, Dennis. I understand," the count interrupted, his voice tinged with unease. "I’ll do everything in my power to secure the palace."

"Still, we can’t be too obvious about it," he added. "We’re ushering in a new era. The court must believe we’ve entirely cast off the shadows of the past. Instilling unease would undermine that perception. This is as important as practical defenses."

"I understand," Dennis conceded reluctantly. "But at the very least, Her Highness—"

"I’ll summon Commander Theodora. If anyone can be trusted to guard Her Highness, it’s her," the count said decisively.

At the mention of Theodora, Dennis finally nodded in agreement and fell silent. An awkward tension lingered in the air as the group continued down the corridor, with Dennis and Charlotte exchanging hesitant glances toward Christine.

"Why are you two giving me those looks?" Christine finally snapped, her irritation evident.

Dennis awkwardly cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh, no reason…"

His eyes darted toward Maxime, silently pleading for rescue. Maxime, however, could only sigh inwardly, knowing he’d be left to deal with Christine’s simmering frustration. He cautiously approached her, trying to defuse the tension.

"Um… well—"

"Shut it, senior," Christine cut him off curtly.

"Understood," Maxime replied, resigning himself with a heavy sigh. Christine had come to terms with sharing him with other women, but it was clear she wasn’t entirely at peace with it yet. It reminded Maxime of a scolded puppy, with imaginary ears and a tail drooping in dejection.

"Alright, let’s focus on the investigation," Count Agon said, trying to lighten the mood. "Please refrain from moving or touching anything without explicit permission."

The group arrived at the heart of the vault. The tense atmosphere eased slightly as Count Agon’s calm voice settled the room. They all nodded, their expressions growing resolute once more.

"Understood," Christine replied as she closed her eyes and began sensing the residual magic in the space. Meanwhile, Maxime, Dennis, and Charlotte carefully searched every corner of the vault under Count Agon’s watchful eye. Minutes stretched into hours, with nothing to show for their efforts.

Occasionally, Christine would pause, furrowing her brow or muttering something under her breath. Each time, the knights would glance at her anxiously, unable to decipher her findings.

An hour into the search, Dennis straightened his stiff back with a groan. "Nothing. Not a single clue. I have to wonder if someone skilled enough to infiltrate this place would even leave traces behind."

"Don’t give up so soon. Keep looking," Charlotte snapped, glaring at him.

"Fine, but if we really can’t find anything, staying here might just be a waste of time," Dennis muttered.

Christine shook her head, signaling that she had finished her assessment. She joined the conversation, her expression troubled.

"I can’t sense anything. Not even a trace of magic. It’s enough to make me question whether the crown was even stolen."

A heavy silence filled the room as her words sank in. Count Agon, who had been quietly stroking his chin, finally spoke.

"Then here’s what we’ll do."

All eyes turned to him as he let out a small sigh. "Dennis, Sir Charlotte, I’ll entrust palace security to you. Sir Maxime and Lady Christine, I ask that you remain here to guard this location."

"You think the culprit might return to the scene of the crime?" Christine asked.

Maxime nodded in agreement. "It’s strange that only the crown was taken, considering how many valuable items are here. Guarding this spot is the right move."

Count Agon clapped his hands together. "Then it’s settled. Take turns for meals and breaks as needed. I’ll return by early morning, or at the latest, by tomorrow."

With that, Count Agon led Dennis and Charlotte out of the vault. Maxime and Christine watched them leave before exchanging an awkward glance and returning their attention to the room’s walls.

…Was I too harsh?

Time passed slowly, with little conversation between them. Christine silently berated herself for her earlier behavior. Glancing at Maxime, she noticed he was still being cautious around her, carefully minding his words. If she’d known they’d end up stuck together, she would’ve handled things differently. Shaking her head, she resolved to break the awkwardness by stepping outside for a moment to compose herself.

Stretching exaggeratedly, Christine turned to Maxime. "Senior, aren’t you thirsty?"

Maxime blinked, then smiled faintly. "I’m fine. If you want to step outside for a bit, go ahead."

How does he always figure out what I’m thinking so quickly? Christine wondered. She returned his smile, then headed toward the door.

"Alright, I’ll be back soon. It’s almost dinnertime anyway," she said cheerfully before walking off.

Maxime watched her golden hair disappear into the corridor. The sound of the door opening and closing should’ve followed, but the vault remained eerily quiet. Frowning, he leaned toward the passage, concerned.

"Senior!" Christine’s panicked voice echoed back.

"What’s wrong?" Maxime asked, already preparing for the worst as he moved toward her.

Christine’s next words froze him in place.

"The door… it won’t open."

What?