Chapter 53: The Princess’s Revenge

“Cooperation?”

Christine’s heart leaped at Lucia’s words, though she kept her composure.

“What do you want to know, then?”

“I’m intrigued by your tactics against the kingdom’s forces. Also, how you maintain good relations with the villages below, and what your true goals are. Share as much as you’re willing.”

“Haha… you’ve pinpointed what sets us apart from other bandits.”

Knowing Lucia was no simple figure, Christine didn’t hold back, addressing her questions one by one.

“Our tactics don’t have a proper name, but essentially, we exploit the kingdom’s visibility while we stay hidden. Small, swift strikes disrupt their rest, wearing them down. Over time, they abandon certain defenses, giving us more room to operate.”

“As for the townsfolk, it’s years of friendly relations. We’ve used some subtle methods, but as you see, it’s mutually beneficial now.”

Christine went on to describe their troop-building, including sending fighters to help with farm work. Even Fratina, listening, had to admit she couldn’t bring herself to strike these people down.

Lucia, observing Fratina’s softening expression—her reluctance and struggle—knew she was abandoning thoughts of force.

Christine cleared her throat. “As for our purpose… would you like to hear a story?”

“I’m all ears.”

Lucia nodded.

“It was a night over a decade ago…”

Christine’s words pulled Lucia and Fratina into the scene.

A dark, windy night. Outside the palace, a man led soldiers inside.

Guards tried to stop them but were cut down.

Unhindered, the man reached the throne room and sat on the coveted seat.

Soon, soldiers dragged in a stout, middle-aged man.

He glared at the man on his throne, eyes blazing. “Duncan! I treated you so well, saw you as the kingdom’s pillar, and now you dare usurp me?”

He lunged, only to be pinned down by soldiers.

Duncan descended, crouching before him with a smile. “Your Majesty, don’t you think it’s a bit much, entrusting every matter, big and small, to me alone?”

“If so, what’s the point of your kingship? Why shouldn’t I try that seat myself?”

“You traitor…”

Despite being pinned, the man cursed Duncan.

Duncan remained unfazed. “Abdicate now, pass the throne to me, and I’ll ensure you and the royal family are treated well. Otherwise, if we go all out, I don’t mind facing the Pope’s wrath.”

“…”

The man trembled, whether from fear or rage, but finally, with great resolve, spoke. “If I give you the throne, you’ll spare me and my family?”

“Of course.”

“…Bring a pen.”

Soon, the king drafted an abdication decree, stamped with his seal and signature. Duncan nodded, satisfied.

Then a longsword pierced the king’s chest.

Stunned, the king stared at Duncan. “You… you lied to me!”

“Sorry, Your Majesty. You were just too naive.”

Duncan spoke lightly, slowly withdrawing the sword.

Looking at the slumped corpse, he shook his head. “You ruled for twenty years, yet your heart stayed as soft as a boy’s. Blame yourself for meeting me.”

He turned to the soldiers below. “Move. Spare no one in the royal family.”

That night, Elan City drowned in blood. Royalist officials and nobles were purged, and the royal family, supposedly, all perished.

The continent reeled. The Pope declared he’d never crown Duncan.

But that night…

Christine, only four or five, the kingdom’s brightest gem, was asleep.

Amid the chaos, a soldier burst into her room and scooped her up.

She didn’t know how long passed. When he stopped, her sleeve was soaked in blood.

Looking at the soldier, she saw an arrow through his back. He’d carried her here on sheer will.

At a mansion, Christine knocked. A servant opened the door, saw the situation, and alerted the master.

The soldier delivered her to the Varner family, a storied clan revered in Londe’s military.

Lord Oswald took her in, housing her with Emmeline.

But that night, disaster struck not just the royals. The Varner family, deeply rooted, became Duncan’s target.

In the chaos, servants smuggled Christine and Emmeline out, hiding their identities until three years ago, when they came of age.

The story ended, and Fratina and Lucia understood Christine’s purpose.

“It’s a heartbreaking tale.”

Fratina offered genuine sympathy.

It took courage to share such a story, even years later.

“It seems we have good reason to support you.”

Lucia spoke up, pulling a few gold coins from her pocket and placing them on the table.

“Consider these a greeting gift, Christine—or perhaps I should call you Your Highness?”

She pushed the coins toward her.