Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 730 - 408: Endgame

The last bastion of defense before the palace's main entrance had been obliterated by a storm of blood and fire.

On that rain-slicked night, the stone steps proved treacherous, littered with the fallen forms of the royal guards.

Only a final contingent of guards valiantly attempted to form a defensive line, their swords stained with gore, as the Second Prince Kaelin advanced relentlessly.

Their captain, grievously wounded and his armor in ruins, hefted his colossal hammer. "Your Highness! We have lost! Can you at least spare the Fourth Prince's life?" he bellowed.

Kaelin offered no reply.

He merely raised his gaze, his eyes resembling a ravenous beast emerging from a sea of corpses, radiating an icy malevolence.

A chill permeated the captain's heart, yet he rallied his remaining strength and swung his hammer in a desperate arc.

Clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope, he roared and brought his massive hammer crashing down.

"Haa—!" The hammer descended with the force of thunder.

However, Kaelin made no move to evade.

He met the potentially fatal blow head-on with his fighting energy, and in the very next instant, his greatsword carved a lethal trajectory through the air.

"Puff—!"

The captain's head was severed, soaring skyward before tumbling onto the wet stone steps.

Kaelin contemptuously kicked aside the headless body, his voice rough, like metal grating on metal. "Where is Rhine? I will flay him alive."

"Boom!!"

The grand doors of the Imperial Hall were violently flung open.

Standing silhouetted against the entrance were two distinct figures.

Duke Raymond, astride a magnificent steed, was resplendent in gleaming armor, his cloak utterly unmarred, as if untouched by the chaos.

He had moved aside, appearing more like an observer admiring a scenic view than a participant in a coup within the royal chambers.

In stark contrast, Kaelin was drenched in blood, his armor in tatters, crimson fluid dripping from his very hands.

He stepped over the shattered remains of the fallen, entering the Imperial Hall like a demon resurrected from the inferno.

Within the cavernous expanse of the Imperial Hall lay scattered documents: scrolls of animal hide, parchments bearing opulent gilded crests, drafts of the New Charter, decrees on Funding Allocation, and orders for Troop Deployment—

These were the pivotal policies Rhine had meticulously devised and orchestrated over years, intending to establish a new order for the Empire once he ascended as Regent King, the foundation for his grand designs.

Now, they lay strewn about, a testament to a shattered ambition, trampled under the relentless advance of blood and steel.

Several civil officials, paralyzed with fear, had soiled themselves and cowered beneath tables, trembling and utterly silent.

Rhine stood alone before the Dragon Throne.

He was still clad in the pristine white regency ceremonial robe. Amidst the scene of carnage, it presented a stark, almost sacrilegious irony, like a choirboy lost in a butcher's den.

Upon witnessing Kaelin's approach, Rhine made no move to draw his sword.

Instead, he frantically clutched at the contracts, ledgers, and dossiers strewn on the floor, hurling them wildly at Kaelin's face.

"Stay back!!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation. "If I fall, you are all rebels! The Empire's justice will condemn you! The civil service will cease to function! The entire nation will grind to a halt!!"

Like a man drowning, he clung to the final vestiges of law and self-interest, the principles he had championed, attempting to erect a last, futile defense.

Yet, against the onslaught of raw power and fighting energy, his desperate words were rendered utterly insignificant.

Raymond guided his horse forward, the clip-clop of hooves echoing in the silent, somber hall.

He looked down upon Rhine, his expression conveying a mixture of pity and disdain, as if observing a pathetic jester.

"Your Highness," Raymond stated calmly, "you remain far too naive.

The pronouncements of civil servants hold no weight when pitted against absolute might."

He leaned down, retrieving the New Empire Charter, emblazoned with the Imperial seal.

With a single, swift motion of his sword, the thick document was effortlessly sliced in two.

"As for the law..."

Raymond casually tossed the torn half of the sheepskin parchment, allowing it to flutter to the ground near Rhine's feet.

"It is nothing more than worthless scrap."

The vacant stare of former comrades after their supply lines were severed at the border.

The aged generals, compelled to bow before audits, pleading for clemency.

Kaelin required no proof; the truth had long been apparent: "Rhine intends for me to perish."

This wasn't a swift assassination but a calculated demise, beginning with the usurpation of his military command, the severing of funds, and culminating in pressure from the civilian ranks.

Now, as vengeance was finally achieved, tears mingled with the blood and grime staining Kaelin's face.

Rhine's visage had darkened to a deathly hue, his bloodshot eyes still clouded with bewilderment.

It defied reason.

How could currency fail? Why did refined order succumb to raw might?

"Why?" His final breath rasped the question.

The sharp, echoing snap.

The distinct sound of a neck snapping shattered the air. Rhine's gaze immediately dulled, and all his grand designs for the Empire crumbled with his existence.

His form collapsed, a lifeless shell at the base of the Dragon Throne.

The Empire's "civilized faction," now deceased before the very emblem of imperial authority.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah!"

Kaelin loosened his grasp, his anguished cries reverberating within the vast chamber of the Imperial Hall, sending tremors through the souls of the civil servants huddled fearfully behind the ornate columns.