Chapter 9: Eight

“It’s an assassination!” 

A scream punctuated the air and shattered the tranquillity of the night. In a blink of an eye, pandemonium descended upon the main hall. 

“W-w-what is going on? An assassination?!” 

“Isn’t that the princess? Why is she…” 

“Her Highness suddenly tripped and fell to the floor—” 

“Get the physician immediately! Her Highness isn’t breathing!”

“I-I told you it’s an assassination! Where are the guards?!” 

“We have to run away, the murderer might still be around!” 

Lord and Lady Ivania quickly hid themselves in the shadows behind the doors to the main hall as the frightened crowd thronged the gallery, desperate to flee the scene. A few close aides to the King and Queen surrounded the dais, their swords drawn in anticipation of another assassination attempt; the Prime Minister and Grand Duke Arthur lifted the unconscious princess and hurriedly evacuated the main hall via the side doors.  

“Bratukha, what do we do now?” Lord Ivania whispered frantically. “This isn’t part of the plan.” 

“Why do you think I have a better answer in mind, you imbecile?” Lady Ivania surveyed the near-deserted main hall with wide eyes. “Could it be…Her Highness is helping to create a distraction?”

“Are you mad?” he hissed. “You are suggesting that Princess Anastasia is a traitor to the empire?!” 

“Hell if I know.” She shifted her gaze to the dumbwaiter lift. “I don’t think the guards upstairs know what happened yet. This may just be the perfect opportunity!”   

Lord Ivania caught the gleam in her eyes and immediately understood her intention. “I’ll go distract the guards coming down, you grab everything you can take. Meet up at the terrace once you’re finished.” 

“Got it.” Hearing the ding of the bell that signalled the arrival of the dumbwaiter lift, they quickly set their plan in motion. 

“Guards, guards!” Lord Ivania shouted while waving his hands over his head wildly. “S-something happened to Her Highness, it’s terrible! Oh, the humanity!” 

“Her Highness?!” 

“Sir, please calm down and tell us what happened…” 

In the meantime, Lady Ivania took off her high heels and slammed the sharp heel against the lock holding the door of the dumbwaiter lift shut. The tiny brass lock shattered on the third hit, and she flung the door open before dragging the tray out from the shaft. 

“Fuck, why is there so much things in here…” She hastily wore the heavy golden crown on her head and stuffed the sceptre and orb into the space between the top of her gown and her chest. The sheer weight of the coronation regalia caused her ball gown to sag open, and her skull felt like it was being crushed down by the ill-fitting crown. 

Abandoning her high heels in the dumbwaiter shaft, Lady Ivania clung onto the top of her gown as she hurried down the side corridor to the terrace, where Lord Ivania was already waiting by the railing. 

“Oi, help me carry something!” she spat. “Shit’s heavier than Granny’s basket of laundry, you know?” 

“Is the babushka’s laundry that heavy…?” Lord Ivania took the diamond-studded orb from her gown. 

“Fuck, can’t you carry the sceptre too?” 

“How am I supposed to help you over the railing if both my hands are full?” 

“...” Lady Ivania huffed as he grabbed her waist and dragged her over the wrought-iron railing. 

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“Be careful of the shrub at the bottom when you jump down.”

“I’m not an idiot like you, alright?” 

She bravely leapt down the terrace and rolled on the ground; picking up the fallen crown with one hand, she jumped to her feet and hastily motioned for Lord Ivania to follow suit. 

“Cyka blyat!” He gnashed his teeth to avoid crying out in pain as his asshole was sharply and rudely penetrated by a thick branch of the shrub when he landed. 

“...you really are an idiot, aren’t you?” She grabbed his flailing arm and dragged him across the lawn while tears streaked down his face grimaced in agony. 

Fortunately, there were no guards patrolling the palace gardens just like before; Lady Ivania half-dragged, half-carried poor Lord Ivania through the pine forest and into the bustling capital without being caught. Although it was a strange sight to see a woman treating her husband so roughly, the passer-bys on the street assumed it was the result of a lover’s quarrel and purposefully ignored the commotion. 

 

---

 

Back in the grand palace, the royal physician—a wise old man in his sixties who had profound experience in almost every single medical field studied in the empire—was utterly dumbfounded. 

He took Princess Anastasia’s wrist in his hand and counted her pulse against his pocket watch. It was a fine silver pocket watch protected by a stylish slim and round case bearing the empire’s crest, gifted to him by the King at his appointment as royal physician; it had served him perfectly throughout all these years, and he had no reason to doubt its accuracy at all. 

“Exactly sixty beats a minute…her pulse is terrifyingly normal.” 

He let go of her wrist and scrutinised the princess’ face. It didn’t seem like poison or drugs was the culprit; her lips were healthy, and the serene smile she wore on her face made it seem unlikely that she suffered any internal pain before falling unconscious. 

“Please excuse me, Your Highness,” he said quietly and moved to open her mouth. Ordering an assistant to hold a candle above him, he examined her throat for any foreign particles and found absolutely nothing wrong with it. 

Running out of options, the royal physician stuck his finger into her throat and pressed against the warm, slightly wet wall—but he was unable to induce a gag reflex from the unconscious princess.Sounds wrong, but oh well, it's the Victorian era. Doctors were weird. 

“Bring the brandy,” he ordered, and the assistant passed him a small crystal bottle filled with a vicious brown liquor. Unscrewing the cap, he carefully tilted the bottle over her mouth and poured the entire bottle down her throat. 

“How is Anastasia doing, Albert?” Queen Cetheri asked with a hint of desperate urgency. “W-will she wake up soon?”

“Your Majesty…” He stood up from the chair and faced the Queen with a sombre expression on his wrinkled face. Glancing at the princess, he let out a sigh and shook his head quietly. “Her Highness doesn’t seem to be in danger, but I cannot tell you for certain if she will regain consciousness anytime soon.” 

King Cetheri, who had been sitting down at a chair on the far end of the bedroom, immediately stood up and rushed towards him in an uncontrollable rage. “AREN’T YOU THE BEST DOCTOR IN THE WHOLE OF AETHERIUM?” He grabbed the royal physician by the collar and yelled at his stunned face. “I APPOINTED YOU PERSONALLY FOR THIS JOB, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING FOR ANASTASIA?!”

“Stop it!” Queen Cetheri snapped, stepping in to slap the King on his cheek. “Violence won’t do anything to help Anastasia, let go of him!” 

With a frustrated growl, the King released him from his iron grip and slammed his fist against the wall loudly. “It must be poison ordered by the Ottoskis seeking revenge on the empire. There’s no other possible diagnosis, is there, Albert? Tell me the truth this instant.” 

Albert bowed down, not daring to meet His Majesty in the eye. “T-though the chances of poison are low, I…I can’t rule out that possibility…but the poison is something I have never seen before, it must be a chemical newly invented in the Ottoski Federation.” 

“Guards!” King Cetheri snapped. “Detain every single individual who has been in close contact with the princess today, and investigate them thoroughly!” 

“Yes, sire!” The pair of guards saluted and was about to open the bedroom door, but it suddenly burst open with a tremendous bang. 

“Y-your Majesty!” The panting guard shouted in a panic. “The Crown Jewels have been stolen!”

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