Chapter 16: The Duchess’s Gambit and a Royal Dilemma

“Now tell me, who hired you?” the Duchess asked again. “I know your organization doesn’t accept commissions with unknown backgrounds.”

“The one who contacted our organization was an underworld intermediary,” the assassin replied, an ingratiating smile on his face. “However, we investigated the client behind them, and it turns out to be a manor lord named Liddell from Staghorn Village.”

“I see,” the Duchess murmured, her eyes narrowing.

The manor lord named Liddell was none other than Duke Liddell’s nephew, the very man eligible to inherit the ducal title.

That nephew, a man of thirty and already married, had once visited the Duchess with an air of arrogance after the Duke’s death. He had brazenly proposed a condition: if she would agree to become his mistress, he would ensure her continued comfort after he inherited the title and lands.

At the time, the Duchess had neither confirmed nor denied his proposition, merely pouring him drink after drink.

Upon his return, the heir had developed a high fever, and doctors diagnosed him with the plague.

Yet, despite a week of treatment, his condition showed no signs of improvement.

This, of course, was the Duchess’s doing. As a witch, she was a master at concocting poisons.

It seemed the heir, upon hearing that the Duchess had seized full control of the territory, had finally realized who was responsible for his prolonged confinement to bed.

He had gone to great lengths to find the Dark Dirge Brotherhood and hire an assassin, clearly sparing no expense.

“You,” the Duchess purred, a bewitching smile playing on her lips as her slender fingers cupped the assassin’s face. “Would you, perhaps, be willing to eliminate the client who hired you?”

“This…” The assassin hesitated.

To turn against and kill a client was a grave taboo for any assassin. The Dark Dirge Brotherhood would relentlessly pursue him to preserve their reputation.

Even under the Duchess’s allure, he wouldn’t so readily gamble his life for a fleeting smile.

“Then sleep,” the Duchess whispered, her breath like orchids. “Dream sweetly.”

The assassin immediately succumbed to the succubus’s hypnotic ability. He remained standing, but his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

A Sixth-Tier Succubus possessed an ability witches called “Dreamweaver.” It allowed them to hypnotize opponents, then cast illusions upon the sleeping individual, crafting dreams for them.

If a nightmare was woven, it could inflict a degree of mental corruption upon the target, potentially leading to a complete mental breakdown in severe cases.

If a pleasant dream was created, the ability user could enhance their enthrallment effect on the target, causing them to fall deeply under their spell and utterly become their puppet.

This particular witch’s curse was, in fact, the origin of the succubus’s dream-infiltrating abilities in folklore.

The Duchess, however, had chosen the latter.

Within the beautiful dream crafted by the Duchess, the assassin experienced peaks of pleasure he had never known in his life.

He spent several hours within the dream, yet in reality, only a few minutes had passed. When he finally awoke, he was utterly submerged in the Duchess’s charm. In his eyes, she was his master, his queen, and he, her most loyal knight, ready to sacrifice his life at any moment.

“Now, go,” the Duchess commanded.

“My life is yours,” the assassin pledged without hesitation. He flung a grappling hook onto the skylight and agilely climbed out.

He would now go and kill the very client who had hired him. To fulfill the Duchess’s desires, he was even “willing” to be purged by his organization. He would not betray any information about the Duchess, and might even commit suicide to protect her secrets.

The Duchess, however, cared nothing for this.

Only then did the Duchess retract her succubus form, settling back into her rocking chair with a sigh of weariness.

“You scared me half to death,” she murmured, letting out a relieved breath.

In truth, when she first discovered the assassin, she had nearly lost her wits from fright.

She had initially believed him to be a Church assassin sent to eliminate her, until she realized the killer seemed to be acting alone.

By using this assassin to dispose of the Duke’s heir, her position within this territory would be completely solidified.

However, the significance of this achievement had now diminished.

For the Queen who had commanded her to seize this territory had already been captured by the Empire.

“My poor Queen Isolde…” The Duchess closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh.

The Duchess, whose true name was Patra, was one of the Great Witches sanctioned by the Starry Night Kingdom.

A year prior, she had been dispatched on a spy mission, operating within the Empire under a false identity.

Leveraging her beauty and social prowess, she infiltrated aristocratic circles to select her target. She used her witch’s power to enthrall the Duke, thereby becoming the Duchess, and ultimately, seizing control of the territory.

Yet, shortly after she had infiltrated the Empire, it suddenly launched an expedition against the Starry Night Kingdom.

She faithfully executed her mission, continuously gathering intelligence within the Empire. However, this could not reverse the overwhelming power disparity between the Empire and the Starry Night Kingdom. In the end, the Empire breached Starry Night City and captured her Queen.

Her homeland, the Starry Night Kingdom, now lay under the Empire’s control.

If they wished to restore their nation, they absolutely had to rescue the Queen. Isolde was not merely the kingdom’s monarch, but also the very symbol of the Witch Cult.

Grand Witch Patra, however, knew perfectly well that with her limited abilities, attempting to reclaim the Queen from the Imperial army and the Church was nothing short of a fool’s errand. Comparatively, the Queen finding a way to escape on her own seemed slightly more probable—though still almost impossible.

Even if she tried to use her witch’s prophetic abilities for divination, she couldn’t foresee the fate of anyone with a higher tier than her own.

As things stood, she had no choice but to accept reality.

This place was not safe for long. She believed Her Majesty the Queen would not yield easily, but the Church’s capture of her clearly indicated their recognition of the Queen’s value as a “Banshee,” a worth comparable to that of a Saint.

The power of the “Bishop” pathway could influence the mind. Those Saints would undoubtedly devise a way to brainwash the Queen, turning her into a tool for the Church.

At that point, all the Queen’s secrets would become known to the Church. As a spy, Patra would either be assassinated by Church assassins or sent directly to the stake of the Inquisition.

But now, with the Starry Night Kingdom fallen, where else could she possibly go?

Knock, knock, knock…

The soft knocking interrupted the Duchess’s contemplation. The sound was remarkably light, revealing the knocker’s cautious nature.

“Who is it?” The Duchess opened her eyes.

“Madam, I apologize profusely for disturbing your rest,” the Butler reported cautiously from outside the door. “However, two guests have arrived outside the manor, requesting to see you.”

“Who are they?” The Duchess frowned slightly, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Recalling the fall of her homeland and the Queen’s capture once more, her mood grew heavy; she truly had no desire to entertain guests.

“Uh… they claim to be the Lady of Hearts, Madam,” the Butler reported, his voice tinged with unease, having sensed the Duchess’s sour mood. “They say they are an old friend of yours and wish to invite you for a game of croquet.”