The Debt Of Fate Chapter 296: Such wisdom

The news reached the palace before dusk.

King Edward was in his study when the report was delivered. The tall windows stood open, letting in the cold evening air, yet it did nothing to cool the sudden heat that rose in his chest as he read.

Poisoned.

He read the word again, slower this ti, as though repetition might lessen its weight.

"That is impossible," Edward said sharply, lowering the parchnt. "Physician Nathan does not make careless claims."

If it had been any other physician, he would have dared to suspect that they had been bought off by Ernest. But Physician Nathan was different. He was loyal to the royal family alone, and his diagnoses were never wrong.

The chamberlain standing nearby did not respond. He had learned long ago when silence was the safer choice.

Edward rose from his chair and began to pace. If it had been a mild illness—exhaustion or weakness brought on by years of service—he would have dismissed it as Ernest’s attempt to provoke guilt, or worse, to quietly accuse him of injustice. The suspension had not been gentle. Edward knew that. As a man, he understood that military officers with great achievents possessed pride.

But poison?

That changed everything.

"No man poisons himself rely to make a point," Edward muttered. His fingers curled into his palm. "Especially not with a compound that could destroy him."

His thoughts turned imdiately to the court.

The timing was wrong—too precise, too dangerous. According to the physician’s diagnosis, it should have been administered so months ago. This could have been before the rebellion or shortly after.

If Ernest had truly been poisoned over the course of months, then it ant soone had been acting under the palace’s very roof—or close enough to it to evade notice. And if such a thing could happen to Ernest, then no one was truly safe.

"Walter," Edward summoned abruptly.

"Your Majesty," Walter replied. He had been waiting outside the king’s door.

Edward stopped pacing and stared at the royal seal on the desk, his expression darkening.

He had suspended Ernest to quiet dissent, to appease the court, to prove that even his most capable general was not beyond reproach. It had been a political decision—cold, calculated, necessary.

But this?

This was no longer politics.

"If this poison was administered while he still resided in the general’s estate," Edward said, his voice dropping, "then the fault lies within my own household."

That realization settled heavily in his chest.

Monts later, Lord William entered and bowed.

"Your Majesty," Walter said carefully, seeing that the king was lost in thought. He had already heard fragnts of the report. The tension in the palace made it impossible not to.

Edward wasted no ti. "I want a full investigation. Quick, thorough, and without exception. I want to know who had access to General Ernest over the past months—who provided his food, his dicine, his wine—every detail."

Walter’s gaze hardened. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"If this were a minor ailnt," Edward continued, his jaw tightening, "I might have believed he sought to make regret my decision. But poison?" He shook his head once. "No. This is not theatrics. This is intent."

He turned to face Walter fully.

"et Physician Nathan. Have him determine the exact period of poisoning and identify the compound. Find the source. I want the truth, no matter where it leads. Court, military, or household—no one is exempt."

Walter bowed deeply. "I will see to it personally."

Walter turned to leave, but the king stopped him.

"I heard Ernest moved out of the general’s residence I bestowed upon him?" Edward asked.

"This is true, Your Majesty," Walter replied.

"Investigate. Trust no one," King Edward said. He rembered that his father had also died of poisoning. He dared not trust even the people he had placed in the residence to monitor Ernest.

Days passed since Edward visited his mother and asked for her help. The two had cried together, but no decision had been made, and Mary offered no promises.

Queen Mother Mary did not summon anyone imdiately. She prayed, fasted, and weighed every consequence with the care of a woman who had lived long at the heart of power to mistake haste for wisdom. The kingdom stood on fragile ground—rebellion simred, trust had thinned, and blood ties had been stained by fear.

When at last she reached her decision, she sent an invitation.

The second prince and his household were to enter the palace.

Prince Lucan, who was still recovering from his illness, was not surprised by the invitation. He had expected his mother to act once news of the poisoning spread.

"Will your mother force us to clear your brother’s na?" Princess Karen asked as she examined the invitation. Born into a royal household, she understood many things.

"This is only a private eting. My mother is not the type to use force or cover up the truth," Prince Lucan said, confident in his mother’s love.

Princess Karen had her doubts, but she did not voice them. For now, she could only follow the flow of events.

When they arrived, Mary welcod them personally into her receiving hall. She held the young child with a smile, just as any grandmother would hold her grandchild.

"He looks a lot like you," Mary comnted. It was not the first ti she had seen him, but children changed quickly. Her heart ached when she noticed his pale appearance—once such a healthy child, now so sickly.

Mary chatted and asked simple questions. The atmosphere was peaceful. Princess Karen almost believed the queen mother had rely wished to see her grandson—until an attendant announced the arrival of King Edward.

With a single glance, Mary signaled, and all the attendants withdrew from the room.

Edward entered the hall with his head lowered. His earlier conversation with his mother echoed in his mind.

"You will apologize to your brother," Mary had said calmly. There had been no anger in her voice, only resolve. "Not as a king performing rcy, but as a brother who wronged another."

Edward stiffened, then bowed his head. He did not argue.

"You will do so in private," she had continued. "No witnesses. No justifications. Only truth."

Edward swallowed. "Yes, Mother."

So coming here ant he had to apologize.

Edward walked over to his brother.

"I have wronged you and sinned against God. I am deeply ashad," he said, his voice filled with remorse.

Princess Karen was taken aback. Since arriving in Nixel, she had never seen this humble side of King Edward. She had never expected him to admit his fault so openly.

"We are brothers. I have always been loyal to you. Heaven knows I never coveted your throne," Prince Lucan said. Seeing his elder brother lower his head moved him deeply, yet he could not forgive so easily.

"I am ashad of my actions. I was scared and confused," King Edward continued, following his mother’s guidance.

Mary watched the scene, her eyes softening, though her words remained deliberate.

"You have been wronged," she said. "But the kingdom cannot afford a divided royal house. I will not ask you to forget—only to endure."

"Mother," the second prince said in surprise. As children, she had always urged them to reconcile, reminding them that they were brothers and each other’s support.

"Are you willing to do this for your mother’s sake?" Mary asked. Bitterness flickered in her heart at having to ask this of him.

"I am not asking you to step forward and clear his na," Mary announced.

Both brothers were shocked. This had been exactly what they expected her to demand.

"Edward will na you Duke of the East," Mary said. "And you will be sent to govern the Fourth Region."

The room fell silent.

The Fourth Region was no minor posting. It was the lifeblood of Nixel—the mines that produced silver and iron, the wealth that funded armies and sustained the crown. To entrust it to Lucan was to reveal the deepest asure of confidence.

"To outsiders," Mary said quietly, "this will an trust between brothers. It will tell the court, the nobles, and the rebels alike that the royal bloodline stands united."

Edward lifted his head sharply. "Mother—" He trusted his brother, but allowing the Princess of Gube to go there was not a welco idea.

She raised a hand. "I understand your fear," she said without looking at him. "That is why I will go with them."

Edward froze.

"You?" he asked.

"Yes," Mary replied. "I will reside in the Fourth Region. Tell the court I am weary of staying in the royal city and wish to see other parts of the kingdom."

She finally looked at Edward, her gaze steady and unyielding.

Edward’s chest tightened. He wanted to protest to argue that the region was dangerous, that the journey would strain her health but the words would not co. He knew this was not rely a political move. It was a mother placing herself where her sons might otherwise collide.

The second prince lowered his head slowly. "If this will ease the kingdom’s unrest," he said, "I will obey."

Mary closed her eyes briefly.

"This is not obedience," she said. "It is sacrifice from all of you."

Princess Karen lowered her head, praising Mary silently. Such wisdom; this decision cleared the king’s na without forcing the second prince to feel sacrificed. Once the decree was issued, it would only be a matter of ti before people spoke of brotherly love and loyalty between the king and his brother. In ti, even the third prince who rebelled might beco the pri suspect of the poisoning in the eyes of others.

Such wisdom, she thought. Compared to it, her own calculations were nothing.