The bells screamed through the palace.
Not the ceremonial chime of celebration—but the harsh, relentless clang of invasion.
Aurelia did not flinch.
She stood frozen only for a heartbeat, her mind already racing ahead of the chaos. Arrows. Internal guards compromised. A strike meant to decapitate power in a single night.
They were not testing her anymore.
They were trying to end her.
"Your Majesty, move!" Leonhardt barked.
Another arrow shattered the window behind them, glass exploding inward. Leonhardt dragged Aurelia away just as a third arrow embedded itself in the stone wall.
Aurelia's pulse was steady.
"Seal the western corridor," she ordered sharply. "They'll funnel through there—it's the fastest route to the inner chambers."
Leonhardt stared at her. "How do you—"
"No time," she snapped. "If I'm right, you'll stop them. If I'm wrong, we're dead anyway."
That did it.
Leonhardt gave a sharp hand signal to the guards. "Do as she says!"
Steel rang as soldiers moved. The corridor flooded with hurried footsteps.
They ran.
Not blindly—but with purpose.
Smoke curled through the palace halls, torches knocked over to sow confusion. Servants screamed as masked figures clashed with guards. Blood stained the marble floors.
Aurelia lifted her skirts and moved faster.
She had walked these halls a thousand times in her first life.
She knew every turn.
"Left," she said suddenly.
Leonhardt obeyed without question.
An arrow hissed past where they would have been a second later.
He swore under his breath. "You're guiding us."
"I'm remembering," Aurelia replied.
They reached the western corridor just as Leonhardt predicted—armed men surged forward, confident, reckless.
Too confident.
"Archers!" Leonhardt roared.
Hidden guards emerged from the alcoves Aurelia had ordered reinforced earlier that day. Arrows flew. Bodies fell.
The attackers faltered.
Aurelia stepped forward, her voice cutting through the clash.
"You're late," she said coldly.
The masked leader froze.
Even through the chaos, he stared at her—recognition flickering.
"Kill her!" he shouted.
Too late.
Leonhardt cut him down.
The corridor fell silent, broken only by labored breathing and the smell of iron.
Leonhardt turned to Aurelia slowly.
"You planned this," he said.
"I prepared for it," she corrected. "There's a difference."
He looked at her as if seeing her anew.
---
The attack lasted less than an hour.
By dawn, the palace stood—scarred, bloodied, but unbroken.
Bodies were removed discreetly. Wounded guards were treated immediately. Fires were extinguished.
Aurelia watched from the balcony as the sun rose, pale and unforgiving.
She felt no triumph.
Only resolve.
Leonhardt approached, armor stained with blood—not all of it his own.
"It's over," he said.
"For tonight," Aurelia replied.
He hesitated. "The eastern faction won't deny involvement after this. We intercepted orders. Names."
"Good," she said. "Prepare the arrests."
Leonhardt stiffened. "You're moving now?"
"Yes."
"This will ignite civil war."
Aurelia turned to face him fully.
"Then it was inevitable," she said. "I refuse to die quietly to delay it."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Leonhardt bowed—not the formal half-bow of duty.
A full one.
"My sword," he said quietly, "is yours."
Aurelia's breath caught—for just a fraction of a second.
In her first life, Leonhardt had chosen the empire over her.
This time…
"Then stand," she said. "I'll need you."
He rose.
Something unspoken settled between them.
---
The arrests shook the capital.
Three nobles were taken before sunrise. Two more fled—and were intercepted at the gates. Documents surfaced. Coin trails were exposed. The eastern faction fractured overnight.
Still, one name was missing.
Aurelia noticed immediately.
"Where is Duke Harren?" she asked.
Leonhardt frowned. "Gone. His estate was empty when we arrived."
Aurelia's fingers curled slowly.
So you ran.
She had expected nothing less.
That afternoon, she convened the court.
The nobles arrived shaken, eyes darting to the guards lining the walls.
Aurelia stood before the throne, not seated upon it.
"I will not pretend last night was an isolated incident," she said. "It was a declaration of war."
Murmurs rippled.
"I will not respond with panic," she continued. "I will respond with order."
She raised a sealed decree.
"Effective immediately, all noble militias are disbanded. Imperial forces will assume control of provincial security."
Outrage erupted.
"You can't—"
"This violates—"
"The provinces will revolt!"
Aurelia's voice cut through them like steel.
"Anyone who believes rebellion is preferable to peace," she said calmly, "is welcome to try."
Silence fell.
Leonhardt watched her from the side, something fierce and admiring in his gaze.
This was not tyranny.
This was authority.
---
That night, exhaustion finally reached her.
Aurelia dismissed her attendants and sat alone at her writing desk. Her hands trembled slightly as the adrenaline faded.
She was alive.
Again.
She closed her eyes.
In her first life, she had stood alone against enemies she never understood.
In her second, she had learned to save lives—but never her own.
Now—
Now she would do both.
A knock came.
"Enter," she said.
Leonhardt stepped inside, expression grave.
"There's something you should see," he said.
He handed her a folded letter.
No seal. No signature.
She opened it.
You survived what was meant to break you.
Impressive.
Her jaw tightened.
But understand this, Empress—
You are not fighting men.
You are fighting inevitability.
Run, or drown with your throne.
Aurelia lowered the letter slowly.
Leonhardt watched her closely. "A threat?"
"A challenge," she replied.
She rose.
"Prepare the council," she said. "And double the guards."
Leonhardt nodded. "You're not afraid."
"No," Aurelia said softly.
She looked toward the darkened city beyond the palace walls.
"I'm offended."
Outside, unseen by all, Duke Harren mounted his horse and rode hard for the border.
The empire was burning.
And the Empress had only just begun to rule.