Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Sefitiana
The head maid screamed. Vinea responded with a cold expression.
“You dare raise your voice so easily in front of the Empress of Tessibania. How audacious.”
The atmosphere instantly froze. On one side was the trusted head maid who had managed the Empress’s palace, Baloua Palace, for decades. On the other was the woman who had only been the Empress for two days, a woman from a rival nation. Though it was clear whose authority was more entrenched in the Tessibania Palace, Vinea’s voice carried an undeniable weight, as if she had been Empress for decades.
Vinea’s icy gaze swept over the other maids standing nearby.
“Drag the head maid out.”
Despite Vinea’s command, the maids hesitated to call the guards. After all, wasn’t she just a woman from an enemy nation, here only because of a political marriage? Everyone knew it was a marriage of convenience, an Empress from a rival nation who would surely never be loved. The head maid, who had managed the Empress’s palace for so long, seemed a more stable bet than an Empress who might not survive long.
Seeing their hesitation, Vinea’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. If she didn’t deal with the head maid now, she would face petty troubles all year long. She had no patience for dealing with such nuisances when all she wanted was to end this cycle of regression.
“How tiresome.”
Going through the same incidents endlessly made it painfully clear that she was living the same time over and over again.
“You remind me that I’m living the same time once more.”
Vinea personally moved to open the door wide and called to the guards stationed outside.
“This is an order. Drag everyone inside to the prison.”
The guards, quickly assessing the tense atmosphere and Vinea’s stern expression, hurried into the room. News had spread among the knights about what happened to those who failed to protect the Empress’s room on the wedding night.
The head maid, her arms restrained by the knights, contorted her face in disbelief. She had served the palace through three changes of the Tessibania throne. The head maid of the Empress’s palace held a position so high that even noble ladies treated her with respect. And now, just two days after becoming Empress, this woman from a rival nation was ousting her? Such a humiliation?
Realizing her plight too late, the head maid struggled violently.
“This cannot be! You cannot do this to me! I must see His Majesty! Your Majesty!”
As she thrashed about, her gaze fixed on a figure entering the room.
“Your Majesty!”
Tatar, clad in a simple white outfit adorned with a golden embroidered cloak, appeared in the Empress’s palace. The head maid, her face lighting up with hope, broke free from the knights and collapsed at his feet.
“Your Majesty! Please, stop the Empress!”
“Stop the Empress?”
“I have dedicated my life to this palace! But the Empress, misunderstanding my loyalty, is—”
The head maid’s voice trailed off as she saw Tatar’s expression, as indifferent as if he were watching a boring play. Realizing something was terribly wrong, her face turned ashen.
Tatar shifted his gaze from the head maid to Vinea.
“There was something among the gifts from the Veshnu Empire that seemed suitable for you. I thought it would suit you, so I brought it.”
Holding a necklace with a larger diamond than the one Vinea intended to wear, Tatar stood behind her. Vinea lifted a strand of her hair, and he carefully placed the necklace around her slender neck.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Tatar wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned to leave. He didn’t spare another glance at the head maid. The decision regarding the head maid and the maids who followed her was made in that moment.
The head maid called out for “Your Majesty,” but he walked away without hesitation.
As the two of them boarded the carriage, the prepared wizards cast a transportation spell. While bright light filled the carriage windows, Tatar propped his chin on his hand and looked at Vinea. The fatigue on her face was evident to him.
“It would have been easier to just kill her.”
His tone was excessively cold for deciding the fate of someone who had served him all his life. But he hadn’t always been like this.
Initially, he tried to protect his loyal followers, knights, nobles, and servants by using regression. But after about fifteen regressions, he began to question the point of it all. After all, when time was reset, only one person shared his memories.
Yes. Only Vinea, his Empress, walked the same timeline with him.
He blinked lazily, taking in the unruffled figure of Vinea as she looked out the window.
“If it’s a bother, I can kill her for you.”
“Restrain yourself. This time, the endless regression might finally end.”
“An empty hope.”
Turning her gaze from the scenery, Vinea looked at Tatar. Their mismatched eyes, both filled with similar emptiness, met.
“If I give up even that hope, I’ll end up completely insane, like you.”
“I’m relatively sane, Empress.”
“That’s why you’re not normal.”
Tatar snorted and turned his head sharply, his slightly lowered lips betraying his irritation.
“How disrespectful. Calling the Emperor of the Empire insane.”
“You’re being dramatic. We’re both on the same boat.”
Vinea thought she wasn’t much different from him, just not as far gone. Look at her now. Even with the beautiful scenery outside, she was only curious about how she had died last time—whether her neck or back had broken first when she fell from the carriage.
“Yes… Not going mad would be strange.”
Something about her saying they were both mad seemed to satisfy him, and his crooked smile relaxed
* * *
The carriage, traveling smoothly over a path cleared of even the smallest stones for the Emperor and Empress, came to a stop. With Tatar de Tessibania’s escort, Vinea Madretta Veshnu stepped down from the carriage and lifted her gaze to the imposing sight of the familiar great temple.
The temple’s circular dome was supported by seven columns. Its blindingly white exterior and the silent priests moving as if silence were a law created an air of solemnity. Truly, if the endless cycle of regressions were to be personified, it would look just like this temple.
“Everything here is unchanged. But of course, being trapped in the same time would make that inevitable,” Vinea remarked.
“Yes. It’s disgustingly the same,” Tatar agreed.
There had only been one exception: when, in a fit of rage, he had led his army to demolish the temple. Aside from that, the place remained unaltered.
A high-ranking priest appeared silently and greeted them with a succinct bow.
“May the blessings of the gods be upon you both. Please, follow me inside.”
Not even the sound of insects could be heard on the pristinely cleared path, and the pervasive quietness was unsettling. As they followed the priest into the temple, a massive statue resembling the deity immediately caught their eyes.
Vinea frowned at the sight, and Tatar turned away with a look of disgust. The only plausible explanation for the phenomenon of regression was divine interference. They had once believed in the existence of the gods and sought to understand their will.
But after experiencing about ten regressions, one thing became clear: If the entity trapping them in this cycle was indeed a god, then that god was no different from a demon.
“Tsk.”
The sound of someone clicking their tongue echoed through the temple. Though it was an audacious sound that couldn’t be ignored, the seasoned priest pretended not to hear and led them deeper into the temple.
Upon reaching a massive door, the priest bowed again.
“I will return shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable in the meantime.”
This visit was merely a spectacle to demonstrate the unity between the two empires, a farce to calm the unrest by showing the Emperor and Empress of Tessibania praying for the souls lost in the war. Thus, the visit involved no actual confessions, praises, or prayers.
The priest left, and the enormous door of the prayer room closed silently behind them. At Vinea’s signal, Tatar shrugged off the cloak draped over his left shoulder and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Vinea did the same with the shawl that had been draped awkwardly over her shoulders.
Peace of the empire, divine blessings—these were not their reasons for coming here. Their true purpose was to confirm a clue about ending the cycle of regression, a clue discovered two regressions ago in the seventy-fifth regression.
“Shall we begin?”
“Yes.”
Just as before their departure, Tatar stood behind Vinea and unclasped the necklace around her neck. She shivered slightly as his cold fingers brushed against her pale neck. Despite the tense gaze she felt on the back of her head, Tatar handed over the necklace and stepped back lightly.
On the pedestal was a statue shaped like the legendary tree that bore the gem Sefitiana. It was a sculpture of a tree entwined with vines, the height of an average adult man. The statue exuded a palpable sense of sanctity.
Tatar, with an indifferent expression, reached out and selected the thinnest branch. The veins on the back of his hand stood out.
Snap!
With a crisp sound, the piece of art, preserved through the ages, was damaged. Tatar casually tossed the broken branch piece to the floor. As he stepped back, a heavy sound rumbled, and a staircase leading underground revealed itself at the base of the pedestal.
A smirk formed on his lips.
“The priests who claim to never utter falsehoods have spun quite the impressive lie to two empires. Isn’t it laughable, Empress?”
Vinea stepped forward and crushed the broken branch piece under her shoe. As she extended her hand, Tatar naturally took it and escorted her forward.
“They are human, after all. The idea that those who serve the gods would bury a gem supposedly created by the gods themselves in a place untouched by human hands is absurd.”
Thanks to that absurdity, they had found the possibility of ending the regression. Or perhaps, all of this had happened because of this very absurdity. The only clue to solving all their questions lay beneath the temple’s prayer room.
The dark, underground path revealed nothing, but the two walked without hesitation. Eventually, they arrived at a door from which a faint light emanated.
Tatar, leading the way, pushed open the heavy marble door. The jewel, secretly kept by the silent priests, revealed itself, breaking the silence.
The jewel, glowing with an aurora-like light, formed a perfect circle despite never having been touched by human hands. The light from the jewel filled the small space.
This was Sefitiana, the divine jewel that performed miracles and had caused the Hundred Years’ War—a beautiful yet cruel pinnacle of greed.
