He was taken to the dungeons of the palace, an underground construction where light didn't penetrate and the air was laden with humidity and death. As he tried to sit in the dark cell blindly, he wondered what had happened. "What nightmare have I gotten myself into?" he said aloud. He heard distant moans and realized he was in "The Pit", but he still didn't know what he was being accused of. Suddenly, an orange light shone in the distance, and it slowly approached until it grew bigger and brighter. A guard appeared holding a torch, illuminating the narrow cell.

"You were sent to fetch me, weren't you?" Roman said, raising his hands in surrender.

"Yes, and don't try nothin'," the guard with the torch warned, holding it high. "Put your hands on the back."

"This is a mistake, an absurd misunderstanding," Roman complained as he reluctantly obeyed the guard. He remembered that he was only there temporarily.

"Really don't matter, though, 'cause either way, this place'll kill ya quicker than the gallows. It ain't a place for silver-spoon-fed men."

"You take me for weak..., Oghrim," he hesitated before addressing the guard by his nickname. The prosaic and plain way of speaking had given him away. "I could endure more than you estimate, however, I won't be here for long. You'll see."

"Your father requires your presence, ser," the jailer finished chaining his hands behind his back. "I'm surprised you sensed my approach. Thought you was like the rest of 'em in your house."

"I recognize those loyal to the throne," he walked guided by the guard through the passageways of the dungeon. "The Oghrims have always been in this palace, I've known them since I was a child. I admit I had no idea they worked here as jailers."

Two guards in silver capes met him before he could breathe the fresh air outside the catacomb. They escorted him to the throne room, where the chancellor invested with sovereignty by those days awaited him.

"You are accused of treason, collusion, and murder," the protector of the kingdom proclaimed, smoothing his beard. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, son?"

"Son? You call me son, after signing my arrest and letting me be treated like a criminal," Roman with his arms chained behind his back, shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to free himself. "I took my vows convinced of my oath. I would never attempt against my king," he surrendered.

"Then the evidence against you is flawed," he inquired with a tone of evident sarcasm. "The confessed murderer indicated that you paid for her job."

"What are you talking about, Father?" He raised his head with a furrowed brow. "Have they captured a killer?"

"One of the concubines turned out to be the cause of the pain that moves our hearts today," he waved his hand in a gesture of contempt. "She will be executed tomorrow at dawn."

"No!" Roman's voice rose. "Let me talk to her first, she's accusing me of something serious."

The paladin knelt before his father, the king, in a desperate plea to prove his innocence.

"Father, you must believe me. I did not kill Theodem," he pleaded.

"It is a grave accusation, my son," the king replied sternly. "The investigators suggest that your lust for power blinded your good judgment. If you are innocent, you will have a trial after the king's funeral. But if you are guilty, I cannot save you from your fate."

The paladin was devastated. He had been framed for a crime he did not commit, and now his fate lay in the hands of the interventors. The king's disappointment was palpable.

"Why did you want to be king so badly? Was that why you insisted on marrying young Lidias? You wanted to be her husband so that you could rule when Theodem's time was up, but you couldn't wait and decided to take his life under your judgment. You have disappointed me, my son. I forgive you, but I cannot help you."

"This is absurd," the paladin protested, but his words fell on deaf ears. He was dragged away by guards, back to the stinking dungeon.

But then, a voice called out in the darkness. It was Lidias, the paladin's betrothed.

"Stop right there," she commanded the guards. "Let me speak to him."

"We cannot stop, miss," the guards protested, still dragging the accused man away. "We have strict orders not to let him speak to anyone."

"Accused?" Lidias asked incredulously. "Has he already been tried and convicted?"

The head guard apologized for his mistake, but they still had orders to follow.

"I'll speak with him after you've fulfilled your orders," Lidias said firmly, gesturing for the guards to pause. "I know that you've been set up, Roman. The confessed killer insisted that you paid her, but I know it's not true. You must be strong and speak to me honestly."

"What do you want me to say?" the paladin asked, confused.

"That woman was tortured until she confessed to killing my father," Lidias explained carefully. "The interventors found a memory in her mind where you were indeed paying her. I need you to tell me the truth."

"I swear it's not what you think," the paladin replied, his eyes darkening. "I did not pay her to kill Theodem."

"And what am I supposed to think?" Lidia's clear eyes, between the darkness and the orange light of the torches, seemed feverish flames. "The woman had a considerable sum of money among her belongings."

"She's a prostitute, for heaven's sake!" explained the nobleman, taking his eyes off the girl's fixed stare. "I have to talk to her. Help me talk to her. She's incriminating me."

"I understand it this way," she coughed, without changing her expression of serene storm, "you paid her for her services, like any vulgar man dominated by his sword." Sarcasm escaped naturally from her lips.

"I'm sorry, my dear Lidia," he replied with evident shame. "But I doubt you fully understand how things really happened, and alas, we won't have time for me to explain."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your actions in front of others, much less in front of me, your fiancée," she said harshly, and then added, "And don't refer to me as your thing because you know I don't belong to you. Anyway, whether it's out of the esteem I have for you or my mercy, I forgive this admitted fault. However, it's not why I want to clear you of this mess, but because I want to see the true culprit of father's death fall."

"You misunderstand what happened, Lidia. But you are great and merciful, and I fear I am not worthy of your indulgence," meditated the Paladin. "I will be in debt to you if you keep your word."

"I trust you, Roman. I don't need further explanations," she added. "It's not among your flaws to be a hypocrite, and if it helps, your virtues outweigh your mistakes. You are still worthy of my respect. See you soon."

She turned her back on the escort and disappeared into the shadows that had seen her arrive.

"Let's go," shouted the guards, and they took Roman back to the dungeons. The afternoon had fallen a while ago, and much of the gardens were in darkness. He returned to the palace, greeting the doubled guard, which protected all the entrances. Then he pretended to go to his room, but later he would change direction.

He managed to reach the Tower of the Interventors, a building adjacent to the small palace, where the agents of the Holy Order, the "Interventors," had their lair. The intelligence officials, made up of the most prestigious sorcerers, were responsible for investigating crimes and maintaining order within and outside the nobility.

In one of the rooms, the woman accused of being the king's killer was in absolute solitude and in inhumane conditions. The princess went to talk to her; shackles prevented her from moving her arms and legs, although in practice, this was unnecessary, given the state of destruction in which her limbs and body were found.

Naked on the cold stone floor, there was no space on her skin for a new wound. Undoubtedly, the brutal torturers knew how to do their job well. But under this condition, Lidia found it easy to believe that any human being would say anything to stop such suffering. That was why she was not convinced of the confession of that girl. "For heaven's sake!" It was only a young woman, that body torn apart, whose chest barely swelled with each breath.

"I have to admit that seeing someone in your condition breaks my spirit," Lidia said as she approached the ill-fated woman. "What have you done to deserve this? I wonder."

"Just please," she managed to say through agonizing mumbling.

"Relax, dear, I didn't come to hurt you," he replied as he leaned in beside her. "I just want you to tell me the truth."

"I've already said everything they wanted," she said, and a trickle of blood ran down her lips. She coughed, and her eyes seemed to cloud over.

"I don't want to tire you out anymore. I would like to help you, but you must know that it's too late for you now, right?" Lidias spoke with complete sincerity as she took her hand. "But you can still make your truth believed by someone who will truly appreciate it. I don't believe you killed my father, and I don't care that those fools forced you to believe that you did. I just want to hear your truth."

"Miss," she mumbled. Once again, she tensed up, and realizing that the visitor was the princess, she said, "My lady, I am innocent," she sighed and let out a weak groan. "There was someone else in the room, a woman; she went out the window, I... I couldn't see well in the darkness, but I know I had never seen her before in the palace."

"I believe you, friend," Lidias said, a slight grimace on her face that seemed to hint at a smile. "So there was someone else, and it was a woman," she said to herself. "Why didn't they believe her?" Your pain will be avenged. I promise."

"Thank you, my lady. There were three maids in the king's room, she came later. I told this to the interveners, but they refused to believe me and did this to me. They didn't listen to me, they didn't listen to me." Tears began to bathe the woman's face.

"They talk about justice, but all I see is inequality," Lidias said, pulling out a handkerchief and using it to wipe away the tears and blood on the woman's face. "I swear the real culprit will pay. Your pain will not be in vain, I will reveal the truth, you can be sure of that."

"Am I... am I going to die, princess?" she moaned, trembling and her tears becoming inconsolable.

"I'm outraged by what they've done to you, and yet all I can do is comfort you with the truth, even if it may seem cruel. I can't lie to you," she said, wiping the woman's tears again and kissing her forehead in the noblest gesture she could make. "My prayers will be with you tonight. The Keeper will come for you in the morning to free you from this unjust martyrdom."

"I'm scared, my lady. I'm so scared," she said, slowly closing her eyes and her expression of pain diminishing.

"Sleep... thank you for your story."

Lidias left that gloomy room, disappearing into the shadows just as she had come: in complete silence.

With that girl's confession, she retired to her chambers, making sure not to be seen and avoid arousing any suspicion. Entering the interveners' tower and visiting a condemned person was considered a serious crime.

That night, she entered the bathroom and found herself alone. "It's true, they have removed all the palace staff." For the first time in a long time, she filled the tub herself, poured spices and flower oil onto the hot water, and got in without any servant to help her scrub her back or fix her hair as they had done many times before. "Everything is so quiet and peaceful. I think I could get used to this, but not to seeing the pain I witnessed today." She submerged herself completely and tried to erase from her mind the gaze of the young prostitute, whom she believed but could not help feeling sorry for. The princess had no weight against the judiciary power of the crown. "My hands are tied." She could not save the woman or clear Roman of the charges. No one would believe him without solid evidence.

At dawn, the woman's head was severed from her body in front of a lackluster crowd. Lidias watched the beheading from the palace balcony and from the height, she observed the window that led to her father's room. "How could anyone escape from there?" It was very high, the wall was so smooth and polished that any attempt to grip it would have resulted in an imminent fall into the void. Then she noticed that fine relief, which protruded, decorating the window and extending subtly around the walls until it reached the window of her own room. At that moment, a chill ran down her body, she turned around and walked lightly back into the bedroom.

Walking down the hallway felt like an eternity, her heart beating so loud that she thought she could hear it outside her chest. She opened the door and approached the window, which was open; a small bloodstain splattered the interior wall and the sill. The stain was so small that she would not have seen it if she had not inspected it thoroughly. Lidias stepped back and looked at the ceiling, noticing how the beams were quite reachable if someone jumped from the window. "Now I understand," she thought. "I barely got up when I heard the soldier knocking on the door. At that moment, the killer could have slipped into my room and somehow escaped, if she has escaped." In any case, all the staff had been fired in recent days and the concubines had been expelled after interrogation. The investigators did not miss anything; it was strange that they did not pay attention to the story the prostitute had given them. "Something is not right here," she pondered as she walked away from the window, taking steps without looking back. "The agents must know about this."

She left her room quickly, walking through the brightly lit corridors illuminated by the midday sun, which filtered through the stone colonnades. The princess was a shadow that clacked on the tile floor as she walked. On the third level of the palace, to satisfy her search, she came across two agents of the Holy Order.

"Miss," a modest bow preceded the greeting of both officials.

"You are just the ones I was looking for," urgency rang in her voice. "I found something in my room that is relevant."

"We will accompany you, my lady," the older agent responded, while the younger one only nodded his head.

"I think my father's killer escaped to my bedroom the other night," she walked quickly, occasionally making sure the agents were following her. "The wall has a slight baseboard that extends to my window."

They entered the perfectly lit and illuminated bedroom, the curtains seductively dancing with the subtle breeze from the skylight. The princess ran in and stood by the window.

"Come closer, I found what looks like bloodstains right here," Lidias stood beside the molding and pointed to the tiny spot on the wall. Both agents looked at each other, confused and furrowed their brows. "That's the baseboard that runs along the wall, I think it could have been used to escape. My window was open at night, and as soon as I heard someone call me, I left here."

"Are you trying to tell us that the killer entered this room?" The agent's forehead wrinkled like a raisin. "But then, what would have made her come back? Your assumptions don't make any sense."

"No, what I'm saying is that they executed the wrong person," she sat at the foot of the bed and crossed her arms. "Someone entered my room that night, there's blood here, and the relief in the wall covering makes it possible. I'm not saying I can't be wrong, I just want you to investigate what I'm telling you."

"Very well, my lady," the agent took out a monocular from his clothing and observed with relative interest that stain on the windowsill. "Mr. Brogh, go fetch the prefect. Miss, I'm afraid you'll have to vacate the room," the younger agent quickly left to fulfill the order, and Lidias nodded her head.

The door to the room remained closed for hours, and inside, the agents and the prefect ransacked the place for clues and details that could indicate that Lidias' hypothesis made sense. For them, the case was already closed. However, the princess's words still made some sense, especially since the murder weapon had not yet been found. "Is it possible that the Intervenors would admit to making a mistake in condemning the prostitute? The proud lords of the tower would never admit to something like that."

In the afternoon, Lidias was requested in the prefect's office, at the top of the Intervenors' tower, adjacent to the palace. "We found more bloodstains in your bedroom, princess," the prefect pointed out harshly.

He was a tall man with an imposing appearance and very fair complexion. His arrogant and slender figure approached the young woman who had barely crossed the threshold of the door. "An interesting discovery, which we would not have found without you," he said subtly.

"Will they reopen the investigation then?" Lidias stood tall with her hands on her hips. Apparently, the presence of the prefect did not intimidate her at all.

"It's possible," the man said, standing in front of the girl whose height did not surpass his chest. He leaned his head a bit to look at her and said, "But first, I want to know what would motivate you to kill your own father and our beloved king."

"What are you saying?" Lidias lifted her head with a look of confusion and looked at the prefect, who was pacing around her. "You're insinuating something that I won't tolerate. Don't say it again, please."

"It's just a question, my lady," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and turning toward her. "I don't believe that you killed the king. Because, I don't see what benefit you would have from it."

"Of course, none, otherwise I wouldn't be here enduring your ridiculous conjectures," she turned around and gestured to open the door. "I suggest that you and your investigators find the real killer and do it soon, before another innocent falls into your claws. And I'm talking about Roman. I'm sure he has nothing to do with this and is now in that filthy dungeon and who knows what diseases he could contract."

"Before you go, my lady," the man blocked the door with his hand, preventing Lidias from opening it. He picked up a bag that he had been carrying for a while and threw it onto the table. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, walking slowly to the table and opening the bag. From inside, he pulled out a bloody dagger.

"I don't know," she said, frowning.

"This, my lady," he said, taking the dagger and presenting it to Lidias. "Is the weapon that took your father's last breath."

"Where did you find it?" Surprise was evident in her eyes. For a moment, she wanted to reach out to grab it, but she abandoned the attempt before her delicate fingers could touch the blade.

"That's the strangest thing," the prefect said, bending down almost to the princess's ear. "Under your mattress, miss."

"What?" The young woman's face paled. "Does that mean I've been sleeping on that blade for the last few nights?"

"Whoever put it there either wanted to frame you or was very desperate," he wrapped the dagger and put it back in the bag. "But a professional killer doesn't have that level of desperation, nor do they leave such obvious traces or their weapon."

"A professional killer?" She looked back at the prefect, who was adjusting his mustache.

"It's an unusual blade in this area, from unknown blacksmiths and has a mark on the handle: guild assassins, no doubt," the prefect took a seat in front of the table and put the bag with the dagger in one of the drawers. "They kill for money, they are astute, silent, and never fail. I have never seen this mark before, to be honest. That's why I don't understand who would have the audacity to hire one of those rats to kill the king."

"Then we have to find that assassin," she said almost in a shout and placed her hands on the table, not realizing what had just come out of her mouth.

"Murderer?" The prefect's face turned towards Lidias with an insidious smirk. "Did you say murderer? If I'm not mistaken."

"I believe it is a woman," Lidias swallowed, realizing her words were leading her into dangerous territory. "I...I spoke with the condemned before her execution and heard her version of events."

"That woman insisted that there was someone else in the room. However, there was no evidence to prove it," the prefect's frown did not leave his face. "You have violated an unbreakable rule, miss. The council will take measures it deems appropriate to punish your imprudence. However, due to these days of mourning when the council does not meet, your sanction will be pending."

"Now you know that this murderer is free, and the dagger is essential to find her," Lidias walked to the door. "I hope you do your job well this time," she closed the door behind her.

The anger on the prefect's face was evident; his pride had been wounded. It was true that they had failed and condemned an innocent person, but admitting it would be a disgrace. On the other hand, Lidias knew too much, and her mind was plotting dark ideas that challenged the hypotheses they had until now.

As soon as she left the office, the princess realized the direction things were taking. "They are trying to frame me somehow, just as they did with Roman," she thought. She hurried down the long, narrow hallway that circled the interventors' tower. When she reached the stairs that led to the lower level, she noticed that the door to the office had opened.

The staircase was just around the corner from the cylindrical structure of the tower, separated by a wall and a small hatch that led to the prefect's room. She improvised a plan, seeing that the man was coming out into the hallway. The door to a small balcony was open, which she took advantage of to cross it and stick to the wall, waiting for the prefect to either go up or down the stairs.

When the prefect had disappeared under the steps, the princess crossed the door again and, taking advantage of the fact that the entire floor was empty, ran to the office. The door was not locked. "He won't be long," she opened the drawer under the table and took out the sheath that held the dagger. She only kept the blade and put the sheath back. She kept the dagger hidden in her clothes and left as quickly as she came. She did not find anyone in the hallway, but she did not go down the stairs. Clinging to the idea that the prefect would return at any moment, she preferred to wait for him rather than go down and run into him on the way.

She waited on the balcony, trying to go unnoticed. And she was right to do so because the prefect quickly returned with a group of interventors at his side. Lidias was not interested in hearing what they were saying, but she suddenly heard a conversation that made her shudder.

"Do not waste any more time on absurd investigations, we close the case without risking to doubt our operations," the prefect's voice was heard saying. "We do not want the people to be outraged when they find out that we have condemned an innocent person."

"But you are accusing the daughter without sufficient evidence," one of the agents refuted. "This will have repercussions."

"The young Lidias will be monitored until the three weeks of mourning are over," the prefect's voice spoke again. "The truth will be revealed in the trial of the paladin Roman."

"Will the princess be judged?" the agent inquired.

The answer was affirmative silence, Lidias did not need to hear it to understand that they were trying to incriminate her.

Lidias held her breath behind the wall, trying to digest what she had heard. As soon as the group disappeared down the hallway, she leaped into action and ran down the stairs so quickly that she broke the heel of her shoe and stumbled. She limped out of the tower, taking off the shoes that now hindered her. She crossed the garden, passed through the main door, and although the soldiers on both sides looked at her confused, they did not even have time to ask if everything was alright. She yelled at them that there was nothing to worry about and disappeared into the hallways of the palace, through which the afternoon light filtered through the windows.

The princess found a pair of saddlebags among Roman's belongings, put cheese, mushrooms, and dried meat that she found in the vast pantry in them. She put the dagger in as well, armed herself with everything she believed she needed to survive outside, and hung the saddlebags on her purebred horse. She sat on the bales for a moment, allowed herself to take a deep breath, and looked at the stable with a desolate expression. She closed her eyes, "What are you doing, Lidias?" When she opened them, she straightened up and opened the bag she had left to the side. From there, she took out pieces of armor that shone as brightly as the sun and were as pale as the moon, the riding boots, and the leather leggings that she had fitted to her legs after getting rid of her skirt. She fastened the greaves, cinched her waist with the leather belt, covered her cleavage with the iron breastplate, and her shoulders with the shiny pauldrons. She had made up her mind, she was not escaping, she would look for the murderer herself: there was no one in the palace she could trust.