The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

The commotion began as a distant rumble, swelling into a cacophony that reverberated through the palace walls. Both Callista and Faeralys dashed to the grand window set into the ornate doors of the atrium, their breaths held tight with anticipation.

The atrium, a vast and echoing chamber at the very front of the palace, offered an impeccable view of the sprawling grounds beyond. The great avenue leading to the palace gates was lined with towering oaks, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind as the procession approached.

"It must be the army.." Faeralys whispered..

"Do you think Her Imperial Majesty succeeded?" Callista asked, her tone betraying both hope and doubt.

They pressed their noses to the glass as the troops advanced in formation, boots striking a rhythm that could be felt even through the thick walls. The townsfolk had gathered in droves, their cheers and shouts creating a jubilant symphony.

Yet, amidst all the noise and movement, one glaring absence chilled the air.

"Where's the carriage?" Faeralys murmured, her brows knitting.

Callista's relief was brief, her hand clutching her chest as she exhaled. "She must be fine... Right?" she muttered, though she couldn't shake the uneasy tension in her shoulders.

She took a step back, unwilling to confront the idea of seeing Argider, not after everything. The argument still lingered between them like a ghost.

Before they could ponder further, the right hallway erupted in a flurry of movement. Uzak and Meloris charged in, their faces pale with urgency. Between them was Fialova, her arms straining under the weight of Argider, who hung limply like a broken marionette.

"By the stars..." Faeralys gasped.

Argider's once-proud shoulders slumped unnaturally, her armor smeared with blood and mud. Her skin was ashen, her breath barely there.

"Through the hidden door!" Meloris barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "To the back passage—hurry!"

They vanished into the concealed corridor, emerging moments later in the quiet wing of the palace. Meloris turned on the servants, who had gathered with wide eyes and slack jaws.

"Move! Take Her Majesty to her quarters! Fetch the doctors—and Duke Arctera!" His voice cracked like a whip, sending the staff into a flurry of action.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Argider's battered form was carried upstairs, her survival seeming nothing short of miraculous.

Callista and Faeralys clung to each other, their hands covering their mouths in horror.

"Why does she always come back like this?" Faeralys whispered, her voice trembling.

"She's made of something unbreakable," Callista replied, though even she sounded unconvinced.

"Why are you all still standing there?!" Meloris thundered, snapping everyone back into motion.

Like a well-oiled machine—albeit one in a panic—the maids, butlers, and footmen surged forward, whisking Argider away with practiced efficiency. As her form disappeared up the grand staircase, a heavy silence descended, leaving Callista and Faeralys to wonder what would happen if this time, the miracle didn't hold.

The Empress Dowager clutched her arms as though trying to keep herself from shattering entirely. "Goodness, that girl… it's probably my fault," she murmured, her voice wobbling like an unsteady bridge. "I never should've gone. I didn't think—no, I never thought—she'd try to save me, let alone… all of this." Her knees threatened to buckle as she hugged herself tighter. "I was too impatient. Too reckless."

"Well, if nothing else, it's proof Argider is changing. Slowly, perhaps, but surely," Fialova said gently. The tall knight placed a reassuring hand on Meloris's shoulder, her firm grip a stark contrast to the room's unstable energy.

Callista and Faeralys exchanged wide-eyed glances before springing into action, both bowing low before Meloris as if the floor might provide answers to their mounting questions.

"What happened, Your Imperial Majesty?" Callista asked, her voice a fragile thread, teetering between dread and hope.

Meloris dragged her hands down her face, tears glinting between her fingers. "That boy… I mean, girl," she corrected, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion, "she saved me." A sob overtook her, muffled behind her trembling hands.

Faeralys blinked, momentarily stunned. "R-Really?" she stammered, her mind scrambling to process the statement. It didn't feel real. Argider? Saving someone? She could barely reconcile the idea with the Argider she knew: the irreverent, self-serving scoundrel who treated heroism as a quaint idea meant for poets and fools.

Her thoughts drifted unbidden to that long-ago moment in the library when Argider had stepped in to shield her from Aunt Phirya's relentless scolding. Even then, it had seemed like more of a spur-of-the-moment whim than genuine concern. This, though? A life-or-death rescue? It felt like stepping into someone else's story.

At the time, Faeralys had felt equal parts irritated and relieved. They barely spoke after that, which suited her just fine. Argider's reputation with mistresses and courtesans was infamous, a trail of fleeting dalliances and shallow promises. To imagine Argider now playing the part of gallant savior? It didn't add up.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Yes," Meloris choked out, nodding through her tears.

Fialova, ever composed, knelt beside Meloris. "Mother-in-law, don't cry," she said softly.

Everyone stopped and the silence became still.

Their heads snapped toward Fialova as if she had just announced the sun had decided to rise in the west.

"Say what now?" Faeralys blurted, voicing what everyone was thinking.

"Pardon me, dear," Meloris stammered, blinking at the knight as though trying to process her words. "What did you just say?"

Callista stood rigid, confusion etched across her face. Even Uzak, usually a portrait of calm, pursed his lips in awkward silence, clearly wishing he could melt into the walls.

"I am Argider's new fiancé," Fialova announced with a serene smile, bowing slightly. "She proposed to me on the battlefield. And I said yes."

The room collectively exhaled a stunned Ah.

For a moment, there was silence. Then came the inevitable flood of thoughts.

Never mind. Argider hasn't changed. Not even a little bit, Faeralys thought bitterly, her internal voice rising to a shriek. That arrogant, womanizing motherf—! So much for personal growth. She probably just seduced this woman the same way she does everyone!

Callista, meanwhile, had slipped into quiet panic. A wife? A real wife?! Her mind raced. Argider had always been content with fleeting flings, flitting from one lover to the next like a bird that refused to perch. But this? A proposal? A marriage? It meant something. It had to mean something. Fialova wasn't just another conquest. Argider had chosen her—proposed to her, no less. That made her special. That made her dangerous. Callista clenched her fists to keep from biting her nails.

Meloris, for her part, had recovered enough to beam at Fialova, clasping the knight's hands in her own. "A wife? Not a mistress?" she asked, her voice rising with cautious joy. "You must be truly extraordinary. You've been so helpful to me already, and now this? I'm… I'm so glad it's you."

"I am deeply honored, Your Imperial Majesty," Fialova replied, her smile soft and sincere. "Argider has given me so much. She's given me purpose. I am willing to give up my status as a knight to stand by her side. She inspires me."

The room fell silent again, though this time it was laden with disbelief.

Inspires you? Faeralys thought, incredulous. The Argider she knew inspired only chaos, exasperation, and the occasional urge to throttle someone. Just what had happened on the battlefield to turn the notorious rake into a figure of inspiration?

Callista's gaze sharpened, her thoughts spiraling into desperation. If she can inspire Fialova, what about the rest of us? Am I… going to be discarded?

Meanwhile, Faeralys stewed in her own resentment. She didn't love Argider—not really—but the idea of her being swept up by someone else left a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. It was… something else. Unfairness, perhaps. Betrayal. Yes, that was it.

The two women glanced at each other, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The fight was on.

Fialova, oblivious to the brewing storm, remained serene. "I'll take my leave now to check on Argider," she said, her tone light as a summer breeze. She bowed again and exited the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As soon as she was gone, Faeralys rounded on Callista. "Did you hear that?" she hissed.

"Of course, I did," Callista snapped, still wringing her hands. "She proposed! Proposed! And not to just anyone—her!"

"She's probably just another one of Argider's toys," Faeralys said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Callista shook her head, her expression dark. "No. She's different."

Faeralys seethed, her frustration brewing like a storm trapped in a teapot. It wasn't just anger—no, it was that peculiar brand of irritation that clung to the ribs and tickled the spine.

Did she love Argider? Not in the grand, poetic sense sung by bards. But somehow, the situation still burned, like someone had slipped a dagger between her ribs and whispered, You're replaceable. Betrayal wasn't supposed to sting this much when you weren't even invested—was it?