Not a Man, But an Emperor
* * *
“What…?”
“I said, why have you been speaking down to me this whole time?”
Hellion looked down at me, blinking his pale blue eyes.
His casual tone had been grating on me for a while now. I hadn’t been able to say anything earlier because the Emperor and Archduke Illid were present, but this seemed like the perfect moment to set the record straight.
I quickly continued before he could think too deeply about it.
“Look. Doesn’t it bother you when I speak casually to you, Your Grace? So—”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
His expression remained completely unchanged.
He didn’t seem flustered by my provocation, nor did he show any sign of realizing he should adjust his own speech.
“So keep speaking to me like that from now on.”
Hellion strode straight into the room.
“Sleep well, Ishtel.”
He even tossed the casual farewell through the slowly closing door.
‘What is this…?’
Was this how Grandfather felt when the princess slapped him? My cheek burned as if it had actually been struck.
‘That little brat thinks he can tease me now that he’s grown?’
If the maids hadn’t been around, I would have kicked the door open and given him a good knock on the head. But… I probably couldn’t even reach it anymore.
The tiny Hellion who had barely come up to my shoulder was now so tall I had to crane my neck back just to see his face.
Unlike Illid, who had lived apart from the palace since childhood, Hellion visited the imperial palace relatively often.
When Grandfather, Duke Regentera, banned collateral members of the imperial family from entering the palace, Prince Voltero—Illid’s father—realized he could not defeat Grandfather and moved his residence to the Southern Archduchy.
However, Hellion’s mother, Princess Alensia, remained in the capital until the end. She clashed with Grandfather and made a point of bringing her son to the palace.
Naturally, the late Crown Prince Primos and I ended up encountering Hellion frequently and grew close to him.
Since I had no younger siblings and Primos had no brothers, we both doted on little Hellion as if he were our youngest brother.
Looking back, even as a child Hellion had been a mischievous and unpredictable boy. When the three of us played house, he would stubbornly insist on being the father despite being the youngest. As a result, Primos—who was the oldest—often ended up playing the baby.
Even when his mother, defeated by Grandfather, had to leave for the Northern Archduchy, Hellion threw himself down in the hallway and refused to leave the palace. If he absolutely had to go, he threw a tantrum demanding to take his cousin, the Crown Prince. When that was refused, he insisted on taking me instead. In the end, he only left the palace after his mother spanked him, crying the whole way.
After that, the only times I saw him were at the funerals of the Empress and the Crown Prince.
The adorable little Hellion had grown beyond recognition each time I saw him, shedding more and more of his childish appearance. The clear, bell-like voice that once reminded me of a baby bird had deepened into the low timbre of a northern warrior. The small body I used to carry around with ease was now easily twice my size.
And his height… every time I had to tilt my head back to look at him, it secretly bruised my pride. I was considered tall for a woman, too…
Still, it seemed his mischievous and stubborn personality hadn’t changed at all. Just like when we were children, he still called me Ishtel.
* * *
The palace guest quarters were bustling with people who had come to see me after a long time.
They were all connected to our family.
My older brother, Duke Zar Regentera. My grand-aunt, the Dowager Marchioness of Lilche. My brother’s brother-in-law and my in-law, Count Ludvi Silanda. And finally, my aunt, Baroness Turen.
It had already been ten days since Archdukes Illid and Hellion arrived at the palace. My family was dying to hear every detail about the two archdukes.
“So, Ishtel. Which one is the bigger idiot?”
As soon as the formal greetings ended, the Dowager Marchioness of Lilche fired off her blunt question.
“I mean, which one will be easier to handle?”
“Grandmother, really. Why are you worrying about that already?”
My brother, who had been sitting with his chin propped on his hand, waved his hand dismissively.
“Either way, one’s a grasshopper from the sunny south and the other’s a barbarian from the frosty north. No matter that they’re imperial family, they’ve been away from the capital for over ten years. There’s no way some country bumpkins would have any political sense.”
Clack!
The Dowager Marchioness slammed her teacup down so hard everyone flinched—except for Baroness Turen, who always seemed to radiate peace.
“You fool! Do you think the Emperor’s nephews are as brainless as you?!”
My brother instinctively shrank his shoulders under the old lady’s fierce aura.
The way my grand-aunt roared at him was exactly like my late grandfather.
“Prince Voltero’s son turned the Southern Archduchy into the empire’s top trading hub. He drew foreign merchants with rare fruits and grains only found in the south, then renovated the ports to bring in ships and sell goods from other regions. And he did all that at just eighteen years old! You were failing every single subject at the academy at that age—an unprecedented failure in its entire history!!!”
“Ah, why are you bringing up old stories again…”
My embarrassed brother pouted, but the marchioness was on a rampage.
“Princess Alensia took that young son of hers on northern expeditions and expanded their influence. Once the son grew up, he continued expanding the northern territories just as his mother had. What did you call them back then?”
“…I said the barbarians were playing land grab…”
“That’s right. And that barbarian who was playing land grab—Archduke Hellion—developed the frozen gold mines and is now the richest man in the empire! All those gold rings covering your fingers right now came from the Northern Archduchy!”
“The Marchioness is correct. Neither archduke should be underestimated,” Count Silanda, who had been quietly listening, added while polishing his monocle.
“The South handles approximately seventy percent of the empire’s total trade volume. The value of the northern gold mines is estimated to easily exceed ten years of the imperial budget. Archduke Illid of the South is clever, and Archduke Hellion of the North is brave. There isn’t a single one among them who would be easy for us to deal with.”
“Wow, I see.”
My brother stared with his mouth wide open, looking genuinely impressed.
The moment the marchioness saw that expression, her hand trembled as if she were about to hurl her teacup. Baroness Turen silently removed the cup from her grasp.
My older brother, Zar Wilhelm Regentera, wasn’t a bad person. He was simply not very bright.
He loved to play and socialize, which gave him a cheerful, generous public image, but in truth he was woefully inadequate to lead the family.
Because his grandson was lacking in so many ways, Grandfather had been extremely careful in choosing a wife for him.
Among several candidates, the family selected was House Silanda.
House Silanda had been the first to side with Grandfather during the Regentera family conflict, and it was also a prestigious house that had produced many brilliant prime ministers throughout the generations.
All three siblings of that house were exceptionally intelligent.
My sister-in-law Silvia was highly knowledgeable, and her younger brother was a promising talent known for his sharp mind and handsome appearance.
Among them, the person Grandfather had paid the most attention to was my sister-in-law’s older brother, Ludvi Silanda.
Ludvi Silanda had never once lost the top spot at the imperial academy and possessed an affable personality that allowed him to get along with anyone.
He was very wise and, in some ways, cunning. He was someone both my brother and I—who would one day become crown princess—desperately needed.
“In any case, Duchess of Wintera, I hope you will observe the two archdukes with great care. I will investigate them in my own way, but you will have far more time with them than I will.”
“I understand, Count Silanda.”
“Ishtel, never forget this.”
The Dowager Marchioness of Lilche looked at me with the exact same eyes as Grandfather.
“You must choose not a good man, but a good emperor.”
A good emperor.
I knew exactly what those words meant, so I gave a bitter smile and nodded.
The Dowager Marchioness of Lilche—Belona Regentera-Lilche—was a woman with an incredibly strong thirst for power. The Regentera civil war could not be discussed without mentioning her tremendous contributions.
Throughout the war, she had been her older brother Wilhelm Regentera’s strongest ally, and after the war she took the lead in purging the opposing faction.
What she had wanted most of all was imperial authority. Since Belona Regentera had no female descendants, the moment I was born she pushed aggressively for my engagement to the crown prince. Her plan was to become the emperor’s in-laws through me and solidify the Regentera family’s power. To someone like the marchioness, a clever crown prince was the greatest threat that needed to be kept in check.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded from outside the room. Maid Chief Abigail poked her head through the door.
“Duchess of Wintera. It is almost time for the hunt.”
“Oh dear, it seems we should be going now.”
Baroness Turen clapped her hands and rose from her seat.
My brother and Count Silanda slowly began searching for their coats, while the Dowager Marchioness of Lilche declared she would stay to finish her tea.
“Ishtel.”
Baroness Turen approached me and whispered in a small voice.
“Although I may not understand the political situation well, I am quite good at telling who is a good man and who is a bad one. So if you ever need my help, come find me anytime.”
Baroness Turen winked at me as she left the room.
She was my aunt and had been one of the late Empress’s favorite ladies-in-waiting.
The Empress had cherished her greatly, and in her youth she had been a captivating beauty who received the attention and courtship of many in high society.
Even if she herself was not a political person, she was someone absolutely necessary in politics.
Her sharp ability to detect even the slightest shifts in other people’s emotions.
It was a special talent that neither my brother, Count Silanda, the Dowager Marchioness of Lilche, nor I possessed.