The Emperor's Two Siblings (1)
I decided to leave the imperial palace for the time being. On the surface, it was to nurse the Marchioness of Lilche through her suddenly worsened illness, but the true reason ran deeper.
I no longer wanted to remain in the palace. I didn’t want to think about Karina, and I couldn’t bear the sight of His Majesty worrying over her.
I was exhausted by the endless emotional tug-of-war with Illid surrounding the Whierton affair. The guilt of being unable to support Hellion in his brutal fight against the man weighed heavily on me.
In the end, the decision I reached was to distance myself from all of it. The carriage bearing me slipped away from the palace grounds and came to a stop before the Lilche Marchioness’s estate.
“Welcome, Ishtel. Grandmother has been waiting for you.”
Yulian, who had come out to greet me, guided me inside the mansion. It was my first time seeing the Marchioness since she had slapped me across the face in the square. Never before had the path to Grandmother’s side felt so painfully awkward.
“Go on in, Ishtel.”
Yulian opened the door to the Marchioness’s chamber. I drew in a deep breath and stepped inside.
“Grandmother, I’m here.”
At the sound of my voice, the Marchioness gave a dry cough and pushed herself upright in bed. In the time since I had last seen her, she had grown terribly thin. She beckoned me closer, then pointed to the chair beside the bed.
I sat down quietly. Feeling too awkward to meet her eyes, I found myself lowering my head without realizing it.
“Are you feeling very unwell?”
“When a person grows old, even a common cold can kill them. It hurts, but there’s nothing surprising about it.”
The Marchioness coughed again. I poured water from the kettle on the bedside table and offered it to her.
“And how have you been? You suffered greatly, didn’t you?”
After drinking, she added, “I’m referring to the cheek I struck that day.”
“Ah… No. I’m perfectly fine.”
As I spoke, my hand rose unconsciously to brush the nape of my neck. The terror and tension I had felt when dragged before the guillotine came rushing back over me.
“I’m sorry.”
The words that left the Marchioness’s lips were ones I had never heard from her before.
“I’m sorry, Ishtel. But it had to be done. That day, I needed to show the people gathered in the square with perfect clarity. The more humiliation you endured, the more firmly Paviel’s granddaughter would be etched into their hearts as an unparalleled villain.”
“Grandmother…”
Just as I suspected, the Marchioness’s decision to place Karina on the guillotine had not been born of emotion. I had guessed as much, yet the realization still sent a chill racing across my skin. Just how much did this woman know—and how far had she planned?
“How did you find out? That Karina… is Paviel’s descendant…”
“Ludvi Silanda. He may appear flawless and adult-like to all of you, but to me he is still a mere child. After the trial, I pressed him without mercy. In the end, he came to me in tears and confessed everything.”
So it had been Count Silanda after all. As expected, the leak had come from neither my side nor hers.
“What surprised me, however, was that Ebony Bladin knew as well.”
The Marchioness spoke so matter-of-factly that for a moment I thought I had misheard. Doubting my own ears, I asked, “Ebony Bladin knew that Karina is Paviel’s descendant?”
“Indeed. She came to me and asked that the girl be executed.”
“How could that possibly…”
Karina and Ebony had been allies. Their bond had seemed unbreakable, forged from the hardest steel. Had some fracture appeared in that alliance?
“Ishtel, do you truly believe Karina would have revealed her identity to Ebony?”
“I’m not certain. But… I don’t think she would have. There was no reason for Karina to tell Ebony. The more people who knew, the greater the danger would become…”
“Correct. Ebony Bladin claimed she received the information not from Karina, but from another trustworthy source. She said she conducted her own investigation based on that.”
There had to be a collaborator aiding Ebony. Just whose lips had this secret escaped from?
“Ishtel, the source of the leak was you.”
“Pardon? That can’t be. I never said anything of the sort to anyone.”
It was absurd. I denied the Marchioness’s words with absolute conviction.
“Not all information is passed through direct statements. There are sharp-eyed people who never miss a subtly dropped hint or a casually uttered question. Think carefully among those people.”
I bit my lip and sank into deep thought. Yet no one came to mind.
“Grandmother, I’m sorry. At this moment, I truly don’t know.”
“That’s all right. I’m not demanding an answer right away. Take your time. Slowly recall the trivial words and actions you’ve made. The person we seek will be hidden among them.”
“Then… once I find that person, what should I do?”
“Crush them, of course. Isn’t that why I went through the trouble of obtaining the amnesty for you?”
The Marchioness gestured with her chin toward the desk in the center of the room. Upon the antique mahogany surface lay the imperial amnesty alongside several stacks of letters.
“Grandmother, you never intended to kill Karina from the beginning, did you?”
I finally voiced the question that had circled in my mind for days. The Marchioness nodded slowly.
“What would I gain by killing that child? My rage washed away long ago. I simply needed to demonstrate that my anger still burned brightly, so that both the imperial family and the nobility would feel true fear.”
“What if I had killed her there?”
“I was confident you wouldn’t. Ishtel, you are not the sort of person who can easily harm another. In the meantime, Karina had earned a favorable reputation among the commoners thanks to the Silanda affair. But that is finished now. Through this incident, the hearts of both nobles and commoners alike have turned toward you.”
“I didn’t make that choice hoping for such an outcome.”
Karina would have called the words hypocritical, yet they were sincere. I had no desire to broadcast that I had spared the descendant of my enemy, nor did I wish to be praised for it.
“Ishtel.”
The Marchioness called my name in a voice roughened by age.
“There is much I wish to do for you. The fact that you now face the imperial family’s checks and possess so many enemies is entirely because of me and my older brother. Therefore, it is also my duty to leave behind the means to resolve it.”
She pointed once more to the mahogany table and instructed me to bring every document upon it. I gathered the letters, correspondence, and papers, carrying them in my arms before laying them across the wide bed.
The first item the Marchioness reached for was an old letter. On its worn reverse side was stamped the imperial family’s crimson seal.
Your Grace,
I implore you to help me ascend as crown prince. Should Alensia take that position, a storm of blood will sweep through the Regentera house. I trust you will make the wise choice.
— Voltero
“Ishtel, who is our greatest enemy?”
“Is it not the House of Bladin?”
“No. It is the imperial family that uses Bladin as its tool. Among them, the one who whispers into our frail older brother’s ear while constantly eyeing the throne—the Emperor’s own younger sibling.”
The Emperor’s two younger siblings: Alensia and Voltero. My memories of them were faint. Prince Voltero had departed for the Southern Archduchy when I was still a child, and of Princess Alensia I recalled only her constant clashes with Grandfather.
I naturally pictured Princess Alensia as I listened to the Marchioness continue.
“I know little of the Emperor’s nephews and nieces. But I know their parents well. Princess Alensia and Prince Voltero. Though twins, their natures could not have been more different. One burned like fire, the other lurked in shadow.”
In a calm, measured voice, the Marchioness recounted events from long ago.
“Before Crown Prince Primos was born, the nobles whispered anxiously that the Emperor had no heir and that a crown prince must be appointed.”
At the time, Princess Alensia had no children, while Prince Voltero had a young son.
In an imperial family that treasured bloodlines, a living child represented immense power. Naturally, Prince Voltero had been poised to become crown prince—until Primos’s birth rendered it all meaningless.
“Having seen the throne within his grasp only to lose it, Voltero began watching for the next opportunity. He sought to reorganize the line of succession. He wanted to ensure that if anything unfortunate befell the crown prince, his own son would be next in line. If he himself could not claim the throne, then at least his blood would.”
“……”
“Voltero reached out to our house. He wished to borrow Regentera’s strength to secure his son’s position. But then Princess Alensia became pregnant, and even that path grew difficult.”
“Our house has never been on good terms with the princess, has it? It would have been better for the prince’s bloodline to hold the succession rights. Was there a decisive reason we refused his request?”
“There was no particular reason. Your grandfather simply disliked the greedy prince. Even when Voltero’s name was raised as crown prince, he offered no clear stance. In fact, he was displeased by Voltero’s attempts to incite the nobles into pressuring the Emperor.”
I had never known such history existed between Grandfather and Prince Voltero.
I opened the letter the Marchioness had handed me. It was the one Prince Voltero had sent to Grandfather. The pages were filled with pleas for assistance in claiming the crown prince position and dire warnings that Alensia’s ascension would bring bloodshed to the Regentera family.
The birth of my sister’s child has rendered my son’s place in the succession uncertain. I cannot accept this injustice. Regentera must stand with me, or I shall never forget this slight.
— Voltero
“Voltero persisted in his requests. Yet your grandfather had already judged Alensia worthy of the crown princess position.”
“Even though the princess was so openly hostile to our family?”
“Power endures only when it maintains tension through strong opposition. At that time, Regentera had no true enemies. We held both the imperial family and Bladin beneath our feet. But we understood how unstable such dominance truly was. The stronger we grew, the more resentment would gather. It was wiser to yield a measured amount of power to the imperial family and thereby prevent the rise of excessive opposition.”
“So Grandfather saw Princess Alensia as that balancing force?”
“Precisely. Prince Voltero is impossible to read. Even when he offers his hand, the other hides a blade. Princess Alensia, however, is much the same inside as out. She may appear fierce, but her words and actions are remarkably straightforward.”
The Marchioness passed me another letter. Once again, it was from Prince Voltero. This one brimmed with fury over how the birth of an as-yet-unborn sister’s child had muddied his son’s place in the line of succession.
“Twice Voltero bowed his head to our family—once regarding the crown prince, once regarding the succession order—only to be rejected both times. Even if he pretends otherwise on the surface, his rage and thirst for revenge against our house must be carved deep into his very bones.”
In the end, the true enemy we had made was not the North. The one we should have watched with far greater caution was not Hellion.
“The Illid you have kept close to you is that prince’s son. Have you never sensed anything strange about him all this time?”