Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Fallen Princess
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The capital of the Illumia Empire. Grantera.
At its center rose the tallest and grandest imperial palace, and one room within it remained as silent as ever today.
This was a place that blazed like an eternal city of night, as bright as day even in darkness, where all power converged and footsteps never ceased.
It was where those who had already claimed most of the authority, standing apart from the rest, gathered alongside those desperately seeking a chance to catch their eye and rise.
Yet one room was simply quiet,
simply desolate, simply lonely. No footsteps ever came here.
A woman wearing a mask made of gold—the metal least toxic to the human body—and draped in clothes woven from golden thread let out a hollow laugh in the room.
She couldn’t help but laugh at the meal laid out on the table. If her tears hadn’t already dried up long ago, a few would surely have fallen.
“This is my share of the meal, is it?”
A few pieces of white bread and a bowl of soup so thin it had no solids, barely qualifying as broth.
Not even milk—just a cup of water that looked like it had been scooped straight from a spring. That was her dinner.
When had she ever eaten something like this?
It was so absurd that her appetite vanished entirely. The woman waved the tray away.
“You lot eat it. If I’m in this state, do you think you’ll even get bread crumbs?”
“Your Highness... We’re truly sorry. No matter how much we protested to the kitchens, all we heard back was that expenditures were high and they needed to cut back...”
“No need to apologize. That you’ve stayed by my side until now is joy enough.”
You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
Once, her chambers had bustled with people and envoys. Gifts arriving in a single day filled the room so full there was no space left for anyone to stand.
She hadn’t known then how terrifying the hearts of men could be. She had no way of knowing.
As the saying goes, you know true loyalty in hard times.
Those who had flattered her, who had lavished her with praise.
Those who had acted as if they’d lay down their lives at a single word—none of them were true loyalists.
These maids who followed her to the end were the real ones.
“A wingless eagle gets scorned even by chickens!”
The princess hurled the cup of water. It wasn’t gold or silver.
The wooden cup didn’t shatter or break; it simply rolled across the floor. The princess sighed and picked it up again. Even this was precious now.
“The room feels so empty. All the valuable things have been pawned off, and nothing’s left.”
That mask and those clothes were her last remaining luxuries.
She had pawned even more treasures to those who came begging, pleading for greater fortunes to bail them out.
She had bowed her head to save those who had backed the wrong horse—herself.
To anyone who could offer even a little aid, she had pressed gold upon them.
“We could weave or knit in our spare time...”
“Enough. Don’t trouble yourselves for someone who’s as good as dead.”
She had thought she could reach out and seize the throne.
But heaven had blocked her path, afflicting her with an incurable disease.
A disease that rotted the body from within, decaying her while she yet lived.
Leprosy, also known as the pox, couldn’t be cured even by divine power. It was simply a misfortune to endure; there was no treatment anywhere.
“I’m no better than a walking corpse already. I’m just waiting for the day I die.”
“Your Highness...”
“But once even I’m gone, how will you endure this scorn? So live on as long as you can. That you two are all I have left at the end... it’s pathetic and sorry beyond words.”
The princess let out a sigh. In her days of glory, had she ever spared these two maids a glance?
She might have treated noble-born ladies-in-waiting differently, but maids were little more than furnishings.
The princess was human too. Even called the Iron Lady, she was just one woman.
Naturally, she’d had confidants she trusted and opened her heart to. Where were they now?
She could only blame and curse herself for misjudging people.
Truth be told, she understood. What elite would want to be buried alive alongside her?
She could forgive them fleeing for their lives.
But that those she had scorned stayed by her side while the others fled...
It left her truly apologetic, with nothing to say. It meant that despite having eyes, she’d failed to see who her real allies were.
The princess spoke with difficulty.
“If a miracle comes and I shake off this curse of a disease.”
It was pure truth, devoid of pretense or falsehood.
With nothing left to lose or gain, it was her sincerest heart.
“Then I won’t forget the grace you’ve shown me.”
As the dinner tray was cleared away, a lady-in-waiting burst into the room without even knocking.
She spoke like she was delivering a proclamation. Her tone was polite, but only just—barely enough to count.
The gaze that once wouldn’t have deigned to glance her way now held the disgust one might show filth.
“Princess Ardein. You have a visitor.”
“A visitor? Who would come to me?”
“Baron Eandrim. He seems to have rushed here from afar. What shall we do?”
“Who is he? There’s no reason for anyone from afar to seek me out.”
The princess rose slowly. The maids supported her.
Her condition was already so dire she could barely stand alone.
But a visitor had come all this way. Whatever the reason, she wanted to meet him.
Ardein slowly made her way to the reception room.
“I greet Your Highness the Princess. I am Eandrim.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t know you. Do you know me?”
“I am but a lowly noble, too insignificant to meddle in politics. Yet how could I not know the hero of the old empire? How could I be ignorant of Princess Ardein’s renown?”
Baron Eandrim, then, was not part of Princess Ardein’s faction.
More precisely, he was so obscure that no faction had reached out to him.
She never would have eyed someone like him.
She had an insatiable hunger for talent, selecting only the elite for her service.
That was probably why they’d all flown off like migratory birds when crisis struck. If they couldn’t even save themselves from the fire at their feet, they weren’t talent.
“I never pledged loyalty to Your Highness, nor did I have the qualifications to do so. I never even had the chance to join your side.”
“Say what you want. Did you come to this walking corpse just to tell me that?”
“Even so, I hope you acknowledge my loyalty to this empire.”
When a nation declines, its secrets are sold.
When a nation falls, it must be sold off.
Only the capable can do that—that’s talent.
Talent doesn’t preclude patriotism, but the empire was on the decline now.
Devoting oneself to a crumbling nation is the way of patriots, not the capable. Though it varies by person, the capable prioritize themselves over country.
Baron Eandrim was not capable. He didn’t even have the ability to betray his nation.
Before that, though, he was fiercely patriotic. The baron hadn’t come for the princess.
Not for her, but for the empire.
Not for the emperor’s daughter, but for the hero who could save it.
That was why he was here.
“Your Highness. There may be a way to cure your illness.”
“Nonsense. Even the saintesses of the Three Great Gods couldn’t heal me. Not a single one of the three!”
“None of them could fix a toothache, but the tooth that was rotting in my mouth is now fine.”
The baron opened his mouth to show his teeth.
The princess looked dubious. Frankly, she didn’t believe a word.
“I met a priest who serves a god I didn’t know—a unknown, obscure god. He’s in a small southern city, Larphentia, right now. If you hurry before he leaves, you might be able to meet him.”
“How could some backwater god heal what the Three Great Gods couldn’t? Do you think I’ve lost my senses along with my health? Are you mocking me?”
“Your Highness, I’ve said what I came to say. Whether you believe it or not is up to you. But miracles don’t come to those who don’t seek them.”
Rising from his seat, the baron muttered.
“If even a sliver of hope remains, go to Larphentia and find the priest there, Kyle. Whether he can save Your Highness... I can’t say for sure.”
He knew that. It was only a possibility.
No one knew if that priest could save her until they tried.
And if it failed, he had no confidence in handling the fallout.
That was why he was backing off now.
“In my current state, I don’t even have the influence to hire a carriage. No coachman would agree to travel with me. The temples already disdain me for cowering here.”
The princess lamented.
“Larphentia is far from the capital. If I ride there, I’ll be even closer to a corpse by the time I arrive. Is it really worth it?”
Riding demanded great physical strain.
In her prime, the stamina required for horseback was nothing.
But now, it could deal damage enough to endanger her life.
“Your Highness, when you were on the battlefield, you were an invincible warrior who feared no death.”
The baron, on his way out, suddenly paused and spoke.
“And yet now, why have you become a coward too afraid of death to take a single step?”
“A coward...”
“I’ve said all I have to say. Do as you will, Your Highness.”
Long after the baron left,
The princess stood there, mulling over his words.
At last, she burst into rough laughter. He wasn’t wrong.
“I’ll go.”
“Your Highness!”
“You two wait here for news of my death. Sorry to have such a worthless master.”
She silently summoned a lady-in-waiting and ordered a single horse prepared. She packed only a few items for travel expenses—nothing more.
The maids wept and protested, but the princess’s resolve was firm.
“Even if I die, I won’t die a coward.”
If she was going to die anyway, better on horseback. She wasn’t heading to Larphentia with hope.
She simply wanted one final journey to end her life.
Cowering in this palace, awaiting death, was worse than death itself.
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