The Approaching Darkness (3)
Saint Michael Calendar, Year 501, October 2nd. In the mansion of one noble.
"Your Excellency. His Highness the Crown Prince has passed away."
Duke Harbin—one of the pillars of the princess faction and among the most powerful nobles since the founding of the empire—let out a scoff at the shocking news.
"So the princess has made her move."
Lisbeth was an exceptional princess. She'd shown her brilliance from a young age, a genius with no flaws in martial prowess or scholarship. But she had one fatal shortcoming.
She was a woman.
"Even if Lisbeth seizes real power, she can't achieve imperial authority as strong as it is now."
The empire's thousand-year history was the history of its emperors. Every emperor had wielded immense power, leaving no room for nobles to wedge themselves in.
But that was about to change.
"All we have to do is wait for that moment."
Of course, the duke could never have imagined there was one Sword Princess who saw through it all.
"—That's what the nobles are probably thinking."
Sisilia spoke with smug satisfaction.
Lisbeth struggled to keep up with the sudden shift in Sisilia's demeanor. Just moments ago, she'd been the grim messenger come to behead the empire known as Eldrasion—and now she looked like a cute girl here for a sleigh ride.
Rudolf Sisilia had asked about Lisbeth's tastes before presenting her gift.
"First things first, it's important to identify enemies and allies. Does Princess Lisbeth know who they are?"
"...That's..."
Lisbeth snapped back to attention and replied. "I can't draw a clear line. It's what most of them are thinking, after all."
She'd already anticipated they'd try to install her as a puppet empress. And that every noble with ambition shared that goal.
"What was your original plan?"
"...I was prepared to accept it to some degree. Given the current situation, weakening imperial authority seems inevitable."
The emperor had intended to hand over power to the crown prince. That left Lisbeth no choice but to accept the nobles' aid. In the world of politics, what you received had to be repaid—and the more aid she took, the more imperial authority would erode. It was only natural.
Sisilia shook her head slowly, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"I don't share my cake with anyone."
Beatrice nodded solemnly. "That's true."
"...?"
Lisbeth was utterly bewildered, but she focused on Sisilia.
"And I'm not interested in half a cake, either."
Only then did Lisbeth understand.
...She's comparing the empire to a cake.
She had no need for half an empire. And if Lisbeth wasn't the perfect owner of that cake, she wouldn't hold Sisilia's interest.
A true strategist who packs dozens of meanings into a single phrase. And she wields power beyond any mere human.
The more Lisbeth learned about Sisilia, the more terrifying she seemed. Facing her as an enemy would be a catastrophe.
But fortunately, she was an ally. There could be no sturdier one.
To secure that, she had to fulfill Sisilia's words and prove her worth.
"I will become the complete owner of that cake and offer it to you."
"It had better be delicious. I have surprisingly picky tastes."
"...Lady Sisilia, your tastes are blatantly picky."
Sisilia chuckled softly and asked Lisbeth, "What's the deepest lake in the empire?"
"...It's not far from here, but why...?"
"To bury my adjutant in."
Beatrice quietly knelt and raised her hand.
"...?"
Lisbeth had no idea what was happening. But she caught on soon enough.
Sh, she's serious.
A delicious cake. Meaning Sisilia wanted not the current ruined empire, but a prosperous one.
Her picky tastes meant the bar for prosperity was sky-high.
And declaring she'd bury her questioning adjutant at the lake's bottom was a warning: no arguments allowed.
Cold sweat trickled down Lisbeth's back.
"I'll do my absolute best."
"If it's too hard to get, want some help? It's a specialty of mine."
Lisbeth's grim expression brightened instantly.
"You'll really help?"
"It's not that difficult."
With Sisilia's aid, she wouldn't need to beg the nobles. She could strengthen and reform imperial authority at once.
But.
"Shall we go right now, then?"
"...R-right now?"
"I'm hungry."
"Lady Sisilia, I brought baguettes like always."
"I'm sick of baguettes after a week straight."
"...Lady Sisilia, you once ate nothing but baguettes for a whole month."
Lisbeth heard nothing. Her fingertips trembled faintly. She clenched her fist to hide it and bowed deeply, steeling herself for death.
"I'm truly sorry!"
Sisilia, wondering Why isn't she groveling like the kids these days?, tilted her head.
"What's wrong...?"
"N-nothing's prepared yet."
Sisilia, genuinely puzzled, asked, "...Is getting a cake that hard?"
Lisbeth trembled violently.
"I haven't rallied my forces enough yet. Swaying the Imperial Knights is key, and it isn't done. R-right now, it's a bit—"
"?"
Sisilia blinked, touched her lips, and glanced around thoughtfully. Then she narrowed her eyes and asked, "...What exactly are you talking about right now, Lisbeth?"
"Y-yes? Obviously— I mean, a coup needs time."
"...?"
Sisilia looked baffled. "I was just saying let's go get cake."
Lisbeth swallowed hard.
Her acting is so convincing.
That innocent expression now meant one thing: this was all off the record.
A secret to take to the grave.
And it connected to Liannen.
Sisilia wouldn't report the empire falling into her hands. Meaning she intended to claim the full empire—and Lisbeth—for herself.
Shiver.
Lisbeth brushed down her goosebump-covered arms.
I absolutely cannot disappoint Lady Sisilia.
"S-sorry. That was rude of me. There's a famous cake shop nearby. I'll guide you right away."
"...Thanks. And could you bring a maid outfit?"
"A maid outfit...?"
"Yeah. A new one. I don't wear used clothes."
"May I ask why?"
"Because maid outfits are cute. And since I'm a girl... if people see me rushing straight to cake right after arriving from abroad, it'll be embarrassing."
"...!"
She's foreshadowing a purge. And severing any link to me in it.
Thank goodness her head was clear enough to converse with Sisilia.
"Understood. Thank you for your consideration."
Lisbeth hurriedly fetched a maid outfit. Sisilia unfolded the frilly-laced one and grinned ear to ear.
I've always thought so, but their maid outfits are cuter than Liannen's.
Liannen's maid outfits had long skirts. The empire's were shorter.
Sisilia preferred short skirts. She had confidence in her legs.
Hehe. Maid cosplay is my specialty. No way Betty beats me.
Maid outfits suited petite figures best. Beatrice was tall, so they probably didn't fit her well...
"Hmm, Eldrasion maid outfits are a bit stuffy. Especially the bust tailoring—it's too tight."
Sisilia eyed Beatrice with clouded eyes.
"......"
She glanced at her own chest. No custom order, yet it fit like it was made for her from birth.
Then back to Beatrice, who was struggling and grunting. No way that outfit fit Beatrice's size.
"......"
Smack.
"Eek!"
Sisilia suddenly slapped Beatrice's chest and huffed angrily.
"We'll just go openly. Handle the political fallout yourself."
"Y-yes, ma'am..."
* * *
Sisilia chomped away at cake in the dessert shop. If she rated it, it'd be 3.14159265358979 points. Strangely unsatisfying, yet evoking pi to fifteen decimals—an oddly profound flavor.
"So what was your original plan, Lady Sisilia?"
"Declaration of war. Then armistice after 0.1 seconds."
"...Pardon?"
Beatrice looked up in confusion. She'd expected the declaration from Sisilia, but armistice in 0.1 seconds...?
"Trading fifty heads for tens of thousands of lives? A fair deal."
She'd planned to declare war and slaughter the high nobles on the spot.
And without Lisbeth's visit, that's exactly what would've happened.
"...You were that eager to head back?"
Beatrice let out an inexplicable sigh of relief. Serving as Sisilia's adjutant felt like her heart grew daily. But a 0.1-second armistice strained even that.
"Betty, I don't know why you're relieved, but it doesn't change much."
"...Pardon?"
"I'll head back right after Christmas."
Beatrice tilted her head. "Christmas is still two months away."
"Huh? Christmas is tomorrow."
Sisilia clicked her tongue lightly and sliced the cake into perfect bites.
Clink.
She deflated at the plate that got sliced too. Beatrice beamed and offered her pre-cut cake.
"Knew it'd happen, so I cut mine ahead. Have this."
"Betty, you're the world's best adjutant."
Beatrice smiled warmly at Sisilia munching away. Sisilia's 'Christmas is tomorrow' nagged at her, but this wasn't the first or second oddity from her.
And so.
The next day, Beatrice finally grasped what Sisilia meant by 'Christmas is tomorrow.'
October 3rd, 501, 7 AM. The emperor of the Eldrasion Empire died.
Not assassination or poison, but natural causes. He'd been chatting with a maid drawing the curtains that morning when he suddenly passed—like a clockwork doll winding down peacefully, per the maid.
No one saw the emperor's death coming.
Save perhaps the god who'd personally wound his clock.
"...We shall now reveal His Majesty's last will."
The nobles reeled harder from the will's contents than the sudden death.
"The next emperor shall be His Highness the Eighth Prince."
"...!"
The emperor had never intended the throne for Albert or Lisbeth.
Hence, he'd named his six-year-old eighth son as heir.
For the nobles aligned with Lisbeth, the eighth prince was ideal. Better than Lisbeth herself.
An eight-year-old made the perfect puppet. A brilliant move to wield ambitious nobles as shields for the prince.
And a resolute declaration: better the nobles than an incompetent crown prince or pro-Liannen princess.
Sisilia mused it was likely a final burst of clarity.
A fine ploy. If only there weren't a Santa Sisilia ready to gift the crying beauty.
"With so many smiling, His Majesty would be pleased too."
The nobles, glee masked in crocodile tears, looked up at Sisilia.
She met the eyes of Lisbeth—the only one truly crying—then turned to the nobles with a cold smile.
"But making you cry is my job. Sorry in advance."
Sisilia didn't look sorry at all.