The Puppet Show at the Prayer Room
"The audacity...! The sheer audacity...! How dare a lowborn commoner...!"
Cardo trembled from head to toe with fury inside his carriage, replaying the humiliation Logan had dealt him in the council chamber.
How could a man who had only stumbled into the Hero's Party by sheer luck and ridden their fame to glory dare insult him—the foremost noble of the Empire?
According to his lackeys who had attended yesterday's banquet, the Crown Princess had been seen acting remarkably intimate with the commoner adventurer.
Trash of low birth flocking together, as expected, he had thought. So he had deliberately provoked Logan to shake Anastasia's composure—only to be outplayed and humiliated instead.
For Cardo, it was nothing short of disgraceful, humiliating, and infuriating.
Completely forgetting, of course, that he himself had hurled open insults at Anastasia and Logan to their faces.
"Hmph! It hardly matters. I expected the proposal to pass regardless!"
Cardo consoled himself, forcing an air of calm.
Reconstruction of the Empire, devastated as it was by the Demon King's army's invasion, was an unavoidable necessity—anyone could see that. And so, while Cardo had opposed Anastasia, he had never intended to resist her to the very end.
He had merely meant to ruffle the Crown Princess's feathers along the way and shave down the sums that nobles like himself would be expected to contribute.
And yet.
Because of that wretch, the amount only GREW!!
At Logan's cutting words, the nobles had nodded along one after another, stepping forward to volunteer their contributions. Even members of his own Noble Faction had been swept up in the mood and joined in.
I can't let this stand!
This would not end with a single meeting. Anastasia would keep convening councils and pushing proposals through, steadily stripping the nobles of their power and strengthening the throne.
If that happened, Cardo could no longer live as he always had—wielding power and wealth at his whim, feasting on the fat of the realm.
The thought alone—
That idiot!
—drove Cardo to curse his nephew all the more, the prince confined to the deposed palace, once heir to the throne.
He's probably rolling around with women even now!
Even when he'd been stripped of the Crown Prince's title, the pathetic fool had done nothing but whine for someone to fix it for him. What he'd be doing in a crisis like this was obvious without looking.
Compared to Anastasia, he was hopelessly stupid and incompetent.
Which was exactly why Cardo had seen this coming, and had meticulously moved to eliminate her long ago, when she was still a child.
When he'd had her escorted off to some nameless countryside with a hired knight, he had believed the plan a complete success.
I was certain she'd die in some forgotten corner, fitting her lowborn blood...
But somehow, a woman who had been all but dead had revived and returned. From then on her rise had been unstoppable—she had pushed out the Crown Prince and seized the position of Crown Princess herself.
Worse still, the Emperor had now even entrusted state affairs into her hands.
She's a curse I can't shake! Not a single thing has gone right for me lately!
So his thoughts coiled round and round, and Cardo's stomach churned with seething bile.
"Whew... I must calm myself. I cannot lose my composure over such insignificant creatures."
Letting out a long breath, he wrestled his boiling rage back down.
In the end, the one laughing last would be him.
And so Cardo waited patiently in the swaying carriage for it to reach its next destination: the Church.
When Cardo arrived at the Church and stepped into the courtyard, Archbishop Bertrand greeted him with a sly, crooked smile.
"Ah! You've arrived, Duke Lindemark!"
"Yes, Your Grace the Archbishop. And the Saintess?"
"Ah, ah—she is waiting for you in her private prayer room."
"I see. Then I shall head there now."
Cardo nodded toward Bertrand, who gestured toward the prayer room, and moved to walk on.
But Bertrand stepped squarely into his path and shot him an unmistakably pointed look.
"Your Grace, about... that is..."
"Ah, the offering? My attendants are bringing it around behind me."
"Hahaha! I wasn't holding you up over the offering, of course—but understood. Please, go right in."
Tsk... 'Of course,' my ass. What a joke.
Cardo cursed Bertrand inwardly, clicking his tongue, though his face remained perfectly composed.
The enormous offering he was forced to present on every visit rankled him endlessly, but he could never show it. The Church's immense power was indispensable for dragging down that detestable Crown Princess.
Carrying that unpleasantness with him, Cardo entered the prayer room—and froze mid-step. Beyond the Saintess, two entirely unexpected faces greeted his eyes.
"Ah, Saintess, it is an honor. My... I had no idea there would be guests before me."
"Oh! Not at all. Please, have a seat, Duke."
Sera welcomed Cardo with a benevolent smile while despising him inside.
Tsk... what a graceless old fool...
The man had barged unannounced into the Saintess's private prayer room. Were it not for his fat offerings and the uses she had yet to extract from him, she would have barred him from so much as setting foot in the Church's entrance.
Oblivious to her true thoughts, Cardo took his seat as she offered, and turned on the charm.
"Haha! Thank you. To be granted the honor of meeting not only the Saintess but the Hero and the Mage as well—I am truly moved!"
Cardo flashed a sanctimonious smile at Rian and Irene seated beside Sera. Then his eyes slid over Irene in an unmistakably lecherous sweep.
The Saintess is untouchable, of course, but the Mage... a commoner by birth, I hear...
At that repulsive gaze, Irene pressed herself closer to Rian beside her, disgust plain on her face.
"Sera... who is this person...?"
"Ah, this is Duke Lindemark, who devotes himself in every way—goods and gold alike—to the Empire and the Church."
"Hahaha! You flatter me! Compared to the Saintess, I am lowly and worthless!"
"Hehe... Thank you, Duke."
Irene frowned at the sickeningly performative exchange between Sera and Cardo.
What on earth are these two going on about?
She knew exactly what kind of person Sera was. Saintly and merciful on the surface—but a scheming, cunning woman plotting every manner of political maneuver behind closed doors.
Hah, 'devoted duke,' my foot. Just an old man you're planning to squeeze dry.
Irene sneered inwardly. Sera probably believed she could walk all over her—but in truth, Irene was only pretending to be used, playing along just enough.
All to teach that shameless, detestable Anastasia a lesson, and to take Logan back.
At the thought of him, her chest tightened.
You're being so cruel, Logan...
Her resentment toward him surged. While she was struggling to save him from that scheming Crown Princess—even knowing she was being used—no doubt he was at this very moment giggling and flirting with that woman.
Sera glanced sideways at Irene's darkening expression and inwardly fumed.
Why is this bitch souring her face again, for god's sake.
Perhaps Cardo's face was viscerally repulsive to her. She could well understand the feeling, given how openly he was leering and toying with her—but Irene must not let it show.
She was a chess piece to be used thoroughly in the plans ahead, then discarded.
So Sera hastily steered the conversation toward fresh ground.
"I hear word of the... unpleasant affair this morning reached us as well, you see. Duke... how distressed you must have been. It truly grieves my heart."
"Ah! Thank you! The Saintess, as ever, understands!"
Cardo, who had been running lascivious thoughts over Irene only moments before, startled at her words and put on a deeply moved expression.
"When His Majesty brushed aside my proposal to spare the people further burden, I was utterly heartbroken—so your consolation, Saintess, is a great comfort indeed."
"How could I do otherwise? For His Majesty to fail to grasp your noble heart, Duke..."
"Yes... His Majesty is truly cold-hearted..."
At their easy, practiced slandering of Anastasia, Irene's ears pricked up.
The Crown Princess? Is that woman up to something strange again?
Not only Irene—Rian, too, wore a face full of curiosity. Unable to hold back, he asked at once.
"What happened? Sera, do you know about this too?"
"Ah, of course. Well, you see..."
And so, to the curious Rian, Sera and Cardo began explaining the morning's council session in elaborate detail.
Embellished, of course, entirely in their own favor.
BANG!
"How could this be allowed!?"
Having heard the contents of the Imperial State Council, Rian slammed his fist down on the table, his face twisted in outrage.
"Making people already impoverished by the war with the Demon King's army pay even more taxes!"
"Precisely. All they had to do was release the reserves sitting in the treasury... yet they'd rather squeeze the common people than part with it..."
Cardo poured oil on Rian's fury. The fact that no such reserves actually existed in the treasury went conveniently unmentioned.
Moreover, having learned his lesson from the humiliation of the morning's meeting, he had already stripped off every one of the countless rings on his fingers and the jewels adorning his person.
He had even deliberately changed into frugal, shabby clothes. And so he could carry on all the more brazenly.
"The royal household, unwilling to bear that burden, is even forcing nobles like myself to pay higher taxes. We nobles, too, suffer greatly from the ravages of war... but what can one do? If it is for the people..."
Sera marveled at the performance inwardly.
She knew perfectly well who had humiliated him in the morning council, and why.
But his shameless little play was more than useful enough for manipulating the dim-witted Hero—so she played along.
"Ah... what a sublime and noble heart. Truly a paragon of noblesse oblige, Duke."
"Thank you for saying so. Which is precisely why I dare make a request of you."
As if following a script rehearsed in advance, the two turned smoothly to Rian and Irene for help.
"Please—won't the Saintess, and the Hero and Mage, lend us your aid? If the Hero's Party steps forward directly, I am certain we can put a stop to the Crown Princess's reckless tyranny!"
"Of course! You'll help us, won't you, Hero? Lady Irene?"
"Of course I will!!!"
Burning with a sense of justice, Rian threw himself behind Cardo and Sera's proposal without a moment's hesitation.
But Irene's expression turned dubious.
"Um... I..."
Because no matter how she looked at it, the whole thing was as crude as a rigged card game.
Tyranny...? As much as I hate that woman, the Crown Princess—am I really supposed to swallow this nonsense?
Having witnessed countless injustices over the course of the Demon King Subjugation, she couldn't help but doubt every word out of Sera and Cardo's mouths.
So much of the land lay in ruins that reconstruction was obviously necessary. That required money, and didn't that make collecting taxes the natural course of things?
As if a few extra coins in taxes could possibly hurt these nobles?
Besides—that Duke Lindemark, impoverished and poor? Please.
Back at the Magic Tower Academy, that family's wealth and extravagance had been drilled into her ears until she was sick of hearing it.
And the head of such a ducal house was dressed in threadbare, shabby clothes?
They weren't even trying to hide the con.
She had already resolved to let Sera use her to a degree, for the sake of her own goals. But this—
Do they really take me for an idiot...?
A wave of disgust rose in her, and she was about to demur, saying she would think it over—
But Sera, reading her thoughts, pressed her with a voice soft as silk and eyes hard as iron.
"You will help us, won't you, Lady Irene?"
"Ah... I... um..."
Just as Irene decided this really wasn't right and moved to refuse—
"I trust the Mage will help us as well. Unlike Sir Logan, who isn't even present here!"
Cardo added with a pointed, knowing smile.
At the mention of Logan's name, Irene's expression froze over, glacial and hard.
"Logan...?"
"Yes, indeed. He is common-born himself, so he of all people should know how the people suffer—yet from what I've seen, his only scheme is to flatter the Crown Princess and climb the ladder of success!"
At Cardo's venomous words, Irene's face turned to ice.
"......"
So he'd truly decided to cling to that woman and leech off her.
Not a single word, not even a message sent to her—just latching onto another woman, fawning at her side.
Trembling with betrayal, Irene made her decision without an instant of hesitation.
"Yes. I'll help too."
To punish Logan, who had dared betray her and switch sides—and to destroy the woman who had seduced him and ruined him.